#listen I’m guilty of this too and I must do better

[housederiva]

Okay everybody come here and hold my hand we’re gonna stand in a big old circle together while I say something

When Veilguard’s comes out please remember it’s not a dating sim and there’s a whole plot and storyline out there. I know, I know- hold on don’t let go of my hand yet. If you played BG3 you know what Tumblr can curdle this into. I never see posts about the game’s plot do you? Hold on focus! Don’t let go of my hand- how many analysises of the overarching themes of the game have you seen compared to different ways you can fuck the vampire?

[dira333]

Soul-Food - Osamu x Reader

Enemies to lovers - Requested by @notsochillnerd - with Atsumu as a terrible wingman who just wanted to check out his brothers' nemesis...

There is only one thing more annoying than Miya Osamu with his cooking talent, excellent marks, and unfairly good looks: his twin brother Atsumu.

“No.” You say again, arms filled with produce. He’s in your way and he’s not even sorry about it.

“Come oooon!” He whines, draping himself over the railing of the stairs as if this is a photoshoot for some perfume. “I’m so hungry! And Osamu won’t cook for me! I’ll even pay you!”

“Wow, now I want to do it even less, knowing you might not have paid me in the first place.” You snark, patience wearing thin.

“Now get out of my way, I need to get to my room.”

“To do what?” He steps to the side, but his face remains close to yours. You’re not the fastest as it is, even less when carrying that many vegetables. 

“I need to cook.”

“Perfect.” His grin is so wide, it could split his face. “You cook, I’ll eat.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

You hesitate, if only for a second. But Atsumu is like a shark and that was the single drop of blood that he needed.

Half an hour later he’s sitting at the little table in your apartment. 

Your kitchen isn’t spacious, but equipped with everything you could possibly need - there’s a reason this school costs an arm and a leg each year. And Miya Osamu got the scholarship instead of you.

You wouldn’t have any problem with it if not for your father breathing down your neck. He’s got the money to send you here twice if he wanted to, but in his twisted mind, a 100% is barely a passing grade and you should have been able to win the scholarship, monetary status be damned.

“What are you making?” Atsumu asks from behind you.

“Udon.”

“Why is it black?” 

“I’m using Sepia.”

“Why?”

“Because I can.” You snap back, hoping against hope that he will fall quiet. He doesn’t. 

-

You’ve spent almost a year in a class with Osamu.

He might not always get a better mark than you, but he quickly figured out how much you hated it when he did. There’s nothing worse than someone else gloating over your loss.

The teachers love him and tolerate you. 

So far they’ve been kind enough not to put the two of you into a group project, or maybe they just played it safe. The sheer bloodlust you feel when he grins in your direction must have tipped them off.

But this year is going to end soon and your teachers expect you to come up with a dish. Your own creation, not unlike the dish you had to make for your entry exam. This time, however, it’s supposed to showcase what you want to do, going forward.

You can’t bring the same thing you made for your entry exam, even though it was perfect and a delight - you made it roughly one hundred times before. 

Your father has always been a fan of the Kaiseki Ryori and while you had loved taking part in the Haute Cuisine as a child, feeling grown up as you nibbled on tiny bites of expensive food, it has lost its appeal on you.

After all, there’s a set number of times you can eat a meal, even Chawanmushi, before you get sick of it.

“Hello? Are you still listening?” Nuisance number 2 asks behind you and you flinch, staring down at the dough that you kneaded for too long. 

“What’s Osamu doing for his exam?” You ask, feeling a little guilty about your attempt at spying.

“Why do you want to know?”

Nevermind. Now you only feel annoyed.

“Just because. Maybe I want to talk about something other than you.”

You move to throw the dough out, only to be stopped by Atsumu’s voice.

“What are you doing?”

“I messed it up. It’s not going to taste good.”

“So what? I’m hungry.”

“You want to eat gross noodles?” You eye him warily, but he shrugs with a grin.

“It’s definitely going to be better than what I’d produce myself. But since I hate cooking, I’d probably just get takeout pizza anyway.”

“Aren’t you an athlete?”

“Yeah?”

“And they let you eat Pizza?”

“They don’t know. Or they don’t care. Whatever you like better. I mean, they gave me a list of stuff I should keep away from but that’s like, all the food I usually consume.”

“Here.” You pull out a pen and paper. “Write down what you eat in a day. Snacks included. And drinks.”

“Why?”

“If I have to endure your chatting, you might as well get something out of this. Now, shoo!”

You turn, lid of your composter already open when his voice reaches you.

“DON’T THROW AWAY THE DOUGH!”

“Fine!” You snap. “You can eat your disgusting noodles!”

They don’t taste that awful in the end, not with your delicate sauce with mussels and steamed broccoli that turned out so good Atsumu licks his plate clean.

-

You’d been part of the track club in Middle School, switched to Volleyball in High School because they had fewer practice hours per week. Your marks had always been more important than any side activities, your future as a part of Haute Cuisine decided before you could walk. But it had been fun, especially when Coach gathered you after practice to talk about the importance of self-care. How certain foods could make or break you. How important salt and minerals were for your body, how food was more than calories, protein, carbs, and fat.

You’re not even a little bit rusty when you scribble down a meal plan for him. You keep it easy and as cheap as possible, light on the cooking because you figured he must be the opposite of his twin in the kitchen if he came begging for food… You’re not sure if you’re buying his excuse of a brotherly fight, but you’re not ashamed to say that you didn’t mind him praising your food over Osamu’s. Suck that, Miya!

Meanwhile, Atsumu’s brows are pulled so high, they’re hiding behind his bangs.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Your new meal plan. You follow that, you’ll increase your stamina.”

“But it’s so much work.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“Whatever.” You get up, throw the pen down at the table. Your patience has never been the best anyway.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He follows you to the sink but not to help with the dishes.

“You could cook for me.” He offers it like it’s a great deal. You snort.

“I bet there’s something you want. Something I could do for you…” He wiggles his brows now, looks disgustingly like Osamu when he got a better mark then you. And that kickstarts your brain.

“I want Osamu… I mean the recipe…You know, what Osamu made to get the scholarship. If you can get me that dish of him to try, I’ll cook for you.”

Atsumu grins in a way that doesn’t feel good but he nods.

“Alright, it’s a deal. You’ll cook for me and I get you the dish.” He holds out his hand to sign the deal but you’ve been the daughter of a cutthroat banker for too long to fall for that.

“I’ll cook for a week.” You tell him firmly and watch with a sick satisfaction as his face contorts. He looks awful when he’s pissed and there are definitely not enough moments of the Miya twins looking awful.

“Two weeks.

“One week, only dinner.”

“One week, lunch, dinner and snacks.”

“Are you insane?”

“Do you want Osamu’s food?”

There’s a moment of Silence, and you’re eyeing each other, calculating who’s bluffing and who’s not.

“Fine.” You huff eventually, because you feel it in your bones that trying that damned dish will get you a step closer to figuring out what you need to present for your Final.

-

You feel like a drug addict, going down the deep end, when Atsumu appears at your door one week later, carrying a Bento-Box wrapped in the cutest fabric you have ever seen.

“Are those little foxes?” You ask, eyeing the reddish-tinted animals on the grey fabric.

“What if ?” He asks back, nose up in the air.

“Jeez, I was just curious.” You snap back and muster him. He doesn’t look malnourished.

“What did you eat this week?”

“Why do you ask?” He sets the Bento-Box on your table and saunters into your kitchen, peering into the still empty pots and pans.

“You’re an awful liar.”

“Okay, so I told Samu that you cooked for me.” He throws his hands up in the air like you’re the one making a big fuss about things. “Told him it was fingerlickin’ good. Got him all angry and puffy.”

You are not ashamed to say that comment lifts you off your feet just a little bit. Hah!

“So?” You ask cooly, untying the Furoshiki with eager fingers.

“So he insisted that he would cook for me. Everything went according to plan, I pretended it wasn’t as good as your food until I asked for the dish he made for his entry exams.”

“Did you know what it was?” You ask as you lift the lid of the box.

“Maybe.” He says and you can hear in his voice that he knew. He probably didn’t tell you just to experience this.

“He made Onigiri?” You ask, your voice a little shrill.

You had made Chawanmushi, a dish literally to die for, practiced one hundred times, and he beat you with Onigiri?

“Try it.” He reaches for one of the Onigiri in the box and you slap his hand away.

“Mine!” You hiss angrily and his grin is almost feral.

“I’ll take a walk around the block then.” He jokes, moving toward the door. “Leave you alone with it.”

“Leave.” You wave him off. “I’ll make dinner later.”

“Half an hour.”

“Leave!” You huff and the door clicks shut behind him.

-

You bite into the first Onigiri and time stops for a second. 

The rice is cooked to perfection, but you know the different varieties well. He must have splurged on this kind, bought from a boutique farmer of some sorts. 

It’s filled with tuna and spring onion, but it tastes different then all the Tuna Onigiri you’ve had before. You write down all the different things you can taste, compare them to the knowledge you have but still - did he use a spice you don’t know? A combination you’re not familiar with?

The taste lingers, but you cannot put your finger on it. You feel a little weepy too, as if you had just watched your favorite movie from when you were a kid. You sniff and take the other Onigiri, bite into almost cautiously. It’s Tenmusu, your favorite kind of Onigiri.

This time, literal tears run down your cheeks. The shrimp is crisp, the sweet sauce calling you back to childhood, reminding you of the few free afternoons you got to spend with your mother, just the two of you, no work allowed. You only remember to write down the taste and ingredients when the last bite has disappeared and your hands leave the paper stained. 

Well… You’re no closer to figuring out what to make for your finals, but you might be getting your period soon. Why else would you be moved to tears by food?

-

“Onigiri, huh?” You ask Osamu after class the next day. You can’t help yourself.

He looks up from his phone, surprise on his face. It’s ridiculous how good that makes him look.

“What about it?”

“I heard you made Onigiri for your Entry Exam.”

“Ah, yes.” He smiles, the kind of smile that makes you want to slap it off his face. “Tsumu told me he made you try it.”

You can feel your face go slack. WHAT?

“What did you think?” Osamu asks, way too confident for your taste. “Did you like them?”

You can’t decide between a huff and a snort and the sound that does come out reminds you more of a dying walruss.

“They were probably pitying you.” You point out, nose in the air. “I showed up with Kaiseki Ryori. I made Chawanmushi.”

“Ah.” Osamu sounds like he’s not sure what that is. But you’ve gone over that in class, he’s just messing with you.

“Well, when do I get to try it?” 

You blink. “What?” 

“Yeah, it’s only fair, right? After you tried mine.”

You swallow thickly, look around for some help, but you’re the only one’s still in the hallway.

“Fine.” You huff eventually, because he does have a point. “As long as I don’t have to eat it.”

His brows furrow and your mind unhelpfully supplies you with the information that his eyes are a different shade than Atsumu’s. Osamu’s eyes are almost as grey as his hair, reminding you of the sky outside. 

His mouth moves and you blink, try to focus on his voice, but fail. Your collar feels too tight around your neck and you pull at it, too aware of Osamu’s eyes that flicker to your neck and stay there. God, what’s going on?”

“What did you say?” You ask in the most snooty voice you can manage. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Why do you cook something you don’t like?” He asks. “Don’t you enjoy cooking?”

Something snaps inside you like a rubberband that has been pulled taut for too long.

“Why do you care?” You sniff and he rolls his eyes. 

“I was just asking.”

“Sure you were. But you’re psychological warfare doesn’t work on me! You can flutter your long eyelashes at someone else!”

Osamu laughs. “I wasn’t-”

“Neither was I. Well, are you coming or not?”

“Where?” 

“You wanted to try my Chawanmushi!”

“Gesundheit.” You turn, not the least bit surprised to see Atsumu standing there. It’s lunchtime for him, he’s coming to collect his goods. “Or was that a codeword for something naughty?”

“Oh god, you’re awful.” 

-

You know that the Chawanmushi has turned out as perfect as all the other times. You can tell by sight and smell, but you cannot bring yourself to try it.

The thought of it has you swallow back bile but you serve it to the brothers with the biggest smile you can manage.

“Here.” You present it in tiny, elegant bowls.

“Are you in pain?” Osamu asks and you drop the smile.

“Go f-” 

“Why is it so tiny?” Atsumu asks, eyeing the bowl skeptically. “I’m hungry.”

“I made you Curry.” You tell him off. “This is just a tasting. You can’t eat full bowls with Kaiseki Ryori, you’d never manage that amount of food.”

“Don’t underestimate me.” Atsumu digs in, spoon clinking loudly against the bowl to the point you fear for its life.

He’s done with it before Osamu has even tasted his, still smelling the dish carefully, pulling the spoon through as if to check for clumps.

“It was fine.” Atsumu gives his mark as one would comment on an order of KFC. “Now, the Curry?” 

You huff but don’t get up, eyes still trained on Osamu. Then, finally, he brings the spoon to his mouth. If you’re focusing a little too much on his full lips, that’s entirely because he’s the world's slowest eater at the moment and nothing else.

His face remains passive. 

Cold sweat runs down your back as he slowly but surely finishes the dish and nods appraisingly.

“It was good.” Osamu says calmly. “The Curry?”

Breathing is a little hard at the moment, but you manage to get up, collect the bowls - you don’t throw them at the floor in a fit of rage and you’re very proud of yourself for that - and get them safely to the kitchen sink.

Your hands shake a little as you serve the Curry in three different plates, but if the boys notice, they don’t comment on it. 

“I hope you like it.” Your voice is back to normal, your wounded heart tucked safely back into your chest. “It’s packed with protein and healthy vegetables to make sure you have all the necessary nutrients. You could eat this every day and wouldn’t have to worry about losing out on anything.”

Atsumu digs in without another word. He beams around the spoon, curses loudly.

“This is so good.” He says, mouth full.

“Pig.” Osamu announces next to him, puts the first spoon into his mouth and-

You can see it, in the widening of his eyes and the light blush that appears on the height of his unfairly sharp cheekbones. He likes it. He likes it very much.

You should probably feel a bit more upset about the fact that they insult your Chawanmushi but get high on your Curry, but then again, it just feels good to watch Osamu have the same reaction to your Curry that you had with his Onigiri.

“You should make this for the Exam.” Osamu points out in between a groan and another spoonful of Curry. “It’s amazing.”

“No!” Atsumu shakes his head, still speaks with his mouth full. “The Udon you made yesterday. That was crazy good.”

“What Udon?” Osamu’s voice has a tint to it you cannot place. Does he know about the Onigiri you tried but not about the deal itself? Is he jealous he didn’t get to try them?

“Okay, so she makes the Noodles herself, right? This time without the freaky black stuff-”

“Sepia,” you throw in but he ignores you, “But she used pork belly for the sauce and something creamy and mushrooms, I think-”

“Shiitake.” 

“And I tell you, Samu, it was so so good! Like, it reminded me of Mom making that stew, you know? When Dad had that big sale thing and we got to celebrate it?”

Osamu’s eyes light up in a way that has you looking down at your food, heart thrumming in your chest like a hummingbird on speed.

“Can you-” He hesitates for a second. “Can you make me that?”

“I could.” You point out, not at all feeling the upper hand. You feel nervous instead as if this is a test or something worse. You swallow thickly, try to think of something to wager against it. Your mind is unhelpful at best, offering the possibility of a date - as if! 

“If I get your recipe. For the Onigiri.”

Osamu’s mouth clicks shut. He blinks, clearly surprised. Then he grins, the kind of grin that tells you this isn’t going to work in your favor, at all.

“Sure. So, Udon tomorrow?”

“I was going to make Katsudon tomorrow.” You point out, pissed that he’s overthrowing your meal plan. Atsumu looks like he’s gotten a glimpse of heaven.

“Really?”

-

You hate to think about it, but the week is nearing its end and Osamu feels less like the devil and more like the dangerously cute boy from your class now. The dangerously cute boy who’s going to get a better mark than you, take the promised internship at one of Japan's leading five-star restaurants and laugh in your face if you don’t shape up right now.

Your father is as helpful as ever.

He’s currently obsessed with the Yakimono part of Kaiseki Ryori, taking you out to dinner each weekend only to try new variants that you should use for your Final Exam.

The food is good, there’s no denying that, but it lacks the emotional touch you had with the Onigiri.

The same Onigiri that you’ve made three times already. They never taste like Osamu’s.

You’re suspecting that he skipped on one ingredient in the recipe, the one thing you could not put your finger on when you tried them. 

“Hey.” Atsumu’s waiting at your door when you return from coffee with your mother. She had been even less helpful, talking about the new dessert dish she was creating. You might have gotten her cooking skills, but you hate baking almost as much as Chawanmushi.

“I thought we said we would skip the cooking over the weekend.” 

“Yeah, about that.” He lifts a heavy bag. “I wanted to ask for a favor.”

“I’m not setting for you.”

“Why would I- Never mind, I wanted to ask… Could you like, show me… how to cook?”

You blink in surprise.

“Why would I teach you that? Don’t you have your brother?”

“He’s not a good teacher.” Atsumu points out and you snort.

“So you want to learn how to cook? And stop harassing me and Osamu?”

“No, no, I will still harass the two of you for food, but it looked easy when you did it, so I thought you could teach me, maybe?”

“Fine.” 

“I’m even pa- Fine? Oh, wow, that was easy.”

“If I can ask you some questions in turn without you judging me?”

“Me, judging someone? Never.” He puts a hand on his chest, probably aiming for his heart, but he’s now swearing on his left ribcage.

-

You watch like a Hawk as Atsumu prepares the Omurice. He’s got a bad habit of getting distracted, but he’s not a bad student.

“So…” You swallow your nerves. “You and Osamu used to play Volleyball together, right?”

“Yeah. He could have gone Pro, like me. But he said…” He raises his hands to make air quotes and lowers his voice into a deeper pitch to mock Osamu, “Skillswise I'm just as good as you. But I think that, when all's said and done, you love volleyball just a teensy bit more than me.”

“And you were okay with that?” 

“Nah.” Atsumu flips the Omurice onto a plate and hands it over to you. “Try.”

“It’s good.” You hand it back to him. “Eat.”

-

When Atsumu leaves, you’re left with even more questions than before.

What does it mean to love something so much you’re willing to pass up something good?

Atsumu is making good money as a Pro, even now. But Osamu had no idea if he was going to make it into this school until he tried.

And why did he make freaking Onigiri?

Midnight has come and gone when you put a jacket over your sleepshirt and slip out of your apartment in nothing but booty shorts and bunny slippers.

You’re not sure if there’s a nightguard. There might be, this is still a mixed dorm filled with hormonal teens and tweens. 

Even though you’ve never been to Osamu’s place before, you know the route by heart. You had memorized it in a childish fit when you realized his room was just below the fire escape.

You wouldn’t allow him to survive you in case of an emergency.

You knock twice before you can hear movement. The door opens and you almost swallow your tongue.

His hair is in disarray as if he’d dragged his hands through it all night and there’s the imprint of his pillow left on his cheek. He’s topless and you keep your eyes trained on the imprint on his cheek as if you don’t notice his happy trail or his still well-trained abs. 

He blinks slowly and yawns.

“What’s up?” He asks. Something moves over his face, quick like a sparrow. “Shit, are you hurt? Did something happen?!”

“No, no, I… Shit, I don’t know, I-”

“Come in.” He pulls you inside, but he calculates wrong, uses too much force for your quivering body. You end up mushed against his chest, face plant right into the warm skin.

If you die like this, you won’t even be mad about it.

“Shit, sorry.” He grabs you and puts you at a distance again, blush high on his cheeks. 

“Your Onigiri.” You start, before he can realize that you’re flustered too. “You didn’t list all the ingredients.”

