#while im over here completely burnt out

[bli-o]

hey autistic people who get overwhelmed by large groups or noise or conversation or etc etc etc you’re not evil for wanting to leave a family gathering. just so you know.

#additionally hard when you have no diagnosis #people just think im “antisocial” and “rude” #while im over here completely burnt out #because the whole room is talking and the tv is loud and all the lights are on and every kid in the house is shrieking about something #and whoever you came with(looking at you parents) acts like you’re evil and hate your family when you even ask when you’re leaving #autism #actually autistic #autistic #autism spectrum disorder #autistic things #asd #autistic community #undiagnosed autistic #undiagnosed neurodivergent #undiagnosed autism #neurodiversity #neurodivergent #neurodiverse stuff #neurospicy #neurodivergence #neurodivergencies

[lovelyela]

she's thunderstorms || theodore nott x fem!reader

synopsis: you and theo smoke session, loosely based off 'shes thunderstorms' by arctic monkeys

ela’s note: i felt like writing a song fic and my best friend is like in love with theo and arctic monkeys so i decided to try n write something ! :D hopefully you guys enjoy this!

warnings: use of y/n, smoking, cursing (?), fluff, bad descriptions of smoking (i dont smoke so idk wtf im talking about), mentions of cheating, bad british slang attempt (im also not british), implied slytherin!reader BUT it never actually says it so like whatever, inappropriate teenage boy jokes, time jump, lazy ending :p

word count: 1.1k

・❥・

the rain made the pavement darker than it was, the lightning flickered and the thunder hushed the party going on inside the slytherin common room.

theodore was in the hallway, sitting on the windowsill while taking a smoke break.

mattheo was busy on the dancefloor, flirting with girls and getting drunk and whatnot, so theo was alone with his thoughts for the smoke.

he inhaled the grey smoke, letting it sit for a little before exhaling slowly. his eyes were glazed over, allowing himself to relax.

the booming sound hit again, dampening the laughter and chatter theodore could barely hear.

he closed his eyes, allowing the effects of the weed to settle in. the peace and quiet settled in until footsteps approached him.

"do you have another?" a voice rang though his ears, taking him out of his trance, it was you.

"what?" he asked, taken aback and caught off guard by you.

"do you have another blunt i can have?" you clarified.

"oh, yeah- yeah, of course." he replied, "here." he said, taking a rolled sheet filled with weed.

"thank you." you replied, taking the bud and putting it between your lips. theo took the lighter he had out of his pocket, holding it a few inches from you, signaling that he was ready whenever you were.

carefully, you put your face a little closer to the flame, just enough for the end of the blunt to ignite an addicting burnt orange color.

you slumped up against the wall, sliding onto the floor.

theo watched as you took another drag, letting the smoke take its effect on you this time.

"what are you doing alone?" theo asked, which he regretted immediately, as it sounded like he was a complete and utter creep. "i mean, why have you decided to take a break from the party?"

your eyes fluttered open before answering, "i found out the guy i've been talking to had a girlfriend the entire time." you answered honestly, not showing a single sign of emotion. "i've been feeling foolish about it so i figured i'd take some air."

the boy hummed, "dickhead." he muttered loud enough for you to hear.

"definitely." your eyes shut again, still allowing the weed to settle in.

"what's your name?" theo asked, genuinely curious. he had seen you around before, you two were in a few classes together as well, but the both of you had never spoken.

"it's y/n y/l/n." you replied, holding the rolled paper between your index and middle. you already knew who he was. whenever snape would pick on him in your potions class, he would use his name, so you caught on. "and you're theodore nott, right?"

"yeah- yup, you're correct. just theo works too, though," he stumbled, being caught of guard by your knowledge on him. why was his heart speeding up so fast?

"i didn't ask, what are you doing here alone?" you questioned, "i thought you had that whole big and mighty friend group."

"i do, i just..." he trailed off, "wanted to take a smoke break." he shrugged.

