#maybe i watch the same things over and over

[crystallinestars]

Just Confess Already! Part 2

Drabbles about Genshin men (or you) confessing with the help of a wingman. This is pure fluff.

Characters: Kazuha, Kinich, Ororon, Wanderer, and Cyno.

Part 1 here.

I apologize if the endings sound abrupt, I've edited and rewritten this many times, and at this point I just want to get this finally posted. I also apologize for the length, my writing style has changed since part 1.

🍁 Kazuha

Everyone and their mother at The Crux could tell you and Kazuha had a thing for each other. The way you guys spent most of your free time in each other’s company discussing poetry or music, the way Kazuha always volunteered to help you with your tasks, how you took care of Kazuha when he got drunk, and just the overall subtle romantic tension about your pair tipped off pretty much everyone.

Though Beidou didn’t want to pry into the love lives of her crew, she’d sometimes catch glimpses of you and Kazuha chatting up in the crow’s nest of the ship and noted that the way you smiled at each other was endearing. Otherwise, she paid little attention to it, thinking it was only a matter of time until one of you confessed and you guys became an official couple.

However, that time never came. The two of you pussyfooted around the topic of laying bare your feelings, and everyone at The Crux was getting a little annoyed that you were stuck in the pining phase. There was a limit to how long Beidou could tolerate watching you give each other pining glances without snapping and telling you two to get together already.

One time when you were out on an errand, Beidou and her crew invited Kazuha for a drink. The friendly and cheerful atmosphere prompted some members to share their life stories, and the topic breached romance. Someone asked Kazuha why he hadn’t confessed to you yet, and the drunken ronin answered that he treasured your friendship and didn’t want to jeopardize it in case you didn’t feel the same way.

Beidou could only scoff at his excuse. It was so obvious that you liked him back, and since when was Kazuha such a coward? He could go up against the Raiden Shogun’s deadly Musou no Hitotachi, but had his tail between his legs at the prospect of admitting he loved you to your face? Preposterous! Moreover, she had to tell her crew to settle down because they were creating a spectacle out of your crushes on each other and making bets on which one of you would confess first (she betted on you).

If Kazuha was too much of a coward, Beidou thought, then maybe you’d be braver.

That same evening, she happened to find you alone in your cabin and took the opportunity to bring up the issue of your longtime crush on Kazuha. Though she was no expert on romance, Beidou wanted to help you. She got you to open up and confide in her, patiently listening while you expressed your fears about confessing to Kazuha. You also didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him, so Beidou stated outright that he returned your feelings. If you didn’t believe her, then see for yourself.

With that, she pried open a window in the cabin. Over the gentle lapping of the waves, you heard the crew’s laughter up on the deck, and the faint sound of Kazuha’s familiar voice. It was a little difficult to hear what he was saying over the crew’s chatter, and his speech was slightly slurred, but you made out a few words. He frequently spoke your name while reciting a few clumsy haikus. But they weren’t just any random poems about the sea or sky—they were love haikus.

Beidou patted your shoulder and told you to have courage instead of wasting your life wondering about what-ifs and regretting not doing anything.

Over the following days, Beidou sent you and Kazuha out on joint errands in Liyue Harbour. The errands themselves weren’t all that important, but they served as good excuses to give you two some alone time. Kazuha was no fool and quickly deduced that Beidou was setting you two up on purpose, but he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to spend more time with you.

Beidou hoped something would finally change by the time you returned, and sure enough, when she spotted you and Kazuha walking back to the ship, she smiled. The two of you were holding hands and smiling warmly at each other, a good sign that your once-suppressed feelings were now in the open. Naturally, the rest of the crew noticed the change as well and grew excited when you confirmed that you and Kazuha were now in a romantic relationship.

That night, they brought out the good wine and food to congratulate you and Kazuha on finally getting together. Most of the Crux’s crew joined on the festivities, with some members being nosy and asking you for details on how it happened and who confessed first.

When you admitted to confessing first, Beidou smugly accepted her winnings and took a big swig of her drink before yelling out a cheer. Her crew followed suit in toasting and cheering much to your and Kazuha’s embarrassment, but it was all in good fun. Beidou made sure to make it up to you by distracting the crew with a drinking game and sending you a wink as she allowed you and Kazuha to make a quiet escape from the party. The Crux gang would have plenty of time to tease you in the future—for now, you and Kazuha deserved to enjoy this newfound relationship without others poking their noses where they don’t belong. Beidou would make sure of it.

🟩 Kinich

Kinich’s relationship with you perplexed K’uhul Ajaw. The Almighty Dragonlord couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but something between you two changed. Recently, Kinich had been giving you discounts whenever you asked for his help, and sometimes even did things for you for free. Kinich the Malipo giving someone special treatment? Unheard of! And on top of all that, his servant had been visiting you more frequently during downtime, and there was also that strange glint in Kinich’s eyes whenever he looked at you, something akin to endearment—

Oh.

Kinich liked you.

Oh, this was going to be good!

Ajaw’s diabolical nature wouldn’t let him keep Kinich’s feelings for you a secret. The next time you came to hang out with their duo, the saurian waved his little stubby arms and ran his mouth as soon as you were within earshot. “Hey, human! Our lowly servant has developed romantic feelings for you like some sort of prepubescent schoolboy! Isn’t that a riot?” and cackled, thinking Kinich would be thoroughly humiliated and put in his place.

To Ajaw’s dismay, instead of looking disgusted by the news, you appeared… hopeful? A tad surprised by his outburst, but was that hope shining in your eyes? To Ajaw’s even greater dismay, Kinich lacked any sort of outward reaction to having his crush on you vocalized so brazenly. Instead, the saurian hunter told you to ignore Ajaw’s nonsensical words in his usual calm manner, before smacking the pixelated menace away for a timeout. Right before he got locked away, Ajaw managed to catch a glimpse of disappointment in your eyes when Kinich brushed the situation aside as if it were nothing.

That day, K’uhul Ajaw realized that Kinich’s feelings were not one-sided like he originally thought. You liked Kinich too. The mere thought of you two acting all lovey-dovey with each other was sickening, but the saurian figured poking fun at you and Kinich would be a good source of entertainment.

After that day, Ajaw became even more insufferable. Every chance he got, he’d swoop in with a taunting remark and make fun either you, Kinich, or both.

One time while accompanying Kinich through a dense forest, you slipped on a wet tree root and were sent falling towards the ground. However, Kinich swiftly caught you and pulled you to his chest to help stabilize you. Ajaw had a field day laughing and crowing about how scandalous you were for practically throwing yourself at Kinich like that. Were you that desperate to be in his arms? Disgusting!

The saurian also used every opportunity he could find to reveal all of Kinich’s secrets to you. Did you know Kinich gave you special treatment? No? Are you blind?! Can’t you tell he does stuff for you for free? Why do you think he brings you game and wild berries free of charge every once in a while--to show off how good he is at hunting?! Have you at least noticed Kinich smiled more and acted softer towards you, or are you really that blind? He doesn’t treat anyone else that way, you know! …And so on and so forth, though most of his attempts to out Kinich are interrupted by the man himself locking Ajaw away before the dragon reveals too much.

As fun as it was to watch your pair’s awkward attempts at showing signs of affection for each other, Ajaw eventually grew frustrated with standing witness to the mutual pining that never progressed anywhere. It made the little saurian’s blood boil with annoyance.

Whenever he and Kinich were alone, Ajaw would complain that the hunter should stop being a dimwit and a coward and just confess to you already! How could he not see that you obviously liked him back?! Seriously, how bad was his luck to end up with such an imbecile for a servant?!

Kinich coolly rejected Ajaw’s insistence for confessing his feelings. It was not in his nature to recklessly rush into the unknown—he needed to carefully analyze and weigh his options before coming to a sound decision. As such, his relationship with you was not to be rushed. This didn’t sit well with Ajaw, but no matter what he said, Kinich stubbornly refused to listen.

The Dragonlord’s patience reached a breaking point during one fateful day. It was getting dark, and Kinich had offered to escort you home. Once you were safely at your doorstep, you made the bold move of kissing Kinich’s cheek in thanks. For a split moment, Ajaw swore there was palpable romantic tension between you as your and Kinich’s eyes met (gross). Kinich glanced at your lips, looking as if he wanted to lean in and kiss you (doubly gross) and Ajaw prepared himself to make disgusted gagging noises, except… nothing happened. With a seldom seen blush on his cheeks, Kinich awkwardly cleared his throat and bid you goodnight, preparing to leave.

Ajaw exploded.

“This is painful to watch! You two were clearly made for each other—both equally cowardly and blind to each other’s feelings! Just admit you like each other already; you’re not fooling anyone! Kinich, you cowardly, brainless, insufferable insect—just lean in for that kiss, you obviously want to! And you! Stop waffling and just spit out that you like Kinich already! Agh, watching you two is torture! What did the great K’uhul Ajaw do to deserve this fate?!” he yelled, turning red in the face.

Kinich promptly locked Ajaw away, for which the saurian would later chew him out once he was free, but not before interrogating you and the hunter about whether you finally confessed. Once Kinich revealed that yes, you had talked it out and admitted your mutual feelings for each other and were now in a relationship, Ajaw could finally feel some sense of peace regarding the situation.

Feeling proud of his contributions, Ajaw puffed out his chest and told you and Kinich to pucker up and kiss his feet in worship, for only with the help of the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw has your relationship progressed instead of stagnating like swamp water.

Though the saurian relic continued to be an annoyance, even Kinich had to admit that Ajaw played a part in getting you together. Though not in the form of worship or foot kissing, Kinich did repay the favor by procuring some quenepa berries and other fruits that Ajaw liked, hosting a small feast as a thank you. Though Ajaw complained about being scammed, the snacks did the trick of improving his mood and keeping him occupied while you and Kinich had some precious time to yourselves.

🦇 Ororon

Ever since you and Ororon were children, Citlali observed that the two of you got along well. So well, in fact, that Ororon had developed a little crush on you. He would pluck flowers from a nearby meadow to give you, follow you around like a loyal puppy, and one time, Ororon told Citlali that he hoped to marry you one day.

Citlali couldn’t help but find Ororon’s crush on you adorable, and a part of her anticipated the day when you both grew up and got married. She had no doubt you would make the sweetest couple among the Masters of the Night-Wind.

Ororon’s attraction to you persisted into adulthood. At that point, Citlali could no longer call it a cute little crush— “Love” was a more apt description for how Ororon felt towards you, even if he tried to hide the depth of his attachment to you. He was content to stay as just your friend and not risk ruining the close bond you had in case you didn’t return his feelings. Citlali was a little frustrated that Ororon continued to pine for you without doing anything about it, but she knew better than to force the stubborn boy to do something he didn’t want to. If you were both happy with the way things were, then why change them?

However, during one of her rare trips to the market for some divination supplies, Citlali overheard a conversation between two tribespeople. The topic of conversation was about love, and one of the men bashfully admitted that he thought you were pretty and that he hoped to ask you out on a date soon. This news washed over Citlali like a bucket of cold water as worry seized her heart.

This wasn’t the first time others had expressed romantic interest in you. After all, you’ve always had a bit of a reputation among the Masters of the Night-Wind for being attractive, so it wasn’t surprising others had an eye on you. However, now that you were an independent adult, it wouldn’t be strange for you to look for a partner to settle down with, right? Knowing Ororon, the dimwit wouldn’t ever think to confess, and what if someone else confessed before he did and stole your heart?

Citlali didn’t want to force you to choose Ororon, but she didn’t want things to end without her beloved grandson at least taking a shot at winning you over. The last thing she wanted was for Ororon to be left heartbroken and disappointed all because he let the chance to be with you slip from his fingers.

With these troubled thoughts, Citlali sought out Ororon and announced that he needed to stop dawdling and actively pursue you unless he wanted to watch your heart get stolen by somebody else. Citlali’s sudden proclamation confused Ororon, so she explained that he’s not the only one who is in love with you and that there’s a risk of you choosing someone else to spend your life with.

As she expected, Ororon stubbornly refused to go along with her urging, saying that who you wanted to end up with was your choice and he would respect it. Though he said that, Citlali could see it on Ororon’s face that the mere thought of you falling for someone else hurt him, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for her grandson.

After much convincing and reassurance, Citlali got Ororon to agree to court you and promised to come up with a plan to help him in this endeavour. There was, however, one major problem: how were two socially awkward outcasts supposed to win someone’s heart? Having never been courted herself, Citlali had no past experiences to draw from when designing her plan, but it shouldn’t be too hard, right? She’d read a lot of romance novels imported from Inazuma, so maybe if she got Ororon to do some of the same things the male leads did, then it would curry your favour? Regardless, it was worth a shot.

The plan was for Ororon to prove his worth as a suitable partner by giving you gifts, compliments, and always being there for you no matter what it was. In Ororon’s opinion, he was already doing all of these things for you as a friend, but Citlali insisted that his actions needed to be infused with romance to distinguish them from gestures of friendship. Her grandson was still reluctant to actively court you, but he had promised to try and try he did. Except, his approach subverted Citlali’s expectations.

When it came to giving gifts, instead of presenting jewellery, woven scrolls, or useful gadgets, the young man gifted you game he had caught in the wild and the best selection of produce from his garden. Citlali could only facepalm when Ororon told her which gifts he planned to give you, but she also knew he put genuine thought into them. Ororon handpicked the nicest veggies he could find in his garden and personally delivered them to your doorstep instead of sending Ifa like he normally would. Citlali told him that giving gifts in person held more meaning, and Ororon appeared to have taken her words to heart.

Ororon also gifted you flowers much like he did when you were little. However, this time he didn’t give you flowers plucked from the wild. Instead, he gifted you potted plants that he had also grown in his garden. “They will live and look pretty for longer,” he told you, then received a flick to the forehead once Citlali found out what he did.

His compliments were no better. Saying things like his vegetables grew better whenever you visited his home and spoke to his plants or your presence being calming for the aphids, was the best Ororon could do. Citlali admonished him for these strange compliments, but to Ororon, that was the highest praise anyone could receive. After all, you were an amazing person, and even his plants and aphids sensed it.

Ororon’s courtship was unconventional to say the least, and granny Itztli worried whether her grandson made a favorable impression on you. To help improve Ororon’s image in your eyes, Citlali sought you out more often to put in a good word for her grandson and get you to see him as a man. She highlighted Ororon’s good points to you, commenting how Ororon is a bit peculiar, but he’s also kind, resourceful, accepting, gentle, and so much more. A truly good kid. He would make an excellent romantic partner, wouldn’t you agree?

Her pushiness flustered you, but it also allowed Citlali to gauge how you felt about Ororon, and she had to contain her excitement when she pieced together that you loved him back. In her giddiness, she urged Ororon to confess.

When the day of the confession came, Citlali hid among some trees while keeping an eye on you and Ororon. She didn’t intent to spy, but the anxiety over how the confession would go made her antsy and she couldn’t sit still at home. She watched as Ororon offered you a basket of his finest produce and finally professed his love. The confession came out awkward because he tried to recite what he practiced with Citlali a few days prior, and he seemed to realize this because Ororon then took your hand and placed it against his chest. Using his own words this time, Ororon explained that he genuinely did love you, and the racing of his heart should be proof enough that you were more than just a friend in his eyes. However, it was alright if you didn’t feel the same way about him.

Citlali had to clamp her hands over her mouth to hold back from squealing in giddiness as she watched you reciprocate Ororon’s feelings. She would later apologize for spying since she knew it was wrong, but it filled her with joy to witness the blossoming of love between you. In some ways, this was better than any romance novel she had read in all her years of living, and it warmed her heart to see you both so happy.

Even if it was a childhood fantasy, perhaps Ororon’s wish of marrying you was not that far off now? Citlali certainly hoped so.

☂️ Wanderer

Nahida was no expert on romance, but she had observed enough couples during her 500-year-long imprisonment to know what romantic attraction looked like. The strange air surrounding you and Wanderer must have been that, she speculated, as she watched Wanderer hand you a box of your favorite foods with the flimsy excuse of having made too much. For your part, you seemed genuinely touched by the gesture despite Wanderer’s grumbling, much to Nahida’s delight. Wanderer’s prickly personality pushed some people away, but not you. You stayed by his side and gave him the companionship he needed, helping Wanderer open up and heal from his trauma.

It was clear you deeply cared for the young man, and a little peek into your mind confirmed to Nahida that yes, you did love him romantically. She couldn’t read Wanderer’s mind since he blocked all her attempts to do so, but she didn’t need mindreading to conclude that he loved you too.

When she next spoke with Wanderer, she carefully asked if he loved you. Wanderer’s response was a gruff “No” and “Stop asking”, however Nahida could tell he wasn’t being honest with his feelings. If he didn’t love you, then why did he treat you differently compared to everyone else? His manner of speech is gentler when with you, and despite all his grumbling he still complies with all your requests no matter how irritating he may find them. Not to mention, he spends most of his free time in your company, goes out of his way to make you little gifts and cook your favorite dishes. Surely all these behaviours were proof that you were someone special to him?

Being effectively cornered, the puppet had no choice except to come clean about his hidden feelings. With scowl and a blush on his cheeks, Wanderer reluctantly admitted that yes, he likes you, but it was none of Nahida’s business and she’d better stay out of it.

Despite Wanderer’s warning, the Dendro Archon wanted to help get you together. She felt confident that if both of you put in a little effort, a beautiful romance could blossom between you. Still, she didn’t want to outright reveal your feelings for each other. She believed that each of you should relay these intimate feelings yourselves. All Nahida would do is give you a gentle nudge in the right direction.

To help her with this task, Nahida sought help from a few Aranara and asked them to keep an eye on you and Wanderer and report any meaningful details that could help her bring you together. Through her little helpers, Nahida learned the full extent of Wanderer’s affections for you, and she couldn’t help but smile at how sweet he was, especially when it came to you.

Using this acquired knowledge, the Dendro Archon frequently brought up Wanderer in your conversations with her to explain the thoughtfulness behind some of his gifts and words. For as frank as he usually was with people, Wanderer was more close-lipped about the true extent of his feelings, so Nahida had some work cut out for her in making you realize how much he truly cared about you.

For example, the next time Wanderer gave you your favorite food with the excuse that he’d made too much, Nahida revealed to you that he actually spent several days perfecting the recipe before finally giving the dish to you.

That hand-made bracelet he gifted you, saying he got it for free during an arts and crafts event he visited? Wanderer actually made it himself during that event and used beads of your favorite colors. The Aranara watched him spend a lot of time crafting that bracelet with the greatest care, but Nahida left that part out.

In addition, she would subtly drop hints for you to invite Wanderer to hang out more often. For example, the Zubayr Theater was hosting a play and Nahida heard there was a discount if you bought two tickets. Why don’t you go and invite Wanderer to come with you?

As for Wanderer, she discreetly told him that you once mentioned wanting to try out a new drink at Puspa Cafe but had nobody to go with, so why not be a good friend and take you there himself? Wanderer initially objected, but ultimately caved in and invited you to the Café while commenting that a certain annoying sprout said you wanted to try a new drink there, though deep down he glad for the opportunity to spend more time with you. Nahida could tell by the way Wanderer went out of his way to spoil you that day, buying you anything you wanted and keeping you company until the sun set.

Little by little, Nahida softened Wanderer towards the possibility of being in a romantic relationship with you, and helped you gather the courage to confess. Wanderer was unlikely to ever confess first, so the responsibility rested on your shoulders. She could tell you were nervous about laying bare your feelings, but she reassured you that things would go well. You only needed to take that leap of faith.

When you finally confessed, Nahida and the Aranara secretly observed the scene from behind a nearby corner, curious to see how things would go while also quietly cheering you on (not that you knew). When a flustered Wanderer accepted your confession, Nahida was overjoyed. She had fun guiding both of you towards this moment, but the satisfaction of knowing you could finally be together the way you always wished was rewarding in its own way. Even when Wanderer later confronted her about spying on you during your confession and scolded her for it, the little Archon’s happiness didn’t wane. She looked forward to seeing what your newfound relationship would blossom into, and had no doubt it would be something beautiful and pure, just like your love for each other.