“I did.”

“Did not. They don’t taste the same.”

“Ah.” He makes that insufferable sound like he knows everything you don’t. 

You want to poke his abs, but you decide against it, mainly because it would make you look weird. But they do look ni-

“Tea?” He asks and you hold your right hand with your left, just in case it turns sentient. 

“Yes, thank you.”

“Your Onigiri don’t taste like mine, because I make them for someone.”

“What?”

“The Tuna one.” He looks at the kettle instead of you, but his voice is wistful, distant. “I always make that one for Tsumu.”

“And the Tenmusu?”

“It’s my Mom’s favorite.” He says softly and you can’t help it, but you start to cry.

“Your Mom likes Tenmusu too?”

“Ah, shit, don’t tell me- Wait, here, take this…” He hands you a tissue to blow your nose and dry your tears. 

“So you’re saying your secret ingredient is love? You’re really going to stand there and make me believe that you got the scholarship because you put love in your food?”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to believe me. But there’s a reason your Chawanmushi did not taste as good as your Curry.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Gladly.” He smirks at you and this time your hand is faster than your mind, pointer finger digging into the firm muscle of his right pectoral.

“Don’t mess with me.”

“Why not?” His face moves closer to you, or did you move closer to his? “Isn’t it fun?”

Whoever moved first doesn’t matter now as his breath washes over you. His eyes skip to your lips and you lick them, no thoughts left in your brain.

Behind him, the kettle whistles, signaling that the water’s cooking, but neither of you moves. 

This could end very badly, or very great, however you want to look at it. 

Your mind, helpful as ever, comes up with a sentence that just slips out of your mouth unprompted.

“Atsumu said that you loved Volleyball a little-”

He draws back the moment he hears you speak, face now closed like a window that has let down its shutters. 

“Right, Atsumu.” He says, interrupting you. “You should get back to the bed.”

“But the tea…”

“I forgot.” He takes the kettle off the stove. “I was going to make a hot water bottle for myself. Sorry.” 

-

Somehow, somewhere, you took a wrong turn.

Maybe it was when you started liking Osamu, in this weird way that has you enjoy the bickering and the competitiveness. Maybe it was even before that, when you let Atsumu get away with his needling, fed him Udon instead of throwing him out.

Or maybe it was even before that, when you didn’t put up a fight everytime your father decided for you, when your mother put work before spending time with you. 

It’s a good thing that Finals are right around the corner.

You can’t focus in most classes, left staring holes into Osamu’s back. 

Atsumu’s stopped showing up himself, probably now a master in cooking for himself. Or he’s gone back to Osamu, to fantastic Onigiri and whatever else he knows how to make.

-

Four days before the Final, someone bangs on your door.

“Jeez, I’m coming.” You pull the door open to reveal Atsumu, soaked and clearly pissed..

“You okay?” You ask. “Or do you need a towel?”

“Why are you not a couple?” He asks back. “Like, the tension was there, you were practically undressing each other at the table - in front of me, might I add - and yet you’re not even speaking to each other? I even cooked all my meals these past weeks in the hopes of hearing good news but Samu’s acting like a bug crawled up his ass and died.”

“What are you even talking abou-”

“Oh, don’t fool me.” He steps inside and moves toward your bathroom without asking. “I just ran here because all I get from Samu are cryptic messages. Did you say something?”

“No, I-”

“Spill.” Atsumu points at the kitchentable, hesitates for a second, then he points at the kitchen itself. “Make some food while your at it. Also, can I have some change of clothes?”

You make Okayu with ginger and honey, the rice porridge a comfort to your heart and a boost to Atsumu’s immune system.

It’s not a long tale. It could be, probably, but you refuse to go into more detail than necessary. Atsumu might be kind of a friend, in his weird, annoying way, but he’s still Osamu’s twin brother.

“I’m gonna go talk to him.” He grabs the bag with his clothes and stalks off, dressed in one of your oversized hoodies and bright pink pajama pants, both things slightly too short on him.

“Give him a chance when he comes back,” are his parting words.

But Osamu does not show up.

Neither does he the next morning in class.

-

One of the teachers calls you over after class.

“You and Miya-san are pretty close, right?” She starts, speaks on while you’re still trying not to choke on your spit. “Could you bring him the notes from today? He called in sick. Tell him to take care and rest, so that he can take part in the Final.”

“I-I will.”

You end up in your own room instead, debating if you should just leave everything in front of his door and run. If he’s not at the final, you automatically win. But that’s not a win you’d feel good about, if you’re being honest to yourself.

Before you know it, you find yourself making Oyaku again, with Ginger and Honey, the one food that always gives you comfort and boosts your health. The process is simple, but it still calms you down every time. When it’s done, you look down at two portions and know what to do.

-

“Osamu?” The door is closed, but you can hear faint shuffling behind it. “I made you Oyaku. I heard you’re sick and got your notes from the teachers. I didn’t tell them that I’m a friend of yours, but she was convinced of it and didn’t let me change her mind. But I… we kinda are friends, right?” You feel so weird talking to the closed door. 

“Even if you don’t like me, we got to keep up the reputation. Eat the Oyaku, okay? Winning doesn’t feel the same if you kick yourself out of the game.”

You put everything in front of his door and leave, lingering at the end of the hallway, just out of sight, until you hear his door. When you look back, the Oyaku is gone and all you have to do is wait.

-

Osamu is already outside when you step out of the classroom. 

“Already finished?”

“Onigiri doesn’t take that long to make.” 

“Ah, right.” You nod, don’t know if you should avoid his gaze or follow your instinct and look a bit more closely. He sounds healthy at least.

“What did you make?” His voice is gruff when he asks.

“Ginger Honey Oyaku.” You answer, voice soft. “Which might confuse the teachers because I had all the ingredients ready for honey-glazed pork belly but I decided against it at the last second.”

“I’d have loved to try that pork belly.” Osamu sighs dreamily. “But that Oyaku was so good. I could eat that everyday and never get tired of it.”

“Same.” You smile but it falters when you feel his eyes on you and you know you’ve got to say it. “I made it for you.”

“Yeah, I know-”

“No, what you said… about the Entry Exam.” You can feel your heartbeat, like the fluttering of hummingbird wings. If you’re going to pass out during your confession, you’re going to kill Osamu for it.

Behind you, the door opens and two more students step out. Osamu looks at them and back at you and you nod, point down the hallway. “Let’s take a walk?”

There’s a broom closet not far down and you slip inside only to regret it seconds later. There’s barely enough space for the two of you, his breath washing over you as you try to focus on the words you need to say. Out loud, so he can hear them too.

“I want to beat you.” You can hear him snort, but you keep your gaze on your hands. You won’t be able to speak if you look into his eyes. “But you’re also really funny and caring and cute, in a way. I could see myself, I mean, I already, you know-”

“What about Tsumu?” He asks, voice strangely hoarse.

“What about him?”

“Don’t you like him more? You don’t feel the need to beat him every two seconds, right?”

You roll your eyes and groan.

“Seriously? The best thing about Atsumu is that he looks kinda like you.”

If you had wanted to say more - you didn’t, but you hate letting anyone else have the last word - it leaves your mind the second his lips press onto yours. 

Your mind’s not yet caught up, but your body is, hands dragging through his hair to pull him closer, to marvel at the softness of it - what conditioner is he using? - to have him a little closer.

His hands are on your hip, your back, roam over your shoulders, leaving warm trails and goosebumps behind.

Then there’s bright light and a shrill shriek and you burst away from each other only to face one of your teachers.

“What? The indecency! During an exam no less! Detention! Detention!” Her garbled words don’t make much sense, but the last word you understand.

Osamu sends you a look, his eyes speaking of little guilt and a promise to continue this latter. You can’t help but feel the same.

-

As it turns out, Detention automatically overrules your exceptional Exam marks. Neither of you wins the internship. Neither of you cares. 

Osamu had applied to an Onigiri shop not far from the school as a second option and with your last name you have no trouble securing an internship with a well-known nutritionist for Pro Athletes. 

Your father is not happy about your change in dreams, but when you explain the earning capacity of this position, and the business plan you’re already halfway through making, your excitement swaps over.

Your mother, as usual, barely listens. But you take it in stride, her usual droning on about a recipe she’s working on, by thinking about how in less than an hour, you’ll see Osamu again.

-

“You guys owe me.” Atsumu declares during Movie night. He’s perched on the edge of the couch, the last piece of the Pizza in his hands. “I’m talking about food for life.”

“We could have done it without you,” Osamu insists, arm around you, face nuzzled into your hair. He pretends he’s watching the movie, but you know better. He’s been thinking about the cheese crackers in your pantry for hours.

“If I hadn’t pulled you out in the rain to talk things through, you wouldn’t have gotten sick and your girlfriend wouldn’t have made Oyaku for you! That’s enough reason for you to love me forever!”

“If you hadn’t interfered he wouldn’t have had to think we were dating instead.” You point out and dig your hands into Osamu’s grip on your arms, moving away from him.

“Babe, what-” He starts but you nod in the direction of your pantry. “Get the crackers. I can’t watch you any longer.”

“Really?” His face lights up like a child in front of a Christmas tree. It’s worth the ridiculous price you paid for the crackers.

“Really.”

He kisses you and the moment could be perfect. But there’s still Atsumu, fake gagging in the background.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[borathae]

"PMSing is hard. Thankfully you have a boyfriend who is the most patient and understanding person on earth, even if he is currently the target of your mood swings."

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life, Fluff

Warnings: she is pmsing really hard, mood swings, a little unnecessary fight, Yoongi being the most loving and understanding person ever, he's also a cutie, she can't be mad at him for long <3

Wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: where are my fellow PMS-sufferer? we're really out there fighting battles. istfg boongie <3 i miss him so much :( he'd be such a patient booboo 😔

You were mad at him. And it was his fault because he messed up. You are currently renovating one of the greenhouse flower beds and realised in the middle of renovating that you didn’t have enough plants to fill the bed. So you asked Yoongi to go to the plant store for more and he returned with the wrong plants. Okay fair enough, maybe you are a little overreacting as well. As a matter of fact, you are very much overreacting. But it’s only a few days till your period starts and your hormones seem to hate you this month. You are constantly upset about the silliest of things and everything seems so very difficult to handle. Yoongi coming home with the wrong plants felt like the greatest betrayal in history to you. You accused him of not listening to you while he pouted at you and told you that he mixed up the names at the store, which you obviously didn’t believe because he “is a stinky liar”. Truly the fight was very unnecessary and way too dramatic for something as silly as plants, but you were upset nonetheless and so Yoongi left to allow you to cool down.

Speaking of Yoongi, he is back in the greenhouse again after leaving you to calm down. It has been a little over an hour since he left.

“Princess?”

You tense up at his voice, feeling weirdly tingly in the stomach. Not in a good way, but in a guilty yet also very annoyed way. You weren’t ready to face him yet. You still had to get over the embarrassment of acting like a child, but also the annoyance of having the wrong plants.

Maybe if you pretend that you can’t hear him, he will leave again. 

“My flower princess?”

You furrow your brows. Damn him and his stupid, cute nicknames. They work too well.

“What?” you grumble. 

Shuffling of feet, then the sound of something being put down next to you. You sneak a glance at it. There is a basket of the correct plants next to you. Yoongi must have gone back to the store to get them. Your heart flutters, your eyes burn in the desire to cry. He is so sweet and lovely and amazing and you are such a bitch.

“Look at what I got”, he says.

“Mhm.”

Yoongi squats down next to you.

“Are these the correct ones?” he asks with hopeful eyes.

You nod your head, turning away from him slightly. You are aware that you’re being childish right now, but if you look at him for too long you will start crying uncontrollably.

A defeated sigh from him, then you feel arms around you and lips on your cheek.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks in a whisper, rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“Yes, you’re stinky.”

“No princess, don’t say that. I’m not stinky.”

“Yeah you are, you stinky meanie.”

“___”, he whines, pulling you into his chest, “I already said I’m sorry and I got the right plants, please don’t make it so hard.”

“Well, I heard you but decided that I’m still mad.”

“And there is nothing I can do to make it better?”

“Don’t know.”

“I could make you a snack.”

“No, don’t want to eat.”

“Well then how about I give you head scratches?” he offers, nuzzling his nose into your hair as best as possible. 

You shiver at the feeling, but decide to stay strong.

You huff out air and pout.

“I could eat your pussy”, he whispers, letting his lips brush against your ear.

It sounds tempting and makes you tingle. 

“Yoongi”, you whine, “stop.”

He chuckles lazily, “was that a yes?”

“No, you’re being unfair and mean.”

He laughs, placing a soft kiss to your ear, “I’m not. I’m fighting for my life here.”

You roll your eyes and wiggle yourself out of the hug, abandoning Yoongi on the ground as you stand up. He looks up at you with pouty lips and sad eyes.

“Thanks for the plants”, you mumble and kick a small imaginary pebble.

“Am I forgiven?” he asks.

“Don’t know yet”, you say and turn to leave the greenhouse.

“Princess please”, Yoongi begs, scrambling to his feet. He trots after you, “princess love, please don’t be mad at me anymore.”

“Go away, you stinky”, you tell him. 

Yoongi pouts, following you outside. 

The garden is coming along greatly. The flowers and grasses are growing, bees and insects are buzzing and your herbs drench the air in amazing scents. 

You lead the way along the narrow nature paths. Yoongi follows until the once narrow paths break up into a lowly cut meadow. Crossing it and one would reach the vegetable garden. You are strutting to it confidently. 

Yoongi jogs to catch up with you and goes in for his move. He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours tightly. 

You continue your walk, but slow down a little. Slower. Slower. Slower.

Stop.

Two steps and you would be by the vegetable beds. 

The wind tickles your shins, the sun is shining. 

You turn, looking at your intertwined hands then at Yoongi.

He is squinting his eyes because of the sunlight. 

“I won’t let go until you stop being angry at me”, he tells you, squeezing your hand. 

You’re not really mad at him anymore. As a matter of fact, you think that it is incredibly cute of him to hold hands as a way of making up. 

You take a deep breath and release it as a sigh through your nose. Damn him and his cute methods. You’re being a meanie. You take out your sunglasses from your dungaree front pocket and slip them on his face as best as possible. Yoongi helps you with it, snatching your other hand as well once finished. 

“Really?” you ask him, holding back a smile.

“Yeah. Really”, he says, swaying your hands gently, “I could do this all day.”

“What if I have to pee?”

“You can’t pee if you can’t drink. I can do this all day.” 

Fine, he’s got you. You laugh, lowering your head.

“You’re stinky”, you murmur.

“What?” he insist with a smile.

“You’re stupid!” you blurt out, meeting his eyes, “stop making me laugh.” 

“Why? Cause it’s hard being mad at me when you gotta laugh?” 

“Yeah.”

Yoongi chuckles. He steps closer, caressing your knuckles. 

“Does that mean you’re ready to forgive me?”

You pout, “you’re unfair, you know? I tell you to leave me alone and you go and make me hold hands.”

He smiles, “it’s the best way to make up.”

“No, the best way’s kisses.”

Yoongi takes the opportunity and smooches your cheek. Then your other. And one last right on your lips. 

He moves back, meeting your playful, coy gaze. 

“Like this?” he asks. 

You roll your eyes and grin, swaying your shoulders from side to side. 

“Yeah, I guess”, you murmur.

Yoongi scrunches his nose. You lower your eyes, swinging your hands from left to right gently.

“Soo am I forgiven?” he asks quietly.

You nod your head.

“God, you stubborn baby, you. Making it so hard for me. Com’ere”, he says, pulling you into a hug.

You fall into it gladly, hugging him as tightly as possible with your eyes closed. He smells so good and pets your head just perfectly.

“I know, I’m sorry”, you mumble into him, “I don’t feel good lately. PMS is hitting me hard this month. I’m sorry, I try not to be so upset about everything, but everything feels like the worst thing ever.”

“Mhm, I know”, he speaks softly, rubbing your back, “I’m here, princess love. Okay?”

You nod your head, smiling softly when he kisses your head. You love hugging him so much.

“Oh god, Yoongi now I’m crying”, you confess, sniffling into him sadly.

“God princess, don’t cry”, he gasps, hugging you tighter.

“It’s just that you’re so cute and perfect and, and I’m always so mean to you, oh god I’m the worst girlfriend ever”, you say and let out a little sob.

“No you’re not. God princess love, it’s okay. It was one time and we made up. God, come here”, he chuckles, swooping you off your feet to bounce you in his arms, “let’s get you some tea to drink, yeah?”

You nod your head, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as you sob over the silliest of reasons.

“Fuck princess, I’m letting you drink something, which means you’re gonna have to go pee. I’m breaking my own promises here”, he jokes in hopes of making you laugh. It works perfectly, you are giggling and snickering into the crook of his neck, clinging to him like the cuddliest koala. He laughs softly, patting your butt, “you’re cute. Even with your mood swings.”

“Noo Yoongi, don't say that. I’m sensitive today. I’ll cry again”, you whine.

“Okay, okay sorry”, Yoongi laughs, making you snicker as well.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cabin in the woods (yan!slasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!slasher!Horangi) part 3

Little birdie got caught. Konig is simply too excited to let you go. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 AO3

TW for the chapter: Light blood and gore, dead bodies, mentions of drugs, spanking, kidnapping

— Those fucking bastards killed Karen! Don’t you care?! 

Shouting at your friends was never your forte, but you expected that it would come out at some point in your unwilling journey, You never knew it would because of the psycho killers on the loose, wanting nothing more but to make a nice set of decorations from your bones and eat your liver. 

You try to scream some senses into Chad’s tough skull but, just like his name suggests, this is a useless endeavor and you would be far better off running for your life, abandoning your friends, and hoping that killers would be satisfied without your sacrifice. But, you’re too nice. But, you have a bleeding heart and a death wish – and you feel guilty over not feeling guilty that Karen is dead. This is a new, overwhelming feeling for you, the one that almost revamps your whole essence. There are changes occurring, and you would rather die than acknowledge those changes. 

— Listen to me, goddamnit! We’re all going to die! 

You must be looking horrible – mouth covered in blood like you just ate a bunch of raw meat, smelling of dirt and fresh guts, hands shaking and your face resembling the horror mixed with anger – even Marty is surprised to see the resident mouse behave like this. God, even you are surprised to see just how horrified you look, screaming at them in the hope of saving at least someone. 

Marty drops a hand over your shoulders, pulling you to the side. You try to resist, but his clanky figure is surprisingly grippy and strong – you are being pulled to the nearest tree branches, just out of the range of the group. You spend the previous few hours trying to find them and yell some senses into their heads – and the only thing that they advised is that you should stop drinking for today and that stealing pills from Marty’s stash isn’t very nice even if he kinda doesn’t care where his junk goes. Still, you are fucking trembling. 

Marty pushes you to the tree, whispering in your ear – you feel his hot, deranged breath on the side of your face, making you wince. Even compared to the killer’s smell of sweat and blood, they still were nicer to be around than Stale-Beer-And-Cheap-Weed-Breath Marty. 

— Hey. Heeeeey, doll, what was happening back there? 

— Karen is…

— Nah-nah-nah, this is where you should shut up, yeah? Karen isn’t dead. I mean, I’m glad you think she is, it means my prank is fucking awesome. 

Prank? Her fucking head was chopped off and then tossed over to the nearest creek when the shorter killer decided that he wants you to perform a blowjob on his knife, making sure that you are licking all the blood away. You don’t think that there are ways to fake this – and if there are, then your friends and their hired goons are no better than actual killer psychos anyway and you’d still want out. 

— I saw her! 