"i get that," you sighed. "the rain is bad, don't you think?" you switched the conversation to the ruthless storm outside.

"i guess, yeah," theo said, his blunt long forgotten.

"i like the rain," you shrugged.

"yeah? i guess it can be nice sometimes, it's stunning." theo replied, looking back at you while you stare out the window. he managed to get a good look at you this time, you wore black baggy jeans, an off-the-shoulder ghost band t-shirt, and black motorcycle boots. you left your hair down and it was a bit ruffled from dancing in the slytherin common room.

you let out a cloud of smoke, "do you have a staring problem?" you joked. you felt his eyes piercing through your skin.

"uh- sorry." he said, heart racing even faster when he realized he had been caught, "you just don't seem like other girls."

"ew," you coughed, nearly choking on foggy air when he said that. "never say that again," you stated.

"you like being like everyone else?" he questioned, curious on your reaction.

"i think everyone is a bit different from each other." you said, "plus what you said was cringe."

"huh." he breathed, "my apologies."

"you're good," you said, standing up, "i'll see you around."

theo stood up quickly too, not knowing wether he should reach out a hand or go in for a hug or walk with you. "yeah, for sure." he choked out, cursing himself for the new awkwardness he had never encountered before you.

you shot him a smile before walking back into the party.

・❥・

theo walked into the slytherin common room, his best friends already yelling and joking around. he took a seat on a couch next to draco, facing mattheo and lorenzo.

"what's up, lads?" he greeted the laughing boys.

"nott, where were you last night?" mattheo smirked, thinking the taller finally had some game.

"took a break outside." theo explained, making a smoking motion with his hand.

"well, you missed out." enzo added, "the party was crazy."

"y/l/n always knows how to put on a party." draco chuckled, remembering the events of last night.

"it was y/n's party?" theo wondered why he had never heard your name before the party.

"yes?" enzo nodded slowly, thinking it was common sense.

"she always throws a party before summer, before the heat gets too much, you really didn't know that?" mattheo said, tilting a head at him.

"speak of the devil." draco said as you walked in.

"did you guys do the potions homework?" you questioned as you got closer, slightly waving and smiling at theo to acknowledge him.

"blimey, it's the second time this week." draco rolled his eyes as he reached for his satchel, removing a piece of parchment covered in writing, "bring it back before tuesday."

"thanks, malfoy!" you drew out the y, smiling at the other boys as you walked out of the room, again.

once the doors thumped close, the boys began hollering at theo.

"we saw that, mate!" mattheo teased, "did you run off with y/l/n?" draco and enzo snickered as they saw his face turn red.

"no, she just joined me for a smoke last night, is all." theo said, shutting down the allegations that made his heart speed up and yearn for you.

"for sure." mattheo said before chatting about the party. something about enzo finally meeting someone he got along with and found attractive, and another thing about draco losing miserably at cup pong, and one more thing about him being able to dance with gorgeous girls.

theo wasn't really paying attention, though.

you were looping around his brain the entire time the boys talked.

you were thunderstorms.

・❥・

part two maybe? lmk!!

reblogs, likes, and replies are ALWAYS appreciated <3

dni if you support pro-life, racism, homophobia, transphobia, antisemitism, sexism or anything along those lines!

#theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x fem!reader #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x fem!reader #theodore nott imagine #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x you #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x fem!reader

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the compound part two

words: 2.6k

warnings: very brief illusion to sex (still sfw), alien apocalypse au!, violence, guns/shooting, little bit of angst

part one / part two

you let out a groan as you wake up, stretching before realizing you aren't laying atop your usual bedroll laid over grass and soil, but rather a real bed.

“shh, it's okay.” rafe presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“oh my god, it was real.” you open your eyes to rafe hovering over you, a look of slight concern in his eyes.