👁️‍🗨️ Cyno

It was no secret to Tighnari that you and Cyno liked each other. He had known about your mutual crushes as far back as your student days at the Akademiya where you first met. You became fast friends with him and Cyno, but Tighnari couldn’t help but think Cyno was a bit more special to you than you let on. After all, you were one of the few who wasn’t intimidated by Cyno’s perpetual stern facial expressions and actively sought him out, and who actually laughed at his lame jokes.

Tighnari also knew about Cyno’s crush on you since his friend confided about it to him. Not that Cyno needed to say anything because Tighnari could see his attraction to you clear as day. Cyno’s eyes lit up whenever he saw you in the distance, he tried to act “cooler” in your presence in an attempt to impress you, and Tighnari swore that if Cyno had a tail, it would have wagged like a dog’s every time you laughed at his jokes.

Though he knew about your mutual romantic attraction to each other, Tighnari didn’t want to stick his nose into your love lives. He figured you guys would resolve everything yourselves in due time.

However, nothing changed even after you guys graduated. Your group remained close friends and saw each other regularly, but Tighnari was starting to lose his patience with how you and Cyno hopelessly pined for each other. He had already lost count of the number of times each of you came to him for advice on how to win the other over.

Cyno asked Tighnari’s opinion on a lot of things: Would you like his newest joke? Would you be okay with Cyno volunteering to be your bodyguard for your upcoming desert excursion? Which of his limited edition TCG cards best represented you? Cyno wanted to express how much you meant to him by giving you a card that reminded him of you.

You were no better. Tighnari had lost count of the number of times you approached him with questions about Cyno’s work schedule. Your excuse was that you wanted to plan hangouts with him, Collei, and Cyno during their days off, but Tighnari knew there was another reason why you asked about Cyno’s schedule in particular. He had half a mind to tell you to ask Cyno yourself because it was obvious that you just wanted to spend more time with the General Mahamatra. You also pestered Tighnari with questions about Cyno’s TCG deck. Much like his friend, you wanted to express your appreciation for Cyno by giving him cards he didn’t have yet.

Seriously, you two were a match made in heaven…

Tighnari would have found your mutual crushes on each other endearing, if only he wasn’t stuck being the middleman. As it stood, Tighnari wanted nothing more than to throttle both of you for pussyfooting around your feelings and getting him caught up in being your messenger. He was on the brink of snapping and sitting you both down to explain that your feelings were mutual, so just hurry up and get together already.

That’s why the next time Cyno approached him with another question about you, Tighnari took the opportunity to convince his friend to confess. He and Collei assured Cyno that you liked him a lot, and urged him to tell you his feelings. Cyno was hesitant but did seem to want some closure about whether you liked him back or not, so Tighnari gave him an incentive. How about the next time he played TCG with you, you guys set some stakes? Why not have a rule that the loser must tell the winner a secret? If Cyno lost, he would have to confess.

Cyno wasn’t fond of the idea initially, but agreed after some contemplation, acknowledging that this method would be effective in giving him that necessary push. Still, Tighnari could tell Cyno was nervous about confessing, so he volunteered to come along as moral support, much to Cyno’s gratitude.

That was how Tighnari and Collei found themselves at Puspa Cafe, sitting a few tables away from you and Cyno, hidden from your line of sight. Tighnari tutored Collei while Cyno played that fateful round of TCG against you, but the Forest Ranger kept a close eye on his friend. Though he didn’t want to get too invested in Cyno’s love life, even he couldn’t help but grow anxious as he watched the TCG match end with Cyno’s loss.

Although Tighnari was too far away to hear what Cyno was saying, he could tell the moment of confession had come. Now, the ball was in your court.

You looked stunned by whatever Cyno said, but soon smiled and said something that made Cyno mirror the happy expression on your face and reach out to hold your hand. Though he couldn’t hear, Tighnari knew you had reciprocated his feelings. Even Collei quietly fawned over how cute you both looked. It had been a long journey, but he was truly happy for his friend. Out of everyone, Cyno was happiest with you, and Tighnari hoped you would continue to make him happy for many years to come.

With everything ending well, Tighnari beckoned Collei and discreetly left the cafe before you or Cyno noticed. As happy as he was for you guys, he dreaded the possibility of Cyno coercing them into a TCG match. With how elated his friend must be right now, it was only a matter of time until Cyno called him and Collei over for a new game to celebrate you accepting his feelings. In Tighnari’s opinion, you guys deserved to have some proper time to yourselves to explore your feelings and new relationship without him and Collei serving as thirdwheels. That, and he just really didn’t want to sit through another hour of watching Cyno show off for you.

[icanseethefuture333]

PAC 18+: how to walk ‘em like a dog 🦮🎀🐆

“Back to the kitty, ‘cus she kinda pretty

Couldn’t stop lookin’ at her ti-ti-ti— face!

Me and cat mama rolled into the distant fog

Little did she know, I’m a nasty dog.”

Pile 1:

Shufflemancy -

Pussy Talk by City Girls ft. Doja Cat

Kehlani by Jordan Adetunji

The Zone by The Weeknd

Ten of Cups, Six of Cups, Five of Swords, Make An Altar, Chanting, Use Your Hands, Camera, Mirror, & The Grim Reaper

Hey pile,1 😝. The person who wishes for you to walk them like a dog admires you so much, they might even over romanticize you in their head, to them, you fulfill their fantasies. They think about you in different positions and wonder how your hands feel on them 😮‍💨. They get hard/wet just by the thought of you alone. I believe you show that to this person as well, you could tease them often or like to give them a show whenever you walk past them. “P*ssy talented it do cartwheels and he pay cus he like how that part feels, p*ssy give speeches, heart felt, say the p*ssy really talk like it Garfield (it do)” 😅 oh god, I think this person is obsessed with the sounds your bodies make during sex, they are heavily infatuated with you. “I like the way your body is, is that too obvious? Okay I like your confidence, oh that’s what good karma, like kehlani is, bad just like kehlani is.” This person desires to be fair in the bedroom, they want to cum with you, pile 1. This might be someone you’ve known since childhood, your first love, or an ex that you met when you were young. You could be playful and mischievous in the bedroom, but also like to take the lead. Switch vibes are prominent in this pile. You and your person like to give and take. You could be a brat and they want to be your brat tamer. If you follow each other, this person has been watching your stories on social media, I feel like you post risqué photos for them and wonder if it’s working 👀 trust me it has, cus they have been getting it off to your pictures in secret 🤫… This person definitely worships your body and your beauty.

Full reading on my patreon

Pile 2:

Shufflemancy -

Goodies by Ciara ft. Petey Pablo

Slumber Party by Ashnikko ft. Princess Nokia

Bimbo Doll by Tila Tsoli ft. BJ Lips

King of Wands, King of Cups, Knight of Cups, Watch A Movie, Massage, Rest, Talking, Keys on a Ring, & Love Call

I love how hyper feminine my pile 2 is 🎀! You guys are so popular and have so many options in your dating life. People think that you are so cute but in a tempting way. Do you dress y2k, mcbling, or coquette? Whatever your style might be, people think it looks so hot on you. You could attract both girls and guys with your looks, especially older guys. “You may look at me and think that I’m just a young girl but I’m not just a young girl. Baby this is what I’m lookin for - sexy, independent, gotta spend it type for gettin his dough. I’m not being too dramatic that’s just how I gotta have it. I bet you want the goodies, bet you thought about it.” You know your worth and don’t settle for less, despite your sweet appearance you know you give people a run for their money. People even wish to give you their money. Are you a sugar baby? If not, you should become one, you’d be very successful. I have a feeling you have people wrapped around your pretty finger. Others desire to spoil you with gifts and money. Dare I say I see this pile being with both a woman and a man (maybe even at the same time?)👀. “Me and your girlfriend playin’ dress up in my house, I gave your girlfriend c*nnilingus on my couch. She cute, kawaii, hentai boobies that excite me. I think she really likes me, ask politely, can I - woo ooh ooh (slumber party).” Two people wish to initate things with you but you have total control over the situation. Your features really entice people, you could have doe eyes, big lips, nice boobs, and a cute butt. When you talk, this person(s) doesn’t know where to focus their eyes, they get so nervous around you and have to control themselves from getting too intense with the conversation. They also really wish to hear you dirty talk to them. Your voice is a a major turn on to this peoples, it’s giving phone sex operator level of skill lol. As I was typing “hear”, I accidentally spelled “head” so they definitely want to see your lips on their d*ck/p*ssy as well😚.

Full reading on patreon

Pile 3:

Shufflemancy -

Get On Your Knees by Nicki Minaj ft. Ariana Grande

Distraction by Kehlani

Rocket by Beyoncé

Eight of Pentacles, Seven of Wands (reversed), Nine of Cups, Sex, Abundance Planning, Deep Breathing, The Sword and The Rose, Not Today, & Clock

PHEW 😮‍💨 don’t hurt em now, pile 3. This is my dominant pile. You guys know how to take charge in the bedroom. This person wants to be at your mercy. I’m talking having you on top and riding them as hard as you can or them getting on their knees to beg at your feet. This person actually wants to be walked like a dog lol. They are very submissive and like pain. I feel like you know this as well 😂! You have so much control over them and they want you to know you run this relationship. I feel you and this person are already together or have a thing going on, if not I see things progressing sexually pretty fast. This might be a tinder date situation. “Get on your knees, get on your knees, baby just get on your knees. Say pretty please, pretty please, pretty please. Baby just say pretty please” you could like to use this person as a stress reliever. The sex would be slow and intense. “Do me a favor, pick me up, take me out later. Don't worry about no paper cus I got much stacked up for nights like this” I see that you’re a hard working person and don’t have time to be in a committed relationship but value trust, loyalty, and honesty. This person provides that safe space for you and allows you to express your flaws in peace. You don’t have to be perfect and fake a smile like you usually have to do in professional settings. I see that this person really wishes to be with you in a romantic way but doesn’t want to rush or force things on you if they know you have other responsibilities to tend to. It’s reminding me of Nani and David from Lilo & Stitch. David had a huge crush on Nani but due to her focusing on needing to be there for Lilo and being a provider, she didn’t have time to acknowledge his feelings until later she was settled in her career. I see that you are grateful towards this person and attracted to their emotional intelligence.

Full reading on patreon

Pile 4:

Shufflemancy -

Blah Blah Blah by Kesha ft. 3OH!3

Please me by Cardi B ft. Bruno Mars

Dip It Low by Christina Milian

The Chariot, Seven of Swords, Ten of Wands, Pleasure, Flow Like Water, Hydrate, Addiction, Date, & The Phoenix

Heyyy, pile 4 😉. I see that this person got you down bad lol but not to worry since the feeling is mutual. I feel that you came on to this person before they even did. You could be an extrovert while this person is an introvert. They’re very reserved and are careful with how they express themselves. You might flirt with this person while they’re on the job or when they’re focusing in class. They like to pretend they are disinterested in your advances to see how much you’re willing to keep going after them. It could stroke their ego a little bit knowing someone as “cute” as you likes them (I heard an emphasis on the word “cute”). You could be feeling confused on whether or not they like you back and it results in you feeling pouty about the situation. This connection could be relatively new but this person is wanting to explore how things go! This person could want to tease you a lot or perhaps even degrade 🫠. They might like to talk shit playfully just to get under your skin. For some reason I feel like this person likes to make you mad 💀 they can be really annoying. They like when you tell them to shut up or put them in their place. If you yelled at them even and kissed this person the next, they would live for that shit. They’re kinda toxic honestly 😂. “blah, bl-bl-blah, blah, blah. Coming out'cha mouth with'cha blah, blah, blah. Zip your lip like a padlock (Yeah) and meet me in the back with the Jack at the jukebox (back, back). I don't really care where you live at, just turn around, boy, let me hit that. Don't be a little bitch with your chit chat just show me where your d*ck’s at”. This person really enjoys your banter and despite being so hard on you they really only have a soft spot for you, I heard “that’s my baby” 🥹☺️. Pile 4, you must have a great ass as well 🍑. This person looks at your physique when you’re not looking, they really want to know what it feels like to have your body pressed against them. “Please me, baby. Turn around and just tease me, baby. You know what I want and what I need, baby. (Let me hear you say) Please” this person’s energy is honestly all over the place 💀 they’re just so horny lol. This person wants you *london accent* BAD, man.

Full reading on patreon

Pile 5:

Shufflemancy -

Lolly by Maejor ft. Justin Bieber & Juicy J

Walk Like This by FLO

Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado ft. Timbaland

Seven of Pentacles, Page of Cups, The Star (reversed), Plan A Meal, Nourish Your Temple, Music, Love, Passion, & Photograph

Ooo wee, pile 5🫣🤭, when I say this person has a biiiiig 📦 for you. This person has very masculine energy, almost giving fuckboy/frat guy vibes 😂. They could be very fit and muscular with a nice smile, they know they’re fine and attract a lot of people towards them. There could be a height difference between you and this person. Their attraction to you is because of the stereotypical phrase “idk you’re just different”. They don’t have the exact reasons why they’re into you but they do like your creativity, mannerisms, and shy demeanor. This person could have a corruption kink 💀. They could want to see you break out of that good girl / good boy routine and try something new and risky. You and this person know of each other but don’t seem to be very close, perhaps they are in your friend circle or you guys are just acquaintances. They often have dirty thoughts of you giving them head and seeing how much you can take of them. This person could wine and dine you first before wanting to go down on you. “Order what you want, girl, it ain't no problem. I'ma tell the waitress that my baby need a bottle. Order what you want, said it ain't no problem. Got a piece of candy and it's all for you. She say she love my lolly. She wanna make it pop. She say she love my lolly. She wanna kiss the top”. They like sex that’s really rough and nasty, if it’s not messy and loud they’re not into it 😭. I see that they’re into positions like 69, cowgirl, and missionary. They’re big on seeing your face during sex, they get really cheeky about the good work they’re doing and would want to pin your hands down so you can beg for more. I do see jewelry and this person wearing chains🙂‍↔️. This person would be more so walking you like a dog but you have them on a leash in the sense you keep them coming back. They could have you walking funny after you’re done 🤭 you might be really sore the next day as well. “There's a reason I walk like this (I walk). My baby, he be lovin' on this (Oh yeah). When he do it, he be workin' that shit (Oh yeah) And every night he got me wantin' more of it”. You might feel confident and pleased after having sex with this person and can feel a sense of relief.

Full reading on patreon

Pile 6:

Shufflemancy -

Play With It by Tommy Genesis

Who Am I (What's My Name?) by Snoop Dogg

Girls Need Love by Summer Walker

The Fool (reversed), The Sun, Five of Cups (reversed), Write a Gratitude List, Take a Walk, Clean Your Space, Family, Not Enough, Ax, & Healing Heart

Pile 6, you still not over your ex, huh 😔? It’s ok, no judgment here, baby 🫶. I see you and your ex still have an attachment together, things might be on and off or you don’t really know where the direction of this relationship is headed towards. I see that you are a very caring person and because of miscommunication, you and this person seem to never be on the right foot. It’s possible some of you who picked this pile have a baby with this person or will get pregnant (please use protection if this isn’t what you want!). I see a lot of fertility going on in this pile, you and this person could prefer to make love or have sex as if you’re making a baby lol. This person could have a breeding kink? They get turned on by the idea of you being pregnant with their child. Whenever you wear sundresses that is also sexy to them. I feel like your body is so tea, pile 6. Either you’re really thick and curvy or your body is just gorgeous to people, especially your sp. This person fantasizes about doing it raw while you touch yourself in front of them. “Play wit' the p*ssy, wanna play wit' the p*ssy. Come get a hooky, baby, come get a hooky. I wanna fuck you, baby, I wanna fuck you. If we not fuckin', baby, come get it poppin'”. This person is scared to fully pursue because you seem to be in a place of healing in your life and doesn’t want to add to that. There is another person that is new coming who also wishes to take your ex’s spot 👀 Oop! I feel like this will be their friend who will make passes at you and this will make your sp really jealous lol. In the bedroom, their jealousy could make them more dominant and want to take control. There is a lot about wanting to hear you moan or scream their name. They can be very vocal too i'm getting a lot about hissing so maybe they hiss whenever you get their spot? PHEW- They could want to fuck you doggy style while they spank your ass. “She want the nigga with the biggest nuts, and guess what? He is I and I am him. Slim with the tilted brim, what's my motherfuckin' name? Snoop Doggy Dogg (The bomb). Snoop Doggy Dogg Snoop Doggy Dogg (The bomb)” they can be really boastful after sex if they get you to cum and you can get annoyed by this lol. You might tell your person “it wasn’t even allat🙄” and they’ll tease you cus they know it was 😋. I see this person providing you with aftercare and massaging your back and feet. Even though you might not be together at the moment, this person really values you as a person and knows their place.

Full reading on patreon

Pile 7:

Shufflemancy -

Hey Daddy (Daddy's Home) by Usher

JT Coming by JT

Huff n Puff by Red Velvet

Page of Swords, Knight of Wands (reversed), The Emperor, Be Still, Energy Work, Sync with the Moon, The Snake, Lightning, & Separation

Alright this is giving my queer pile 🥰, very androgynous energy all around here 😎. Regardless of what your gender might be, both you and this person are independent and like to have things a certain way. You could have met them through a dating app or while on a date with another person (Crazy work but ok 😂). I'm getting maybe someone is a bartender or works at some place where they have to socialize a lot. You and your sp are very flirtatious towards the other but someone gets super shy when it comes to compliments. This is for a select few of you but some of you might be transgender? Perhaps you are a trans man/woman and this person is cisgender. You might be nervous to be too flirty with them in case they might reject you but honestly i'm getting go for it baby, life is too short to be worrying about those things (just remember to be safe is all 🫶🏽). This person will be very polite and respectful towards you so just allow yourself to unwind when you go out with this person. "I ain't gotta do a lot of flexing (Uh-huh). Shorty, you already know what it is. Ha, and girl, tonight we gonna do a lot of sexin', yeah. Can't nobody do your body like this." They could be very forward and direct when it comes to communication they do not like beating around the bush, i'm getting someone likes to man spread a lot or you will notice that they sit with their legs open. Laaaawd when I tell you this person has a big 🍆 or owns one, they will have that shit ready for you LOLLL. This person gives big dick energy they're just very secure with themselves and how they carry on. You might feel insecure about some things and ask them "does this bother you?" or "do you find this attractive?" and they're gonna be like "yah" to everything. THEY MIGHT NOT EVEN GIVE A VERBAL RESPONSE TBH they just might nod their head or whatever and look at you like "is we fuckin' or what 😏🎶?". To them, these questions don't make sense like for example they would think "why wouldn't I like hip dips?" or "facial harmony? what the hell does that even mean? I don't care about that, I care about you." So if you are someone who compares themselves to people on the internet truuuust when I say this person is not chronically online to understand any of that shit. They like what they see and they just want to give it to you and more. "It's been a while since you gave, ho, it's time to give it up (Give it up). Like a bitch with a fresh BBL, you can't sit with us (Nah). Fine motherfucker, white boys say I rock (Hah). I gotta stay protected 'cause y'all stay on my c*ck. My new whip beautiful, I call it p*ssy whip. It was a gift, my nigga friends say he p*ssy whipped." Your sp might be older as well or very mature for their age.