— Sure you did, hon. Listen, I’m really glad you were the first to notice and everything, but keep it down for now, yeah? I have this sick mask and I was actually planning to prank the group later at night, but if you found it first…

— Prank?! There are two actual killers on the loose, this is the worst time to do pranks! — God, you’re annoying. This is why I fucking asked Jenny not to invite you. There are no killers, alright? Karen agreed to partake in the prank, so she is hiding somewhere in the forest until I’d pull out that sick knife and fucking scare everyone shitless. You were probably hallucinating from booze. 

— I saw her severed head!

— Sure you did. Listen – you can help me, yeah? Just rile everyone up a little, then you will come back and say that…hmmmm…that Marty was taken! Everyone panicking, screaming, crying, and then I show up with this big-ass knife and…

You never heard the last of his amazing, perfect, simply brilliant idea – because before he could finish it, his head was impaled with…oh, no. No-no-no, you can’t do this anymore, not so soon after Karen is dead, not when you are still shaking and can barely think straight not when you are far away from others because Marty fucking led you to another secured place just to get his stupid head impaled with a fucking crossbow bolt – something that you only saw in video games or historical dramas. 

This was completely silent – the quiet music of the bolt flying through the air, a small grunt that escaped Marty’s lips before he fell to the ground beneath your feet. You didn’t even manage to see from what direction this thing came from, too disoriented to observe the world around you properly. You feel the adrenaline running up again, probably breaking the record for you in the whole year – you jump from the body on the ground, tears dwelling in your eyes. You can’t do it, you can’t do it, you won’t do it, you were never a fighter, the freeze-fight-flight instinct always coming up to curling down in a small ball and sucking on your thumb. 

Some people are simply not built for survival – this is a natural order, something that Darwin was talking about. Soft, weak humans are meant to die, meant to be the food for stronger predators, for monsters dwelling in the shadows. Some creatures are never meant to exist – fleshy cute creatures, the ones that melt at the slightest touch, someone like you – when your first answer to a threat is to roll on your back and show your belly to a mountain lion, you just knew that evolution never meant for you to live past the crib. And yet, civilisation allowed you to survive. To thrive even, before you were put in this fucking forest. 

You run before everything else can kick in – at least some of your instincts are working properly, adrenaline running through your veins as you are leaving Marty behind, not even bothering to check if he is still breathing or not. The man was never thinking with his head – not the upper one anyway – but you doubt that he would survive a bolt shot perfectly between his eyes, separating his brain in two perfect halves. Like a fucking apple. 

You ran 

 ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎   ‎‎      ‎    and you ran ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎  ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎  ‏‏‎  ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎  ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎  ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎      and you ran some more

And you ran right into his chest. 

Wall of muscles, no less – you aren’t even sure if this is a human’s body, too sturdy and hard and perfect to belong to something less of a Roman statue. You feel tears running down your face, panic not even bothering to settle in – you know you would be dead in the next few moments, brain tragically easy saying goodbye to being intact. A pathetic sob escapes your throat as you are caught for the second time in this night – lady luck might be smiling upon you the first time, but you doubt you can be her favorite for long. 

— I thought the rule of escaping was to run away from danger. 

This is the tall killer – low voice, secured by the mask, making it almost unrecognizable. You shake as a big, glowed hand goes on your back, laying there heavily. Even more pathetic sounds are produced from your lips, and you are almost ready to beg him for a quick, painless death – his hand is big enough to cover your head and you don’t want to think of the implications that he might crush your skull with just his fingers. 

König listens to your sobs, doing nothing but keeping a firm hand on your back, securing you in place. You sob and whine and tremble in his hold – and he was never more hard in his life. What an adorable, pathetic little creature you are. Helpless in his hold – even squirrels can fight, scratching and biting. You were sobbing in his hold like the perfect kleine prey you are, and he could almost pretend this was a hug. 

— Tshhh, Hase, don’t cry. I won’t be able to let you go if you’d proceed with those sweet noises, ja? 

His revelation only makes you squirm more. You finally try to get out of his bear-like hug – only to realize that all of your little movements and struggles fit perfectly with the enormous, pulsating bulge in his pants that can probably be considered a murder weapon on its own and shouldn’t be concealed since this is an obvious threat to…ah, on second thought, running around from a serial killer who has his monstrous dick hanging out would be worse. Much, much worse. 

— Let me go! 

You squirm one of your hands, punching his chest. Feels like punching a marble statue – the only thing you are hurting is your own hands. You try to resolve to a different form, jerking up your knee to land a blow on his crotch. 

He fucking moans. 

— Never knew you were such a fighter, Schatz. But I warned you, aren’t I? 

You don’t understand what he is talking about before he suddenly lifts you in his hands, dropping you on his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. You are crying, trying to get away, [unching him with your legs and your hands, all the adrenaline in your veins working solely for the purpose of inflicting as much pain on this enormous figure as possible. 

You tug on this weird hood he is wearing – if you are going to die, at least you would die exhausting all possible options, not feeling like you gave up without a fight. This is still a journey of self-respect and deep insight searches for the mysteriously hidden backbone of your body – maybe, yoga classes would be more effective and less dangerous but, unfortunately, you’re not a rich white housewife in her thirties, so not like you have money for a guru who would spend hours trying to convince your ovaries to stop dying on the inside. 

— Let! 

You punch him on the back, a multitude of well-served punches right into his back. He laughs, spreading his shoulders, cocking his chest forward like you were giving him a massage. With a groan, you made a very deliberate punch right in the middle of his back – and he moans from satisfaction, probably releasing some pent-up tension that he got from killing grandmas and destroying hotels. 

— Me! 

You tried to kick him in the chest, your legs working overtime as you cosplayed a rabid rabbit – only for him to laugh even more, his arm securing you holstered across his shoulder like your punches meant nothing. They probably didn’t – he is literally still holding a fucking crossbow in his other hand, managing to secure it on his side while moving towards…you only assume it to be a murder cabin because of course those freaks would have a murder cabin, why the hell not – probably with some cool classy furniture made out of bones. 

— Go! You finally manage to secure hold on the edge of his hood, yanking it upwards in hopes of actually revealing who the fuck is he – a dirty businessman who doesn’t like those damn kids and their dog to ruin his plans for burning down the forest to create a shopping mall? A nice old man who showed you the road when you were lost, but he is actually on a spree to get revenge on all young people for killing his pet chicken in 1997? One of those creepy guys at the corner store who was weirdly obsessive over you, talked like a serial killer, and was constantly and also came in pair with the guy whose height and manner perfectly resembled a pair of killers that are after you now? 

Probably the grandpa. 

You yank the mask up and…

Ah. 

Of course, he is wearing a freaking balaclava. The only thing that you managed to see were his eyes – blue, icy, pretty, filled with anger as he pulled the hood down, concealing his features again, without you even managing to take a closer look. You gulp loudly, preparing to die. 

He smacks your ass with a power that would be enough to break a bone – your only saving grace is that the flesh of your butt provided some cushion, instead leaving a nasty bruise and inability to sit for at least a few days. That is if you would even survive long enough to have problems sitting on your backside. You won’t have such problems if you’re dead, right? 

— Quiet, Schatz. I already breaking the rule for taking you too early. 

— Br…breaking a rule? Do you have a freaking hunting pact? 

— I promised Tiger that we’d let you roam around a little. Make things interesting. 

Ah, yes, because letting you go the first time was such a brilliant idea on their behalf. The only reasons you didn’t go straight to the police is because A) You don’t speak rural Austrian German, B) Your phone can’t connect to anything, and C) You don’t even know in what part of the forest you are. Also because you’re scared that the police are going to turn out treacherous people, just like in horror movies, and that it would fucking destroy your trust. 

— I can roam around. I can roam around just fucking perfect, ass…

Another loud smack on your ass makes you feel like a misbehaving kitten. He grips your ass through your jeans and you whimper a little bit, starting to cry again as his hand goes straight for the bottom, gripping your cunt through the tough layer of denim. You thank every god you know for making you wear ugly, but protective and thick jeans. Every time his hand goes to cup your most intimate parts, the fabric of your jeans protects it – you don’t even feel too violated when he pushes his fingers even more, desperately trying to get a reaction out of you. 

— Language, Hase. Don’t make me discipline you, ja? — Fuck you! — Very gut then. That’s what you will do very soon.

Oh, but the rough material grinding over your delicate, thin panties and the sensitivity of your cunt really makes you feel…something. You won’t want to admit it, he smells like blood and sweat(still better than Marty, but you shut down that thought before it was born because fuck the new abortion laws), and he spanks your ass only to grope your pussy right after – and he also has masterful fingers that are working at the hem of your jeans, making the fabric press even more against the sensitive skin and…

You try to think of something – anything. 

Dead bodies, dead bodies, a lot of dead bodies, and there are some dead puppies too and everything is gross and smelly and…ah, it’s not working. 

König touches your lower parts with a wide grin under his hood – you’re fucking perfect, a nice addition to their house. You bite when he needs a little fight and you shut up when he touches you – perfect birdie, adorable birdie, Horangi will probably be bitching about spoiling the fun since you’d be stuck with them without a proper chase like he wanted, but the tiger would come around once he’d emptied himself on your warm body just once. 

You squirm under his touch, moan and cry and tremble and he can’t stop imagining you in millions of different positions. Stuck in the basement of their house, on your knees like a good girl you are, maybe with some branding or a collar – it’s more of a Horangi’s thing, even though König hopes he won’t have to break you too much until you’d call him daddy – pushing you to their shared bed, making sure that you’re nice and stuck in some open positions, allowing them to take you without much repercussions. 

— Let me go. 

— Nein. 

— Please? 

— I like your begging, Spatz. 

— It means you’d let me go? 

— Nein. You will tell your little friends, and then you will run to the police, ruining our fun. You are not going anywhere. 

— But, um…your culprit will be mad, no? 

As cunning as you can, you’re trying to seal the seeds of destruction among them. You’re trying your damn best not to act too charming or too fake, just so he won’t fall in love with you for real and would try murder-suicide you, but also with enough charisma checks so you’d actually convince him. 

But, it’s not really working – maybe, you aren’t as good at spreading havoc as you thought you were. 

— He’d live. We would get to hold you in your house, little one. It’s enough to make him understand my reasons. 

It’s definitely enough to make you want to puke. He is fast, not even bothering to check on the body of your friend as he goes past it – he just marks it with something that resembles a piece of torn fabric and pushes some leaves and sticks on the body, probably signalling to his friend to come and get rid of the body – and then he changed your position a little bit, securing a hand on your ass he goes deeper into the forest. 

You’re trying to remember the location, maybe counting the trees and every bush that seems like a good mark – but you, a city girl raised on a cocktail of Google Maps and a constant internet connection, have already grown tired of trying to remember everything. Every tree is the fucking same, every turn feels like the one before and, at some point, you were sure that he is actually going in circles to make you understand the location even less. Your blurry vision obstructs the goal even more – you cried so much, it feels like your very eyes gave out. With a sigh of defeat, you metaphorically roll over to your back and present your belly to the predators. 

After a hike that felt like hours, but was probably like 10 minutes long – this guy has long legs and the determination of a dog dragging a really cool stick home and, before you know it, you’re standing in front of a…house. Nice house. Expensive house, a big house, something less of a mansion, but more of a shed that you thought he was going to live in because he is literally a serial killer. 

Even serial killers made good property investments in the respective years – and you were too busy with useless stuff, like learning how to walk or trying not to choke yourself on a piece of carrot. 

— Welcome home, Schatz. 

He gently lets you down from his shoulder, allowing you to take a closer look at your surroundings. Normal living room – literally nothing weird. Maybe a bit too much hunting trophies, maybe a lot of guns lying around, some overly manly decorations, and very questionable art pieces but if you’d see that house advertised on the property website, you wouldn’t even consider it too weird. You were expecting…something. Blood on the walls, furniture made out of human flesh and skin, a devilish feast for imps and every like them…

You saw nothing as König punched the back of your head, putting you to sleep. 

You fucking hate forest trips. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 50

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: 50 chapters?!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't sleep, you just lay in an achy stupour. The sun limns the door as Loki's shadow darkens beneath it. He sat there all night, you could hear him, leaning against it, sighing, sometimes pleading for you to come out.

He groans as the door shifts with him. He exhales and you hear some cracking as he moves. He must be just as stiff as you. 

“Pet,” he taps on the wood, “are you over your tantrum?”

His words sting. He speaks to you like a child. You wish he'd leave you alone, let you out, just disappear!

He stands with another long groan and you feel him leaning on the door. He jiggles the handle then hits the wood in frustration. He hisses. Good, you hope it hurts.

Tears spring as you feel guilty just as quickly as that spiteful thought rose. You don't want to hurt anyone. You never have. You just want to be.

“You cannot lock me out forever. I must clean up,” he demands.

You don't argue. You don't mention he has another bathroom. Two even. You don't have the energy.

“Must you persist in this stubbornness?” He snaps. 

All he ever has for you is criticism. Just like your father. And you're just the same useless girl.

You don’t answer. You get up, keeping your back to the door. You tell him over and over to leave you alone. It doesn’t work. So you’ll just ignore him.

You go to the tub and crank on the faucet, the water splashing down loudly as you flinch as the sudden gush. You hear a thump on the door but focus on testing the temperature of the water with your fingers. You don’t listen to see if he goes, to you he’s just not there.

You strip off the camisole nightie and step into the tub before it fills. You lay in the burgeoning depths as it slowly rises over you. Goosebumps rise on your body yet the water offers little warmth for you. Even as it steams up to your shoulders.

You sit forward to twist off the tap and lay back with a sigh. You wet your hands and drag them over your forehead, the water trickling down to dampen the bandage across your nose. You don’t know what you’re doing or what to do. You never really did have much of a plan. Life was always just day to day. Survival.

Your lashes close as dampness lingers on them, fueled by a new flow from within. Your tears trickle out and you sniffle. Your mind wanders to a woman you never knew.

Was this what it was like for her? Confusing? Scary? Or did she love your father? Was he different when it was only her?

How can you even begin to know her when you don’t even know yourself? You are not your mother’s daughter. You are no one’s. You are no one.

You don’t languish long in the tub. You drain it and sit shivering on the toilet lid, wrapped in a thick cotton towel. You stare at your hands and think but you’re empty. You can’t live inside your mind, just like you can’t live inside this room.

You stand up and storm towards the door. You stop short and gulp. You won’t let him lock you up. Not any longer. Maybe your mother was a brave woman and maybe you can be too.

You flip back the lock and pull the door open. The bedroom is empty. He’s gone. You deflate. Just as you found a semblance of courage. 

You cross to the other door. The handle won’t turn. You expect as much, just like you should’ve expected him to leave before he could hear you.

You back up and peer around. Your eyes narrow on the window and you tilt your head. You can go too. 

You rush over to the closet and push the door open. You search through the hanging garments clumsily, hangers whining on the bar. You pull down a plain black blouse and equally simple pants. You dress as you peek over and over at the door. You don’t have shoes but you don’t care. You double up socks and go to the window.

What do you even care about shoes? You don’t have anything.

You hook your fingers into the notches along the bottom of the window and lift. It doesn’t budge. You whimper as your knuckles ache from the effort. You pout at the glass, contemplating the best way to shatter it. Your gaze wanders up to the latch at the top. Oh, it’s locked!

You slide the lock back and try again. It opens. You can barely believe it. A way out, but what comes after. You don’t have to think of that now.

You poke your head out and peek around the green lawn. The birds tweet and the trees sway with the breeze. You stick your arms out next and rest your stomach against the sill. You lift one knee and haul yourself over the ledge, dragging your other leg out awkwardly.

The roof is steep and offers little traction. As you manage to crawl onto the slope, your head spins from the drop just below the eaves. Don’t look down, that’s the first rule right. You search for a safer descent than the vision of yourself plummeting to the ground.

Just along the far side of the house, just at the corner, the ivy lines a faded trellis. You can try to ladder down on that and if not, you’ll turn back and act like nothing happened at all. No, there’s no going back. Just go.

You move carefully, turning to face the house. Your fingers grip beneath the bricks as you place your feet against the shingles, little grip through the socks. That was a bad idea.

As you inch along, flush to the roof, wriggling bit by bit, you hear the low hum of an engine. You don’t think much of it, it’s probably just a passerby. You focus on your own flight. You won’t have a car, just your feet. How far can you get?

The sudden ring of the gate frightens you. You jerk and nearly lose your bearing. You whimper and slide down to the eaves. The metal trough is tenuous as best as you feel your weight testing the bolts. Your heart pounds in your ears.

The bell rings again but you don’t let it faze you again. You’re nearly there, just a little further.

“What on earth–” Loki’s voice makes you flinch. 

The eaves creak and tremble under you as you curl your fingers over the shingles. You glance over fearfully, surprised by your discovery and all too aware of your treacherous escape. Loki’s nostrils flare as he glares out the window at you.

“Get back here! Are you mad, you’re going to get–”

The gate bell once more pierces the air and a sudden crack sounds from behind you. You slip down the shingles with a yelp, grasping at the roof as your feet meet only air. Your catch yourself on the edge, just barely, and whine as you dangle over the grass.

“Gods!” Loki blusters as you hang perilously.

Your heartbeat blocks out the noises all around you. The birds’ songs fade and the rippling leaves quiet. It’s only you and the horrid drop below. Don’t look down, you repeat. You’ve seen the movies, that’s the worst mistake you can make.

“Pet, don’t panic,” Loki clambers down the front steps as he calls to you, “just hang on. I have you, darling.”

You squeak as your arms burn and your fingers throb. You’re not that strong. You don’t think you can hold yourself. You hear him running as a car door shuts. 

“Hello?” Frigga’s voice carries over the lawn, “is everything alr–” She gasps, “oh, dear, what is going on? Loki, let me in.”

“Mother, one thing at a time,” Loki’s voice fades away as you hear him running.

“Oh my,” Frigga remarks, “dear, you just want to hold on. Try not to move too much, you’ll lose your grip.”

You close your eyes and focus on just that. Her advice is little help but you don’t even have the ability to tell her that. You’re terrified and weak. You feel your fingers about to give. You wrestle with your own mind, it would be easier to just let go and let what happens happen.

“Here, here,” Loki hollers as a metal rattle accompanies him.

Your eyes stay sealed as you fear even a glimpse of your ground. You whimper and whine, eyes once more wet and leaking. Something hits the roof not far from you and you hear a strange tempo, steady but harried. A hand closes around your wrist.

“He’s got you, honey,” Frigga shouts from the gate.

You don’t react. Loki grunts and his arm wraps around your back. You let your eyes open just a crack and look over at him. He urges you to him as he leans over the side of a ladder.

“Get your foot here,” he directs you to the rung above his own feet, “come, darling, come, I’ve got you.”

You follow his direction. Your adrenaline swells over and leaves you hollow. He gets you onto the ladder, just in front of him, and he takes a step down. You cling to the rungs as he continues until he’s stood on the grass.

“Go on, I’ve got a hold on the ladder,” he assures you.

You push your foot back and shakily dip it down. You put it on the next step before you dare to move the other. Your descent is slow and shaky. He helps you onto solid ground with his hands on your hips.

As you pull away and face him, you find his expression pinched. You push your lips out and mop up your tears, “I’m sorry, I–”

“Not now, I must deal with my mother first,” he hisses.

You wince and nod, pressing your tight fists to your cheeks. He gives you a long look and he rolls his shoulders. “Straighten yourself up, pet. Do you want her to see you in such a state?”

You shake your head and heave. He spins on his heel and marches away. You swipe away the last of your tears and swallow your sobs. You follow him, jittering as your legs move at a staggered pace. It’s almost as if they aren’t your own.

“Mother, you weren’t invited,” Loki accuses, “and we are not currently receiving guests.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What is going on here? Why was she hanging from the roof like a cat on a clothesline, Loki?”