“it's real, im here.” he says softly. you look down at your body. rafe had partially undressed you to make your sleep more comfortable, as well as bandaged the cut on your leg.

“was it bad?” you ask, tilting your knee to see your calf. the gauze is completely clean and sterile white, not something you've seen since the aliens came.

“it wasn't too deep. you won't need stitches but will have to stay off it for a bit.” rafe moves to lay down next to you, letting you snuggle into his chest. you block it out for a minute. block out the pain, the fear, the death and destruction. in this moment, it's just you and rafe.

“i also cleaned you up a bit. still sleep just as deep.” rafe smirks. you examine your body closer, arms and legs gently washed clean from the dirt and grime built up that felt inevitable.

“how did you get here?” you question. “how did you become in charge of all of… this?”

“my uncle, the one in the military. he was stationed here. i figured since he was high ranking, he would be kept in charge of the base while the other soldiers went to fight the aliens…” rafe continues to explain his story. how as soon as he arrived, his uncle made him his right hand man until the base was attacked by aliens. rafe managed to survive along with a few others who looked to him for leadership. they reinforced the base and expanded ever since.

“how much food do you have?” you ask. 

“enough.” rafe simply says, which makes you frown and pick your head up to look at him.

“is it true you don't help anyone? even those who beg?”

rafe sighs. he knew this topic would inevitably come up. you have a soft heart, sure you've built up walls after being burnt too many times trying to help others, but your nature is still gentle and sweet compared to rafes.

“i gotta put my men first. i can't just give handouts to anyone who wants them. we'd have nothing left for ourselves.” rafe hopes the explanation is enough to dissuade you. “but you're first now, baby. the men here will protect you. you don't have to fight anymore.”

you allow rafe to turn you onto your back, to kiss you while hovering over you, relaxing his body into yours as you reconnect, trying desperately to make up for lost time.

--

“when is the next hunting party going out?” you ask rafe, scratching your fingers over his head, rubbing through his hair as he looks at the various papers scattered on his desk. maps of nearby areas, lists upon lists of ingredients, even a guide to native plants.

“probably dawn tomorrow. we are hoping for deer.” rafe says, glancing at the schedule that he has planned out. more detailed for upcoming days, while far off plans are just jotted in.

“can i go with them? im pretty good with a bow.”

rafes hands stop shuffling through the papers, air in the room suddenly going stale. “y/n… it's not safe outside the fence.” 

“i lived outside the fence for months. i can hold my own. plus, your guys will have guns.” guns can be hit or miss after the aliens shut down a lot of technology, but thankfully the military ones kept in the base were in pretty good working order. still, everyone prefers their deer to be taken down with arrows.

rafe pushes away from the desk, turning to pull you down onto his lap. “no. im sorry. just… no.”

“rafe, im going to go fucking crazy just staying inside the fence. you barely even let me outside.” it's been two months of adjusting to compound life, two months of reconnecting with rafe, watching him lead with confidence and authority. two months of the itching feeling to move growing.

“i know the alien attacks have lessened. a lot of people think they've pulled out, but we still have occasional sightings. you know how quickly things happen. if you're outside, you're vulnerable.”

you sigh, seeing the look in rafes eye. so much pain and hurt. “okay.” you nod. “okay, not tomorrow. but at some point, i need to do… something, anything.”

“we'll figure it out.” rafe nods. “i promise.”

“thank you.” you nod. so many things have changed about your dynamic since the end of the world, but it still feels familiar at moments, you sitting on his lap, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his.

“i need you.” you whisper against rafes lips, hands moving down his chest.

“i should keep working.” rafe hums, even as his hands move underneath your shirt.

“but you won't.” you giggle.

--

you stand behind rafe as he hands out assignments. compound life is a lot different than anything you expected. they focus much more internally, whether it's reinforcing the base or making things more comfortable for the men and few women there.

“klaus, tim and fiona…” rafe reads off the names, the three stepping forward. you know tim a little bit, with him being one of the closest men to rafe, but you haven't interacted with most of the people, rafes orders keeping everyone busy.