Full reading on patreon

Pile 8:

Shufflemancy -

SHY GUY by Tinashe

Good For You by Selena Gomez ft. A$ap Rocky

Unfold by Alina Baraz

Seven of Swords, Five of Pentacles, The Star, Journal, Look for Fairies, Movement, Hammer, The Dragonfly, & Self-Indulgence

Aww this is my soft pile 🛌. I see that you guys are very spiritual and dreamy. You might fantasize a lot about this person. For some of you, you might even be manifesting them. I see that the feelings you have towards this person are very tender and loving. I see that this person is very flighty and doesn’t wish to have such a big commitment. This person you are interested could have ghosted you or there’s something wrong with your communication. Maybe you and this person have different time zones or a conflict of schedule. There’s something about the person not being there for you. “Shy guy, always sayin' it's the wrong time. Even though you know it feels right. Love don't fit into your timeline (La, la, la, la). Shy guy, always sayin' it's the wrong time. Even though you know it feels right. Love don't fit into your timeline. Shy guy (Guy, guy, guy, guy, guy)” I believe you are being too kind to this person and need to detach and allow them to chase you. Focusing on yourself and seeing other people will allow this person to show up for you and be the person that you need. Now is the time for you to be self indulgent and take care of yourself. Some of you should practice healing in the bedroom and should learn about what makes you feel good sexually. Perhaps exploring with new partners will help you find new things that provide pleasure. I see that you are very submissive or lean towards more vanilla. Try to vocalize what makes you feel good to your partner and be more assertive. Your energy reminds me of Jhené Aiko’s song “P*$$y Fairy”, very sensual but delicate. To this person if you were to show them your new found confidence, they will crumble to their knees and will feel stunned. They might ask you questions like “where did you learn this baby???” Or “have you been having fun without me?”. They really love how you taste 😳 this sp wants to pull your dress/skirt up or pants off and just go to town. Their favorite thing is when you’re all dolled up and getting ready to go out. “Gonna wear that dress you like, skin-tight. Do my hair up real, real nice. And syncopate my skin to your heart beating. Cause I just wanna look good for you, good for you. I just wanna look good for you, good for you. Let me show you how proud I am to be yours.” I’m seeing that they admire your facial expressions during sex for to them it’s too cute, something about makeup smudging? Things can get really messy 👀

Full reading on patreon

Pile 9:

Shufflemancy -

Come Alive by Jackson Wang

Earned It by The Weeknd

Swim by Chase Atlantic

Eight of Wands, Death, The Hanged One, Dance, Look to the Stars, Sound Healing, The Grim Reaper, Ascending, & Healthy Choices

When I tell you this pile is NASTYYY. It’s honestly crazy how much this person wants to match your freak, pile 9. Definitely saved best for last. The sex almost feels cinematic in a way. Something about this person just gives main character vibes that is so seductive you can’t turn your eyes away from them. I believe your relationship with this person could have progressed pretty fast. For some of you, you could have kissed or even had sex after the first date. While I also see that this is a friends with benefits situation (does someone have a contract?!). You could find them mysterious or wish to get to know them on a more interpersonal level. You could feel that these things are more surface level in terms of attraction and don’t want the intimacy to only be superficial. I see that this sp is charming and prefers to disclose things little by little. “I come alive. You start me up a million times. And I'm terrified. That you could leave me crying.” So this person could be afraid of opening up to you because they are nervous about getting their heart broken. They might have previously gotten out of a relationship and they are learning how to trust in a partner again. Your sp could be afraid of rejection and that's why they are disorganized in terms of how they want to pursue you. Providing this person with assurance will help them gain courage, also pile 9, make sure to do what's healthy for you, try not to overly devote your time to this person. I see that communicating with your partner and talking about how you have been feeling will want to open up more and trust you. Something about wearing lingerie in the bedroom is a major turn on for this person. Taking control and guiding this person will help allow them to let their guard down. "Cause girl, you're perfect (girl, you're perfect). You're always worth it (always worth it). And you deserve it (and you deserve it). The way you work it (the way you work it). 'Cause girl, you earned it, yeah (earned it). Girl, you earned it, yeah". Your sp would be over the moon for you.

Full reading on patreon

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

A/N: Another Fern fic at last, requested by a kofi member ^^

Shrinking down to Fern’s side seemed almost fun at first. Getting to save money on food expenses and cuddling with your boyfriend while being the little spoon was great!

It only occurred to you a few hours after becoming a tiny human that you still had to do everything your big self had done before.

Except now you were the size of a pencil.

“Ahh, I still have to write out a report, make my lunches for this week, call my mom, do the laundry-“

Fern watched you panic from his usual spot on your bed, his head propped up by his hands. While you were struggling, he was relaxed and content to have his mate smaller than him for once.

“Calm down, princess. Don’t forget you have me to help. I’ve been this size my whole life, doing your chores can’t be that hard.”

Fern was terribly wrong.

Attempting to type out a detailed report by jumping key to key was exhausting, and after he messed up several times you had to do it alone. It left you too tired to do anything else.

“This would usually only take me 30 minutes, how much time has passed?”

“… three hours.”

You groaned, burying your face into his shoulder as he played with your hair. “How do you do it, Fern? You always seem so happy go lucky, but being small can’t be easy on you.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly. “It’s not easy, but when you’re around it’s hard to be exhausted or angry.”

This made your heart flutter, and you let him guide you to the laundry room.

“My vines aren’t agile enough to help you type, but they can throw laundry into the washer and take them out no problem.”

He used his magic, vines creeping in through your window. They clumsily tossed clothes into the washer, and Fern flew you up so you could select the proper settings.

“Now I need to call my mom and make some lunches… how long will I be like this?”

Fern was too busy soaking in the feeling of you in his arms as he flew towards the fridge to really listen, so it took him a moment to process what you had said.

“… a few hours, maybe a day or two perhaps.”

‘Hopefully longer…’ Fern though, even though he felt guilty for it. Who could blame him? His lover was finally the same size as him, who wouldn’t want this to last forever?

The two of you laughed, both covered in food after struggling to finish packing your final lunch.

“Come, dear. Let’s get cleaned up.”

You sat in the small tub, feeling Fern’s cock twitch as he held you against him. He didn’t acknowledge his erection, a soft pink dusting his freckled cheeks.

“There’s mustard in your hair too, love.”

You pouted at him, feeling Fern’s fingers scrub the mess from your hair. You were glad you had bought such a large tub for fern to use for bathing, it had enough room for the two of you to sit comfortably without being squished.

Again, his erection rubbed against you, a soft hiss slipping from his lips as he clutched your hips. It was clear he wanted you, but was holding back.

“Fern…”

He whimpered when you reached back to stroke his cock, nearly cumming on the spot.

“Mmph! That’s… ahh…”

His hips bucked, a moan leaving his parted lips as he let out a needy whine. Now that you were small, he could truly have you…

Before you knew it you pulled into his lap, straddling him as his cock nudged at your fat pussy. God, he had dreamed of this day…

Getting to watch his cock stretch you out was heaven to Fern. You struggled with his size for a moment, your pussy clenching around him as he rubbed at your clit.

Unbeknownst to you, he had been looking over your shoulder at the smut you read at night, and had learned a thing or two.

As he bounced you on his lap at a steady rhythm, he pulled you in for a kiss, his slipping to the small of your back. You tasted sweet, like the chocolates the two of you ate earlier. He wanted more, so much more…

Cumming deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his seed felt… amazing. Fulfilling. It had to be the best thing to ever happen to him.

You were so beautiful, so warm and tight, he just couldn’t help but spurt thick ropes of hot cum into you, painting your walls and praying that this got you pregnant.

After that, he carefully washed the both of you up, occasionally using his fingers to pump his cum back into you when it started to drip out.

You returned to your full size the next day, but Fern was just happy with the memory of his cock stretching you out…

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

[ruins-of-gods]

I've only been out on the plains a few times. I think the thing that overwhelms me about it isn't the size of the sky, as much as I love it. What overwhelms me is its complexity.

In the mountains, the sky is one thing. Maybe it's cloudy, or sunny, or overcast, maybe the wind is making the clouds into repeating shapes or the sunset is giving it all a gradient, but it's all roughly the same thing all the way across. And you get used to thinking of the sky like that. After all, the mountains don't block too much of it, you think. Surely the different cloud-castles, the way the light catches that one or pierces in beams through this, that's what the sky is. That's as much as it can be. Like a video game skybox.

And then you come into a place where the landscape doesn't form the weather - or rather, where the weather is the size of the landscape, and has room to breathe. And you can see ALL of it. You can watch storms in the distance crawling their way across the land - places where it's raining, raining for miles, but so far away from you. You can see the layers on layers of clouds above you, different weights, different varieties, mounting up and up until they reach the sun at the top of it all. The sky can be blue here and grey there and pinkish-gold over there, and all the colors in between, while the storms warp the cloud layers around themselves and the wispy cirrus clouds flutter like feathers in the wind far above anywhere the airplane contrails could reach. The sky moves, over the plains. It breathes. And when it's empty - on those rare occasions when there are no clouds, not even a haze to break up the endless blue - you realize just how small of a planet you live on, and just how fucking big things are above you.

I don't get how any of yall can live on flat prairie away from mountains and shit, there's roo much open sky and nowhere to hide, shit gives me anxiety. Feels like I'm gonna get carried away by a large bird

[grooveology]

. . . haha . . . imagine being tashi's childhood best friend, growing up beside her and getting into stanford together . . . meeting patrick and art then she starts dating patrick but reader is never left out (and neither is art) hmmm why does patrick wrap his arms around readers waist?? why does tashi smile at the sight??? why is art so touchy with tashi AND in front of patrick??? why are you all so affectionate?

i may have gone a bit overboard, but i did kind of forget about tashi x art sorry ): hope this gives your genius thoughts justice!!

you and tashi? the epitome of the sun and moon, two peas in a pot—but with way more codependency than either of you would admit to. you were attached by the hip. how could you not be? you grew up together, lived on the same street, went to the same school, and eventually went to the same university. you were each other's first kiss, first makeout, first homoerotic friendship! it was only natural for you two to share boyfriends–friends. you aren't sure how it happened, but one night you both meet patrick zweig and art donaldson (although, they were both on your radars way before the party.) the boys immediately take an interest in you and tashi, inviting you over to their hotel room. surprise, surprise, you both make an appearance.

patrick shares his touching story about teaching art how to jerk off and suddenly tashi gives you a look and you can't help but burst into laughter. okay, alright, maybe you were a tad bit drunk. you snort, laugh, and then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out.

"that reminds me of the time when tash offered to give me kissing lessons."

tashi, unfazed as ever, takes a casual sip of her beer and grins.

“well, you were nervous about kissing guys,” she says, her tone maddeningly matter-of-fact. “you needed all the help you could get.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. "tash—oh my god.”

now, it was patrick who bursts out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “wait, wait. are we talking, like, full-on tutorial?”

“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “it wasn’t like that.”

oh, but it was!

art is too amused by the conversation to say anything, but you can feel him watching. his pretty blue eyes flicker between you and tashi, it's almost like he’s taking mental notes on this whole conversation.

"what?” you snap, more defensive than you mean to be.

art’s grin widens just a fraction, and he takes a sip of his beer, shrugging. “nothing. just… you two are close. closer than most."

you don’t know how to respond to that, but tashi, of course, doesn’t miss a beat.

“so are you two,” she says casually, her eyes flicking toward the beds shoved together at the center of the room.

and somehow, just like that, the room shifts. one thing leads to before you know it, your lips are on tashi’s, soft and searching, the taste of beer and laughter still lingering in her mouth. patrick’s mouth finds art’s, and the sound—a soft, startled hitch of breath—pulls your attention for half a second. you glance over, catching the way art’s hand curls around patrick’s neck, pulling him closer.

and then, somehow, art’s lips are on yours. the shift happens so naturally it barely registers—his mouth is soft, he's not rushing, instead, he's savoring as if he's trying to memorize the feel of you.

besides you, patrick’s mouth crashes against tashi's with urgency, his kisses hungry, almost desperate, as though he’s been holding back all night and finally let the dam break.

since that night, things changed—with art now attending stanford alongside you, and patrick going pro (yet he always found a way to visit) the four of you only grew closer.

patrick and tashi were the first to make it “official.” you’d think that would’ve made you the third wheel but no. it was the opposite. they invited you and art to their dates. your opinion mattered—on everything. what they wore, where they went, what they ate.

you and art? you were “friends.” friends who held hands when no one was looking—or even when they were. friends who kissed each other at parties or on lazy afternoons when the sun hit his dorm room just right.

and then there was patrick. it didn’t matter that he was tashi’s boyfriend—there were nights when his mouth found yours instead, kisses that were playful but lingering, his hand never failing to slip to your waist.

tashi never seemed bothered. if anything, she found it amusing. eventually, she’d roll her eyes, a small smile twitching at her lips. "he’s a sloppy kisser, isn’t he?” she’d say, tone so casual it could’ve been about the weather.

"i'm a great kisser." patrick would shoot back defensively, pulling away from you.

“sure,” tashi would reply, deadpan, her eyes cutting to yours like she was about to make a point. she’d tug you away from patrick and kiss you herself—wolfishly and possessively.

when she pulled back, her lips still brushing yours, a small smirk played on her face as she turned her attention to patrick, just as quickly, her gaze shifted back to you. her smirk softened into something almost affectionate—almost.

"i’m the better kisser,”

oh, and patrick and art? they were affectionate with each other too, in their own way. patrick was never shy about grabbing art’s thigh in the middle of a conversation, drawing lazy patterns. and art had his ways of showing care—kissing patrick’s head or brushing a soft kiss against his lips whenever he had to leave for a tennis match.

despite it all, though, you and tashi were the closest.

when patrick was away, you made sure to take care of her, her legs would part for your fingers found her cunt, moving slowly at first, then deeper, curling just right until soft gasps turned into desperate moans that filled your shared dorm room.

“tashi, you look so pretty." you murmured, your lips brushing her neck as she arched beneath you, her head tilted back, her breath hitching as your thumb found her clit, drawing lazy circles that sent her spiraling.

and tashi? she had her ways, too. every morning, she’d wake you with a kiss, her lips brushing yours softly and every night, she’d kiss you again—she’d press you up against the wall, her breath warm against your skin as her hands pushed down the shorts you’d “borrowed” from her.

her fingers found you easily, sliding between your thighs, drawing out a gasp as her lips trailed down your neck. “mine,” she’d murmur against your skin, a claim as much as a reminder.

at the end of the day, it was always you and her. the boys were just playthings, distractions from the way her nails dug into your skin, the taste of her on your lips, the way she said your name like a prayer. you were hers, and she was yours—always.

[stxrslut]

SWEETIE!READER & WHEEZIE ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

how I think sweetie!reader and wheezie cameron’s relationship developed 𝜗𝜚

cw : drug overdose, general girly bonding & fluff

— the first real bond is formed after rafe overdoses, there’s a period where he’s at rehab and both of you miss him dearly and you end up inadvertently bonding over it.

the night it happens you find wheezie sitting outside after it had all happened, it turns out nobody had really let her know what was going on, all she’d seen was her brothers lifeless body being taken out into the ambulance and rushed away somewhere unknown.

you’d not known what to say so you didn’t say anything, you just sat on the wall next to her and put an arm around her as you both cried silent tears. maybe you’d murmured a quiet reassurance to her, “he’s going to be okay.” even if you didn’t actually know that yourself. you’d both needed to hear it.

— rose and ward are all over tannyhill the first few days afterwards, they don’t have time for her and she’s pushed aside.

she finds you one night, baking cookies. she shows curiosity and soon she’s completely involved, you each have a bowl of dough to kneed and you decorate them together, it’s the first time either of you really smile since the incident with rafe.

— after that night you notice how pushed aside she feels, and so you arrange a small sleepover type thing, really it’s just putting on face masks and watching a movie considering you’re staying in the same house.

maybe at some point during it wheezie turned to you and asked “what happened to rafe? actually? rose and dad won’t tell me and.. i know it was bad.”

you have half a mind to not tell her either, but you know she deserves the truth, however horrible it is. her big brother went away and she didn’t know why.

it’s a hard conversation, but afterwards both of you feel relieved in a way, wheezie for finally knowing the truth and the whole picture, you for finally having spoken to someone at least vaguely about what you saw that night.

— the week before rafe comes back from rehab you are both closer than ever, you both get ready for his return with great excitement.

you make his bed and go shopping to make a care basket for him. wheezie makes cookies, using the recipe you taught her. everything is perfect on your own terms and you take her with you to pick rafe up from the rehab facility for a sweet reunion of you all.

— rafe is surprised to see you both so close, but he’s happy about it, you being close to wheezie also allows for her to come over more often and he’s always happy to see his little sister

sweetie becomes like a big sister to wheezie, even under such horrible circumstances, a wholesome and loving relationship was formed and for that you will both always be thankful

[2xxelaa9]

Vi deserves none of the hate people give her and I'll die on that hill.

"She created Powder's trauma and abandoned her". No she didn't ? Did we watch the same show ? If anyone, Mylo made Powder feel like she was worthless, Vi had always lifted her up, she just asked her to stay behind that one day because she didn't want to lose her, which is super legit ? If she had brought Powder, everything could have turned out the same and everyone would have been like "it was so wrong for her to bring her very young sister in this". Like ??

And then she blames Powder for what happened but immediately regrets it and just walks a few meters to cool off. Yes, she snapped, but nobody's perfect, and she was just a child ? Why would anyone expect her to act as a grown and mature adult ? She had just lost everyone and lost her shit for maybe one minute and that's it. When she saw that her sister was in danger, she immediately went back for her but was stopped by Marcus. And she then ended up in jail, at maybe 15 years old, getting the shit beaten out of her for 7 years while thinking that everyone she ever cared about was dead. She is as traumatized and Jinx is. They just don't manifest it the same way. Let's not forget that during those 7 years, Jinx had a support system, Silco, someone to turn to even if everything was very far from perfect and that he was using her. She still had someone. Vi was alone, in a dark cell, getting beaten up every other day.

Until Caitlyn came and broke her out. The reason she accepted to talk to her was because Caitlyn showed her drawings that resembled her sister's !! She went with her to find Powder!! She even ditched Cait at the first occasion she got (in the brothel) to get the information from Sevika. And then the first occasion she got, she went to find her.

And then again, at the bridge, she left everyone to go find her sister, and went back for her friends because they were being blown up by Jinx's bombs. And then, Jinx lost it and fired that machine gun at her and Cait, and just then, it was the first time that Vi chose Caitlyn over Jinx in that moment. Because she had fired a damn machine gun at her. I mean, if my sister fired this at me, I'd probably run away too.

Then Vi's objective becomes to take down Silco to get her sister back from him (because one can argue that he was a nice and caring father figure, I still think that he was still using Jinx as a bomb maker, even if he cared for her. She was working for him.)

Next thing we know, Vi gets kidnapped by Jinx and spends the whole scene trying to convince her that she loves her deeply, she even suggests that they could run away far from Zaun and Piltover just the two of them and forget everyone else. It all goes down to shit when Caitlyn frees herself and starts threatening Jinx. Then Jinx kills Silco, nukes the Council, then probably disappears. And the only person she can hold on to is Caitlyn. Why ? Because since the beginning, Vi isn't interested in helping Cait find proof against Silco, she just wanted to find her sister. And despite Vi leaving, getting hurt and everything, Cait stayed besides her. She went to save her when Sevika stabbed her, she followed her when Vi ran after the blue smoke Jinx lit up in the sky, she tried to held her back in that "Oil and water" scene. So of course Vi stayed. Cait had proved her worth to her countless times. She even held back from killing Jinx (which had already committed terrorist actions, killed enforcers, firelights and probably many others).

Vi had nobody else to turn to. Literally. Everyone was dead, and Jinx had rejected her. And Caitlyn still didn't reject Vi, even after her sister killed her mother.

Of course Vi was going to stay by Caitlyn's side. It was the only person somehow caring for her. Even acknowledging her existence.

"But she became an enforcer and it was against everything she stood for". Again, have we all seen the same show ? Vi disagreed to Caitlyn's proposition. It was when Maddie met her that she told her she was "happy that she joined the enforcers". Caitlyn had enlisted her and didn't leave Vi a choice in that. Vi went along because she trusted Caitlyn and she only ever fought in Caitlyn's team. Vi was ready to let Cait end Jinx, because for her, Everything good in her sister was gone. There was nothing else to save. But when she saw Isha, it was not just her wanting to save the child, but also a part of her seeing Powder again. She saw that her sister was still capable of love and compassion. So she stopped Caitlyn.