“It is my concern, I don’t need you sticking your nose in–”

“Don’t speak to me as such, I am your mother,” her tone sharpens as you wobble towards them, “now you let me in, that poor thing must be frightened and you’re not even comforting her.”

“She is not yours to worry about,” he rebuffs.

“Nonsense, you left so fast, you didn’t let us the chance–”

“Go,” he snarls.

“Loki,” you babble as your legs fold, your sight splotchy and off kilter. As you crumble into the gravel he turns. He rushes towards you as you hold yourself up on your hands, slumping over the drive.

“Pet, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” he hooks his arm around you, “you should go inside.”

“Please… I don’t feel good,” you utter.

“Let me in, son,” Frigga demands urgently, “I can help her.”

“Just like you helped her before–”

“You know we had no idea,” she barks, more viciously than you could ever imagine her sounding.

“Loki, please,” you lean into him and tilt your head up, it lolls dangerously on your neck, “please, let her in.”

He considers you, his features drawn but no longer in anger. You see the fear he’s been holding onto. You reach to touch his shoulder and wilt into him.

“Please, I’ll stay,” you sniffle, “if you let her in. I won’t try to run again.”

He sucks in a breath and looks over his shoulder. He huffs and turns back to you. He scoops you off the ground and stands with a grunt.

“Mother, I trust you can wait until I get her somewhere safe?”

“Not long or I shall knock this gate down,” she sneers, “but perhaps I’ll let him take the wheel. Your father won’t hesitate.”

“Father…” Loki echoes.

“Oh, he’s here too, I told him to stay in the car thinking I might talk some sense into you,” she bites out, “imagine if I told him what I’ve walked up upon.”

“Let me get her inside,” Loki says tersely.

He carries you towards the house. You drone and sink into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking. You don’t know what came over you. You need sleep, your temples are like drums; boom, boom, boom.

“I’m tired,” your murmur.

“I know, pet, I know,” he brings you up the steps and through the front door. As he comes to the stairs, you reach out and grab the banister, latching on with all your strength. He stops.

“Please, don’t,” you bat your eyes and pout at him, a glisten in your vision, “don’t lock me away or I’ll jump next time.”

He waves and his throat tightens, “don’t talk like that.”

“It’s the truth,” you eke out. “I only… I only ever wanted to see the garden, you know?”

He lowers his eyes guiltily and frowns. He backs away from the stairs and instead, carries you into the den. He lays you on the sofa and puts a pillow behind your head. You relax, happy to at least be out of the room. Still, your prison remains.

“We will talk later but first, my parents,” he strokes your forehead before he stands straight.

“I could make tea,” you offer and try to sit up.

“You will not move,” he points a long finger at you, “not one inch. Do you want tea?”

You look at him. Is he really asking? 

“Yes,” you squeak.

He nods, “very well, you will have tea. Stay,” he wags his finger again, “first, I will fetch my mother and father, then tea.”

You try to smile, “thank you.”

“Hm, curse the hour,” he sneers under his breath, “I could do with something a bit stronger.”

He leaves you with that remark, striding out rigidly as his fingers twiddle at his side. You feel the same dread as him about your guest. You’re in no state to receive them, and in less to be reminded of the last time you met.

[veryinnovative]

@jegulus-microfic | january 2, prompt: fire | word count: 1.575 featuring older ceo regulus black and younger intern james potter

“A truffle wagyu burger with hand-cut fries? What does that even fucking mean?!” James shouts into the receiver as he winds through the busy masses of bodies crossing the roads, the traffic light across blinking for him to hurry. “Can’t I pick up something for him from Burger King or something? You know, like a normal human being?” 

On the other end of the line, Barty snorts a derisive sound. “Yeah, you try feeding him cheap chain franchise slob and see how that plays out for you. The fucker thinks Versace is a low-class brand, James. He probably doesn’t even know what the inside of a Burger King looks like. Besides, that place is fire. They have good shit.”

Groaning, James picks up the speed and sets out for a sprint, having missed the bus to Howick and resorted to the most reliable way of transport—his two sets of healthy, always moderately trained legs. 

“Are you running? You better not be fucking running, Potter. You’re going to come back all sweaty and with creases in your cheap-ass button-up and then I’m going to be the one getting shit for not driving you and ruining the image of Regulus Black’s executive assistant—”

“Suck a dick, Barty,” James bites back after barely evading a car, its tires screeching at him in warning. He throws the driver an apologetic smile.

“I’m serious. You meal-prepped, Potter! Asked where the fucking office microwave is, are you out of your mind? Lunch is on company credit, for fuck’s sake. You’ve got an image to uphold now you’re working for Black Enterprises!”

“The cafeteria is too rich for my taste. Besides, I like meal-prepping. It’s calming.”

“Your fucking tuna stinks up the place.”

“Maybe that’s just your big bullshitting mouth.”

“Listen here, you piece of—”

“Oops, entering a tunnel, hear that?” James cups a hand over the receiver and makes a low, grating sound—mimicking the static rasp of a bad cellular connection. “See you!”

He tucks away the phone before entering Beauxbatons, the restaurant Barty had told him to go to because Regulus was craving his guilty snack, which, to James, sounded like an item right off a witch’s menu. Then again, he was a poor twenty-three-year-old who had just had a gap year fresh out of university, lived in a run-down apartment tucked in Southern London, and knew nothing of the expensive tastes a man like Regulus Black possessed. Thirty-something years old and not a single skin blemish. Must be all the fucking truffle and caviar and whatever Boiron guava puree he eats.

“Welcome,” one of the employees asks. Of course, all of the staff are also wearing pristine clothes and have perfectly sleeked-back hair.

“Hi,” James answers, now all too conscious of the developing sweat marks below his armpits and the dampness cooling on his back. “I’m, uh, here to pick up lunch? Sorry, I forgot my order so let me have a peek at my messages…”

The employee blinks like James has grown a second head. “Take-away? Sir, this is a dine-in restaurant.”

Good thing James has come prepared. He shuffles through the contents of his bag, phone in the other hand and tip of his tongue peeking out in full concentration. “Oh, that’s alright. I brought something to carry it with me. I also got some Tupperware if you don’t mind rinsing it beforehand.”

“No, sir, it’s not a matter of containers,” the employee starts, her lips pursed into a tight line. “We don’t do takeaways.”

James stops and frowns, bag half slung over his shoulder. “Isn’t this Beauxbatons?”

“It is.”

“My boss sometimes has people pick up his lunch here.”

“You must be mistaken… We do not lend any type of service like that.”

James sighs. Great. Amazing. Just what he needed. “Right. Do you mind if I make a call? I’m sorry, there must have been a mistake then.”

The employee, undoubtedly taking pity on him and his disorderly state that suggests he’s been running the past ten minutes, nods. “Of course.”

Heaving a sigh, James scrolls through his contact list and taps on ‘Regulus’, never mind that he has been firmly instructed to only call him during emergencies. But considering the sort of day he’s been having, he considers this one.

Regulus picks up after the third ring. “Potter?”

It’s been two weeks and he still won’t fucking call him by his name, going off on tangents about formal office conduct and etiquette. Potter this, Potter that, bridling when he’s called by his first name for a change in an environment that would kiss the soles of his feet if he’d ask. “Hi, I’m at the place you sent me the address of but they don’t do takeaways so I wanted to know what you want to eat. You cool with Wagamama?”

There’s a pregnant pause—all too telling of how Regulus is probably taking a deep breath and doing the thing where he either pinches the bridge of his nose or rubs his eyebrows. “Have you mentioned the takeaway is for me?”

“No, I haven’t.” What difference would it make, James wants to ask. But in a world where Regulus Black is pretty much revered, he is confident it would make a little difference at least.

“Do that, Potter.”

James rolls his eyes before returning his attention to the employee. “He wants you to know his name is Regulus, by the way.”

Her eyes widen. “Reg—Do you mean Mr. Black?”

James clicks his tongue. “That the one.” The employee doesn’t look convinced and James holds up his hand just above his chest. “About this tall? Curly black hair? Probably in one of today’s morning tabloids, not hard to miss. I could put him on speaker if you’d like?”

There’s the frantic wave of her hands, head shaking vigorously. “Oh! You should have told me from the start, Sir. Please, what would Mr. Black like to eat for lunch? I—I’m sorry. We are very exclusive in our service and are most honored Mr. Black has once again chosen our humble establishment—”

“Just,” James sighs, skimming over the menu laminated standing on an easel by the entrance, not possessing the energy to listen to someone go off on tangents about his boss again. Not like he does so internally at night, anyway. Absolutely not. “A truffle wagyu burger with hand-cut fries.”

“Not fries, a salad—” Regulus reminds him over the phone, but James has decided that he will just about eat whatever James decides on.

“Potter—” Regulus tries again and James flat-out hushes him. To his surprise, Regulus actually shuts up.

The employee nods, over-excited. “Oh, of course, an excellent choice. How would Mr. Black like it to be cooked?”

James shrugs. “I don’t know, on a grill?”

There’s a faint garbled noise coming from Regulus that James will definitely tuck away in his memory.

But the employee is too thrilled to be serving someone as pompous as Regulus to notice the lack of culinary terminology James possesses. “Oh, I meant the cook of the meat!”

“The cook of the meat?” James repeats. “I don’t know, whoever is on shift? Regulus, who do you want to cook your burger?”

The employee makes a high-pitched sound at the same Regulus sighs in a very exaggerated, exhausted manner. “Just tell them medium rare.”

“Medium? What is this, a video game difficulty?”

“Medium rare!” the employee chirps, her smile wry. Strands of hair stick out of the previously perfectly pulled-back bun like the situation has created plenty of static to dishevel her updo. “One medium rare wagyu—”

“Don’t forget the fries,” James adds, unable to fight off the grin cleaving his face. This, he loves most—fucking with rich people. ‘Who do you want to cook your meat?’ he’s a genius for that one, an absolute innovative mastermind. Make him head of corporate next at this rate.

“You had to call me for this?” Regulus asks him as James watches the poor girl scurry off to the back, undoubtedly to ring in the order and gush about the perfect, rich, hot-looking Regulus Black on the phone by the restaurant’s hallway.

“It was an emergency. I get you the wrong order and you, I dunno, bite off my head like Miranda Priestly.”

“I don’t know a Miranda Priestly.”

“No? Shame. Would’ve loved her, a real feisty woman that one. She works in the fashion industry, though.”

“Potter.”

James tries not to bark out a laugh. He can’t help it, Regulus is just too easy. “Yeah, I’ll get you your overtly expensive A3-grade cut of meat that could pay for my weekly rent. Didn’t take you for the type of man to get burgers, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m asking employees of a lower tax bracket to pick them up for me.”

Okay, that’s kind of funny. Regulus Black can be fucking funny if he wants to, he just rarely chooses to. James barely masks his snort at it. “Got me there, boss.”

“Get a cab back to the office. And stop calling me boss.”

“My bad, Sir,” James drawls, knowing that Regulus reacts particularly well to this specific formality. 

A second of silence that stretches on for a little too long. James clears his throat, wondering if the line cut off. “Regu—”

“See you soon, Potter,” Regulus speaks, faster than usual, almost like he’s flustered, and with a strange pitch to his words before he hangs up.

[mommyownsmee]

how can i be a better domme to my partner? i have no experience and am nervous about trying to domme. they're into praise and degradation too and im not good at that

Being a good Domme starts in your own mind. You can‘t be a good Domme unless you understand the psychology of submission and why your Sub wants to be submissive and why you have the need to be dominant.

First you have to find out what you like and what you don‘t like. What do you want and what are your no-go‘s?

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You always have to remind yourself that BDSM and every session is for both of you. A part of your role as a Domme is to nurture your Sub into someone who is comfortable with her sexuality, and being able to enjoy everything that she wants to do and feel without feeling guilty about it.

Some Subs are completely at ease with sex, their bodies and their fantasies. Others have issues with all or some of those topics. As a good Domme you must understand and accept this and not push their boundaries.

There is a Domme code I once did read and I still think it’s perfect to remember in every situation: „Leave your Sub better than you found her.“

Of course you’re not her therapist, but you can do your part to make her feel great about sex and BDSM.

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Whenever a Sub comes to you as a Domme, you have to be able to quickly gauge where she lies on the submissive spectrum. This means you need to find out: What does she need in the first place, what does she want, etc.

I know this sounds complicated for someone without any experience, but you‘ll learn it after some time.

Just listen to your girl. She will tell you what she needs and wants. Your job is to fulfill those needs. Don't assume your own way is right. Often it is not. Always talk to your Submissive, never only do what you want.

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As I began to be a Domme myself, l've been learning how to present myself strong and dominant. This taught me that showing them that you can be strong and brutal is way more powerful as a turn on than being actively brutal with them.

Don’t believe you have to shout to make your Sub do something for you. I almost never raise my voice. A raised voice indicates annoyance, aggression and loss of control – everything that is the opposite of being a calm and in control Domme. Often a quieter voice is far more effective. As an example, suppose your Sub answers back. An eyebrow raise and an “Excuse me?” said quietly whilst maintaining eye contact with her works wonders.

You don't have to be brutal and treat your girl aggressively to be a Domme. Being a Dominant is not about aggression, manipulation or abuse.

You won’t always get your own way. In fact, being the Domme in the relationship often equals more work, because you now have to look after two people (yourself and your Sub). As much as she is there to serve and attend to your needs, you must attend to hers and not take advantage of her eagerness to please without giving her back anything in return.

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Some more tips:

Whether you are a beginner or professional Dom, you are never going to get it right all the time. Make light of your mistakes and your Sub will too.

There’s no need to be heavy and intense all the time. You don’t have to approach this with the solemnity of a politician delivering bad news. If your personality is naturally jovial and light-hearted then incorporate that into your play. Laugh and have fun with your sub.

Being a good Domme does not mean you have to enjoy all aspects of BDSM. I don’t like inflicting pain, for example, and I’m not that into leather. Does that make me a bad Domme? No. Don’t try and do everything. Learn what you and your partner enjoy and stick to that.

Everything you do should be consensual. Never force someone to do something they do not want to do or is going to cause long term physical or emotional harm. Remember the principle of Safe, Sane and Consensual (SSC) at all times.

Not owning up to mistakes. If you make a mistake, admit it and apologise if necessary. There’s a real strength in being able to admit your flaws.

It’s wrong to demand submission too soon. Some Dominants expect their partner or date to be submissive right from the off. This isn’t how it works. You must earn her submission. A Sub must respect and trust you before she is willing to submit to you. Don’t be the dumbass who starts ordering someone around on a first date.

Expecting submission outside the bedroom. Not all submissives (or dominants) enjoys submitting in everyday life, and you shouldn’t expect them to. Some subs want to be treated roughly during sex, but return to an equal power status afterwards. Some want an unequal power dynamic 24 hours a day.

If you aren’t clear in communicating your desires, or make your rules too complicated, or haven’t written them down, you can’t expect your Sub to follow them. Consider writing a BDSM contract for clarity.

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Execute your dominance slowly but progressively, learning where her and your boundaries are. Don‘t overstep them ever.

When you both have set your boundaries, respect them, but (of course depending on the situation/person/kind if boundary) play with balancing just on the edge. You could end up pushing their boundaries and either make her and you feel bad or make you both enjoy it in the end. You definitely have to talk to your Sub before doing anything.

Definitely talk after every session in great extent. No matter if it was a session over 5 minutes or 5 hours. Have your Sub tell you every detail they liked and didn't like, what they thought you could do better, etc.

In the same way, tell them how you felt.

Trust your Sub. She is a grown woman and more than capable of telling you if she believes you are taking advantage of her or if you‘re doing everything right.

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Find a mentor, someone who knows a lot about BDSM and is in the scene for a long time already and ask them all your questions. Ask them for help if you need.

Try to talk to many Dommes before you settle for one. Get a wide spectrum of answers, verify those answers against one another and as you find a trustworthy mentor, listen to how the answers from other places differs from theirs.

Experienced kink folk are the ones that have already screwed up and carry the scars from it. Learn from their scars instead of making that same mistake yourself.

Become a member of the community. Find out who is good and what makes them good. Who is bad at it and what makes them bad.

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Your Sub should know it's your first time domming. If you mess up, it's entirely okay to laugh about it. No shame, you're learning. You will feel more confident if you can laugh about it.

If you are not having fun, don't be afraid to say „Ok, this isn't working“ or „I'd prefer if we do this and this and this instead right now, want to change the plan?“.

Never change plans without bringing up a solution and ask that if your Sub has a complaint, that she comes with a solution following her complaint. This is so you aren't left feeling like all the responsibilities are on you.

This helps not break the Sub from their state of mind, it makes you dominant and handle the scene. It also leaves a space for the Sub to negotiate these new terms without breaking characters.

If no one is having fun, you both aren't doing it right and are probably just not compatible. Be honest, speak your mind, trust your partner as much as they trust you.

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Not everything you read online will suit you. Don’t think you have to do something just because another Domme is doing it.

For example, if you don’t like spanking, don’t do it. It doesn’t make you less of a Domme.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Since it's your first time, make sure your Sub knows that you might need aftercare as a Domme too, but that you might not know what you need yet. Some people like to cuddle in silence, some like to talk about it all and others like me needs a shower right after sex. Don't be ashamed of not knowing what you want, but make sure you can voice it out as you go.

I recommand for you both to take the bdsmtest.org before you start domming. It will help you find out more about yourself and your Sub.

Afterwards, you should read a lot about the kinks that were shown you as the most compatible.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A Mommy Domme exhibit caregiving tendencies and enjoy the softer, more tender qualities of caring for someone else. They are often paired with Littles and provide a motherly type figure or role model to guide their Sub. Mommy Dommes and little girl dynamics are often referred to as MDLG (Mommy Domme Little Girl) or CLG (Caregiver Little Girl).

A sadist Domme enjoys inflicting pain on her submissive, who is referred to as a masochist (or a „pain slut“, if she is not offended by that language). The sadist Domme will be interested in bondage, spanking, flogging and perhaps even inflicting pain during sexual activity. A sadist Domme may also enjoy humiliating or degrading her submissive through words, during sex, or when punishing her.

A Lady Domme is paired with a slave or service-orientated submissive. In this style of Domme and Sub dynamic the Lady treats her Submissive as property, and they engage in sexual and non-sexual play. For example, the Submissive might be responsible for maintaining the household, cooking dinner, or being a sexual plaything for the Lady Domme to enjoy. They might engage in slave training where the Submissive learns what the Lady Domme enjoys and how to perform her duties.

An owner Domme may refer to ownership for a submissive slave, but may also refer to owning a Submissive who enjoys acting like a pet. During pet play the Domme would serve the Sub food from a bowl on the floor, wear a collar and sleep in a cage.

A Caregiver/romantic Domme enjoys nurturing her Sub. She helps her achieve her goals and may be involved in making choices in her life such as what clothes she wears and what she eats.

A financial Domme controls the money of her submissive.

A rigger Domme enjoys rope either for the appeal of seeing her Sub tied up and restrained or simply for the beautiful ropework.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The thing that changes degrading from an act of bullying to a source of pleasure is context and consent. Sex and real life are not the same. The difference between what you are comfortable with in the bedroom versus in a real life or public scenario entirely depends on consent and the element of choice.

The understanding that consent is key to incorporating degrading should not be taken lightly. In order for everyone involved to feel safe and find pleasure from degradation, there needs to be regular talks about limits, boundaries, and what you want to gain from the scene. In the heat of the moment, it can be easy for a degradation scene to be taken too far, even with one simple comment or act.