“we are turning the central courtyard into a garden. fruits, vegetables, whatever you can get to grow.” rafe explains. he's taken you past the central courtyard before, completely surrounded by compound buildings. it'll be a lot of work, it's completely overgrown, no big trees but years of brush build up.

“y/n.” rafe calls you forward next. you blink at your boyfriend before stepping forward. “you'll be project lead.”

“yes- yes, sir.” you've never called rafe sir before, but it seems right considering the environment, everyone else addressing him as such. rafe didn't mention this assignment to you, but you're glad he did as he hands you a packet of papers, nodding to you to head off with the three compound crew.

you glance back at rafe as you head out of the auditorium. he's already assigning new orders, but catches your eye, nodding to you for encouragement.

you go through the papers with everyone, finding the three people rafe chose an easy mesh. you should have known, they're likely hand picked for you rather than for the actual project.

“i was a botanist before…” klaus says, pausing when your eyes widen, clearly surprised. you never would have guessed a man with such a hard exterior had a job like that before the aliens came.

“a lot has changed since.” klaus grunts out. “everyone is different.”

“i know.” you frown, breaking eye contact. “i didn't mean any offense.”

silence stretches out until fiona clears it with a clearing of her throat. “well, as a botanist or whatever, what plants or shit do we… well, plant.”

you like fiona already. it makes sense that she has been thriving at the compound, her personality being even tougher than most of the men.

klaus begins to explain, and before long the day is over, parting ways as you head back to rafes chambers.

“sorry i sprung that on you.” rafe says when you enter the room, clearly holding back to see if you're upset. “i just wanted to give you something to do.”

“it's okay, i understand.” you nod. springing it on you also deprives you of the chance to say no, which you can't blame rafe for. “it's also good that the rest of the compound sees me contributing.”

“it is.” rafe nods. “can i kiss you then?”

“yes, im not mad.” you smile at your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his lips meet yours.

“our canned food is running low. barely, but it is. this garden is really important, baby.” rafe says softly. “whatever plants grow best, we will be planting more.”

“it's a good plan.” you nod. “sustainable.”

--

“i guess it makes sense.” you shrug as you fill out your reports. it seems silly to hand in papers stating to rafe what you tell him every night, but it's important to document the progress of the garden.

“what does?” tim questions, also charting his own responsibilities, having split up the work between the four of you to make it easier.

“that the native plants are the ones growing best.”

“i didn't even realize that.” tim laughs, his southern accent thick. he's one of the few at the compound who were stationed here before the attack, originally from louisiana, but claimed he has no interest in going back, knowing there's no one out there waiting for him.

“i think your boy toy is thinking about expanding the garden.” fiona smirks, always coming up with creative names for rafe, especially after seeing the way he hovers over you, even shooting daggers into klaus when he got just a little too close while planting seeds.

“that'd be great. i know we have canned food still and the deer but having fresh food is so needed.” you look up to the courtyard, having chosen to work in an office with a view of the garden. the fresh air is also great for you. you know it's the real reason rafe gave you the job. it allowed you to be outside while still being surrounded by four walls.

“let's call it for tonight.” tim says, setting down his pen. “we have all of tomorrow to work on the reports too.”

“sounds good.” you nod, waving goodbye to everyone until you're the only one in the room. you look out onto the flourishing garden once more before heading out. you know you're not truly alone as two men shadow you, armed to the teeth with guns and knives. your protection, sanctioned by rafe. you turn the corner of the compound, hearing their footsteps speed up to keep visual of you.

instead of turning down the hallway leading towards rafes bedroom, you turn the opposite way towards the exit. you take a deep breath upon pushing open the doors, allowing yourself to breathe in the fresh air, the smell of trees and nature thick instead of the musty smell inside the compounds old walls.