And then Caitlyn hit her and left her. Again. At this point, everyone in the show had abandoned her. she was all alone, except for Loris who eventually also gave up on her.

Then Jinx went to find her again to save Vander. Then Vi started to gain hope again. Making plans with Jinx for the future. "Maybe we could stay here, help them out". Then shit went down again and Isha died (note : Vi's first reflex was to save her sister in that moment). Then Jinx surrendered, Cait locked her up and Vi went to free her sister. Who then proceeded to leave her again, hitting her in the spot that hurt her the most (both physically and emotionally). Let's note that in that scene, Vi called her "Jinx" and not Powder. It proved her that she loved her for who she was now. She loved Jinx.

Vi had again lost everything. She even thought she had lost Caitlyn by going against her orders again. She was even left alone in that cell, locked up, with no one she cared about, expecting another beating from life. She had come back to the point zero of everything. The concrete cell, the loneliness, the feeling of having failed everyhting and everyone.

But Caitlyn walked in and let her know that she had helped her free Jinx. That she trusted her enough to leave her desire for justice and revenge behind her because she knew how much Vi cared for her sister. And that was the first time in the whole show that anyone had made something for Vi. Hell, it must have been the first time in the show Vi might have felt loved. Like, think about it. Vi then let herself have one moment with Caitlyn, because she had started to become tired of being rejected and hurt by everyone. She had one single moment. And everyone blames her for that and says she's a terrible sister, when it's clearly not the case and has never been.

Time for the war. They fight. Then Vi sees Vander. Her first reflex is to try and save him again. Because she just loves her family so deeply she can't actually help it. And then Jinx sacrifices herself to save Vi. Have you really heard Vi's scream ? It's the most devastating sound and scream that we ever heard on this show. It even echoed louder than the actual explosion. Vi loved her sister so so so much.

With all that, I don't get how people can hate her. She just suffered so so much throughout the show. She is just a little love ball that constantly gets kicked by everyone. She did deserve that somewhat happy ending. I'm so tired of seeing Vi slander.

Also, props to the writers for breaking the doomed lesbian cycle. For once we got a win. Hurray !

[sheepispink]

Sweet Like Sugar ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི pairings: simon riley x (afab) reader

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Summary: Trying to advertise your bakery is particularly difficult, especially when no one seems to want to try anything new lately, still stuck in their old ways. Thankfully, a particularly masked man is also particularly fond of the tea you make along side your signature pastries.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི WC: 2.5k

(will have more chapters!)

You’ve grown up in Wales nearly your entire life, living not too far from a fresh farm and yet so close to a little town you call home. The weather is typical for Britain, always a little dreary though sometimes the sun would shine so bright the grass on these hills looked like those in the movies. You’d run up those hills as a child, laughing as the sheep would make noises after your every whim.

Today was particularly dreary though; the sun struggled to peek through even with the large gaps between each cloud, only leaving behind a desolate grey on the town. It was your turn to take over the shop for the day, seeing as your parents were out of town on business details. A few named your shop to be ‘the littlest around’, since it wasn't exactly the biggest area nor did many know of it. After all, it had only opened recently after the last owner left their business to rot out. It took practically months to renovate the dusty walls of this shop even more so that your family were on a tight budget. However your parents believed in it and so did you.. or you thought you did anyway. Maybe you had watched too many movies as a kid because this business was definitely not booming, infact you had spent the majority of the past week trying to advertise the best you possibly could.

Either way, it was bound to be quiet today so you decide you may as well use it as a testing day. The menu was finalised already however you were eager about one thing to add, a selection of freshly brewed teas. It wasn't the most viable since it required a lot of customers at the same time in order to taste the actual freshness��� otherwise it’d just go cold and icky. Placing the portable burner down— something you picked up since most days used to be spent in a caravan— you place a pot atop and light the flame. You had not travelled very far, but due to your grandparent who was particularly interested in plenty of cultures, you picked up a few handy recipes for delicious teas.

Unfortunately, you didnt have much on you today after using your last stock on the small opening party. So, you’d have to make do with what you had. You hum as you boil the water in the pan, before slowly adding the milk and some spices— cardamon and cinammon to be exact. It’d make a rich flavour which was perfect with the right amount of sugar, and so, you let it brew as you hummed, debating whether you were allowed to play your favourite tunes here or not.

Seeing as no one had showed up in a while, you plug your phone into the speaker system, letting a soft song play throughout the little patisserie as you grin and nod your head along. What you hadnt expected was the bell above the door to jingle, heavy boots dragging against the wooden floor as they grow louder. You snap your head up, looking a little startled before you quickly stand infront of the counter again, putting on your best sheepish smile.

“Welcome! What can i get for you today?”

The strange man wears a balaclava over his face, his eyes showing and a few tufts of blonde peeking out the back as he bends a little to look over all of the pastries available. Eventually he stops, pointing at one the sausage rolls, before his gruff voice finally breaks his silence. “Two o’ these.”

You nod quickly, grabbing a paper bag before carefully placing the two pastries inside and sealing the bag.

“Actually, since it’s a weekday, all the pastries come with a dessert or drink. Is there any one you would like?”

You tilt your head, as you place the bag on the counter, already tapping in the current bill. He pauses and glances over at the sweeter desserts, but even you could tell just from his appearance that he doesnt seem to be too fond of them. Instead, his height allows him to easily peek over the counter and he can instantly smell the pot of rich cardamom tea brewing. “Is that for sale?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and you can only tell from how the mask lifts a little. You pause, wondering if you really should be giving them out to customers just yet.

“It’s a taster really.. would you like to try?” He lets out a grunt in agreement and you walk back over, ladeling a creamy cup of the tea for him before stepping over to him once more.He taps his card down for the items he bought, taking the steaminf cup in his hand but he doesnt intend to drink it and reveal his face— clear from the way he glances around the shop. “Is it always this quiet or are you about to close?” He raises a brow, wondering if he had just accidentally forced you to stay open longer than you should. Your hands wave in front of you frantically as you shake your head. “No! No— um, it’s been a little hard to promote business recently. We only opened last month..” Today you decide not to mention that last weeks rain had nearly drowned the entire shop floor, instead just giving him another sheepish look. “I’m trying to look for any opportunities we can to show off our bakes. I’ve been looking at fairs recently.” You hum and he nods, before lifting his mask without a second thought and sipping down the hot tea you made him. “You should promote this aswell, i can see this tasting good with a dessert.” He offers his advice and you nod readily, smiling at him since he just indirectly said that the tea was good. “Well, i’ll make sure to have lots more flavours too!

A month later and unsurprisingly your family’s little shop isnt any more popular than the last time you took charge of it. That strange man appeared a few times afterwards but you hadnt seen him, busy with your own part time job to try and bring some extra income in. Today you were finally back though, the peak of winter hitting like a shock but it didnt stop the excitement brimming through the town.

At the start of December each year, the town would host a market in the main plaza, which was particularly big for the town’s size. There was everything from crafts and fresh fruit, flowers and trinkets to the toastiest hot chocolate and clothing. This year you were determined to make your mark, selling sweet pastries and the spiced at the same time. He did say it’d draw in at least a bit of attention, so right? Well, you sure hoped so because you were using a portion of your personal savings to try again with the tea. You’d never know if you didn't try, and in the worst case scenario you could give it for free to the other vendors as a sign of good sportsmanship— maybe you could even trade! You grin eagerly as you set up the stand, glass covers above all your decorated pastries, sweet and savoury waiting to be bitten into. Perhaps you went a little overboard with the baking but this was a big event—even neighbouring towns travelled here!

The fair kickstarts around five thirty, the time when most get off work and so many are already flocking to find something for their hungry stomach. You practically bubble with excitement when you get your first three orders, only to turn and see the hot burrito stall’s queue which looks like it’d shadow your stall next. With a small frown, your demeanour drops as the orders only get rarer, a few commenting on not being sure to try something so exotic. About tea. Literal chai. Customer service was not for the weak clearly, since you had to restrain yourself from lunging over the table right then and there, giving the lady a forced smile before she walked off. You let your head rest in your hands, groaning a little too loudly, but it wasnt like anyone was even close enough to your stall to hear anyway. The only thought that consumed you was frustration; you knew damn well that all the bakes here were delicious, that the recipes were to die for and the tea was an absolute soother for any cold or strain. Though, no matter how hard you tried no one seemed to want to hear you out.

“Are you taking a break?”

A voice rings out, gruff, a little muffled and stern but most of all— familiar. Finally your eyes snap up, meeting the gaze of that stranger from before, well now he looked entirely different. “You… from before.. you’re a soldier?!” You have to forcefully lower your voice before you cause his ears to bleed through his balaclava. He was decked out in full tactical gear, apart from the weapons of course and the helmet held in the crook of his elbow. Though not just him, an entire team of soldiers aswell who surrounded your stall, practically brimming with excitement at the tasty baked goods they’d finally try.

“Finished a day long training in the cold. Thought i’d bring ‘em to your stall for a break. You dont look good yourself though” He bluntly states the last part out, already suspecting that you’d sigh next. “Orders are still slow...” You murmur, and he nods, as if he’d expected that. Before either of you can speak, one of his soldiers perks up, “Miss, how much would it be for two of these pie slices and one of your sausage rolls?”

Your lips part in surprise and you hurry to the till, typing in the amounts before announcing the price to him. The reasonable cost of your goods and the great quality is enough to catch the attention of his teammates, and soon enough you have them lined up waiting to buy their share too.

You cough to get his attention the queue finally draws to a blank and he slowly approaches as you gesture to the pots of tea steaming beside you. The soldiers had taken the majority of your stock, even asking for refills but one large cup was saved for him. “On the house, for a regular.” You say cheekily and he nods, the sides of his mask creasing up into what you think could possibly be a smile. “So, how did you even convince your boss to let you bring your whole team here anyway? I always thought those ‘sergeant’ people were like.. really strict.” He chuckles at you, deep and gruff and for a second you’re confused, tilting your head at him. “Hey— what’s so funny? I’m being serious!” He finally stops, his eyes crinkled slightly as he looks back at you. “I’m their Lieutenant.” ” He says still with that monotone voice and your jaw practically drops, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you groan loudly. “I’m very sorry..”

Now sitting upon the benches, they chatter amongst themselves whilst others eye the other trinkets available, looking for something for the loved ones back home. The man with the skull mask still stands nearby though watching you fill up a cup full of the tea before handing it to a customer.

“Do you take large orders too?” He finally pipes up, glancing over at you with that filled cup still in his hand. “Well.. we don't have any official set up..” Being his acquaintance was a severe exaggeration, and yet you couldn't stand to disappoint him right now. Especially seeing as much as he’s done so far,perhaps not intentionally, but what intrigues you even more is that his soldiers seemed to be over the moon about your pastries. You hadn't really thought about the fact soldiers are probably dying for the taste of a good home cooked pastry, especially in the winter months, and now it seems like this could really boost your business.

“But..I could just give you my number?” Putting that forward seems a bit odd, but in truth you were being completely innocent about it even if he seems to believe otherwise, smirking beneath the mask before he nods. He takes his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and hands it over to you before gesturing to you to do the same. When you receive your phone back, you see the new contact, ‘Lieutenant Ghost (sausage roll)’ and snicker a little, you’re pretty sure you can remember him without the assistance but it’s amusing anyway. “I’ll text you later regarding any big orders we want to make.”

He gives you another nod and you quickly agree with his words, grateful for the opportunity he’s provided you with.

“Thanks for bringing all your soldiers here.. i dont think we would’ve garnered this much attention otherwise.” People had already noticed the brand on the soldiers' cups and bags, making their way to the stall and eyeing some of the goods left from their rampage. He only shrugs, ignoring the fact he had any part in this. “By the way..” You hum, glancing at the untouched tea in his hand curiously. “Why haven't you drank any yet— it’ll grow cold soon.” He leans against your table slightly before he just nods firmly again, looking back at the crowds. “Dont like to show my face.” That makes you blink, confused since he had easily shown you in the shop a month ago when he tried it for the first time. “But—“

Before you can answer, his phone buzzes and he glances down before beckoning his group over. “Oi, all of you. We’re leavin’ in ten— do not make us late.” Suddenly you dont feel at all bad for calling him strict earlier, even snickering a little at how stern his voice had suddenly gotten even if he’s usually monotone to you too. The soldiers eyes grow wide and they quickly jump to buy the rest of their things making you snicker.

“Guess that’s the last I'll see of you, ‘Lieutenant’. See you soon.” You grin, waving as he throws the now empty cup in the trash— when did he drink that? He lifts a hand to give a short wave at you too before stepping away to join the rest of his men. “Dont worry, you will.”

That night you’re left dumbfounded as you stare at your phone, the text lighting your eyes up in the darkness of your room. ‘Tomorrow night is the second day of the fair, right?’ The first part reads, and you mentally nod, remembering how your parents said you’d take the first day and they’d handle the second. When you responded with a yes, but also clarifying your stall is also available, he wrote back one more text. ‘Good. I’ll be taking you around with me this time.”

[venic-bxtch]

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ Meet-Cute ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼Joe Burrow x Ambitious!reader✼

Based on this ask: Hi! Can I request a JB fic where the girl isn’t much interested in the NFL and really focused on work or maybe finding work and then meets Joe. Like their meet cute and him pining for her if that’s okay? Thank you

⭒❃.✮:▹ A/N: LOVEEEEE, this idea🫶🏾

Warnings: none…just fluff as fluffy as a marshmallow!!!

She wasn’t like the other people at the gym. Joe could tell that the second he spotted her on the treadmill, jogging like she was on a mission, earbuds firmly in, completely ignoring everything and everyone.

He wasn’t used to being ignored. People usually gave him a double-take or tried to sneak a photo. But she didn’t even glance his way, and for some reason, that made her more interesting.

Joe wiped his hands on his towel, telling himself to let it go. She probably didn’t want to be bothered. But when he saw her frowning at the screen on her treadmill like it had personally wronged her, he couldn’t help it. He wandered over, hopping onto the treadmill next to hers.

“Hey,” he said, pulling out one of his earbuds.

She startled, glancing at him briefly. “Uh, hi?”

“You’ve got a good pace going,” he said, throwing out the first thing that came to mind.

She snorted—an actual snort—and he liked her even more. “Sure, if the goal is ‘don’t collapse in public.’”

Joe chuckled, slowing his treadmill to match her pace. “That’s a solid goal.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, and for a second, Joe forgot where he was. There was something about the way her face lit up that made him want to keep her smiling.

“I’m just trying to not freak out before this interview,” she admitted, pulling out her own earbuds.

“Big interview?” he asked, leaning a little closer.

“Sort of,” she said. “It’s my third one this week, and I’m trying to stay optimistic, but it’s been… rough.”

Joe nodded, genuinely interested. “What’s the job?”

“Marketing,” she said, grabbing her water bottle. “But everyone wants experience I don’t have.”

“That’s tough,” he said. “You’ll get there, though. Sounds like you’re hustling.”

Her lips twitched, like she wasn’t used to hearing that kind of encouragement. “Thanks. What about you? You here to blow off steam too?”

Joe hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Kinda. I’m here for football. Gotta stay in shape.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You play football?”

“Yeah,” he said. “For the Bengals.”

She blinked at him, expression unreadable. “Like… professionally?”

“Yeah.”

There it was. The moment people usually lit up or started asking questions. But she just nodded like he’d told her he worked at the post office.

“Cool,” she said. “Not really my thing, but that’s cool.”

He couldn’t believe it. “You’re not a football fan?”

“Not really,” she said, smiling apologetically. “I mean, I know the basics, but I couldn’t name more than, like, two players. Sorry.”

Joe laughed, shaking his head. “That’s actually kinda nice.”

“What is?”

“Talking to someone who doesn’t care about all that,” he said honestly.

Her smile widened a little, and he felt his chest tighten. She had no idea who he was, but she was still talking to him like he mattered. He wanted to keep her here, to keep the conversation going, to learn more about the determined, slightly frazzled woman in front of him.

But she checked her watch and groaned. “I gotta go. Thanks for the pep talk, though. Uh… sorry, what was your name again?”

“Joe,” he said, grinning.

“Right. Well, thanks, Joe. Good luck with… football.”

As she walked away, Joe watched her go, his heart sinking a little. He didn’t even get her name.

Still, he couldn’t help the stupid smile that stayed on his face the rest of the day. And when he showed up at the gym the next morning at the same time, it wasn’t just for the workout.

Taglist: @joeybsboo @heavyhitterheaux @inmyfeelingsgnocchi @ikeepitlight @iknowdatsrightbih

[thebookewyrme]

Hey! Almost-40 here and experienced with this! I promise! All is not lost! You can very much have a life where friendships are your important relationships as much as family, I promise! First, modern technology is fucking amazing and you are not doomed to lose your friend just because they are moving away. Think of it like a long-distance relationship! I have been in a long distance relationship for about 8 years. Due to family obligations, I cannot move from where I am for at least another 5 years. Several of my dear friends, including my platonic partner, have also left the state I live in to escape anti-lgbt government. The secret is to make time for doing more than just short phone calls in those relationships. Use video-calling and screen-sharing technology to watch tv & movies together over long distance. Get involved in an online multiplayer game with them. Hell, play words with friends with them! There are many ways you can connect without being in the same place, and between those longer interactions, keep up the texting/messaging as often as you can.

Second, it is still possible to make new friends as an adult. Maybe you won’t have exactly the same relationship with them as your friend who moved away, but you can still form deep and meaningful connections. There are apps for finding friends now! If you’re queer I highly recommend Lex, I’ve found several friends there. Also, going out and doing things you like. Find out if your library has a craft group, or a book club, or whatever. Join a roller derby team. Go to game stores that have open ttrpg game nights and join a Pathfinder one-shot every week. Whatever you like doing in meatspace, find a group for doing it with and join it. You will make friends. Another strategy is volunteering for community projects. Volunteer with a soup kitchen, or the local pride center, or at the library. The people you volunteer with can become friends as well.

But most importantly do not give up and become an asocial shut in (be a shut in if you need for disability reasons, but keep reaching out and being social in whatever ways you can). And remember, you can visit your friends still, even if they move very far away. Maybe not often if you’re poor like I am, but sometimes you’ll be able to. They are not gone from your life forever, and just because one friend leaves you are not doomed to loneliness. You will miss your friend when they are gone. It will be hard sometimes. Feel your feelings, then get up the next day and keep being part of your community wherever you find it. It’ll be ok I promise.

And if all else fails, you’ve still got tumblr. 💚

Going on r/relationshipadvice but instead it’s just how not to be all consumingly heartbroken to learn a dear friend of yours is moving away

[fxstpace]

little white lies

summary: miya atsumu needs to find a date for his cousin’s wedding, or risk getting hounded by all his relatives prying into his business. unless said business is you—in which case, he’s all for it. maybe he can work up the courage to ask you out for real while he’s at it.

pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader genres: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers!au, fake dating!au, idiots to idiots in love, debatable attempts at comedy were made word count: 9.2k

⇢ warnings: profanity, one (1) scene where atsumu is shirtless

Miya Atsumu acknowledges the fact that he has made several stupid decisions throughout the course of his life. 

There was the time he decided that dipping waffles in hot sauce would make for a tasty food combination. (It did not, and he ended up lying in bed with a stomach ache for three days with a grumbling Osamu looking after him). Then there was that incident where he proudly claimed he could crush an entire watermelon with his bare hands. (He could not, and Suna had laughed his ass off when Aran easily demonstrated the same feat). 

And then, there was the time he tried to comfort you after you watched Hachiko Monogatari together. You’d been sniffling quietly, your eyes red and puffy, when he awkwardly handed you a tissue and said, “‘S okay. The dog’s probably acted in better movies.”  