Due to this, it is essential to have advanced planning before attempting any act of degradation. Safewords should also be established, allowing anyone in the scene to give the warning to slow down or stop the scene completely if needed. All parties need to express what they are and are not comfortable with doing or saying. Someone may express that they want to have certain parts of their bodies insulted, but the other person involved may not be comfortable saying these insulting terms. That is absolutely okay but should be discussed prior to the scene. Everyone involved is allowed to have boundaries, and they need to be respected.

The intention behind degrading is to bring intense feelings of humiliation or embarrassment, and because of the emotions that can stem from this, aftercare is a must. Aftercare provides reassurance and affirmation, creating a feeling of safety and respect that was not present during the degrading scene. 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

On the complete opposite spectrum to degradation, some Subs find arousal from praise. There is nothing some Submissives love more than positive reinforcement. Whilst praise can be verbal, there can be physical elements incorporated. A pat on her head or a kiss on her forehead can be just as good as a verbal affirmation. When giving out compliments, make sure to be sincere in your praises. Half-hearted compliments will be noticed, and your goal of making your Sub feel appreciated will not be reached.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Some Submissives are into both degrading and praise, which is totally alright. The thing is: You need to talk with your Sub beforehand about her boundaries and what exactly she wants to hear and what not. Are there words that trigger bad feelings in your Sub? Are there things that do the opposite?

To use praise and degradation in one sentence, combine a praise with an „insult“. For excample it could be: „You‘re my pretty slut.“ or „Your cunt is already molded into the shape of my strap, and you look so perfect- fucked out like this, baby.“

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[marengogo]

UGH!-7: … Time To Pack It All Up, Y’all!

Be Mine (English Version) - by Jimin  [Be Mine (English Version)]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

⚠️TW⚠️: I’m usually vulgar, but in this post, I might have outdone myself .

My dearest Gurls, Bois and Enbys, 

How’s everyone been doing? Are you enjoying Muse? Are you looking forward to RUN JIN? Are you ready for Are You Sure?!? Oh, let 👏🏾 me 👏🏾 tell 👏🏾 you 👏🏾, the excitement is way too real and I can’t even that's literally all the words I can fathom for now, I’m terribly sorry! That being said my Darlings, I’m afraid today’s blog will have to address a point I’m now realising that I must address, and I quite frankly assumed I wouldn’t have to, given that I am part of The Community and all. You see, there seems to be many Gladiators that wander into my neck of the woods completely misguided.  

They seem to think that my blog exist just so I can be present if one day JM and JK have sex on national TV, so that I can gloat in the faces of the Capulet enemy as I slay them with my mighty, and metaphorical, sword and bathe in their “blood” while I celebrating with fellow Montagues. Well, it is with a heavy heart, and great sadness, that I must inform you that frankly my dear, I don’t give a fuck, about none o’dat. Statements such as “Clearly JM has been single” like this Gladiator over here →  [LINK] or “JK has been fucking pussy every hour, every minute, every second” as the rest of Twitter ARMY believes or “They’ve been living together and have 100% been a couple since 2015, if you'd believe they are definitely real, why are you here...” like others on this app can really miss me, cause;

I 👏🏾 DON’T 👏🏾 GIVE 👏🏾 A 👏🏾 FLYING 👏🏾 FUCK 👏🏾.

The reason why I built this little nest in these treacherous woods is because, upon a sudden realisation, while looking at JK & JM, after careful observation and educated guessing, it started to feel like “Oh, hold on a minute … There might be something there …”. The idea that within this band that I adore there might be someone who is part of the community, like me, literally had my head implode, and not only that. It would appear that two particular members who seem to bring out the best in each other, as well as within those whom they interact with, might in fact be in this possible queer relationship, would make it even better, since we all love a stunning and powerful couple.

So yes, I am indeed here for the representation of it all. I’m not sure how many can relate, but as a minority in so many aspects of life, race, gender, sexual orientation etc, the feeling of having a fellow minority out in society who has the means and the will to live there life openly because coming out isn’t a must, we have the right also to not come out if we don’t want to as a minority is very positive and encouraging for all the rest of us, regardless of whether or not we decide to eventually come out or not. 

Though there’s obviously been many others who’d come out before Matt Bomer, he is the one coming out I will never forget. I loved White Collar like borderline obsessed. I watched it when it came out and it was my favourite guilty pleasure show before Suits. What I loved the most was watching him and Tim DeKay interact behind the scenes or during bloopers with the rest of the cast too, goofy as hell! And then in 2012 (three years in) Matt finally came out and took me by a storm, the fact that he had been able to keep his husband and three children hidden for all that time was also 🤯🤯🤯.

Once again, many others had come out before him Ricky Martin, for example, in 2010 but because White Collar was such a big part of my life, I was so ecstatic, it felt like a friend came out. It was also so great to see how much everyone on set, and the fans, were supportive and how much freer and happier he’s been since then. When Mew and Tul confirmed their relationship last month just a couple of months after Thailand legalised gay marriage y’all should have seen my face, I couldn’t stop grinning. All the speculations, the pictures, the public trips, etc etc etc. Anyways, they’ve both gone through quite some drama in the previous years, Mew in particular, so I am indeed quite happy for them.

So if JM and JK are not dating, or there isn’t a single queer person in the whole of bangtan and all have girlfriends and wives, or there are queer tannies and they are dating other queer people, or whichever other possible combinations, as long as they are happy, so will I, because I am first and foremost an OT7 ARMY and all I will always want is their happiness. I am thus afraid that you will not see me shed any tears, nor hear any miserable barking, in this neck of the woods; so~rry.

Guess I’m not packing up after all next time I’m bringing out my luggage best be for my trip to Japan …! So, in conclusion, and just as a reminder for anyone passing by as well, this has been, still is, and will always be a Possibly Queer until proven Definitely Straight safe space, as well as a space where amongst plenty other things obviously all things queer can and will be gracoiusly discussed and analysed to my discretion; You di~g?

Always respectfully yours 🫰🏾💜,

Marengo.

[xiaosonlybeloved]

Lost to Change~ Childe

featuring:- Tartaglia as Ajax when he was 14 yrs old, his family, gn!reader (no pronouns used) warnings:- implied angst, minor mention of injuries towards the end, nothing actually its just sad a/n:- oml my first actual writing in like weeks i kinda like it ngl. can be read as platonic or non platonic since ajax is 14 here and reader is close to his age too

wc:- 1.6k || masterlists

“Why isnt Dad back yet?” A little girl questioned you, her worry clear on her face. There’s nothing you can say, though, because you have no answer. “He must still be searching, Tonia.” you try to reassure her, watching over little Teucer who was still sleeping. “Try to go to sleep, Tonia. Tomorrow’s a holiday, but you should still get your sleep. If- When Ajax comes back home, he wouldn’t like to see you all exhausted now, would he?” Sensing her reluctance, you add, “I’m staying here. I’ll keep watch. Nothing will happen, I promise. I’ll wake you up when Uncle comes back home.”

Tonia eventually trudges away to her shared bedroom with Anthon, socked feet moving soundlessly across the carpeted floor. Her elder sister follows to tuck her in, leaving you alone with Teucer as you sigh, gazing out at the moon high in the sky, anxious.

Its been two nights since Ajax had suddenly disappeared without a trace. He’d borrowed some bread for some reason before he left, and no one’s heard of him since. He hadn’t left Morepesok, that much was certain, because his parents had already confirmed it with the police. Which meant that he was certainly somewhere within this quaint little village, or he was lost in the forest. You sincerely hoped it wasn’t the latter, as a distant howl of a wolf was heard.

The police were searching for him too, but his dad had been unable to sit still and wait for any news, so he left to search for Ajax himself. He knows how to protect himself... He would be fine.

“Thank you for staying here, dear. I’m sorry to have asked you to, but sometimes the kids only listen to you, not me. You can go to sleep in the guest bedroom too, its alright. I’m staying awake” Ajax’s mother spoke up from beside the fireplace. At this point, she treats you like you’re her one of her own kids too, and its somewhat reassuring. You quickly reply, “No no, its completely fine, I understand. I don’t mind watching the kids at all. And I’ll give you company till he comes back, don’t worry. I’m used to sleepless nights.”

Ajax’s father comes back in the early morning, alone. The disappointment and worry is very visible on everyone’s faces. You wake Tonia and Anthon up, as promised. Ajax’s elder sister, Maria, and his two elder brothers had stayed awake through the night too. Breakfast is silent as the dim sunrays filter through the forest canopy. You insist on him getting some sleep. The house is silent as everyone goes to their bedrooms after breakfast to try and rest. You use the spare bedroom- its practically yours anyways, with how many times you’ve stayed here for sleepovers with Ajax. There’s a hoard of blankets in one corner of the room that was used to make a fort every single sleepover. It was like an unofficial tradition of yours. 

You try to sleep. Its better than drowning in worry, anyways.

******

Ajax had a guilty frown on his face as he observed your near-sleeping figure. He should have realised that you’d be tired, it had been a long day after all. But he’d been dying to watch the newest movie of their favorite series with you, and of course, you never said no to him. He’d been too engrossed in the movie to notice when your head dropped onto his shoulder- a usual thing between you two. You mumble some gibberish as he carries you to the bed (not without his struggles, you two were children after all) and switches off the T.V. “Is the movie over? I didn’t realise…” You yawn as you sleepily pull up the blankets to your chin. The nights in Snezhnaya were always freezing cold after all, which is why you dont hesitate to do the same with the second blanket Ajax drapes over you. “Nops, but we can watch it tomorrow morning after breakfast. I think Anthon would like to watch it too, if you don’t mind?” “Mm, I don’t, he’s such an adorable kid. They grow up so fast, don’t they?” you mumble. “Are you coming to sleep too?” “..Yeah.” He responds quietly, snuggling into another set of blankets beside you. “Goodnight, [Y/N].” Because you’re already in dreamland by then, having been content to see him resting beside you, you miss the swirling childlike emotions, the sparkle in his eyes. You’re so used to it, seeing it is like second nature to you, an undeniable part of every day.

You wouldn’t have believed it if you had been told that one day, soon, that innocence, that sparkle in his eyes would vanish, to never reappear again.

******

You tried to cling on to the distant memory of your dream that was rapidly fading away as you awoke. You liked the dream. The memory… you were rather untroubled in it because of the presence of your best friend. Much unlike your conscious self’s distress and concern caused due to the same person. 

The sun was glaring through the thin air and the gaps between the curtains.”She’s awake.” A small voice whispered, and another retorted, “You were too loud.” Tonia and Anthon. They’re arguing in hushed tones, startling with an incredibly guilty look as you sit up. And that face is so, so familiar that it instantly reminds you of the person they learnt it from, which reminds you that Ajax is still missing and it has been almost 3 days since then. “Is something the matter?” You question them as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. You’re surprised you even manage to fall asleep.

“Well, Mom, Dad, Maria and Atlas are going out to search for Ajax, and me and Tonia are going with them too. Maria and Dad know how to fight, so we should be safe. Alex is staying home to take care of Teucer. Dad told us to ask you if you wanted to come along too.” Anton says quickly. You nod without hesitation as you briskly put on extra layers suited for the chill outside.

As you walk, they inform you that they’re splitting into two groups, one with their dad, Anthon and Atlas and one with you, his elder sister Maria, Tonia and their mom, to scour the forest. You’ll keep in contact with each other if someone needs help or finds Ajax. You all are strictly to return home an hour before the sun starts setting.

******

There’s not much time left before dusk when finally Maria calls their dad. He immediately answers, starting to tell them to return home now, before Maria swiftly cuts him off. “We found Ajax. He’s injured. We’re bringing him home immediately, please call a doctor in the meanwhile.” She states bluntly. Nearby, you and his mom are doing your best to wrap the wounds and stop the bleeding for a while. 

Ajax was unconscious and looked much worse for wear. Somehow, his hair had grown longer than it should have in three days. Same with his height too, he was definitely taller by a few centimetres from when you had last seen him, as you and Maria carried him home together, his mother and Tonia right behind you. You meet Atlas near their house, who takes Ajax from you as he can carry him faster to the doctor awaiting you all at the house.

Despite the concern, there’s definitely relief mixed in everyone’s emotions to finally finding the runaway. There’s silence in the living room, because the doctor shooed everyone out while he did a checkup and took care of his injuries. After some time that felt like an eternity, he finally reports to you that physically Ajax was alright, he was ordered bedrest for atleast a day, to take care to not reopen his wounds, and that he was awake now. 

You were the first one out of your seat as you immediately hurried to Ajax’s room, eager to finally talk to him, maybe scold him for his recklessness.

Ajax is facing the setting sun in the window, away from you when you enter. “Ajax, you-” You stop short when he turns to face you.

Something’s not quite right.

His smile is the same, if not a bit wider and more cheerful than you’d ever seen him. There was self-confidence in his posture, something he’d lacked before. Make no mistake, you’re happy about that, but…

“Hey [Y/N]! Long time no see!” Ajax blithely exclaims with a grin, and something about it is so off. 

It’s him, its definitely him, your instincts tell you so. But at the same time, its not him. Not the Ajax you knew.

His eyes are completely dull, two dark pools of blue without any shine or light in them. Not a hint of emotion was displayed in them, just a vast emptiness that contradicted his demeanor. His eyes, which used to be your gateway to his thoughts, have locked you out firmly now, no key in hand. 

As the rest of his worried family crowds behind and around you, you realise with a bone-crushing certainty, looking at him, that the Ajax you all knew, loved and missed was gone, lost to the world in those past three days, perhaps never to return. It would never be the same again, he would never be the same again.

(help this isnt even the main plot point i had for this idea this was supposed to be the background not a whole fic on its own-) anyways reblogs, tags and comments are very appreciated thank you <333

[stardustprompts]

how to sell a haunted house - grady hendrix sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw ; death , alcohol , language , mental health

‘you need to sit down.’

‘what did you do?’

‘jesus, i’m sorry I’m not doing it the right way. i’m sure you’d be perfect at this.’

‘I find knowing these details makes it easier.’

‘you should have a drink, too.’

‘i’m not going to die. not for a long time.’

‘just because we shared a bathroom for fifteen years doesn’t mean you know a thing about me.’

‘my yoga instructor knows more about me than you do.’

‘I knew you’d do this. I knew you’d show up and start telling everyone what to do.’

‘look, I know you need to be in charge, but I’ve taken care of this.’

‘stop telling me how to deal with things. things are dealt with. I dealt with them.’

‘you can’t argue with someone when they’re upset.’

‘I don’t know what got into me, but I overreacted and I’m not proud of if it, and it wasn’t fair to you.’

‘you always needed everyone looking at you.’

‘I didn’t do it for attention. I did it because I was upset.’

‘I don’t like coming in here anyways. it’s got bad vibes.’

‘you can’t put a price tag on love.’

‘being here is really bad for my mental health.’

‘I know you don’t like me because i’m not successful enough for you.’

‘i’m actually happy with my life.’

‘if we aren’t related, if we met today, we wouldn’t chose to be friends.’

‘I don’t think we should be in here at all. I think my plan was better.’

‘don’t you feel the vibes?’

‘this is happening too fast. we need to slow down.’

‘your house is haunted.’

‘every single time I give you the benefit of the doubt, or I try to help, it comes back and bites me in the ass. every! single! time!’

‘our house is not haunted.’

‘i’m telling you there’s weird vibe. I can feel it in my gut.’

‘methinks thou doth protesteth too much.’

‘ghosts don’t exist.’

‘there are true things and there are false things, and there are no in-betweens.’

‘there are facts, like houses and car accidents and cremation, and there’s bullshit like ghosts and vibes and exorcisms. and if you start getting the true things mixed up with the false things, you’re fucked!’

‘reality is not a consensus!’

‘when you don’t like the way a conversation is going you deflect with personal attacks.’

‘you’re like some kind of emotionally abusive octopus entangling everyone in your word tentacles.’

‘even I know that you don’t go back in a haunted house after dark.’

‘the only things here are memories, and those can’t hurt us.’

‘you’re very threatened by new ideas.’

‘I offered to stay tonight because I thought it would be good for you. i’m hoping it gives you some closure.’

‘why are you so mad at me? is it because you feel guilty?’

‘i’m sorry you remember it that way because that must feel terrible, but that’s not what happened.’

‘stop telling me what I remember!’

‘no one ever says no to you, (name) because we’re all scared you’re going to lose your temper.’

‘oh, fuck you. nice try, (name), but fuck you.’

‘no matter what you did, I still don’t want anything bad to happen to you.’

‘everything has to be a big production and you’re the star.’

‘everything has to be a big production and you’re the star. all because you can’t face the fact that your life is sad and empty.’

‘it’s a little late for you to start being my brother now.’

‘you blew my mind. it felt like we were the only two people left in the world.’

‘no matter what, I don’t want to ditch you here with a bunch of ghosts.’

‘right now what you need, for once in your life, is to listen to me.’

‘the way you’re laughing is actually really, really scary.’

‘none of this is real.’

‘stop being scary.’

‘I don’t think I’m well. I think something is really wrong inside me.’

‘don’t you fucking laugh at me. for the first time ever, my life finally makes sense.’

‘I don’t think I know what’s real anymore.’

‘my explanation is logically consistent. yours is all magical energy.’

‘it was absolutely terrifying.’

‘how much trouble are you in?’

‘look at me. you’re not crazy. this really happened.’

‘don’t make this funny.’

everything you’ve seen tonight, i’ve seen it too.’

‘i’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.’

‘it was easier to pretend nothing happened.’

‘my entire life I’ve always known something was wrong with me. i’ve spend my entire life scared that if didn’t do everything exactly right, reality would unravel around me and I’d lose myself again.’

‘I forgive you.’

‘I hope you feel better. i’m fine.’

‘I didn’t think you had it in you.’

‘get out of here.’

‘all the things I did, I want to forget.’

‘i’m not doing it! i’m not doing it again!’

‘you need to get out of here right now.’

‘it won’t hurt me, but it’ll hurt you. you have to go right now!’

‘don’t let him do this again. don’t let him take over.’

‘I need a beer.’

‘an apology would go a long way.’

‘can you keep it down? I had to lie about what happened to a lot of people.’

‘are you seriously upset with me because I saved your life?’

‘you need to accept reality.’

‘you’ve become such a grouch.’

‘I wish you’d let someone take care of you.’

‘do you agree that there are forces greater than this world and we are helpless in the face of them?’

‘we don’t have time to fuck around.’

‘i’d like to say this the weirdest shit that’s ever happened to me but I have a bad feeling it’s about to get a lot worse.’

‘I told you this was a bad idea.’

‘I think we’re fucked.’

‘this is wrong. what you’re doing is wrong.’

‘let’s talk about something that’s actually interesting.’

‘it just hurts a little. and by ‘a little’ I mean ‘a lot’ and also ‘all the time.’’

[hotcheetogirlluver]

can you please do one where reader can be stoic and emotionless like she's a tsundere (she's hard and rough on the outside but once you get to know her her sweeter bubbly side shows later on) and Levi has the fastest crush on her. her trauma she went through when she was younger makes her oblivious to when people genuinely have a crush on her because she oversees that. she shows her soft side as she befriends him and him being nervous around her hurts her feelings really badly. she just breaks and returns to being expressionless, rough, and quiet. Levi starts to feel guilty when she doesn't smile at him anymore or when she ignores him and doesn't speak to him. her friends are pretty worried blah, blah, blah. finally he apologizes after weeks of not speaking but she's fighting it because of her insecurities and trauma. LOTS OF ANGST I BEG YOU 😭😭😭!! and ofc fluff at the end 🤧🥺💗 (sorry it's super long have a beautiful day and I hope you can make this!)