You’d stared at him, horrified, before bursting into tears. Osamu had walked in just in time to witness you chuck a pillow at Atsumu’s head, calling him an emotionally inept moron; he’d laughed so hard, he dropped the tub of ice cream he was holding and got mint chocolate chip all over the carpet. Atsumu still cringes whenever he thinks of it.

Nothing much has changed in Atsumu’s life. He still has a massive crush on you, and he still makes stupid decisions.

What transpired in the Miya twins’ childhood home’s sitting room fifteen minutes ago is a testament to this tragic fact.

When the Miya brothers’ cousin, Shohei, called them up to invite them to his wedding taking place in two weeks, Atsumu and Osamu were nothing short of elated. Shohei video-called them, and for a good five minutes, all Atsumu did was scream incoherently when he announced that the wedding date had been fixed. Osamu promised to close Onigiri Miya on the Saturday two weeks hence, and Atsumu made a mental note to ask Meian if he could take the weekend off.

Shohei then turned the phone to their grandmother, sitting on her favourite armchair with the pink satin cushion, wrinkles by the corners of her eyes and sagging skin by her cheeks. Atsumu’s heart lifted at the sight of her—he was her favourite grandson, after all—and when she smiled at the twins, her lips were slightly puckered because she didn’t have her dentures in yet. 

But that wasn’t the important bit. It shouldn’t have been what Atsumu focused on most, as he opened his mouth to tease her. He should have been focusing on the knowing, youthful gleam in the Miya household’s matriarch’s eyes—a gleam that spelled trouble when she set her gaze straight at him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Grandma Miya herself,” Atsumu drawled.

“Grandma Miya won’t be living for much longer,” she retorted, not one to be outdone by her own grandson.

Osamu had frowned. “Don’t say things like that, Grandma. It’s superstitious.”

Shohei had sighed dramatically, making a face at Osamu. “She does it all the time now. You should hear her go on and on. It’s good that you’re getting married, Shohei. This old woman won’t live for much longer, but at least I can see one of my grandsons getting married. Shame on the twins for making me live in suspense!” He said the last bit with an imitation of Grandma Miya’s toothless drawl, and it drew out a giggle from Atsumu and a swat on the shoulder to Shohei from the woman herself.

“Maybe I do have a girl in mind, Grandma,” Atsumu said on instinct, waggling his eyebrows. “I just haven’t told anyone yet.”

Grandma Miya’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Is she nice?”

“The best,” he had promised. “You’ll love her.”

Beside him, Osamu had gone very still. Even Shohei quietened down, letting Atsumu and their grandmother talk. In hindsight, Atsumu probably should have realised what a horrific blunder he was making, but he had a habit of letting his mouth run loose and this was one of those times.

Grandma Miya’s eyes had lit up. She had lifted the corners of her mouth into such a wide, hopeful smile, that Atsumu felt a twinge of guilt deep in his chest for lying to her. He couldn’t take back his words, however, because Grandma Miya excitedly clasped her fingers together and said, “You’ll bring her along to Shohei’s wedding, won’t you? She must meet the rest of the family. It’ll be nice for Sakura to meet her, too.”

Shohei nodded. Sakura was his future wife, a beautiful and kind lady who complemented Atsumu’s cousin perfectly. “Sakura would love to meet someone that’s going to be part of our family.”

Osamu didn’t say anything. When Atsumu looked at him, he had his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Uh—” he began.

“No hesitating,” Grandma Miya had said firmly. “Tell her to come along. It will be fun.”

Atsumu couldn’t deny that; events that took place within the Miya family were always fun. But he couldn’t exactly create a girlfriend out of nothing, could he? Belatedly, Atsumu felt the guilt and horror of his words seep into his brain. He flashed a panicked look at his brother, but Osamu only shook his head and didn’t say anything. 

He looked back into his phone screen, at his grandmother’s happy expression. If there was one thing Atsumu hated, it was letting down the people important to him.

Meekly, he nodded and forced a smile to his face. “Of course, Grandma. Don’t say I don’t do things for you.”

“Silly child,” said Grandma Miya affectionately, and that had been that.

Atsumu has since paced in front of the living room couch exactly eight times after Osamu pressed end on the call. He twirls in his spot, ready for his ninth walk around the living room. His brother sits on the sofa with one leg thrown up, watching him amusedly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Okay,” Osamu interjects. “Swearing isn’t gon’ help your situation.”

“What else can I do?” Atsumu wails pathetically, flopping onto the sofa next to his brother. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Glad to know you’re aware.”

“Samu, what do I do?” Atsumu leans his elbows on his knees and holds his hand in his hands. “‘m so screwed.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you decided to get Grandma’s hopes up for nothin’.”

Atsumu huffs, annoyed at both himself and his brother for being so unhelpful. “I know that, asshole. I jus’ meant— What the fuck do I do about it now?”

Osamu pats his brother on the shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. “Tsumu, I can think of only one solution.”

“What?”

“You need to find yourself a girlfriend.”

Atsumu wrinkles his nose when you wave a bottle of some sort of bubbly, green-coloured concoction at his face. It looks disgusting even through the translucent plastic, and he has no doubt that it’ll taste twice as bad.

“Eugh. What’s that?”

“Wow. It’s so nice to see you too, Atsumu. I’ve only just flown back from halfway across the world after two weeks. No big deal at all,” you deadpan, staring at him.

“Yeah, I’m so happy you’re back, but what is that, and is it for me?”

Atsumu is glad you’re back—you’d gone overseas on your first ever business trip at the company you work at, and he’d missed your presence at the Tokyo apartment right next to his. He tries to verbalise it, but truthfully, his attention is solely fixed on the green muck you’re holding out to him.

“It is, actually,” you reply, shoving it into his waiting hands so he can scrutinise it better. You turn back and rummage through your open suitcase, pulling out an identical bottle—only this one is filled with something that looks like a cross between a squashed pumpkin and a gruesome shade of brown he doesn’t want to define. “And this one’s for Osamu. Can you give it to him the next time you go back to Hyogo?”

He lets out a sound of disgust, puffing out his cheeks and blowing a raspberry at you. “You couldn’t have gotten us somethin’ more… eatable?”

“Edible, Atsumu,” you correct, walking around the luggage strewn about your living room and plopping down on your sofa with a grunt. “This is what’s popular everywhere now. Apparently.”

“That doesn’t sound very optimistic,” he points out, sitting down next to you. Atsumu holds the drink bottle close to his face and squints at the ingredients printed on the back in a tiny font. “Is that… spinach?”

“Yeah.”

“And…” he continues, “kale? What’s a kale?”

“It’s some kind of leaf? Kinda like spinach,” you say, shrugging. 

“Oh, wonderful. This is a cocktail for cows.”

You huff out a soft laugh, shoulders shaking with the movement. Atsumu grins, pleased that he’s made you smile. 

“It’s supposed to be healthy, Tsumu. And you’re a professional volleyball player so I figured you’d drink stuff like this.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Atsumu shudders, but pockets the bottle anyway. It bulges out of the side of his cargo pants and he might look a little silly, but it’s really the thought that counts; the fact that you’d bought this drink with him in mind makes his heart rate spike. He nods at the muddy orange drink you left on the floor, meant for Osamu. “What’s in that one?”

“Carrot and squash, if I remember correctly.”

Atsumu gags. “Did’ya pick the worst flavours or somethin’? You say this is popular?”

You nod, a little embarrassed. “They were selling it everywhere I went!” you defend. “I just figured it was, like, the thing, or whatever.”

“If me and the team promoted this, it’d be sold out in no time,” he says thoughtfully. “Even if it tastes like a gourmet meal for goats.”

“So humble.” You roll your eyes, letting your head fall back on the couch cushion. 

Your airport clothes—a hoodie and jeans—stick uncomfortably to your skin after hours of being airborne, and you scratch your elbow. Atsumu thinks it must be annoying; you must be itching to peel off your clothes and take a warm shower.

But first, Miya Atsumu needs to ask you out.

He tries not to let the wording mess with his head. He’s doing this for his grandmother, and most certainly not because of the self-indulgent fantasies his mind conjures up for him when he’s asleep. Dreams of holding your hand, walking through the cherry blossoms together, kissing your cheek and taking in your delighted gasp—they haunt him even in his waking moments, and Atsumu aches to make them turn into a reality.

He acknowledges that he is a coward in some ways. This is one of them.

“Hey…” he begins, and then trails off, unsure.

“Hm?”

“That bottle of muck you got for Osamu—” Atsumu gulps, ignoring the hammering of his heart inside his chest. “Think he’d like it more if you gave it to him yourself.”

You sigh. “I would love to, Atsumu, but I don’t know when I’ll be going to Hyogo next. I don’t want that milkshake to stay rotting in my fridge for, like, six months.”

“Well… I’m goin’ there next Saturday. Wanna come with?”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon. It’s Shohei’s wedding. You can’t miss it. Grandma Miya specifically told me to tell you to get your ass down there.”

It’s a lie that slips easily through his teeth, but he’s not exactly wrong, is he? Just—bending the truth a little. Grandma Miya did tell him to bring his girlfriend with him, and if he thinks about it, you are his girl friend, aren’t you? With a space in between the two words, but that’s just semantics. Atsumu ignores the voice in the back of his mind that tells him he’s coming up with excuses that he used to think of when he was in elementary school. 

“I’ll think about it—”

“You have to,” Atsumu implores, briefly letting go of his pride in favour of convincing you to come with him to his hometown. “It’ll be a nice break. You can meet Samu and Shohei. Have fun at a wedding—you know how fun Miya weddings are. Get dressed up, dance around a bit. And Grandma would be ecstatic if you came.”

“Ecstatic…” you echo, an amused smile flickering on your face. “Did Osamu teach you that word?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “But that’s not the point! The point is, I want your company for Shohei’s wedding.”

Atsumu waits for his words to sink in. He notices your sharp inhale when he emphasises on the fact that he wants you there. This one is the truth, and nothing but; there is no one else he would rather go to his cousin’s wedding with. 

For all the lies he’s spouted out this afternoon, some part of Miya Atsumu wants you to recognise that he’s not lying this time.

“So, please,” he continues quietly, “will you come with me to Shohei’s wedding?”

You look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. A moment later, you nod.

“...Fine. But you’re paying for the train tickets.”

Atsumu’s exhale is both relieved and anticipatory.

It takes exactly two hours and forty-six minutes to get to Hyogo from Tokyo by train. Atsumu purchases the tickets, partly because you’d asked him to, but mostly because of the steady feeling of guilt gnawing at his chest. He even purchases tickets for the first-class coach, because he wants you to be as comfortable as possible, even going so far as to give up the window seat for the aisle one.

“You’re being weirdly nice,” you note suspiciously, as he hefts your suitcase onto the rack above. 

Atsumu grunts with exertion, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He takes in the small bob of your throat at the sight with a gleeful sense of pride. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I’m always nice.”

Luggage secured successfully, he rubs the palms of his hands on his jeans and settles down into the seat next to you. The plush cushion is soft and velvety to the touch, a dark shade of blue that’s soothing to the eye. As he looks around, he can’t help but notice that the rest of the passengers consist of old people—senior citizens, with wobbly knees and wrinkled skin. Old and married, they must be on their way back to their hometown after visiting their children and grandchildren in Tokyo. As far as he can tell, you and Atsumu are the only two people here who don’t have a relationship beyond the platonic. There’s the occasional family of four: a tired husband, an even more tired wife, and two boisterous children. One child, no more than four years old, with her hair done up in two pigtails, points a chubby finger at him.

“Mama, look! That man looks like Pikachu!” she exclaims loudly.

You giggle at the chagrined look on Atsumu’s face, and his heart lifts slightly at the sound.

“Komi! Shhh. It’s rude to point at people.” Her mother pulls her hand down, giving Atsumu an apologetic bow of her head.

“She has a point, I guess,” you whisper to your friend, nudging his shoulder.

“The point being…?”

“You do look like Pikachu.”

“Huh?”

“Your hair, Tsumu.” You grin mischievously. “It’s yellow. You’re practically halfway to having electric powers.”

Atsumu flushes. He runs a hand through his dyed-blond hair self-consciously. “That bad, eh?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Your fans seem to like it.”

“And you?” he asks softly. “You’ve never told me what you think.”

You hum and look away, fiddling with your phone case. “If you like it, then I like it.”

“That’s not even an answer.” Still, Atsumu will admit that your reply makes him happy.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s—”

“You both argue like Mama an’ Papa.”

Startled, you and Atsumu look in front of you. Komi pokes her head out from the seat in front of you, a wide grin on her lips. You stifle a laugh; it turns out Komi and her brother have occupied the seats in front of you and him. The tips of Atsumu’s ears turn crimson—whether with embarrassment at being caught bickering by a four-year-old, or at Komi’s previous comment about his hair, he isn’t sure.

“Hello, there,” you greet the small girl with a grin as wide as hers. “Komi, isn’t it?”

She nods, her pigtails rocking with the movement. “‘m Komi! An’ my brother is Kento!”

“It’s very nice to meet you both, Komi and Kento,” you say, solemnly holding out a hand for her to shake. Although you haven’t met her brother, you can hear his excited babbles from his location on his mother’s lap. “I’m ____, and this is my friend, Atsumu.”

“But you can call me Tsum,” Atsumu supplies, knowing it must be hard for the little one to pronounce his name properly.

Komi shakes your hand with the sort of vigour that one only has at the young age of four, and then glances expectantly at Atsumu. He holds out his hand as well, and the little girl grips it with all the strength she can muster. Her soft palm is sticky; once she releases it, he tries to discreetly rub his own palm on the seat in front of him, garnering a frown from you.

Slowly, the train begins to chug forward.

“Tsum and ____,” Komi says, “are you both like Mama an’ Papa?”

“Like… Mama and Papa?” you repeat, tilting your head.

“Yeah! Like, sleepin’ in the same room an’ givin’ each other kissies while cooking dinner!”

Atsumu gapes at the child. He feels his face heat up at the insinuation—if Komi thought his hair was like Pikachu earlier, then now she’d surely think his entire face was akin to Charmeleon, or something of that sort. Unable to answer, he glances at you.

Your face settles in an expression that he can only describe as pained amusement. Your lips twitch up, finding the whole situation funny, but you pick at your cuticles at the same time. A chuckle forces its way out of his mouth.

“That’s right, Komi,” Atsumu says. “Except we aren’t… married yet.”

The girl tilts her head, confused. “Wha’s that mean?”

“It means” —Atsumu pauses, just enough to notice the stupefied glower you give him— “that we haven’t promised each other what your Mama and Papa promised each other.”

“Oh!” Komi gasps, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She grips the seat with her tiny hands, clearly thrilled at his words. “Like a pinkie promise?”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Atsumu scolds himself yet again for letting his mouth run loose all the damn time. How is he supposed to break this poor, innocent girl’s heart by telling her that you and Atsumu aren’t married? Heck, you aren’t even dating, and he doesn’t even know if you want to get married to someone eventually. He wishes he could blabber about his feelings for you directly to you—but it appears that he is tongue-tied only around you, as well. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Regardless, he cannot take back his words now, which means he must plough on.

Ignoring your pointed glare, he nods. “Exactly. You’re very smart, aren’t you, Komi?”

“‘m the third in my class!” The girl beams proudly.

“Really?” Atsumu gasps. “I was only fifth!”

“From the bottom,” you interject, seemingly having finally found your voice.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says. “She’s just trying to make me look stupid.”

Komi giggles. “Papa says that’s a bad word.”

“And Papa is right.” Atsumu nods. “Idiot is also a bad word.”

“You’re so brilliant, Tsumu,” you mutter. “Teaching her bad words by saying they’re bad. Genius.”

“See, Komi, now what ____ did is something called sarchasm—”

You let out an odd noise, something in between an exasperated sigh and an amused giggle.

“...And now she’s laughin’ at me,” Atsumu finishes, staring at Komi and shaking his head ruefully. “Can’t believe I’m payin’ for this one’s train tickets.”

Komi’s curious gaze darts between you and Atsumu, a little confused but wholly entertained. “Stop, stop, stop!” She holds her palms out as though she’s a judge imparting all her four-years worth of knowledge to pass her verdict. “Both of you need to make a pinkie promise.”

You blink. “What for, Komi?”

“To always love each other. Forever an’ ever, until you both die!” she declares seriously.

Atsumu’s smile turns soft around the edges. Ah, the child-like innocence that vanishes so quickly. He doesn’t remember much of his own childhood—it’s mostly just a blur of juvenile volleyball and fistfights with Osamu and Aran, and playdates where you would come over with your mother and the three of you would romp around with the twins’ toy dinosaurs—but he hopes he had the same sort of faith in the world that little Komi so proudly presents to him. 

He turns to you, fingers already twitching with the urge to wrap his little finger around yours. “I think you have a point, Komi. Whaddya say?”

“I agree,” you say quietly, shifting slightly in your seat.

Atsumu gently takes your hand in his, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. Your skin is soft, a little bit clammy, but so is his. He swallows thickly, nervous for no reason at all, and says:

“____, I promise to love you forever and ever, until we both die.”

“I, um” —you inhale shakily— “I promise to do the same.”

He squeezes lightly and then lets go, letting his hand drop down to his lap. It was only a brief moment of contact—barely thirty seconds—but Atsumu’s finger twitches again; he aches to prolong the contact, to hold not just your finger but your entire palm, encase it within his hand’s confines, and never let you go.

“No, you didn’ do it properly!” Komi whines, her chubby fingers tightening around the headrest. 

The volleyball player’s gaze snaps back to his small friend’s face. Gruffly, still wary, he asks, “What did we do wrong, Komi?”

“Mama an’ Papa always make me an’ Kento kiss after we fight! You should do the same!”

“But we haven’t fought, Komi,” you try to gently persuade her from exacerbating your situation. 

It doesn’t work. Komi is adamant, as most children are, and Atsumu senses the beginning of a tantrum. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Komi and Kento’s parents napping in their seats, probably taking a well-deserved break from handling two kids. He doesn’t want to wake them up, all because he couldn’t satisfy their daughter’s harmless demands.

“All right, all right,” he says, flashing Komi a winning smile. “We’ll kiss to seal the deal, ‘kay?”

Next to him, he hears your sharp intake of breath. Atsumu’s heart thuds in his chest, a marching band of his own. The words just slipped out—as they always do. It is his fatal flaw.

Before he can turn towards you, he freezes. 

You kiss him on his cheek. 

You kissed him.

He can feel remnants of your lip balm on his skin, a slightly oily residue that he doesn’t bother wiping away. His brain feels like it’s a laptop with the Blue Screen Of Death causing it to cease all functions; blood rushes to his ears.

“There,” you tell Komi with an air of finality. “Pinkie promise made properly.”

The girl giggles and claps her hands, but he can tell she’s getting tired as well. With one last parting smile, she turns back around, presumably to nap for the one hour of travel left.

Atsumu’s cheek tingles at the spot where you kissed him. He resists the urge to brush his fingers against it, conscious of the fact that you might find it weird. Instead, he forces down the giddy smile that threatens to overcome his face and joins you in silently observing the countryside whip past him through the window.

Jealousy is an emotion Miya Atsumu grapples with rather frequently, and it’s no exception when he sees his brother tackle you into a hug as soon as he lays eyes upon you both.

Meanwhile, he’s left standing at the genkan, carrying both your bags and suitcases. Osamu doesn’t even spare him a look. Atsumu scowls; is this what their brotherly love has been reduced to?

“Don’ mind me,” he announces, toeing off his shoes and socks. “‘m just a luggage carrier.”

“Guest room’s all yours,” his brother says, arm still wrapped around your shoulder. 

You snicker at Atsumu’s disgruntled expression and he rolls his eyes. Hefting a bag on his shoulder, he smirks and shoots back, “Someone’s gotta be the useful one. Cookin’ isn’t gonna save your life.”

“Dinner’s on you, Tsumu,” Osamu calls out to his retreating back. “And then we’ll see who survives after eatin’ your food.”

Atsumu blanches, but he sees the amused tilt of your head and flashes a winning grin at you instead, trying to quell the envy that bubbles in his chest when he sees Osamu whisper something into your ear and you giggle. 

After depositing your bags in the guest room, Atsumu heads upstairs to put his own luggage away and wash up a little. He can hear the sounds of you and Osamu talking and laughing downstairs, taking the time to catch up on everything you’d missed in Hyogo district—about the twins’ mother and her little circle of friends, the news about when one of their neighbours threatened to cut down another person’s apple tree—and your delighted laugh sends a ripple of something warm down his spine. 

He knows he’s well and truly fucked when he thinks about how much he wishes he could be the one to draw those elated sounds out of your mouth.

Downstairs, you’re doubled over with laughter as Osamu regales you with the story of their Grandma Miya accidentally crashing the wrong knitting circle and not realising until three meetings in that they were discussing trashy romance webnovels instead of actually knitting. Atsumu lingers at the top of the stairs, listening to your guffaws. You snort, once, and it sends you and Osamu into peals of laughter again. His fingers curl around the bannister.

The volleyball player steels himself, plastering on a confident smile as he saunters down the stairs.

“Oi, what’s so funny?” he drawls. “Ya laughin’ without me now?”

“Just tellin’ her about Grandma’s new knitting club,” Osamu says. “She’s startin’ to think she can direct a romantic drama now.”

“I mean, she probably could,” you agree, smiling. “From what I know of her, your grandmother is a force.”

Atsumu scoffs, dropping into the armchair closest to you. He mutters, “A force that guilt-tripped me into bringin’ a date to the wedding.”

Osamu snickers. You tilt your head, curious. “A date for Shohei’s wedding?”

“Yeah. And if I show up without one, I’m doomed. Grandma’ll start parading me around to every eligible bachelorette she’s ever met—the neighbours, the cashier at the konbini I said looks cute, random strangers on the street.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe you’ll find someone perfect.”

Atsumu swallows down a groan. The last thing he needs is for you to think he’s taking his grandmother’s matchmaking seriously. “Nah, it’s a nightmare waiting to happen. Imagine Grandma introducin’ me to that one lady who brought natto salad to her friend’s birthday party.”

Osamu barks out a laugh. “Everyone ended up with really bad diarrhea that day,” he explains to you. “Guess Tsumu will hafta rely on me for cookin’ unless he wants bowel problems by the time he’s thirty.”

“As if,” Atsumu says quickly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Point is, I need someone to save me from this circus.”

“Hm, better start polishing your flirtin’ skills, Atsumu.” You give him a teasing smile.

His eyes lock with yours for a fraction of a second longer than he intends, and the words sit heavy on his tongue. You’re my date. I was thinkin’ of asking you. But his throat tightens; instead, he tosses a pillow at his twin brother to cover his nerves.

“You busy, Samu? Wanna be my date?” he jokes, deflecting easily.

Osamu catches the pillow without missing a beat, and then shudders. “Not a chance. The second they see me with you, they’ll think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Hasn’t he already?” you pipe up. 

Atsumu clutches his chest dramatically. “Even you, ____? Betrayed in my own home!”

“Technically, it’s Samu’s home.”

Osamu grins triumphantly. Atsumu sneers.

“Well, don’t worry ‘bout me,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “I’ll find someone. Real classy. Someone who’ll shut Grandma up for a whole year.”

His brother rolls his eyes. “Sure you will, Tsumu.”

You glance at Atsumu again, lips pressed together in a thin line. There’s something indecipherable in your eyes, the way your forehead is creased ever-so slightly. Before he can say anything, Osamu’s phone rings. He excuses himself to take the call, leaving the two of you alone.

“Who’s the lucky fake date?” you ask after a beat. You don’t meet his gaze.

He rubs the back of his neck, debating his next move. His heart pounds as he tries to muster some semblance of courage, but all he manages is a lopsided grin and a shrug.

“Dunno. Guess I’ll know when I see her.”

“We have a problem.”

“We do?” Atsumu has only just woken up. His brain is still struggling to catch up with the rest of him; he blinks once, twice, waiting for your statement to sink in. 

“Get up, loser,” you say, walking into his bedroom like you own the place. You flick his duvet off of his body. “We’re going shopping.”

Atsumu sits up, pressing his palms to his face and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The duvet slips further down.

“Fuck!” you yelp, immediately turning around. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t see anythin’.”

A shiver ripples through his body. Without the warmth of his blanket cocooning his body, the cold of the morning seeps into his skin. He’s trying to figure out why, exactly, he’s being presented with a marvellous view of your back, and what you’re apologising for, when the chill makes him shiver again.

Oh. He looks down at himself. 

Atsumu didn’t wear a shirt to bed.

His cheeks flood with heat, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment. “Er. I’m wearin’ pants,” he says, like that’s going to be of any help.

“I’m, um, going to leave,” you say. Your voice sounds stilted—likely due to being similarly embarrassed by Atsumu’s bare-chestedness. Atsumu grunts in agreement. You walk out slowly, gingerly tip-toeing over a discarded pair of sweatpants he left lying on the floor.

You shut the door behind you, face lowered, and exaggeratedly twist the doorknob until it lets out a click sound, as though you’re showing him that you have not seen anything indecent. As though his abs have personally offended you. Like you’re a National Geographic narrator documenting a rare, disgruntled creature in the wild. 

The shirtless Miya Atsumu, with its ruffled plumage and tragic morning breath, appears to challenge the peace of its habitat.

Ha. Wouldn’t that be a hoot.

To his credit, Atsumu gives himself five minutes before he flops onto his stomach and screams into his pillow. Then, he rises and rummages through his closet for a shirt—he settles for a grey one that he probably stole from Osamu’s closet during high school—and, still mortified, slips out of his bedroom and heads downstairs to see if breakfast is ready.

He finds his mother and you sitting side-by-side on cushions by the chabudai. It’s the usual motherly nonsense she always spouts whenever you come over—gushing over your job, asking about your parents, and, of course, wondering if you have a boyfriend yet.

“Not yet, Miya-san,” you reply politely, though Atsumu can tell you’re a little embarrassed. Your eyebrows furrow just slightly, and it’s always a tic you’ve had, Atsumu’s discovered.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad,” his mother says. “Beautiful girls like you should have boys tripping over their own two feet to date you.”

Atsumu is sure he’s tripped over his own two feet in front of you enough times by now for him to be able to date you. He clears his throat and puts a little swagger to his step when he sits down opposite you. “Missed me, Ma?”

“Slightly lesser than how much I missed ____,” she says.

“Just adopt her already, why don’t you?” Atsumu quips, rolling his eyes.

His mother actually seems to consider this, as she presses her lips together. “Marry one of the twins, ____. You know I would love to have you as a daughter-in-law.”

Your eyes widen, and you flounder, beseechingly locking eyes with Atsumu and begging him to help you out. He smiles a little. He remembers why he brought you here in the first place. His smile gets wiped out in an instant.

It’s not as though Miya Atsumu doesn’t want to spend time with you. He knows Shohei would love to have you at his wedding, and Hyogo is a beautiful place to be at this time of the year. But the thought that he needs you to be a scapegoat to appease Grandma Miya niggles at the back of his mind, unforgiving. He really should tell you, he thinks.

Thankfully, you’re saved from his mother’s matchmaking attempts by Osamu, who walks in balancing bowls of rice and miso soup. He sets them down on the table expertly—Onigiri Miya has trained him well—and plops down on a cushion next to his brother. 

“Sorry for bein’ late,” he says gruffly. “Forgot to add salt in the miso.”

It smells delicious. Atsumu has to admit that he’s missed his brother’s cooking. After surviving on a majority of meals that were either konbini snacks or cheap ramen in Tokyo, home-cooked food makes his stomach grumble in a good way.

The four of you chorus your gratitude for the meal with bowed heads and folded palms, and then dig in. Atsumu slurps up the miso soup, chewing on a piece of tofu. It’s heavenly—it really is, and he nudges his brother’s side with his elbow to convey it. Osamu nudges back, and the table is silent for some time.

“Oh, by the way,” his mother says, “we need to get your suits from the dry cleaners. I have to go help your aunt out with last-minute wedding preparations, so I need one of you to do it.”

“Not me,” Osamu says. “I’ve got a restaurant to run.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Osamu,” she continues, giving him a small smile. “That’s why I asked ____ to wake up Atsumu early today. Both of you still have the same build, so Atsumu can go to the tailor’s to see if it fits or if he needs any adjustments.”

“Oh,” says Atsumu. You don’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t know we had actual work to do today.”

“I also offered to buy ____ a dress, but she refused.” His mother casts a quick, affectionate glance at you. “So, Atsumu, I need you to buy her one, all right? Get her a gorgeous one.”

“O’course I will,” he says, quietly.

Osamu looks curiously between you both. “Didn’t ____ tell you all this when she came to wake you up, Tsumu?”

A wad of rice gets lodged in Atsumu’s throat. You accidentally inhale miso soup through your nose. Both of you cough and splutter.

Osamu frantically pats Atsumu’s back, while you, eyes watering, accept a glass of water from the twins’ mother. Something unfurls inside Atsumu’s chest at the thought of spending the whole day with you, getting his suit tailored and buying you a dress.  

It’s almost like you’re actually his date for his cousin’s wedding.

Is it weird that Miya Atsumu wants to see your reaction to him wearing a suit? Is he being presumptuous in the way he lifts his chin and puffs out his chest so that the tuxedo fits him better? What are your thoughts about men wearing tuxedos and ties, in general? Should he buy a tie that matches your dress?

This, and other such mysteries of life, are what the volleyball player ponders over in the tiny fitting room while one of the seamsters kneels in front of him and measures the length of his leg with measuring tape. 

Atsumu has to constantly remind himself that you don’t know he’s your date yet. The wedding is tomorrow. He doesn’t know if he has it in him to stick it out until then. 

“All done,” the seamster announces, getting back to his feet. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be able to alter this to the right size.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu mumbles, pulling back the curtain and heading outside. 

You’re sitting on one of the couches they’ve kept by the corner of the shop, scrolling through something on your phone. The bag with your new dress—his mother’s gift to you—is placed on the floor by your feet. He doesn’t know what the dress looks like; you’d insisted on buying it secretly because it was, apparently, embarrassing to go dress-shopping with a close friend who happens to be a well-built, devilishly handsome, popular, famous pro-volleyball player. 

Not that you said those words exactly, but Atsumu can fill in the blanks.

He plops down next to you, leaning back and circling his head to get rid of the cricks in his neck. You put your phone away and glance at him.

“Take a picture,” Atsumu says, not looking back at you. “Lasts longer.”

“If only your face actually looked good in photos.”

“My face looks excellent. Haven’t ya seen me and Bokuto in the Calpis advertisement?” It was a small gig they’d gotten right after the Olympics season. Kuroo had said it would make for good PR, and Atsumu and Bokuto jumped at the chance to have their small five minutes of fame. Shouyou had sulked about not being a part of it for two weeks straight afterwards.

“I have, actually,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know I wouldn’t ever miss out on that. I’m surprised no one here’s recognised you yet.”

“Livin’ under a rock, the whole lot of them,” Atsumu mutters.

You laugh softly. “The fame’s gone to your head, Atsumu. Don’t forget me when you and the team go gallivanting across the country.”

“You know I wouldn’t ever be able to forget you,” he says, after a beat. “You’re, like, a part of me now.”

You blink. “That’s kind of weird.”

Atsumu’s cheeks burn. How is it that he always, always fumbles so much in front of you? It’s like his brain sees you and immediately decides to unplug itself for maintenance. He gulps, thinking of ways to salvage whatever dignity he has left.

“‘S not weird,” he forces out. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I think you spent more time at our house durin’ elementary school than you did at your own.”

“Fair enough,” you acquiesce. Shifting slightly, you eye the bit of fabric from your dress that pokes out of the paper bag. “Still can’t believe your mom insisted on getting me a dress,” you murmur, lightly brushing your fingertips against the edge of the bag. “It’s a bit over-the-top, don’t you think?”

“She just likes you a lot,” he responds. “Honestly, I’m startin’ the think she likes you more than me or Osamu.”

“That’s not a very high bar.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no malice in the action. “But it’s probably ‘cause I didn’t dunk her favourite teapot into the toilet when I was seven.”

“That was an accident! And I apologised more than a hundred times!”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the apology totally made up for the fact that you made Osamu stick his hand down there and fish it out for you.”

“Why d’you always take his side?” Atsumu grumbles. “Can’t ever catch a break with both of you around, I swear.”

You lean back, shoulder brushing against his. Atsumu can feel your gaze roving over his face; he bites the inside of his cheek, feeling strangely self-conscious.

“Maybe,” you say, “I just enjoy making fun of you. You always make fun of me back. It’s nice.”

Atsumu swallows hard, trying to focus on anything else—the tacky wallpaper, the sound of pop music blaring from the shop next door. Anything but the way your words make his heart somersault, or the way your smile lingers for a second more than usual. 

“That’s cruel, yaknow,” he manages to say. “Gangin’ up on me all the time. Makes a guy feel unloved.”

You stay quiet, thoughtfully steepling your fingers under your chin. Atsumu glances at you from the corner of his eye. Your expression doesn’t betray anything, until you reach out and gently grasp his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “Didn’t realise you didn’t like it.”

Miya Atsumu is certain—not for the first time in his life—that he’s utterly doomed. It’s a little bit pathetic, really. It started back in middle school, and still, somehow, he’s unable to move on. You’ve consumed him. Your thumb brushes over the veins on his wrist; he wonders if you can feel his pulse racing.

“Don’t stop,” he says, because what else does a fool in love say?

“Atsumu, I—”

You’re interrupted by the seamster, who calls Atsumu over to the register to finish his billing. He grits his teeth. This is the worst sort of interruption ever. He turns to face you properly, because maybe if he pretends he didn’t hear the tailor, you’ll tell him what you were about to say. 

But your face is carefully blank, your lips pressed together. “Go on,” you tell him. “Don’t forget to collect Osamu’s tux, too.”

“Yeah, okay.” Atsumu nods once, twice. He gently extricates his hand from your grasp, as much as he dislikes it. “I’ll, uh, go do that, then.”

“Okay.”

Atsumu hates this. He’s not sure if he even wants to attend the wedding anymore. All his relatives are going to heckle him about his love life—and that’s fine, he can deal with them. He just doesn’t want his grandmother’s face to crumple with disappointment on finding out her grandson’s whole “relationship” was a farce. Feeling sick to his stomach, he pays for the alterations done to his and his brother’s outfits, and gestures for you to accompany him outside. 

You don’t meet his eyes the entire way back home.

It’s the eve of the wedding reception, and Miya Atsumu can’t find you anywhere.

The reception hall is lovely. Golden lanterns hang from the ceiling, enveloping everyone in a soft, warm glow. Vases of peonies and cherry blossoms, intertwined with sprigs of baby’s breath, are placed on top of the soft linen covering each table. The delicate strains of a koto and shamisen ensemble weave through the air. The centerpiece stage, framed by cascading fairy lights and flowing silk, bear the names of the bride and the groom, written in exquisite calligraphy. An array of traditional Japanese sweets and cups of sake are placed on a long table by the corner of the hall.

Shohei and Sakura sit by the shintaku, looking resplendent in their outfits, surrounded by family members and friends. He’s already congratulated them, clapping his cousin on the back and winking proudly at Sakura. You’re nowhere near them, so he tries the snack table instead.

Atsumu hides his mounting worry by shoving a piece of mochi into his mouth. He racks his brain, trying to think of other possible hideouts where he can find you. It’s not like you to disappear like this—and it’s a shame, really, because all he wants is to be by your side this evening. Osamu is posing for a group photo with his second cousins and his mother is helping his aunt with the gift bags, but you’re not anywhere near them either.

He knows you won’t be at the smoking area where his uncle has held court all evening, but he decides to check anyway. Atsumu gives the area a cursory glance, confirming that you’re not among them, before hastily walking out. He curses under his breath, his usual confidence giving way to an unfamiliar, gnawing unease.

You’re supposed to be here. You said you’d be here.

He adjusts the lapels of his tailored suit and forces himself to think rationally. You’re probably just outside, he tells himself, getting some air or hiding from the relentless matchmaking attempts of meddlesome aunts. It’s probably fine. It has to be.

Atsumu’s footsteps turn towards the garden doors. His urgency is masked by the cocky, practiced demeanour he wears like a second skin.

“Atsumu, boy, where d’you think you’re running off to now?”

The volleyball player freezes mid-step. He exhales slowly and drags a hand through his meticulously styled hair before turning around.

Grandma Miya stands by the hall’s entrance, wearing a lavender kimono that glows under the warm lights. Her lacquered cane gleams as she taps it softly against the polished floor. Despite her diminutive frame, his grandmother commands the space effortlessly. Sharp eyes—so like his own—pin him in place.

“‘M not runnin’ anywhere, Grandma,” Atsumu says, summoning a sheepish smile that he hopes will placate her. “Just, uh, checkin’ on something.”

Her eyebrows lift, arching in a way that shows she’s wholly unconvinced. “Checking on something or someone?”

Atsumu opens his mouth, an excuse perched on the tip of his tongue, but she raises a hand and continues before he can say anything. “Thought you ought to know—there’s a pretty girl standing outside in the garden cussin’ out your name like she’s auditioning for a sailor’s choir. Care to explain why?”

“Wait—outside?”

“So you do know her,” Grandma Miya states.

“Um. Yeah—I— She’s—” The grin he’s worn like armour falters under the Miya matriarch’s scrutinising gaze.

“Out with it, Tsumu,” she prompts, tapping her cane once on the floor. “Who is she?”

“She’s my… date,” Atsumu admits. The words tumble out awkwardly, and he can’t deny the way it sounds both weirdly foreign but strangely right at the same time. “For the wedding.”

His grandmother’s eyes narrow. “And why is she out there cursing you to Hell and back all alone in the cold?”

“I didn’t—” He stops, shoulders slumping. He knows there’s no point in lying—not to her. Grandma Miya has always been able to see right through him, as though his thoughts are scrawled across his face.

“She’s not really my date,” Atsumu mutters, gaze downcast. “I mean, she is, but she doesn’t… know that she is.”

Grandma Miya blinks, and then lets out a short huff of laughter. “Atsumu, are you tellin’ me you brought this poor girl here, told everyone she’s your date, but didn’t think to inform her of that little detail?”

“I didn’t forget,” Atsumu protests, though his words sound weak to his own ears. “I just didn’t have the chance to tell her.”

“Why would you go and do something so spectacularly foolish?”

He hesitates, avoiding her eyes. “‘Cause I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he says quietly, the admission dragging itself out of his throat.

His grandmother’s smile fades, and without it, her wrinkles look more and more pronounced. “Disappoint me?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu whispers. “You’re always askin’ me when I’m gonna bring someone home. You want to see me and Osamu get married, too, before you—” His voice catches. “Before. Um. I just wanted to make you happy, ‘s all.”

There’s a long pause, and when Grandma Miya speaks again, her voice is sadder than he expects. Classic Atsumu, he thinks bitterly. Always findin’ a way to mess things up for everyone.

“Atsumu, you daft boy,” his grandma says, “I don’t care if you bring someone or not. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Atsumu swallows, her words entering his chest and settling down with a warmth that wraps around his body. When he looks up, he finds her observing him not with judgement, but with quiet understanding.

“Are you happy?” she asks. 

Something about the way she says it is tinged with hope, and it makes his heart lift. The truth lodges in his throat, too big to swallow, too heavy to speak.

“I like her,” he blurts out finally. “A lot. But she doesn’t—she doesn’t know that either.”

Grandma Miya’s lips lift up in a grin—the same smile that passed on to his mother, and then to him and his brother. “Then go find her. Tell her the truth.”