A/N: ofc!!! i love this idea POOKS! Im a sucker for angst too honestly 😭😭. but I will gladly do this story and just a warning it is very long. ENJOY, THOUGH!!💓

Summary: Levi has a huge crush on (Y/n). She's completely oblivious, and sees his 'flirting' as cruelly bullying her. One day she's in his office casually talking to him and since he gets awkward with her because of the fat crush he has, he hurts her feelings in a way no one has ever hurt her.

WARNINGS ⚠️ : swear words, talks of disorders, talks of molestation and uses word rape

s/t: skin tone

h/c: hair color

y/n: your name

e/c: eye color

-!!ANGST!! FLUFF!!-

__________________________________________________________

Levi looked over at (Y/n). She was speaking with some cadets, giving them tips on fighting and dueling and such. Dressed in her usual black cloak with a hood over her head.

His usual stoic face looking over his shoulder to stare at her. If only she didn't wear that stupid cloak every single day and maybe it would be easier to catch a glance at her face.

The cadets looked like they respected her.. Listening in closely and trying to focus on every single word she was saying to them.

“Captain Levi?” A male voice made him turn around and stare the person down who just caught his attention.

“What is it?” His voice dripping in slight annoyance made Eren sweat nervously.

“You looked sort of a trance there! Just making sure you're still alive, sir!” Levi's glare only hardened and Eren slowly stepped away from him.

“Go spar with Armin. You both need the practice. You must be bored if you came over here just to bother me.” Eren nodded rapidly.

“Right away, Captain!” He took off and Levi looked back at (Y/n).

“You're doing it completely wrong, cadet. Straighten your stance as if you're prepared to fight someone right now.” She was way more sweeter than he was. Recently she's started to show her soft side and it always sent a warm shot through his heart.

Of course he would never show it, his usual unimpressed mask on at all times. He watched as Sasha corrected her fighting stance.

“Like this (Y/n)?” (Y/n) nodded with a cute smile and sent her a thumbs up.

“Way better!” She praised with a small clapping of her hands.

“Can we eat now?! I’m dying to eat I haven't eaten in like 30 minutes! When's the next break?? I'm literally starving to death-” A strong kick was directed to Sasha’s stomach, sending her to the ground roughly.

“OW-” Sasha rubbed her stomach in pain. “You have no concept of the idea of starvation, cadet.” (Y/n) set her hands on her hips.

“Let alone starving to death.”

Levi couldn't help but just watch the scene unfolding in front of him.

… Well that took a different turn. His stoic face, trying to contain the curiosity flowing through his veins at the moment.

… Why the sudden change of attitude? She was sweet and turned bitter in a second's notice. His head tilted upward a bit. His bangs almost hitting his eyes, barely brushing against his eyelashes.

“10 laps, Sasha.”

“B-But Captain!-”

“20 laps.” Sasha groaned internally and got up as (Y/n) eyed her.

“You'd think a lady that small would be more laid back.” Eren muttered watching from afar as well behind Levi.

“Well weight doesn't necessarily matter in the Survey Corps, Eren. It's mainly all about the soldier's intelligence and strength. Just look at you and me. Plus, usually the smaller ones are more aggressive.”

Levi's eyes immediately looked to the side, and his body turned to look at Eren and Armin.

“You two! Go join cadet Sasha on her 20 lap jog.” The two boys looked at each other with shocked facial expressions and Eren sighed heavily.

“If I were you Eren, I'd save my breath for the laps. And word of advice, try not to whisper so loud next time you're talking about someone important.”

“WHAT?! Someone important? Captain Levi, it's all so clear now! You have a big crush on Captain-”

“30 laps.” Levi turned away from Eren and Armin, as the pink flush was beginning to settle on his pale cheeks.

His hard gaze was set on her once again as he turned. Eren shook his head annoyed but still was too intimidated by Levi to not jog the 30 laps.

“The smaller ones really are the most aggressive-”

“Eren stop talking!” Armin cut him off as they began jogging to the field.

(Y/n) wiped some sweat from her forehead.

‘Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lose the black cloak.’ She began to slip it over her head and threw it on the grass. Levi kept his face as emotionless as he could with the sight in front of him.

She shook her head around a bit trying to let her scalp breath. Her hair was really thin/thick, short/long, wavy/curly/straight. Her skin a s/t, really glowing in the sunlight. Her hair a beautiful h/c. And then there was her eyes..

Shit.

Her eyes were fucking gorgeous.

The color red set on the tips of Levi's ears, watching her being so effortlessly beautiful. He tried pushing the new fluttering feeling he felt to the very bottom pit of his stomach.

Her eyes were big e/c eyes, with dark eyelashes. Long eyelashes.

Fuck.. he's simping.

That's disgusting and shameful. He tried to snap out of it. But..

Suddenly she turned her gaze to him. A small smile on her lips.(Y/n) walked over to him, her heeled boots, she always wore giving her the smallest bit of height.

“Levi!” Her hands were behind her back as she gave him a wider, sweeter smile. Oh no.. was she walking towards him? At least give him some time to think about what he should say?!

“I haven't seen you in a while it's felt like! I've been busy with those stupid non-stop expeditions though. I feel like I would see you more often if you come out of your office more. Not like once every blue moon,” Her head tilted to the side wearing a bright smile on her face. Which was rare.

“Y’know?” She's right. Levi’s been in his office doing paperwork and signing and reading information from all sorts of documents. It's energy draining going through paper after paper and still never meeting an end.

Sometimes very rarely when he would actually leave his office and would see her walking in the castle halls it made his day a tad more bearable to deal with.

But to him it was somewhat a good thing being locked in his office day and night. Recently he's noticed he's starting to hold feelings towards the h/c. Deep feelings. To the point where he gets awkward and nervous fast if she's even around him.

He's been practicing on handling that calmly and coolly though.

“Y-Yeah. Haven't seen you in a while either.”

…… Wow. Just wow Ackerman.

… He wished he could stab himself with the swords he uses to kill Titans with. Seriously Ackerman?! That was painful. Embarrassing. You should walk away now. And leaving this world and existence would probably be for the better too.

(Y/n) scanned Levi's face intensely as his eyes avoided hers.

“Levi, are you okay?” She put a hand on her chin and the other hand set on her hip as she leaned to the side to meet his eyes.

“Fine.” He responded dryly.

Hm.. What's going on with him? He looks.. nervous? Levi? Nervous? Maybe she was getting this wrong. She was terrible at reading people. She always was.

“You took off your cloak.” Levi suddenly said with an awkward cough, and looked at her hair. (Y/n) pushed some hair behind her ear and nodded with a smile. Those rare smiles made Levi’s heart beat against his ribs.

“About time right? It's been so cruelly hot outside these past couple days.” She waved a hand in front of her face jokingly.

“Y-Your hair..”

“My hair?”

“It's not as shitty as I thought it'd look.” Levi said non chanantly.

“Oh.”

“Do you even brush your hair though? It looks messy as hell. Don't have enough time on your hands to brush your hair or something?"

… Ouch. A knife sliced her heart and she just blinked before laughing small, quiet and uncomfortably. Well that definitely stung.

“Well, actually I brush my hair each morning and night before I fall asleep. It's a daily routine I don't intend to skip out on at all.” (Y/n) ran a hand through her hair consciously with an awkward smile on her face replacing the bright one from earlier.

“Is that so?” He replied unamused.

“Mhm!” She nodded her head before turning her head to the side with a light pink tint color covering her cheeks in embarrassment.

“Anyways Captain! I'm going to head back to my office. It.. It was nice seeing you! Mind telling Sasha she’s allowed to take a break when she’s finished with her 20 laps?” (Y/n) turned around not letting Levi respond and walked over to her cloak on the ground throwing it over her head before leaving the training grounds.

His once fast heartbeat slowed down to the normal speed. ‘What the fuck, idiot.’ He told himself. Why did he say that? Why did he say that??

“ ‘It's not as shitty as I thought it'd look.’ ” He mocked himself in a harsh whisper.

“You idiot, why in the world would you say that to her? You made her uncomfortable you fucking dumbass. That's why she was in such a hurry to leave you.” Levi tried to forget about the encounter with (Y/n) he just had, feeling tormented with guilt enough as it is.

‘Just stop being so nervous around her Levi.’ He ran a hand through his under shave.

_________________________________________________________

Meanwhile (Y/n) pulled the cloak's hood closer to her head as she tried to calm her racing heart and her heavy breathing.

Levi thinks her hair is messy.

And he thinks she doesn't brush it? Does he see it as disgusting? Looked like it.

(Y/n) stared at the stone floors as her heeled boots clicked against them. Which means everyone who was at the training grounds earlier saw her hair as disgusting too then.

She closed her eyes for a second and shook her head. Get it together (Y/n). It's fine.

… But what if it isn't? This reminded her of back then..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two grown men held onto (Y/n) wrists on either side of her pretty tightly. It felt like they were cutting her circulation off. She was 6 years old at the time.

Her mother sold her to some sketchy group from the Underground to get some money and to keep her house. (Y/n) had several bruises on her arms and face.

Those cruel bastards. She looked up at the tall man in front of her, with wide eyes.

“This rats nest of hair you got here is fucking gross. It looks like shit. You need to become extra beautiful, gorgeous.” He smirked with a sinister look in his eyes.

He held out a knife and suddenly just cut off half her hair. Her eyes widened more.

W-What? Why did he do that? Why did her mom even sell her to these men? They've hurt her, said horrible things to her, and now this? What's going on?? What are they going to do to her? She trembled in fear, heart about to leap out of her chest as she watched her long locks of hair fall to the dirty ground.

“Perfect, gorgeous.” The man brushed his hand through her hair with that creepy smirk still on his face. Then he nodded at both of the men who were holding her wrists tightly.

“W-Wait! Sir! What are you going to do to me?” He only darkly chuckled and waved a hand to a room.

“You’ll see in a second.” He kicked his lips and tilted the hat he was wearing down some more. The two men at her sides started dragging her to the room.

“W-Wait! Stop! P-Please, let me go! Stop i-it!” (Y/n) kicked her feet and struggled against the tight grip they had on her.

“Sir!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) stared down at her hands. She tried to shake away the memories she just thought of. Truth is.. She wasn't ever raped in the Underground. But… She was molested. And it definitely wasn't just once.

Those disgusting men down there.. Made some part of her life hell. A huge part of her life hell.

Those memories never leave you.

They stick with you.

And (Y/n) still got shivers thinking about it.

‘It's different.’ She told herself. It was the main reason she was insecure, about everything. All of those people from that sketchy group all those years ago.. They caused her pain and misery.

Trauma.

Why does she always wear a cloak? To cover her body from society's eyes. Feeling like she’s fat half the time and feeling like people don't like the sight of fat women. Resulting in not eating for weeks sometimes. Why does she wear a hood? To cover her face and hair. Her hair being “messy” and her face not complimenting her body.

Her hair always made her question her looks. But then again she always questioned her looks. Because of them. Like.. Why does everybody stare at her that way? Why are they looking at her? What's wrong with her?

She clenched her shirt near her heart.

Of course Levi doesn't like her. How could he? He's Humanities Strongest. (Y/n) thought she and Levi were getting close. And then all of a sudden he can't even look her in the eye and he seems more.. nervous around her. But like she said earlier, that word doesn't quite fit him.

They were both distant.

She wasn't going to lie though, at first it was hard to become friends with him. Or anybody really. She’s really antisocial and she too has a stoic, expressionless, mask on at all times. That's how she is with people she doesn't know. And when she didn't have friends.

She didn't mind though. That's how it had been her whole life. She's probably only had 1 friend from her younger years. She can't remember clearly though. When she first joined the Survey Corps no one would talk to her. She understood somewhat though. She did look a little sketchy wearing her black cloak everyday with a literal impassive look on her face all the time.

Made matters worse when she refused to remove her hood.

But when Hange Zoë sat with her one day in the mess hall, (while she stared at her food plainly not planning on eating it) and invited her to sit at their table she stared blankly at her for the longest minute (making Hange sweat drop) but accepted.

But she thought her and Levi were getting close. The awkward short talks turned to long conversations about small things. Both of their emotionless faces, cracked a smile or two when around each other.

She even discovered that way, her crush on him.

(Y/n) enjoyed his presence. She thought he was a good leader, really independent and honestly.. funny.

Maybe it's one sided love though.

Maybe she's just blinded by her stupid crush on him.

Recently he's been really.. mean towards her. He's been insulting her every time she sees him. And it's sort of been a good thing she hasn't seen him in weeks because he's been trapped in his office doing mile high paperwork.

It hurts her heart every time he says something harsh to her. She never says anything back though. But next time maybe she will. He's been hurting her self esteem and bringing back unfondly memories she would rather not think about. She has to stand up to him for once.

Usually she is really blunt. And really, really honest. But with Levi and her friends her soft side is brought out. (Y/n) nodded mentally, realizing her heartbeat slowed down and her heavy breathing calmed down.

She took one last deep breath, before walking to her office for the afternoon. She, too, needs to finish paperwork.

________________________________________________________

Levi sat at his desk. His eyes scanned the writing on the documents he was reading. He was a fast reader.

But he hated every time he would read through essays of information for the Survey Corps, because most of the time it reminded him of the Underground.

Where he didn't even know how to read until later on in his life.

He rubbed a hand on his forehead. Why was he thinking about that now?

He has work to do. It's better if he just finished it all sooner than later.

In Levi’s office it was silent.

His office was a very serene room. He preferred it that way though. It helped him focus more, and if it was placed next to a loud room he would probably kill the neighbor right next to him. He sighed, feeling the smallest amount of loneliness for the past few weeks. Sometimes it was somewhat depressing being so isolated. And feeling so isolated too.

He shook his head.Focus Levi. You're getting off topic.

When he was about to start reading again he heard 2 knocks on his door. He straightened himself out, organized the papers as quickly as he could, and calmed his facial features down.

“State your name and business.” He called.

“It's (Y/n). Mind if I come in, Levi?” Levi’s eyes widened ever so slightly as his pulse skyrocketed.

‘Calm down Levi. Act natural.’

“C-Come in.” He cursed himself as soon as the stutter left his lips.

‘Stop acting so nervous! Your Humanity's Strongest, this is embarrassing.’ (Y/n) brushed off Levi’s stutter, and opened his office door as she walked in with a plate of food.

“What do you need, Captain (Y/n)?”

The awkwardness soon left her features when she heard that. A laugh escaped her lips, as she continued to walk towards him.

“Why are you acting so formal all of a sudden Levi? You know we’ve talked before like friends, not colleagues, right?” She let out a small giggle and a charming smile as she set the plate down on his desk.

“Oh, r-right. Of course.” His cheeks quickly were dusted with a warm pale pink as he coughed an awkward cough to cover up his second noticeable stutter.

“What is this?” He asked unexpressively. He looked down at the plate of food.

“What? Never seen a plate of food before or something? Or has it really been that long since you’ve eaten, Levi?” She sat down in the chair in front of him with a soft sigh.

“I mean come on isn't it obvious?” ‘Isn't it obvious I'm a bit worried for you, you cruel jerk?’ She played with the ends of her cloak in her hands.

Levi knew what a plate of food was. He just hadn't eaten the whole day. He trained the cadets in the morning, and in the afternoon he was locked in his office again. And now it's dinner.. and he's still in his office.

“I haven't seen you eat the whole day. I'm..” Blood traveled to her face as her cheeks began to flush.

“You need to eat Levi. Taking a small break from all this pile of work isn't going to hurt you.” (Y/n) smiled gently and Levi could feel his stomach doing backflips. Or.. it could just be the hunger taking its toll on him.

He felt incredibly grateful he even had someone like (Y/n) in his life. Why did she care for him? Why was she so bubbly towards him? Why did she let her mask fall, after only a couple of conversations in his office?

He never knew how to talk to women correctly though. He didn't know the ‘correct’ way. Did he ever thank them appropriately? He thought he did.

Thing is, he never knows when he truly fucks up.

“Funny thing you're telling me to eat Captain (Y/n), when you don't even eat for weeks yourself.”

“... What?” Her heart dropped.

Another stab to her wounded heart. Her walls were down and everything and he just attacked so easily? She was feeling vulnerable with him and thought this one time there would be no hurtful words directed at her.

… Guess she was wrong.

“I think it's amusing that you're telling me to eat when you don't know how to do that yourself.” Levi rested his elbows on his desk, connecting his hands.

Suddenly a burning flame crawled up her neck as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Snap out of it, idiot.

“Really, Levi?” She narrowed her eyes, as the humiliation settled in and made her want to sink. Even if it was just the two of them in the office she couldn't help but feel humiliated.

“You don't eat for weeks sometimes. That must be another reason you wear that cloak.” He muttered and eyed her fit. Her eyes widened, and she felt her heart quicken its beat.

What the actual hell?

“You asshole,” (Y/n) whispered harshly.

Levi’s first instinct was to retort back but seeing her fists clenched made him slightly confused. Is she upset?

“Why would you care, if you hate me so much?”

Hate her? Shit. Levi mentally panicked. ‘No, no, no I don't hate you, I could never hate you (Y/n)! Did I mess up? I haven't said anything too bad right?’ Levi ignored the thoughts pouring into his subconscious.

“It's my place to know if you're getting weak and sloppy on expeditions with my squad. You’ve been disorganized on recent expeditions with other squads too. You're supposed to be strong as a Captain. You can't just get weak all of a sudden because of a pointless insecurity to have.” (Y/n) stood up from her seat abruptly.

“Are you fucking serious Levi?! I didn't work my ass off my whole life to just get picked on by the likes of you! You think you have the right to tell me I've gotten weak and to tell me my insecurity is useless?! Why won't you just leave me the fuck alone!” Tears threatened to pour out of her eyes. Her yelling clearly didn't get to him though.

Which pissed her off even more.

She put her shaking hand on her chest and clenched the fabric near her heart.

“Do you think you're so high and almighty just because you're ‘Humanity's Strongest’? Why do you think you can talk about why I wear this cloak so freely? Is your new goal to just break me down as a person and to make me feel even more horrible than I already feel?!” Levi’s eyes widened the slightest. The feeling of guilt catching up with him once again.

He didn't mean those things. He could never mean those things. He just didn't know how to respond when he's near her.

“It's only recently you’ve decided on putting me down! Why?.. Did all those late night talks we both had together mean nothing to you?!”

.. She was met with silence.

(Y/n) shook her head aggressively.

“SAY SOMETHING ACKERMAN!” She slammed a fist down on his desk. His slightly widened eyes, returned to his eyes that looked like they could care less. The unfazed look returned to his features.

“Is that all you know how to do? Yell? Are you slow or something? You should just retire as a Captain, you're childish. You're being overly dramatic about this situation. I couldn't care less about why you wear that cloak. I already understand why. It must be tough hiding all that hair you feel so ashamed of.” Levi kept his voice at the same volume the whole time he spoke.

He felt regret at his choice of words.

‘Stop fucking talking Levi. You're going to lose her. Just stop talking you dumbass!’

Suddenly (Y/n) threw off her cloak. Revealing her body and hair once again. It felt like Levi ignored the image of her body earlier. She looks really thin. Unhealthy thin. His eyebrows furrowed.

“I wear that cloak because of people like you!” Levi looked taken aback.

People like him?

“Judgemental dumbasses like you who can't be nice once for the likes of them!” Wait.. is she.. Did.. Did he make her cry? Is she crying? Tears finally sprung free from her eyes and rolled down (Y/n)’s cheeks as her bottom lip started to quiver. She never cried. Ever. And he's never seen her cry.

“I.. I try so hard for you, Levi! A-And all you see in me is my worst, obviously. I-I love you so much it actually hurts!” A sob escaped her lips and Levi felt blood rush to his face.

She loves him?!

Oh no what the fuck does he do?! Confess?! After everything he just said?? Guilt ran through his bloodstream and he felt his chest tighten.

“.... Why do you hate me? Am I that bad of a person? O-Or just.. ugly?”

‘No! Of course you're not ugly. Your fucking beautiful. The most gorgeous of them all! Levi fucking speak! Say something nice for once you asshole! Confess to her!’ Levi felt himself pause. His heart beating against his ribs. It hurt. The confession was about to slip out of his mouth. Almost..

“Tch. You're clumsy. Careless. And you lack skill.” Her breath got caught in her throat and she felt herself freeze.

Is it possible to feel your heart physically break? Because it felt like for her he smashed it with a hammer, stepped on it with his clean boots, and lit it on fire with a torch.

“And it's not my fault you're anorexic. Anything else Captain (Y/n)?”

She stared ahead.

With widened eyes. Pupils shaking. Her lips slightly parted. Tears still slipping from her eyes. Her stunning eyes. She stood there like that for a moment. A very long moment.

“Nothing..” Her whisper was in a hush. She didn't blink at all as she directed her attention to the floor, turning around.

“Keep the cloak..” She said quietly as she continued walking. Levi’s eyes following her figure. Fuck.

He messed up big time.

The door to his office closing in a slam awoke his senses and brought him back to reality. He ran a hand through his hair. No, no, no.

Why did he say that to her? Why is he such a dick? How could he even look at her again? How could he say that? He shook his head and shut his eyes tightly. Feeling exhaustion weigh down on his shoulders.

He clenched his fists and threw off all the papers from his desk onto the floor. His teeth gritted. He's such a fucking idiot!

Why the fuck did he say that?!? His chest heaved up and down and suddenly his gaze turned to the plate of food she brought him. His heart sank.

“I'm so sorry..” Levi muttered, staring at the food.

Then he looked at the cloak on his polished floors. He walked to it, with heavy eyes. Picking it up, and rubbing the fabric with his thumbs. His knees rested on the floor, as he continued to stare at it.

“I’m sorry..” He closed his eyes tightly, feeling moisture build up in his eyes. He pulled it to his chest, and leaned his upper body down.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..” He muttered over and over again.

The torturous guilt and regret eating him alive.

________________________________________________________

It’s been weeks since Levi and (Y/n) had spoken.

Weeks.

Eyebags lived beneath his eyes, and he felt more tired than he's ever been in his entire life. Erwin was starting to grow concerned for Levi. He knew what happened between him and (Y/n) because Levi told him and Hange.

They tried to break it down as blunt as they could with Levi. Yeah.. The whole thing was practically his fault. Hange freaked out when he told the both of them.

“HUH??! YOU ACTUALLY TOLD HER THAT, LEVI?? (Y/N), MY POOR BABY!” Hange gripped Levi’s shoulders and swung him back and forth while he just let her do that. Erwin tried calming down Hange, it looked like they were about to cry. And kill Levi at the same time. Once Hange had calmed down they sat down on their seat again.

“But seriously Levi? You actually told her that? That's absolutely heartless. You make me want to cry with what you said to her!” Erwin nodded his head at Hange’s words.

“Levi, sounds like all of the things you said to her were unnecessary. She just seemed like she was worried about you.” Levi sighed restlessly. He nodded his head and stared at the ground, remembering her heartbroken face.

“You pushed her away from you, Captain Shortie!”

“I know.. I just don't know how to talk to her.. it should be easy. She told me she loves me.. and I.. I love her. So why was it so hard and why did I have to mess it all up? I don't deserve her… I never did.” Levi felt so ashamed even bringing that encounter back up.

Hange and Erwin looked at each other. They’ve never seen Levi so.. distraught before. He always has this emotionless face on. Seeing him act human for once made Hange and Erwin feel bad about the situation. But there was nothing the both of them could do about it.

Levi sat in his office shaking away the memory of telling Hange and Erwin about that day.

He just wished (Y/n) would smile at him again. For weeks he's been trying to talk to her. Telling the cadets to tell her to report to his office.

She never showed up though.

Figures.

He broke her.

For weeks he's been trying to think of ideas on how he could see her again without her ignoring his whole person. He doesn't blame her.

But it was frustrating.

He knows he doesn't have the right to be frustrated after everything he said to her, but he just feels frustrated.

Maybe not at her. At himself.

For even saying those words to her. For making her cry.

Levi pulled at his hair.

'Just apologize you big pussy.'

Levi shook his head and drank some of his black tea. As soon as it made its way down his throat he gulped it all. Finishing all his tea in mere seconds.He stood up as soon as he finished it.

That's it.

Today was the day where he apologized to her after weeks of not talking. He needs to tell her he fucked up big time and he's aware. He needs to find her first. To tell her all things that have been making his heart feel heavy.

(Y/n) was cleaning the horse stables. She didn't want to tell her squad to do it. She just didn't want to talk to anyone. Any human that crossed her path she just straight out ignored them and didn't look at them at all. She held a blank facial expression.

The hurt Levi caused her heart to feel was unbearable. All the pain he caused her to feel, mentally, was it even humanly? Could humans even feel this amount of pain?

She felt like dying honestly.

Or just running away from the Survey Corps. But she knew the penalty was execution.

Life wasn't that easy.

If life was easy maybe Levi wouldn't have been such an ass to her and made her feel like she truly amounts to nothing.

Did he see her as some pathetic, weak human being? Because she doesn't eat? She tries too. She really does. But every time she does, it makes her feel nauseous. It looks sickening.

When she was sold to the men from the Underground, they starved her. To keep her ‘beautiful’ body. That's why she's sensitive to the subject of starvation. As you could tell from when she kicked Sasha for saying she was “literally starving”.

Why was she even thinking about Levi still? He doesn't love her. He doesn't care about her.

He's.. just a jerk.

She felt a tear slip down her eye. She recalled the memory of her morning after that day.

At breakfast Hange, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were all talking amongst each other. Then they looked up at her, seeing her without her cloak. She sort of regretted leaving it in Levi’s office. But it was too late to receive it anyways. Then they smiled and waved at her, acting friendly. Her blank face didn't waver as she looked away from them and walked past the table. Not planning on eating.

All of their smiles disappeared as they watched her walk off.

“What's wrong with her?” Eren asked the table.

“I have no idea.” Mikasa’s usually bored eyes were filled with some concern.

“Is she okay? She didn't look too good right now.” Armin looked at Hange since Hange was the closest to (Y/n).

“I'm not sure. I haven't seen her since yesterday when she left mid dinner. Maybe she ate in her office? She had a plate of food with her.” Eren shrugged and they all thought to themselves.

She flat out ignored her friends and Levi for the past few weeks. She just didn't want to be around people at the moment. And once Hange found out, they completely understood.

(Y/n) shoveled the horse shit, almost making her want to puke. But she tried to remain expressionless. She had no clue Levi was looking for her in that moment of time.

He already checked her office. Knocked on her room door which was open, and her bed was untouched. If looked like she hadn't slept on there for a long time, causing his guilt to rise. He asked all of her friends if they've seen her. To which they responded with, "We haven't talked to her in a while actually." Which made him feel worse. But he shook it off, focusing on finding her. He even asked Erwin if she's been assigned to an expedition with her squad. He said, "No." which made Levi relieved as he continued to check the whole castle. He even went to the training grounds. She wasn't there.

Where the fuck is she? Hasn't he checked everywhere?

.. No. Not everywhere. He walked down to the horse stables, and checked stall after stall. And finally he saw her shoveling horse shit with her beautiful stunning self.

He didn't even realize her name slipped past his lips until she turned to him.She looked beautiful. But still thin. Really thin. Although she held a blank face as she stared at him.

The twinkle that was in her eyes, disappeared.

He was looking past the sort of horrific look she was giving him though. Calling it her “blank” face. She felt paralyzed as she just stood there.

“Captain.” She finally muttered out.She never called him Captain. It was always Levi. Always Levi.

“... (Y/n).” He repeated at a loss for words.

‘No, don't chicken out now you bitch. Just tell her what's been on your mind.’ Levi sucked in a breath before walking towards her. She just stared at him, and finally broke out of the paralyzed state she was just in. She took a couple of steps back, her back hitting the wall as she dropped the shovel full of horse poop.Her eyebrows furrowed as he walked towards her.

“Stay away from me.” She told him in a cold tone.He halted and stood where he was. Losing confidence for a second, and feeling guilty as hell. But the longer he stared at her the longer he felt bad and had to say something.

“I’m..” What the hell. Speak Levi! Speak!

“I’m..”

“You're wasting your time if you're trying to apologize.” (Y/n) picked up the shovel she dropped on the ground.

“Why are you doing stable duty?” He forced out.

Ugh. Pussy.

“Because I'm too sloppy, and weak with everything else. I lack skill.” She responded with a small scoff. Levi glanced to his side, hurt flashed in his eyes but he tried to make it disappear just as quickly as it came.

“I'm sorry..” He said clearly, with no hesitation or stutter in his voice this time.

She raised her chin up at this. “Sure.”

“I am, okay? I’m sorry for everything I said to you. It was unnecessary and I just..” Levi’s heartbeat started to race again.

“I'm a dick. And I hurt you. Badly. I said some things I can't take back but they were all a lie. I don't think your insecurities are pointless and I don't think you're a weak soldier. You're one of the strongest Captains here at Survey Corps.” She looked unimpressed with his words.

“I’m not falling for this, Ackerman. Okay? Now will you just leave and let me finish this?” Her glare directed at him made him hate himself.

“(Y/n)-”

“Will you go away? I’ve made it clear I obviously don't want to have this discussion with you.” She snapped.

“God damn it (Y/n)! Will you just let me apologize to you?!” He was about to walk towards her again but she didn't allow it.

“Why?! Why do you want to apologize after 1 ½ months, Levi?!” Her eyebrows were furrowed and her teeth were gritted as she shook her head before even realizing what she just said.

Levi stared at her. She had that broken look on her face again, as she sighed softly. Her eyes looked so sad.

Way to go Ackerman, you dumbass.

“You don't like me. And I..” she blinked back her tears that were building up.

“I loved you..” She said in a whisper. Loved?.. No.

“I’ve never hated you (Y/n).” She looked at him, not believing what he was saying.

“I have always..” His heartbeat sped up. His cheeks warming up and being dusted with blush.

“I love you, (Y/n).” Her eyes widened as she slowly turned her head to Levi.

He had eyebags under his eyes. His skin looked paler than it usually did. And.. he had this pleading look in his eyes.

What happened to him? Was he just as broken as her?.. but how? He looked like he didn't even care when he ripped her heart out and stopped on it with ease.

But she just broke eye contact instead of believing him. That's what they all say. ‘Sorry’ to make it better. But they don't really mean it. Is a bandage immediately going to heal you? It's not. So it's best not to sugarcoat it.

“Tch, you're lying to yourself.”

Levi stepped back, his frustration building up.

“I hate liars.”

“Then if you really love me, why did you tell me all those things in your office that day?” (Y/n) glared.

“I just brought you food, you ass.” She looked away, feeling those stupid crocodile tears build up again.

He let out a sigh and turned his head away from her.

“(Y/n) I really didn't mean any of that stupid shit I spoke. I just..” He sucked in a breath, as the awkwardness got to him finally.

“I get awkward and.. fuck, this sounds stupid-.. n-nervous around you. Which is why I've been so mean to you lately, and why I can't even look y-you in the eye when you're around me or why I have this stupid ass stutter!” He slapped a hand over his face and turned his whole body away from her, his cheeks turning to the color of a tomato this time.

(Y/n)’s furrowed brows relaxed when she started running everything he said through her brain. That explains why he stutters around her and why he does act nervous every time she even breathes near him. She gasped quietly, and her eyes softened.

Does he really have feelings for her? Real ones?

So all the things he said.. Did he really not mean it? But wait.. if he did like her or.. ‘love’ her like he says he does, why did he even say all those cruel things to begin with? Like from the very beginning?

“Levi.” He turned his head to look at her.

“(Y/n).”

“Why were you even mean to begin with if you really do like me? Everything you said.. it's.. not going to go away so easily. You said it all so easily though. I'm just.. confused.” Levi glanced down hesitant, and then walked toward her, this time she didn't say anything.

Once he stood in front of her, he slowly grabbed her hands. (Y/n)’s eyebrows raised slightly.

‘I thought he hated physical interaction.’

“I say this with full honesty, (Y/n). I have no idea how to talk to you normally. Not so long ago, when you would talk to me I didn't know how to respond at all. That's where the stutter comes in. And I’ve never been attracted to anyone like I am with you. It's hard to say, brat.” He looked up. She just stared at him.

“All the random insults poured out of my mouth every time I saw you because I get awkward and I think that's ‘flirting’.” She looked down, feeling his thumbs start to rub circles on her hands.

“I'm sorry for everything I've said. I didn't mean any of it, I was talking out of my ass. Your body is beautiful and so are you.. I-I can't even explain how much I..” Levi’s eyes met with hers as he trailed off. He lost his train of thoughts. How couldn't he?

When she staring at him with those fucking pretty eyes. (Y/n) blinked causing him to snap out of it. He cleared his throat and his eyes sort of.. softened.

“How much I love you.”

“Levi..” That sparkle in her eye shining brighter than ever. Her cheeks turned crimson.

“I understand if you don't want to be with me. But I promise if you do, I won't ever disappoint you or make you cry like I've done so many times.” Levi’s heart thumped and since it was so quiet in the night, the only thing to be heard was the sounds of nature, the wind and his heart beating out of his chest.

“I'll make sure you start eating again. Every single day.” He hesitantly lifted one of her hands and placed a light kiss on her knuckle.

“I just.. I don't want to get hurt again.” (Y/n) whispered, her eyes not meeting his.

“I promise I'll never hurt you like this ever again.” She looked up.

“Promise?” He smiled softly, making her heart flutter. She's never seen Levi smile.

“I promise.” The longer he stared at her, his attention moved down to her lips. Her heart beating faster than a rabbits at this point, her breath was caught at the back of her throat. Levi glanced at her eyes, then her lips. Then he lifted a hand to her chin. Tilting her head as he slowly leaned in.

‘Levi?’ She thought in her brain.

Just as his lips brushed against hers she relaxed. (Y/n) closed her eyes, and leaned in, placing her lips onto his soft ones. As their lips connected, (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer to him with his other arm.

The kiss was sweet. Levi felt like someone lit a bonfire inside of him, his neck and face heating up immediately. (Y/n) could almost feel her heart beating in her throat. She felt like she couldn't breathe the longer her and Levi kissed.

Finally he broke his lips apart from hers.

A small blush on his facial features as he smiled genuinely.

“I'll help you clean up this shit, so we can leave sooner. It smells like ass in here.” (Y/n) nodded, letting out a small laugh. One of her rare laughs.

As she went to pick up the shovel she turned around to look back at Levi.

“Levi?” He turned to her.

“(Y/n)?”

“.. I love you.” Love filled his eyes as shyness filled his thoughts causing him to halt for a second.

“I love you, too.”

a/n: I hope you enjoyed that story!! please requests more! ❣️:)

[for-ships-that-never-sail]

Okay Y'ALL I saw Episode 5 today and these are the thoughts I jotted down while watching it (PART 2 OF 2)

Please don’t read below the cut if you are avoiding spoilers until you get to watch it yourself 

And FYI some of these may not have any context, but I guess it won’t matter cause you’ll have context in 7ish hours anyway (also sorry about how long all my thoughts and feelings are lol)

Awh Kate you’re so pretty - kinda weird to see her so chill though - she was so stressed all of season 2 that seeing her so serene is throwing me off tbh - I am so happy for you though my love

Also her outfit that looks like a sari is soooo gorgeous I WANTTTT

Love the cinnamon biscuits vs fruit jellies bit

Portia ma'am please listen to Varley FFS

lol I hope they did in fact fuck again like she wanted

Ugly crying at MY MESSSSSS

PARIS? oufff I love how comfortable she is, just casual teasing chit chats with bestie

“Undefended”? Charlotte needs a different hobby pleaseeee

LOLLLLL when did Penelope learn to do her hair and makeup by herself???? Cause there’s no fucking way she would’ve looked THAT fucking good after alllll of that lol

We were going to be KNIGHTS!! OMG sweet babiessss

“as much as I do” I can’t even blame anyone for anything they’ve done or said so far tbh 

This is such nuanced writing — I understand exactly where pretty much everyone is coming from and that’s really nice tbh 

Omg they really do want Cressida to marry a dinosaur 

WTF Cressida you do you girl fuck shit up for Penelope I don’t even care do whatever you have to do and go all out and save yourself cause no one else will I’m so sorry you were ever put in this position  

We have been acting uncouth AS OF LATE??? as of late????!? Omggg Portia girl pleaseeeee you had ONE job and you’re just gonna pass the buck to your daughters instead? STAHP own up to your shit cause you knowwww they bully her because youuu bullied her and the gall to say this is just happening LATELY on top lmao 

Though like in her eyes I always do see remorse too - I think she just lacks courage to ever really own up to everything in full because she’s just so guarded 

Honestly this is such stellar acting 

And also like, Penelope, most of you is your mom my girl - your brains, your overthinking, your inability to just say Yuh I done fucked up my bad lol 

Greg’s hat

Yesssss lord Kent find you some Bridgerton besties 

I actually do love Portia - yeah she’s been a colossal dick of a mom to Pen but as complex women go, I get her - If she makes amends with Pen for them daily microaggressions and general abuse one day, for real for real, she’d be really great 

Omg Mama B and Lady D are such big shippers - wish they didn’t fully cut out the Lady D stuff from the books though le sigh 

Eloise has a point - I agree - she had lotsss of alone time to say it - I understand Pens fear completely, but she must realize that her saying this is still soooo much better than him having to find out on his own - and there is no way he wouldn't - and he’d be more hurt by that part than the actual LW part I think and honestly Eloise is right about her being involved in that painful deception too, I wouldn’t want my own brother to feel betrayed by me like that either, given how often he wished LW ill out loud - and the longer Pen stays quiet the more guilty Eloise becomes as a sister too - If anything her not immediately snitching makes her moreee team Pen than team Colin - this is still a lowkey loyalty to Pen for sure - I think I may have issued this same ultimatum under these conditions too

Omggg JOHNNNNNN stop he’s having a panic attack why did Fran put him on the spot like thissss????

“As you rightly mocked me last season” lolllll

Awh Colin and the toast 

Eloise should nottttt have done her second toast - now THAT part was uncalled for, but I guess they want to keep the stress levels high 

Lmao Kate to the rescue 

I loveeeee how close they are sitting in public - but like… does nooooo one else see this??? Hips glued together? Hands holding??? Just out in the open?? No one thinks this is insanely intimate for a newly engaged couple of the ton??? Even if it’s a love match? None of the older women are clocking this and saying 1. Sit the fuck apart 2. Did yall fuck already cause yall look like you fucked and we don’t even have a wedding date set yet??? Are you not going to even ask for a special license?? You just want her to pop a baby before she technically should and cause more drama?? Like who is in charge of all these fools?? Mama B what is you doing??? Do you not think Colin is being a nasty girl with his wife-to-be?? lol

Lol Anthony I love you, you competitive lil bitch 

Lmaooooo Eloise and Penelope being the smartest bitches of the ton YESSSS

Portia trying to show where Pen's brain comes from lol

Muddy boots panic again 

LMFAOOOOOOO Mama B your face is going a mile a minute right now listening to the muddy boots

"I saw straight away" OH MY FROHN you will end me one day

Pen get your shit together pls grab a brown paper bag or smthn 

Oooohhhhh fuck I get itttttt

Cressida girl my bad I get ittttttt sooooo much more - I didn’t fully understand her thought process behind what we already knew she was gonna do until just nowwww - they really set it up for her well - girl needed an exit and everyone fully offered her one - I have no issues with this at all tbh 

Omg omg this is the most chaotic midnight strike of all time like 6 different things happened at the same time???? 