“But what if—”

“No,” she says firmly. “Life’s too short for all that nonsense. If you care about her, you owe her the truth and an apology. Go on, now. Dinner’s starting soon.”

Atsumu nods, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small, grateful smile. She waves him off with her cane, before turning around and bellowing to Osamu to get her another cup of sake. He heads out to the garden.

The cool night air fills his lungs when he steps out of the ornate doors. He catches sight of you pacing near the koi pond; your movements are tight with frustration. The moonlight shimmers on the water, and dances across your face. The ends of your dress billow out because of the wind and Atsumu swears he forgets how to breathe.

It’s not until he climbs down the steps and comes to a standstill in front of you that you finally acknowledge Atsumu. Even then, it’s with flaring nostrils and flashing eyes, and he knows he’s fucked up really badly this time.

“Atsumu,” you say, voice taut. “What the Hell is going on?”

He winces. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain everything. He tries to speak, but no words come out, and all he can do is watch helplessly as you curl your fingers into your palm with anger.

“Why the fuck did you tell your entire family that I’m your girlfriend?” you snap, when it becomes apparent he isn’t going to say anything. “What did you think was going to happen?”

A dozen half-baked excuses fly over his head, but none of them feel right. Grandma Miya was right—he owes you the truth—but first, he needs to find a way to calm you down.

“Do you realise how messed up that is?” you continue. Your voice increases in pitch, garnering the attention of a few wedding-goers milling about. “You didn’t ask me. You didn’t tell me anything. Do you know how embarrassing it was to get bombarded by all your relatives asking me how long we’ve been dating? They think we’re something that we’re not—fuck it all, they think I’m something I’m not.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Atsumu pleads, finally having found his voice. “I just—”

“Just what?! Just thought it would be easier? Just wanted to impress your family?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. I just—shit, I dunno—I didn’t want my grandma to think I was screwing around. I didn’t want my relatives to look at me with pity ‘cause I can’t even stay in a decent relationship for longer than three weeks!”

Atsumu searches your face for something—some sort of reaction to his words. But you’re silent, and he can’t read your face. He can’t tell if you’re angry, hurt, both, or something else entirely, and it’s making him feel even more out of his depth.

“What were you thinking, Atsumu?” you ask softly. Your teeth worry your bottom lip, and he resists the urge to give in and kiss you silly.

“I wasn’t thinkin’,” he says, hoarsely. “I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I should have.”

You don’t say anything for a long while; Atsumu thinks he’s said too much. But then, you speak and the bite in your voice has reduced.

“You didn’t think about me. You didn’t think ‘bout how I’d feel being that person for you.” 

Your words ring hollow in his ears. The hurt in your voice makes his stomach twist with guilt. He wants to defend himself, but what could he possibly say? Instead, he looks at you quietly, hoping against all hope that somehow you will understand.

“Fuck,” Atsumu mutters under his breath, more to himself than you. He takes a tentative step forward, but you hold up a hand.

“You don’t—” Your voice trembles. “You don’t get to just walk over to me and give me some half-assed apology, Atsumu.”

Atsumu stops, letting silence blanket you both once more. He stares at you for a moment, at your beautiful face and your beautiful dress, and without thinking, he steps closer, his hand reaching out.

You don’t pull away—not immediately.

He’s close enough now that he can see his reflection in your eyes, the small tremor in your lips. Something inside him shifts, something urgent, something that makes his head spin. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until it’s too late. 

He curls his hand around your waist and pulls you in, crashing your lips with his. He feels you stiffen at first—but then you kiss him back, hard and sharp, and everything in him unwinds.

It isn’t gentle or sweet. It isn’t tender, the way Atsumu had always imagined his first kiss with you would be like. It’s angry—you are angry at him, and he is angry at himself. 

It’s over far too quickly. Atsumu’s chest heaves with each breath he takes. You gawk at him, wide-eyed and breathless; a mirror to the expression on his own face, most likely. 

“I—” Atsumu starts, but the sentence gets lost somewhere in his brain when you take a step back.

“I’m not some… prop to your little charade, Atsumu,” you say. “So unless this means something to you—like it does for me—don’t do things you’ll regret.”

“I won’t,” Atsumu promises. His voice is gruff, his heartbeat a rapid staccato against his rib cage. “I could never. I like you too much for that.”

You look at him like he looked at you earlier—like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, like you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. It comes out as a whisper when you say, “What?”

“God, ____, I like you. I like you so much I don’t know what to do with myself when you’re around.” He owes you the truth, and so the truth is what you will get. He’s not very good with words—you know this, and he’s sure you will recognise this for what it is: he’s laying his heart bare for you to take and keep safely for him.

“Me too,” you say. “Me too, Atsumu. Me too.”

He kisses you again, gentle and tender and sweet, his hand placed on the curve of your neck and your hands clutching the front of his shirt. 

Osamu finds him and you later, curled into each other’s sides. Atsumu’s cheeks colour when his brother shoots him an impressed look.

“Finally,” he says. “Been waitin’ forever for this buffoon to get his head out of his ass and make a move.”

Atsumu doesn’t deny it, and you laugh softly. “Been waitin’ for him myself,” you say, squeezing his arm affectionately.

“Anyways,” says Osamu. “Grandma Miya’s lookin’ for Tsumu. She says she can’t wait to meet his new girlfriend.”

Atsumu’s mouth splits into a grin. “Tell her we’ll be right there,” he says.

[theereina]

Big Mama | You're Supposed To Know

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut (alluding to sexual situations), heavily dialogue-centered, angst, verbal argument

Synopsis: When an argument between Terry and Havana sends them into a spiral, love is the last thing on their minds. Terry’s inability to see the situation through Havana’s POV becomes the single catalyst for a bomb that's ready to self-destruct.

Now, Terry must come to terms with the fact that this may be the end, and it’s all his fault. In a moment of desperation, Terry returns home and seeks advice from his parents. His parents give him raw and unfiltered guidance that shakes Terry to his core.

“Will Terry’s indiscretions ruin everything he and ‘Vana have built, and is forgiveness even an option?”

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 6 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 7 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 8 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 9 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“’Vana, don't you walk away from me!” Terry yelled behind me as I stormed out of the bedroom.

“No, fuck this! I'm going home! You’re acting like I'm the problem!” I yelled back. I continued to walk into the living room without slowing my pace.

I was on fire. My mind was going 100 miles a minute, and nothing was going to calm me down. I didn't want to talk anymore. Terry's lack of understanding could only be tolerated for so long. He was letting his pride get in the way.

“Come here!” Terry said, grabbing my arm.

“Let me fuckin' go! I'm not doin' this anymore. I'm sick of explainin’ myself!” I yelled as I snatched my arm from Terry.

“Aight, ‘Vana. Calm yo’ ass down. We've been at this all day, and I'm tired. What the hell are you still mad for?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

What was I still mad for? Terry couldn't be this dumb or naïve.

“What am I still mad for? What kinda dumbass question is that? You don't see what you did wrong?” I asked, stepping closer to him.

“Watch it! You gettin’ beside yourself, mama. Keep it civil,” Terry said, eyeing me. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

Anger was the only emotion present in the room as hues of red dominated our auras. Red was all we had the capacity to see at this point. Our eyes veiled in our pursuit of blood. Lacking empathy and compassion in every word we spewed out of spite. There were no white flags in our future.

We were no longer seeking a resolution, instead, we were now struggling to declare a winner. Who was right? Who was wrong? Who did this? Who did that?

Ears were no longer listening as we were too focused on responding. Quick, sharp tongues leave no room for gentleness. Battling it out like two wordsmiths who hate each other, finding value in inflicting pain with the same lips we used to express the deepest depths of love.

Unknowingly, we both wanted it to stop, but that meant someone had to lose. Unfortunately, I was stubborn, and so was he. Neither set of lips yielded long enough for a reprieve. This was nothing more than a senseless act of immaturity. Both of us were unaware of just how fierce and passionate the other could be when we felt unheard or misunderstood.

“Civil? Keep it civil?! You can't be that dumb, Terry? You don't see nothin' wrong with what you did… Better yet, what you didn't do?” I asked, poking him in the chest.

“Don't do that!” Terry said as he lightly grabbed my hand. “Just stop it, ‘Vana! Use your fuckin' words and talk!” he said, putting my hand by my side.

“Don't fuckin' touch me! You obviously don't care! I've talked all damn day. I've used my words. I've cried. I've… I've… I'm done!” I said, turning on my heels.

“What did I just say?! Stop walkin’ away and talk!” he yelled again.

My movements stopped. I was beyond exhausted. We had repeated the same conversation over and over. Each time getting an even worse result. This fight would not end tonight or maybe ever.

With a heavy heart, I decided for both of us.

At this moment, I would rather walk away than continue to fight. Even if I felt like I was right, we were too far gone. There was probably no coming back from this. Trust was gone. Communication was broken. Feelings were hurt. Lines were crossed. Too much was said, and too much was left uncertain. My heart was damaged. Maybe, I wasn't built for this.

“I'm not repeating myself again! If you think you're right, fine. Fuck it. I don't care anymore. There's nothing more for me to say when you're supposed to know…. Hell… How don't you know?” I said, opening the front door.

I walked out the door, half expecting Terry to stop me. When he didn't follow me, it only reinforced my decision.

After all of that, I was forfeiting this battle.

I conceded. He won.

“Son, tell me what happened?” Rochelle, Terry's mother asked earnestly. She leaned over and kissed Terry's head, hoping to comfort him.

One thing Ms. Rochelle didn't play about was her baby boy Terry. She had yet to meet Havana, so this was a bit of a problem, considering her baby had shown up teary-eyed and distraught over a girl she had never met.

“She found out about what happened between me and Taylor. I was gonna tell her at first, but then I didn't see the need to. It ended right there. It ain't like I kept communicatin’ with her,” Terry said, leaning back in his seat on the couch.

“What you mean by that? What happened wit’ you and Taylor? Mae Ann told me Taylor said she saw you a few days ago. Is that it, or is there more to this story?” Rochelle said, rubbing Terry's back.

“I mean… yes and no,” Terry shrugged.

“Son, spit it out,” she said, rolling her eyes. She could see straight through Terry. He was trying his hardest to repress his feelings, but Rochelle knew Terry was at war inside his head. What she didn't know was that Terry’s internal monologue was growing more chaotic by the second.

“I met up with Taylor after she texted me. She asked me to go with her to Eli’s grave. I mean, we were together when he died. So, I felt like maybe she just needed a friend. So I went—,” Terry said.

“Terrence Richmond! I'm starting to see why this woman was pissed off. You met up with your ex, and didn't think to tell her that? Even if nothing happened, that leaves way too much up for interpretation. Use your brain, baby!” Rochelle said, crossing her arms.

“Well, I didn't want her to get mad at me or get the wrong idea,” Terry said, sinking into the couch.

“And how did that work out, huh?” she said, leaning up to grab Terry's face and forcing him to look at her. “Look at me,” she continued.

“I just thought it would be best if she didn't know. I know ‘Vana. She woulda tried to kill Taylor. Hell, she'd probably woulda tried to kill me, too!” Terry exclaimed. Pausing to gather his thoughts, Terry tried to figure out the best way to tell his mother the rest of the story. “To be honest, Mama, that ain't even the worst part. Taylor kissed me, and… uh… tried to… uh… touch… y’know,” Terry said, nodding towards his groin.

“Unh unh! Terrence, did you at least stop the girl?” she asked loudly. The more her son talked the more she understood Havana’s sentiment. She would wring his father's neck if he didn't tell her about something like this.

“Yes, of course I did. We were in my truck which made it worse. I pushed her off and held her back as best I could, but I was driving. Plus, she kept tryin', so I dropped her off at Julie's. I promise, Mama. Nothing happened. I just honestly didn't know what to do after that,” Terry said, letting his face fall into his hands.

“Nothing happened, my ass! So, you mean to tell me that you let this girl kiss and touch all over you, then expected your girlfriend to be okay with it? Wait a damn minute… I thought you said you didn't tell her,” Rochelle said, knitting her eyebrows together.

“I didn't… She did,” Terry mumbled under his breath.

“Who did? Who is she? What are y—. Terrence! I know damn well you didn't let Talyor tell her first. Come on, honey. This ain't right, and you know it. You should've known this wasn't gonna end well,” she said, popping Terry upside his head.

“Rochelle!” Terry’s father, Franklin, yelled as he entered the room.

“Go ‘head. Tell your father about the mess you done got yourself into. Franky, you gotta hear this,” Rochelle said, shifting in her seat.

Franklin sat in his recliner, facing Terry. “Boy! Talk! Ain't no sense in hangin’ ya' head,” he said, leaning up to get Terry's attention.

Terry sat in silence for a moment. He started the story over, telling it from beginning to end. The more he talked, the more he realized how disappointed his parents looked and the worse he felt. It was becoming more evident to him that he fucked up. Havana had every right to be mad.

“Chelle, can you give us a minute? I think this might be one of those conversations, baby,” Franklin said, rising from the recliner.

“Alright. Please, talk some sense into this boy,” Rochelle said, standing.

Franklin approached Terry's mother kissing her on the cheek. Rochelle left the room and left the two men alone. Franklin knew that this was a conversation that needed a Father's touch. His mother could only understand to a certain extent.

“Son, listen. Before I even start speaking, do you even know what you did wrong?” he asked as he sat back in his recliner.

“Yes. I just… I just didn't think it was that serious. I never wanted to hurt ‘Vana. I love her too much. I thought I was protecting her,” Terry said, looking at his father.

Franklin stared at his son. The look on Terry's face was all too familiar. This was the face of a man who knew he messed up but didn't know if he could fix his mistake. He knew his son well enough to see that whoever this girl was she had Terry's heart— all of it.

“That’s a start. At least, you know you were wrong. Listen to me, son. When it comes to women…., or better yet, when it comes to love, omission is lyin’. It doesn't matter what your intentions were. You let another woman tell your woman something she didn't know about. What makes it worse is that Taylor ain't some random woman, she’s a woman you gotta past wit’. That’s gonna immediately throw some doubt in there no matter how much she trusts you. I can only imagine how Taylor spun that story. So, of course, her initial thoughts are gonna be all over the place. She’s gonna question why you weren't the one to tell her, and if nothing happened, why'd you hide it? You left too much unanswered, son. Then, you let another woman answer for you,” Franklin said. He could see the wheels turning in Terry’s head.

“I know, Dad. It’s just that I don't even think she wants to see me, let alone talk. ‘Vana was more than pissed. She looked hurt. I shoulda followed her. I shouldn't have let her leave. She was right there—,” Terry said, sniffling.

“Son, what I'm about to say is gonna hit you like a shot of whiskey with no chaser. Stop thinking like a man and think like a lover. Don't you dare call that woman tryin' to talk over no phone. Go find her, and let her know how you feel. Meet her wherever she's at, pour yo’ heart, hit yo’ knees. Do whateva you need to get yo’ woman. But before you go over there, you gotta come to terms with something. She don't have to listen, and she for damn sure don't have to forgive ya’. All you can do is let her know how you feel. Hell, show her how you feel. You want that girl bad enough; you won't give a damn about how you look in that moment. Look at me, Terrence! When you get done, her heart should be full, and yours should be empty. Do you understand me?!”

A/N: Remember, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

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[manwritingtales]

Fuck! Wrong Body!

I can only jump bodies every few years and this fuckin' man had to jump to my eye line! I was ready to jump, to swap bodies with this hot athletic dude I've been watching for several weeks. I've got it all planned out. I'd switch bodies with him, take his money and live the same as I'd usually done; fucking and getting fucked and making sure this body is shown to the world. But goddammit, when I was finally ready to swap, I didn't waste one second and immediately tracked this dude. I took a deep breath and staring intensely at him, concentrating on him and only him. Then an old man passed by. It was instantaneous. I felt my spirit leave this vessel I'd been inhabiting and move to the older man. From behind a pillar, I suddenly found myself standing in the middle of a street, strange sensations coming over me as this body's senses kicked in.

I was stuck shocked for a moment, and behind the pillar a man was lying on the ground slowly waking up. I stared at the body I wanted to switch to. "You need something?" he said. I stare at his handsome face—the face I could've be as for several years.

"I—" my voice was much deeper. I suddenly felt the weight of this body. His blue polo shirt clung to his body. It was obviously a few sizes too small. I stare at my new gut. The realization finally dawned on me. "Fuck!"

People look in my direction, but I'm too upset to notice. "Goddammit! Why the fuck were you here?!" My voice was much deeper and older than my old body. I stare at his arms, then touch his face. Bearded. I touch his belly.

"Ugh," I groan, this weight very unfamiliar to me. I've mostly switched to athletes, those muscular jock types, so this was extremely different to what I'm used to. Soft music played in his ears and I throw the air pods away in frustration.

"Uhh." The athletic dude looked at me like I was crazy and left. I stare with a sigh as I see his body disappearing into the crowd. That could've been my body.

"Honey? What's wrong?" I hear a female voice from behind me say. I turn around. A woman, in her fifties, maybe. She's looking at me with deep concern. "What's wrong, honey? Are you feeling alright?"

I open my mouth, then close it shut. Without a word, I walk away from her quickly. I hear her echoes as I make my way deeper through the streets.

I run in this heavy, slow body. Everything feels jarring. When switching bodies, every element of your being needs time to reassess. The memories in the brain come in fragments, where it usually takes weeks to months to learn it all, but the thing that immediately makes it clear that you're in another body is the sensation. The physicality of it. For muscle jocks, everything is leaner, tighter, and easier. It's easy to bend his body, to jump, hell, it's easy to breathe. But this body is almost the exact opposite. His shirt is constricting his body. I'm still not sure why he decided to wear something a few sizes too small. His beard scratches his face. His belt cling to his body, his gut held. I feel so heavy and tired, or at least not as energetic as my past body used to be.

I take out his phone and open the camera.

I sigh. I suppose this beard is pretty cool. But I'm really not okay with the idea of being stuck in this body for a few years. He and his wife probably got kids, who'd come looking for him. That won't be a problem, but I tried not to switch bodies with men that had too many attachments. I walk through a random street, trying to get used to the way his body moves. No one's paying me any mind. It kind of feels nice, for a change. One time I switched with this dude who modelled, and the entire time I felt everyone's eyes on my body. But no one's paying me any attention now. I'm just another father vacationing with his family.

"Dario." The name comes out of this new body all of a sudden. "My name is Dario," I mutter in his voice. The details feel so hazy, as my new and old memories are still figuring out space. My name is Dario. I have a wife and two kids, one adult and one in college. I dig deep into his mind for more information about this man. Nothing yet but those key details.

I stop in a nearby café to focus, trying to gather out any of his old life. Not that it's gonna be much use, since I already have a plan to do, but it's always important to make sure that the body you're inhabiting won't bring any problems. I try to imagine myself not as me—but as Dario, a husband and a father of two. I make his body smile.

I'm sure anyone who knows Dario well can see something off. That the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. That's naturally how it goes at first. If you plan on keeping this body's life and family, be sure to blend in with all his quirks and subtle movements.

I stare at his hairy arms, patting his belly and stroking the bulge in his trousers. I sigh. I just can't help think of the body I was supposed to switch to. This athletic dude with giant biceps and strong legs. I'd look at his body, and watch myself stroking his muscular chest, and muscular arms, talking dirty as I smelled his musk, then I'd...

I feel this body stiffen. I feel his cock harden and I give it a stroke, involuntarily letting out a moan (which earned several glances from people). Huh. This cock is... not bad at all, actually. It's average in size, but—I move his body in a more comfortable position, making sure to hide below the table—it's... thick as a beer can. "Alright," I mutter, enjoying the warmth of his thick cock permeating from his trousers. There's some silver lining after all.

---

It's been a few months in this body. I'm still not completely sure if I like it. After the day I switched with him, I kept my current plan and cut off communication with this body's old life. I'm sure his family must be devastated, but I'll take good care of this body. He is much hairier than the usual ones I'd switch to, much older, definitely, but he's unexpectedly much more virile than I thought. He could last almost as long as those muscle jock dudes I've switched to.

And the attention! It's even different now. One walk at a bar and I still get a lot of glances, now usually from bears and twinks, (and I was much more into bodybuilders and jock types) but I don't hate it after all. His first time getting fucked was rough, and his ass was sore for a while, but I enjoyed watching this body getting plowed by a hairy bear who insisted on calling me daddy.

Memories of this body's life continue to flood, and it felt bad leaving his tenured professor job without a trace, but I'd say I'm making more use of this body by fucking and getting fucked as much as I can.

[bandsofmarv]

Claimed by the devil

Rafe Cameron has always been possessive, but his obsession with you has spiraled into something far darker. When he sees you laughing with JJ Maybank at a party, the thin thread of control he clings to snaps.

TW - obsessive behaviour, jealousy.

Part 2

The party was loud and chaotic, the bass from the music vibrating through the Cameron estate. You were at the bar with JJ, your drink in hand, laughing at one of his stories. It had been so long since you felt at ease—since you felt like yourself. JJ’s carefree energy had a way of pulling you out of the shadows, if only for a moment.

But Rafe Cameron didn’t miss anything. Especially when it came to you.

From across the room, Rafe’s sharp blue eyes tracked your every move, the faintest smile on your lips sending a wave of fury through him. That smile was his. Not JJ’s. Not anyone else’s.

He stood in the corner, drink in hand, his knuckles white as he gripped the glass. He didn’t blink as he watched JJ lean closer to you, his hand brushing yours when you handed him your drink.

Rafe’s vision blurred with anger. No one touched what was his.

Before you even realized he was there, Rafe was standing beside you, his hand gripping your waist with bruising force.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his tone deceptively calm but his eyes burning with rage. “You looked a little too comfortable over here.”

You stiffened under his touch, instinctively pulling away. “Rafe, I was just—”

“You were just what?” Rafe interrupted, his gaze flicking to JJ with a deadly glare. “Entertaining him?”

JJ raised his hands, stepping back slightly. “Relax, Rafe. We were just talking.”

“Talking,” Rafe sneered, his hand tightening around your waist. “That what you’re calling it now? You’re lucky I didn’t put you through that wall for standing this close to her.”

“Rafe, stop it,” you said, your voice shaking. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You don’t get to tell me to stop,” Rafe snapped, his voice rising. “Do you even hear yourself? Defending him in front of me?”

JJ’s jaw clenched, his usual laid-back demeanor gone. “She doesn’t need to defend me, Cameron,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re out of line.”

Rafe let out a cold laugh, his eyes narrowing. “Out of line? You’re standing here, trying to take what’s mine, and I’m out of line?”

“Rafe, you’re making a scene,” you said, tugging at his arm.

“I don’t give a damn about the scene,” he snapped, his attention laser-focused on JJ. “I care about the fact that this piece of trash thinks he can even breathe the same air as you.”

“Maybe because I’m not treating her like a possession,” JJ shot back, his voice cutting. “Ever think about that, Cameron?”

Rafe’s face twisted with fury, and he lunged forward, shoving JJ hard. “You don’t talk about her like you know her, Pogue. You don’t know a damn thing about what we have.”

“Rafe, stop it!” you cried, stepping between them and pressing your hands against his chest.

But Rafe wasn’t listening. His eyes flicked to you, wild and unhinged. “Why are you protecting him?” he demanded, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and desperation. “You should be here with me, not laughing with him like he means something to you.”

You took a step back, your heart pounding. “Rafe, this is insane. You can’t keep acting like this.”

“I’m acting like this because I care,” he said, his voice softening for just a moment before the anger bled back in. “No one else will protect you the way I do. No one else will love you like I do.”

“You’re not protecting me,” you said, tears filling your eyes. “You’re suffocating me.”

Rafe froze, his face contorting in pain. “Suffocating you? I’ve done everything for you. I’ve fought for you, protected you, and this is what I get? You don’t understand what it’s like to love someone so much that it hurts.”

“I don’t want it to hurt,” you said, your voice breaking.

JJ reached out, grabbing your hand gently and pulling you back. “You don’t have to deal with this, Y/N,” he said softly. “Come with me. You’re not safe with him.”

The moment Rafe saw JJ’s hand on yours, something in him snapped. He grabbed your wrist, yanking you back to his side with a bruising grip.

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Rafe said, his voice cold and lethal. “Do you hear me? She’s mine.”

“Let her go,” JJ said, his voice steady but full of warning.

“She doesn’t want to go with you,” Rafe hissed, his grip tightening. “Do you, baby? Tell him. Tell him you’re staying with me.”

You looked at Rafe, his face a mix of fury and desperation, and then at JJ, his steady gaze full of concern and care.

“Rafe…” you started, your voice trembling but Rafe cut you off. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it. Don’t think for one second that you can walk away from me. You belong to me. You always have.”

The weight of his words crushed you, the possessiveness in his voice sending a chill down your spine. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

JJ stepped forward, pulling you firmly out of Rafe’s grip. “She doesn’t belong to you, Cameron,” he said, his voice steady. “You need to let her go.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his chest heaving as he glared at JJ. “She’s not leaving me,” he said, his voice low and venomous. “Not now. Not ever.”

But for the first time, you stepped back, your hand in JJ’s. “I can’t do this anymore, Rafe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe’s face twisted with fury and heartbreak, and he took a step toward you. “You’re making a mistake,” he said, his voice trembling. “You think he can love you like I do? No one can. No one will.”

As JJ led you away, Rafe’s voice echoed behind you, a dangerous promise in every word.

“You’ll regret this, Y/N,” he called out. “You’ll come back. You always do.”

But for the first time, you weren’t so sure.

[vivwritesfics]

Easy Is The Way

He made it very clear that you would entertain his company, but little else. He would no fall for you, but he would not be cruel to you. He would be kind to you, he would care for you, but he would not let himself fall for you

Lucius Verus x reader (general Acacius's daughter)

Chapter One

"What did he do to you?" Your father whispered once you had gotten home.

"Nothing," you said quickly, shaking your head. "Father, he was not cruel to me. He did not lay a hand on me. He allowed me to rest." Your arms were crossed over your stomach, holding your sides as you looked at the floor.

Your father wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. "I will put a stop to this," he whispered, a tear escaping his eye and rolling down his cheek. "Even if it ends me."

You swallowed, your mouth dry as you stepped back, as you walked away from him. The baths. You just wanted to wash. Wash away the Colosseum, wash away all of it.

Hanno. His home had been taken from him by your father. His life had been ruined by your father. His wife, murdered at your father's command. He had no reason to be kind to you, had every reason to wrap his hands around your neck and watch you die.

It was the revenge he so deserved. Take the life of Marcus Acacius' daughter, avenge his wife.

Something was going on with Lucilla.

As you bathed, you heard whispers. Things that the staff had overheard, that they were sharing amongst themselves. But they weren't sharing it with you. You tried to listen in as you soaked in the warm waters of the private baths in your home, but they were keenly aware of you.

The information was not for your ears, that was clear.

Your father was being secretive, quiet. Whatever was going on with Lucilla was shared between them, not for your ears. You gritted your teeth and tried to not let the frustration show on your face.

No matter what room you entered, it fell silent as soon you did. Even if you tried to creep, you were unable to keep yourself hidden. Your fathers trained ears were able to pick you up the moment your sandals hit the stone floor.

You couldn't hide that it frustrated you. Not knowing, being left in the dark.

The next day of the games. You didn't expect your gladiator to survive. But he wasn't your gladiator, was he? He was just a gladiator who happened to be kind to you.

Maybe the Emperors would make another example out of you. Maybe they would send you down to the Colosseum again if he won, send you to be his prize. You could spend time with him, get to know more about him and his home.

The colosseum was full of water. It looked beautiful, but you knew that it was deadly. Water full of sharks and, soon, the remains of gladiators.

Seated beside your father, you watched as the ships emerged. There was little you could hear over the cheer of the crowd, but Hanno's voice rang out. You couldn't make out what he was saying, but it was clear as day that he was leading his men.

Whilst everyone cheered, while the twin Emperors grinned down at the scene in front of them, the scene that had been carefully curated for their amusement and pleasure, you shut your eyes. The violence and blood and gore of men fighting men had already been too much for you.

This was another level of barbaric.

The same air of unease settled over Lucilla and your father. She held his hand, unable to breathe as the flaming arrows were shot towards the gladiators.

The sail was on fire as the two ships headed towards each other. Muttered prayers left your lips, not loud enough for anybody to hear over the noises of the crowd. This wasn't real to them. Some game to fill their afternoon.

The first gladiator fell into the water. You could only hope that the arrow piercing his armour got to him before the shark did. The beast grabbed him, tore him apart as the water around his body turned red.

Your heart beat erratically as you searched for Hanno. There he was, still commanding the gladiators. You released a breath, sitting back in your seat.

They used the ship like a battering ram, splintering the hull of the other one. Immediately, Hanno began running. He leapt onto the other ship, taking two men down with him.

Another man fell into the water. The sharp immediately grabbed him and dragged him to his death.

In a way you were grateful for the smoke that obscured your view. You couldn't see the danger, couldn't see the brutality happening before you.

You couldn't see if Hanno was stabbed. You couldn't see if he was tossed into the water and torn apart by the sharks. In a way it was a blessing.

But you didn't know what was happening. It had unease settling in your chest as you desperately tried to see what was going on. The glimpses, not long enough to see which gladiator was which, did nothing to settle you.

The ships moved closer, oars splintering against the Colosseum walls. They were in front of you now, close enough that you could hear every time their swords clashed, every grunt that left their lips. You couldn't look away.

Suddenly, you caught a glimpse of Hanno. He grabbed the crossbow and raised it as the other gladiators fought. For a moment, one moment where your anxiety had spiked so high, you thought he was pointing it at you. But his eyes were trained on you, he hadn't even looked your way.

Your father. He wanted to kill your father. If it wasn't for the gladiator that knocked into him, he would have. He loosed the arrow as the other gladiator touched him and the arrow embedded itself in Emperor Geta's seat.

You couldn't stop the way you gasped. For a brief second, while he picked himself up, he looked at you. Geta shouted. You didn't know what he shouted as you sat forward in your seat. Your father stood, pulling Lucilla up with him. It wasn't safe, that was clear.

Your father pulled you to your feet, but you shrugged off his grip, desperate to see more. Hanno would not hurt you, you knew that much.

Geta and Caracalla ran, their tails tucked between their legs. But your father was still, unable to look away from the gladiator that had threatened his life. Did he know that he was the real target? That the arrow was never meant for Emperor Geta?

"In the name of the Emperors!" The games master shouted, drawing out every word "The victor is Hanno!"

Macrinus stood, and you did the same. You raced out ahead of him, heading the way they took you the day before, when you being given as a prize, as a punishment.

They didn't stop you as you moved through the colosseum. Everybody beneath the colosseum cheered, beat their chests as Hanno as his army (because really, what else were they? They were willing to follow him to the ends of the earth) walked through.

You watched, hidden behind the men as they stopped. "Who did this?" Somebody shouted, but you couldn't see who. You didn't move around too much, desperate to keep yourself hidden until you could get to Hanno.

Nobody answered. The cheering stopped, all eyes on the gladiators that had just finished competing. The ones that had made it out of there alive, anyway.

"WHO DID THIS!"

"It was me!"

"I did it!"

"I did it!"

"I did it!"

There were shouts from every direction, making it impossible to pinpoint the true culprit. But you knew, you had seen it first had. It struct you then how close you were to losing your life at Hanno's hands.

"Geta will want retribution for all of you." He approached Hanno as each word left his lips, seemingly punctuated by his steps. "Did you learn to shoot the same place you learnt to recite poetry?"

"Be glad it wasn't me or that arrow would have found you." Hanno's deep voice echoed throughout the Colosseum. Low and deadly, reverberating through you. But the laughs of the gladiators drowned it out.

He turned away, moved through his fellow gladiators until his eyes landed on you. His eyebrows went up, but he said nothing as he grabbed you and tucked you into his side.

It wasn't a move of affection, a move to keep you safe from the other gladiators. "I was not aiming for you," he said quietly, the words meant only for you.

"I know," you replied as he sat down. "You were aiming for the general, weren't you?"

He nodded and your fingers worked to strip him of his armour. He sat still, staring up at you as you tugged the leather. His injuries weren't as bad as they were the game before. The wounds that Ravi had closed up previously had remained closed through the game.

"I don't blame you for wanting to kill the general," you whispered, rocking on your feet. You didn't realise that you were doing it until he grabbed the backs of your thighs to still you.

The both of you were still, unmoving as you stared at each other. Hanno blinked at you, searched your face. You didn't know what he was reading in your face.

You wanted to touch him, wanted to reach up and wipe the blood from his cheeks. You wanted to touch his shoulders, feel the muscles there. He could easily cage you in with nothing but his arms, and it would leave you feeling nothing but safe.

"You watch the games with him although you hate it," he said, eyes still searching your face. You didn't move didn't react. "You are there as punishment. Just as you are here as punishment."

You shook your head and let go of his armour, letting it drop to the floor. "Yesterday, the emperors sent me here to set an example for my father. To show him what they can do should he threaten to disobey. Today, I am here of my own volition."

You stepped back as Ravi approached, letting him check over your gladiator. But still, Hanno was looking at you. "Why?" He asked.

Swallowing, you looked at your sandals. Ravi glanced at you for a moment, only a moment, and turned his attention back to Hanno. Did he know who you were? He must have. You could only pray that he didn't reveal you.

"I had to know," you whispered, breath catching in your throat. "I had to make sure they hadn't killed you for what you have done."

It took you by surprise when Hanno laughed. He let his gaze drop to his lap as he continued to laugh. "I will not be slain by a Roman sword," he said and Ravi stepped away from him.

Standing once again, Hanno grabbed it. It wasn't harsh, pulling you close once again to lead you through the Colosseum. No other gladiator dared to look at you when Hanno, the champion, had a hold of you.

It was a night much like the first. This time, Hanno sat closer to you as you. Your words were hushed, whispered between the two of you. To anybody looking into his cell, it would have looked like a sweet moment, two lovers, sharing their affection between each other.

But it wasn't that. You spoke of Rome, of a dream that had died when Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla took power. The dream of Lucilla's father, of Lucilla. You didn't mention her name in front of Hanno, didn't mention the wife of the general.

Hanno echoed back your thoughts. He, a man from Numidia, had the same dream of Rome. A free Rome, a Rome for the people.

"You speak such fantasies," you whispered as you laid down on his bed, forced to lay against each other by the size of it. "You speak of it like you how great Rome can be."

He let his arms wrap around you, pull you close so that you weren't hanging from the edge of the bed. A more comfortable way to lay, that was how the both of you justified it to yourselves. He moved closer and you realised why when he started speaking. So quietly, you wouldn't have been able to hear it if his lips weren't pressed against your ear.

"I am from Numidia, yes, but I was not born there," he said to you, lips kissing your ear with every word.

Hanno gave you no more information. But you took in his words, a secret you would keep close to your chest. He brushed your hair back, laying your head down on his bicep. "Sleep now," he said to you, and you shut your eyes.

But you didn't sleep right away. "Hanno?" You whispered, shuffling closer to him. You opened your eyes as he grunted, meeting the one eye he had open to look at you. "What will you do once you are a free man?"

Hanno let his eye fall shut and furrowed his brow. "The Colosseum does not lead to freedom. I will die in there, killed by another man or worn down by exhaustion, struck down by an infected wound or a disease."

You felt yourself deflate, your hand on his bare chest. "I do not wish that for you." His lack of response, steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingertips left you to believe that he had fallen asleep.

***

You were not there, not in his house. Not in the palace, either. Wherever you were, your father just had to hope that you were safe.

General Acacius was doing this for his wife. He didn't want you mixed up in it. There was no telling what the Emperors would do to you if they found out what Acacius was doing.

He prayed to the Gods before he set off to the Colosseum, his most loyal men following him. Cloaked and under the cover of darkness, they rode to the Colosseum. Acacius was privy to the Emperor's plans for their praetorians, where they were stationed.

It should have been safe.

His men surrounded him as they marched into the Colosseum, holding their torches high. They walked through the stone corridor, heading towards the gladiators sleeping quarters. He didn't know that you were there, sleeping soundly against the gladiator that had tried to kill him.

Suddenly, his men dropped, arrows embedded into their necks. Their arrows hit their marks, leaving only the General Acacius standing.

No.

The Emperor's guards were not supposed to be here. This wasn't right. How could they have known about a plan hushed between husband and wife?

A guard used his sword to push the hot from Acacius's head, revealing his face. He kept a look of defiance on his face has he stared at the guard. But inside, he was screaming.

Somebody had betrayed them. Because of that, he was going to lose everything. His wife, his co-conspirator, would be punished in much the same way he would be. Death.

You were innocent in all of this. You didn't know what Lucilla and your father had been planning, yet the Emperor's would punish you. Punish you to hurt him one last time before he was put to death.

Your life at risk because of him. He would never forgive himself.

a/n: i'm hoping to do just one more part for this mini series, but I am loving it, i must admit - also, do i change my blog theme to lucius?

taglist:

@barcelonaloverf1life

@lefroggie

@tsunchani

@bxm-1012

@nicolebarnes

@whoopie6995

@shelbyteller

@saragrx

@ariesandwolves

@biapascal

@rrrrussosstuff

[plaidos]

I really like dropouts content overall, but there was a bit in a season of Dimension 20 (Starstruck) where an exploitative, deceptive man (Dan Scrap) dressed up as a woman (Danielle Scrap) to invade a space designed to exclude men in order to reap the benefits of that space. Like that's THE narrative transphobes use, and there Brennan doing it as a bit and the rest of the main cast laughing uproarsly about it. It made me feel nauseous. There definitely is a transmisogyny issue at dropout

this is the kind of stuff im talking about — i like Brennan, he’s funny, he’s a good comic, but a mistake like this isn’t just a “he said the wrong pronoun by accident” type thing — it betrays a foundational misunderstanding to what transphobia is and how/why it functions the way it does. now that makes sense, Brennan is a cis man without these experiences, he isn’t an activist or a sociologist, but you know maybe that is the perfect demonstration of how he isn’t the best pick for a “deconstructive pastiche of Harry Potter” tabletop campaign — maybe a real life trans woman would be a better pick? somebody who has actually had to contend with bigotry a day in their life, even, maybe!

given how often Dimension 20 players (including the MisMag party!!) make jokes about feminine men stuff like this seems really glaring to trans girls who would’ve been prospective fans. i don’t feel comfortable watching that shit! it feels like a bunch of TME people patting themselves on the back for being good allies without paying attention to how to correct the wrongs in question, like a totally superficial distinction.

i’ve heard that Dropout specifically apologised for this instance, but i really don’t think that fixes the problem. the fact that “a man calling himself a woman’s name and pretending he’s a woman to sneak into a women’s space” is a story that made it far enough into play that there was actual discourse over it is a big fucking deal, not just a small mistake, but the literal exact same type of transmisogyny that Dimension 20’s players are supposed to be deconstructing… so why do we have players who don’t even know how to not REINFORCE those biases? Surely a cis man who literally cannot functionally or materially identify transmisogyny should not be your top pick for a “harry potter without the bigotry” campaign?

it’s cool that other marginalised demographics are represented in MisMag (and Dimension 20 in general) but let’s be totally honest with ourselves: JK Rowling didn’t join the KKK, she isn’t rallying against abortion rights — she is pouring millions and millions of dollars into criminalising specifically transfeminine existence. it is unequivocally a bad look to seemingly intentionally exclude transfems from a commentary on her works, and an even worse & transmisogynistic move to double down on a second season without a transfeminine player, especially after the (totally unaddressed!) backlash from transfem fans the first time.