Well that was some good old fashioned Bridgerton CHAOS Hope y'all enjoyed it too!!!! LESS THAN 8 HOURS TO GOOOOOOOOOO

[0asisbliss]

HELLURRRRR

I enjoy reading your fics they're so nice,,,,,, and I want to request a fic for gyomei teehee

Scenario is Tengen used to like y/n. And gyomei knows this. How would he react when he is told and how would he react after??? Like seeing him again do u think there will be some confrontation? Idk, it's interesting hehe

It's a bit challenging ik, I'm sorry😭😭😭

But....... THANK U SO SO MUCH IN ADVANCE❤️ u are one talented writer fr.

A/N: HIII Love! Thank you literally! Here’s a 🍧🍡while reading.

Warnings: None. Just fluff!🤍

Life with Gyomei is all you could’ve have wished for honestly. He’s sweet, caring, and brave. Some of the most things anyone would look do in a man, but Gyomei himself was pure perfection in your eyes.

But you can’t seem but to feel guilty in some way. You indeed used to like his “co-worker”. You had the fastest crush on him too. Though he now when you look back he doesn’t even compare to Gyomei.

It was a funny thought y’know maybe telling Gyomei about your silly school girl crush. He wouldn’t be mad. You know that for sure. Honestly it made you feel nice knowing you could tell Gyomei the simplest things without him having any animosity towards the subject. It’s gotten to the point where you cringe even thinking about anything disturbing him.

You made up your mind you were going to tell him after work. You planned on making him dinner.

It was the usual every night. Gyomei would come in from training or either a mission and announce he was home. He would sit down and go over everything that happened that day. It was something Gyomei did every night you always wondered why he did it. He would tell you that “It was to analyze mistakes that were done that day, and to improve tomorrow.”

“It made sense, but it had to be something more.” You always thought to yourself.

You handed Gyomei a fresh bowl of Miso soup it was something quick, but Gyomei loved it regardless.

“Honey?”

Gyomei stopped eating a turned his head your way to indicate he was listening.

“Yes my love?”

“Y’know your co-worker Tengen right? I used to have a dumb little crush on him. Honestly it was so long ago I can barely remember it.”

“Oh is that so? What did you like about him?”

You would expect Gyomei to chuckle at your little confession, but nonetheless you answered his question.

“His muscles, and he was unique from others, but now that I look back at it you have what he had but even better Himejima.”

Gyomei smiled at your response he was lucky to have such a honest, gracious, and good natured woman. He took your hand and held it in his while eating his soup. You smiled at his as he took your hand in his.

When Gyomei finished his bowl of soup you looked back at the pot on top of the stove and noticed there were leftovers.

“Would you like more Himejima?”

“No thank you my love. I’m going to rest now.”

Gyomei kissed you goodnight, and walked to your shared bedroom. You planned to join him after cleaning the kitchen.

The next day Gyomei went for training and saw Tengen. He smiled when he saw him know that he must be a pretty great looking guy for you to crush on him. No he there wasn’t any emotion of envy or enmity towards him. He was just there, and he was thankful.

[queenofbaws]

Happy weekend Queenie! I’m very much doing better than I was this time last week which is a relief.

That being said I’m in the mood for some ANGST. Because I’ve been listening to this song all day and I need to feel Chrashley breaking up to it 🤭

Lyrics as followed:

I am someone who, until recent events, you shared your secrets with and your location. You forgot to turn it off.

So I watch as you walk into some bar called The Black Dog and pierce new holes in my heart, you forgot to turn it off.

(The Black Dog by Taylor Swift)

When it came to unpleasant things, Ashley was good at pretending she couldn't see them.

It wasn't the kind of skill you went around bragging about, but there it was: She had mastered the art of turning a blind eye, of convincing herself that horrible, terrible thing hadn't really happened, that everything was fine. So when Chris had dragged her screaming out of the shed, Josh's blood still hot on her face, she'd told herself her eyes were playing tricks on her - he'd absolutely chosen to save her in the Psycho's sick little game, she'd just been too freaked out to really see which direction the lever had pointed. She'd mistaken his tone of voice in the basement, too, and the sidelong glances she thought he'd been giving her since finding the video from last year (the one she thought must have been edited because she hadn't remembered it going quite like that), that had all been her own guilty conscience bleeding through, because her and Chris were something special, they understood each other, they were everything to each other...so she must've been confused.

There was no confusing the gun he'd pointed at her face, though, no convincing herself her stomach hadn't dropped into her feet and her blood hadn't turned into ice and her throat and lungs hadn't rasped to shreds as she begged, pleaded, screamed for him not to do it.

So as she watched him pound on the door, his breath fogging the glass while something out of a nightmare crept towards him on all fours, she checked the lock and held his eyes, knowing she wouldn't be able to turn away until she saw her heartbreak justified; when it came to unpleasant things, after all, Ashley was good at pretending she couldn't see them.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[tendertenebrosity]

Promises

A little bit inspired by this post, but also just an idea that's been lurking for years.

After what we’d found in the ancient temple, all of the humans were despondent. I was surprised to find that I was, too - over the weeks of travel together I’d come to care about their goal.

I shouldn’t have. What did the human throne mean to me? I’d outlived one civil war, I’d do it again. I liked Prince Arin, but that didn’t mean he’d make a better king than any of the others. Neither would possession of the Cup, actually.

And yet.

I was exhausted from the dive, but I took the time and energy needed to make my human shape again before I went to speak with the prince, because he always seemed to find it easier to talk to. Maybe also because I was putting it off.

I found him on the cliff, looking down into the ferocious sea with his face unsettlingly blank. I sat beside him on the jagged rock and curled my arms around my knees. Anxiety fluttered formless in my belly.

“What are you going to do now?” I asked him after a long minute of silence.

He gave me a black look, and for a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he turned back to his regard of the crashing waves.

“I’m not giving up,” he said, his jaw set stubbornly. “If the Cup isn’t here, it must be in one of the other locations. There are Ancient ruins all over the Southern continental coastline. We’ll search them - all of them, if we have to.”

I digested this for a minute, my legs growing cold underneath me from the rock. I should have expected that answer, maybe - he was stubborn - but the Southern coast was long. How did he know it hadn’t been taken already, I considered asking him. How did he know the door mechanisms wouldn’t be destroyed or sunk below…

Below even my ability to reach.

“Listen - Tanial,” the prince said. He was staring out at the sea again. “I know why you’re here. What you want to talk about.”

I tensed. I couldn’t help flicking my eyes over the prince’s body, looking for hints. Surely he kept it on him and not in his tent. “My soulstone.”

He nodded. “I promised to give it back once we’d retrieved the Cup.”

The first knot of dread tightened in my stomach. “That wasn’t the agreement,” I said, trying to keep it out of my voice. Trying to keep myself calm, reasonable, as if we were haggling over a purchase at a marketplace stall. “I agreed to come to the Mouth with you, and get you inside. You said if I did that you’d give it to me.”

“I said that I would give it back when we’d gotten into the Mouth and found the Cup,” he said sternly. “You got us in - thank you. It was well done. But the cup isn’t there, so - ”

I took a deep breath. And then another, and another, as I tried to hold the words in. I failed.

“You promised,” I said, almost a wail.

“Tani - Tani, I know I did, but I still need you!” He darted a glance at me, appealing, guilty. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give up now, and if you part ways with us then we have no hope of getting into the next ruins. I can’t give up. You know what’s at stake, you know I can’t give up.”

“I might stay,” I said. “You could ask. You could give me the stone and ask me to stay. I… I was going to offer…”

I had been, too, I realised. But he shook his head, a look of mingled pity and distrust passing over his face. “I can’t - Tani, if you leave I don’t know what we’ll do. If it was just my life at stake I’d take the risk, but… this is about my country. My people.”

I knew it. I knew this would happen. I should have known from the beginning, when he’d seemed so fair and even-handed. I was such a naive little fool.

“I’m sorry, Tanial...”

“You’ll never give it back,” I said, bitterness making my stomach churn, as if I might throw up bile here into the salt-stained wind. “I should never have believed you. I can’t believe I was so stupid!”

I knew all the same fairy stories he did. Everybody who ever let a shape-turner’s stone slip out of their hands in the stories met a bad end, as the shape-turner killed them outright or tricked them into a bad situation and skipped away laughing. There were a scant handful where the hero of the story gave it back on purpose, and the shape-turner was never grateful, never spared them.

The prince had gone pale and a little queasy-looking, but his jaw firmed. “I will give it back,” he said. “When the quest is done. It isn’t done yet, but as soon as it is, I promise - ”

“Your promises,” I spat, turning away to hide my tears. “Worth less than dirt.”

“Enough,” he said, standing up. Resolution swept across his face. “I won’t be spoken to with that much disrespect, Tanial. I’ll be your king. I understand why you’re disappointed, and I’m sorry, but I’ve made my decision and it is final. You will get your stone back after I retrieve the Cup.”

I’d believed that Prince Arin would look past the stories. He’d treated me fairly - from his perspective - so why wouldn’t he expect fair treatment back?

But now he’d cheated me. And the quest for the Cup would stretch into months and years, and I’d have no choice but to follow until it was done. And once it was he’d have a kingdom to rule, and there would always be a reason for not yet, and all the while those stories of the hero laid low because he took his eyes off the shape-turner would be there in the back of his mind…

No. He’d never give it back now.

He was already heading down the path. “We have a lot to do if we’re going to book passage on a ship. Come on.”

“I hate you,” I whispered into my knees. “You were supposed to be different.”

He either didn’t hear me, or pretended not to. I got up and followed; I had no choice.

[m1d-45]

Yo, mid, i know its very late for me and i just am trying to sleep while its fucking COLD, i had a thought jolt me awake from my dozing.

How hot do pyro's run? I do know that some people CANON it to be true that pyro users have high body heat, but is it like africa versus the northpole or something like that?

Cuz i currently desire a personal heater snugglebug.

Goodnight.

-🥘Stew

warmth

a/n: could be read as sagau, could be taken as just regular genshin. this kinda devolved from the ask but… eh? only diluc and thoma are ‘x reader’s, the others are mostly character studies.

word count: 2.1k

-> warnings: n/a! minor spoilers for character lore, i suppose? xinyan may be slightly ooc? mentioned xingqiu x chongyun in hu taos part?

-> gn reader! (you/yours)

characters: diluc, bennett, klee, amber, xinyan, xiangling, yanfei, hu tao, yoimiya, thoma, in that order :) the traveller is mentioned but isn’t specified (they/them, no names)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yum1x || @esthelily

< masterlist >

mmm it honestly depends on your opinion, but i personally am pretty guilty of imagining myself a diluc to hold onto when i’m cold, so i’d say there’s at least a bit of a difference.

i heard from the first golden apple archipelago event that diluc apparently melted kaeya’s icebridge (citation needed), so that pretty much confirms that a significant level of difference is present between pyro users and the general public. however, it was still summer and assuming diluc was still wearing his giant coat, they must be at least vaguely immune to overheating/possess some sort of control over it. all this to say that at the bare minimum, diluc wouldn’t mind holding you close during a chilly winter. the winery is prone to chilly hallways, just due to its size, and he stays up late anyway. please, don’t be afraid to go knocking on his door: chances are he’s awake and more than willing to let you in. despite being a pyro wielder, his blankets are large and thick, carrying enough heat to keep you warm while he wraps up his paperwork. you don’t have to stay awake with him if you don’t wish; the sight of you tucked away within his bed is one he wishes to memorize.

i imagine bennett’s high heat has definitely saved him from getting sick when his adventure is ruined by rain (again), keeping him from ever being at risk despite the fact that his clothes are soaked and the path he’s trudging through is muddy. he’s well used to it, but it doesn’t stop his dads from chastising him whenever he returns, directing him towards his room and one of the many, many spare sets of clothing he had. he dries off quickly after showers, his clothes never sticking, and sometimes when his adventure ended well he’ll be glowing, embers in his eyes as he excitedly tells you about it, uncaring of the way some of the dry grass caught in his hair begins to spark. for your sake and his, bring him inside and let him talk to you after you remove the tinder.

klee, younger, likely has a lesser degree of control over her vision. she’s probably prone to hiking up a few degrees when she’s excited, and is often found in albedo’s camp at dragonspine simply due to the fact that she both can easily re-light his fire when the winds blow too hard and he knows she won’t get sick. he sits on his stool, watching his experiment and listening intently to her talk about gunpowder. when snow washes in and puts out the measly store of wood collected in the middle of his lab, it barely registers before she’s collected pyro in her palms and shot it neatly to the center of the pile. any moisture vaporizes, the flames licking higher than they normally would.

amber has a better control over her vision than most would expect from somebody so young. her vision hangs off her belt and only barely glows a bit brighter when speaking about the knights, her gloves waving animatedly as she tells some tale of the cavalry captain’s newest scheme. he comes up, hearing all gossip in the city and doubly so that which pertains to him, but even the hiss of cryo doesn’t dampen her emotions. she ignores the hand he puts on her shoulder and simply puts hers on her hips, pretending he isn’t there and continuing about how it’s so irresponsible of him to continue such behavior. he laughs, telling her it’s rude to be so cold, but the way the inside of her gloves grow warm says otherwise. it’s invisible to most, dampened by leather and the many guards of an archer’s arms, but anybody that looks can tell you for certain that the brightest fires in the city are lit by an outrider’s glow, provided only that you ask about her recent expedition.

xinyan is well aware of her loud nature, and learned the hard way not to let it get out of control. pyrotechnics are a large part of her shows, but it took her a while to get there. she loves rock and roll, and performing gives her so much energy- she played barely a day after she received her vision, when her control was weak and her body was still adapting to the change, and the guitar she played then on no longer works now. five dots singe the area around the strings, a large patch where her palm rested sunken into the wood. if you ask about it, she’ll wave you off shyly, unwilling to tell you about how she had to wear heat sinks in a pair of special gloves for a few months. still, just to be certain, she bought a bottle of heat-resistant sealant to brush over her current guitar for her tours. she loves music, loves her shows and doing what she does, and she’s much better at controlling her vision now, but… it’s better safe than sorry, right?

xiangling, similar to bennett, has been saved many times by her heightened body temperature. turns out, it gets incredibly dangerous climbing the spires of liyue since the wind can turn your fingers cold and creaky, making it deadly to try and climb, but she’s never run into that problem. she moves with ease, unfettered by the chill, her sheer enthusiasm seeping into the stone beneath her. when she travelled to mondstat, she passed by a camp near the base of dragonspine and overheard a peculiar recipe, one that required a special kind of ‘chilled meat’. the chef seemed nervous to give her the location, due simply to her clothing, but she set off anyway. needless to say, dragonspine is colder than liyue, and the traveller found her and guoba hunched by a campfire, clearly shivering. they led her off a mountain and with the promise to never return without a proper team (or warmer clothes), they handed her some chilled meat from their inventory. after a bit of further pressing, they taught her how to make goulash. she took excellent notes.

as a lawyer, the last thing yanfei needs is to be hot-headed. the law is slippery, always twisting from her hands, and the ability to grit one’s teeth and stand again after it swipes beneath their feet is one needed in the world of legal advice. ningguang can’t count the amount of times she’s received a letter from her detailing the most recent loophole she’s found, the paper stained with ash around the edges. at first she thought it unprofessional, but after being stopped on the street and quite frankly chastised due to the slow response time when such a matter as the law was concerned…. she understood a little more. her next letter was responded to promptly, and yanfei’s gratitude showed in court, citing one of the tianquan’s letters as proof that a law was changed prior to a merchant’s new policy, not after. as a half-adepti, more power runs through her than most, and she often grows too warm to think in her office. she has measures to counteract this, such as traveling to deal with cases, allowing the wind to wick away her frustration, or simply wearing cooler clothes during the summer. madam ping was the one to suggest the latter, and she lives every day grateful. still, as they share a cup of tea as yanfei rants about a civil case she’s been assigned, yanfei’s mug stays warmer than ping’s for nearly the entire time. thankfully, she prefers her drinks hot anyway, and green tea has always helped take the edge off her irritation.

hu tao is many things, but emotional is not one of them. being a funeral director requires a certain level of coldness to it, as to not let the many deaths a day affect you, and she handles her role quite well. she carries enough respect that her voice is somber when speaking to the families of the deceased, yet doesn’t allow the constant gloom to affect her. perhaps it’s her sense of humor, allowing her to brush it off a bit easier, or perhaps it’s the fact that it’s hard to feel sad when xingqiu is describing his latest escapade with chongyun. the latter is at wanmin, waiting for his popsicles, and hu tao listens with bubbly glee to their most recent tale. it’s funny, how oblivious chongyun can be, and as they sit and swing their legs across the street, the stone beneath her feels less and less warm. they share, they banter, they talk about poetry and all things literary. when their hands knock together xingqiu winces slightly at the heat of her rings, but cools his hand easily enough with a bit of hydro. when chongyun returns, xingqiu takes the small treat he offers her, unwilling to risk him getting singed. chongyun recites what xiangling told him to about her newest creation, and hu tao stifles a grin. the edges of the small napkin begin to darken, but she hardly notices. focused on the slight glaze in xingqiu’s eyes, the funeral director laughs.

working with fireworks with a pyro vision is a risky adventure. yoimiya, who was incredibly cautious about such things and only ever used her vision to light fireworks at first, rarely ever runs into this risk, but it’s on her mind. as the queen of the summer festival—a title that never fails to bring heat to her cheeks, should you mention it—its her responsibility to keep up and maintain the same level of quality year after year, and she is intent on delivering. still, she’s not immune to problems associated with a vision like hers. the small building of naganohara fireworks is one with a rich history, gunpowder and dye embedded between the floorboards, but it doesn’t have the best ventilation. it’s by design, as a stray breeze can ruin a fragile firework, but sometimes she wishes she could have a fan. she loves creating them, enthusiasm sparking whenever she gushes to her father about her latest idea, but when the summer gets hot and the room gets hotter, even one sleeve of a kimono feels like too many. don’t get her wrong, the process of barely singeing a dye so it crackles instead of pops is one far easier with a vision, but when the time finally comes to sit back and let sparks fly, she doesn’t hang around to watch the fuses get lit. instead, she moves somewhere cooler, letting the night breeze cool off her excitement, sitting cross-legged on chilly grass. when the fireworks start and the sky lights up, youmiya glows along with them.

a housekeeper does a lot of things, but starting fires is not typically one of them. both ayato and ayaka prefer cooler weather, the former having the ability to mostly self-regulate, and thoma’s vision mostly went unused. other than occasionally lighting the fire at shimura’s or one of the other food stalls he stopped at, thoma’s days were quiet, free of battle. he was simply a housekeeper, and though he occasionally misjudged the weather and gave ayaka a false impression, they both quickly learned to seek a second opinion. the same was with you. quiet days, mornings spent in a soft sort of haze as he woke up before the sun even on his days off. he didn’t mind, turning to brush away some hairs from your face, but you leaned into his palm, shifting closer. he smiled, one that dissipated when he noticed the goosebumps down your arm, leading beneath the thin sheets. he was confused for a moment, as the room felt fine to him, but he quickly remembered that it wouldn’t be the same to you. with a murmured apology and an arm around your waist, thoma made a mental note to bring thicker blankets for you from the closet. winter was coming and evidently early, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be cold. still, that was a problem for later, for when your skin didn’t warm under his and when the sun was further overhead.