“ma’am.” a harsh voice rings out from the shadows, making you jump. “rafe said to keep you inside.”

“oh please.” you roll your eyes. “the compound hasn't been attacked in months. ill be fine.”

at the capping of your words, a gunshot sounds from further down the fenceline. “get back inside, now!” the man yells at you, sprinting to see what was shot at. maybe it's just a misfire, or someone got lucky and saw a deer.

your detail finally realizes where you've gone, the doors opening behind you as shouts sound out from where the gunfire was heard. you look back at the men, sworn to protect you. they usher you back inside, but instead you turn the other way, towards the noise and action.

you just want to see what's going on as they creep behind you. you get closer, having to squint through the darkening sky to see that the fence has been torn down in one section, flattened like a stampede has rolled through. that's when you hear it. the familiar clicking and rattling associated with the aliens. you hold in your gasp, knowing noise will just attract them towards you as you press your back into the brick wall, hoping that you're camouflaged as you peek around the corner of the building, seeing the alien, a grotesque mix of bloody flesh and robotic gears and metal.

“y/n!” a familiar voice whisper-screams at you. “i need to get you back inside, now.”

you turn away from the corner as the alien bends down over a man who is clearly already long gone to see tim, a gun in hand. 

“kill that thing.” you gesture your head around the corner, wanting it gone before it can do any further harm.

“my orders are to keep you safe. ill get you inside first and then we will take it out.” tim explains in a quiet voice. you both realize far too late that it wasn't quiet enough as the clicking gets closer.

“run!” tim shouts, throwing himself around the corner, gun spraying bullets as you sprint, the two guards pull you back, pushing you across the opening towards the closest doors.

you scramble when you hear a scream from tim. “no!” you shout, grabbing one of their guns. one you barely know how to use, but you need to save your friend.

you rush back around the corner when you see the alien over top of tim, one of his arms in its disgusting mouth. you let out a war cry, hoping the bullets previously sprayed into him will be enough for your shots to be the final straw and kill it as you raise your gun, firing at least enough to distract the monster, head turning towards you. 

you back up but continue shooting, joined by your guards who quickly flank you. it must be a mature alien, with how many bullets its taking to take it down. you back up, allowing the men to shoot as you back towards the entrance, ready to take cover if needed.

“y/n!” rafe shouts, bursting through the doors. “get inside, now!” your gun clicks, out of bullets. you drop it and run to rafe, letting him pull you inside. you look through the windows on the door, through the thick bulletproof glass as the alien finally falls.

“tims hurt, he needs help.” you tell rafe, but he doesn’t seem to hear you as his face is one of anger.

“you disobey me? i told you to stay inside, and look what happens when you don’t listen!” 

“disobey?” you rip yourself out of rafes hold, taking a step back as men rush out the doors between the two of you, to help tim, get rid of the aliens nasty carcass, and most importantly to the compound, repair and reinforce the fence, the alien obviously able to exploit a weak spot.

you press your back against the wall until the stream of men stop. “in case you forgot, i’m not one of your soldiers. im your fucking girlfriend.” you stomp away from rafe, knowing he can’t follow as he has to lead the men outside.

--

“tims fine.” its the first thing rafe says to you as he enters into your bedroom. you’re changed into your pajamas, but are sat on the edge of the bed, feet dangling as your toes touch along the soft rug.

“his arm from the elbow down wasn’t saveable, but he’ll live.” rafe undoes his weapons before moving to kneel in front of you. you should speak, reply, but you can’t force your mouth to open.

“i’m sorry. sorry for treating you like that.” rafe places his hands on your knees, glad that you don’t push him away. “i love you. i love you so fucking much and i don’t want to lose you. i’ll give you what freedom i can but- but i need you to keep yourself safe too. if you wanted to leave the building that badly, you could have told me.” “i know.” your voice is hoarse. “i love you too.” “im just so fucking scared all the time. i think about you constantly. whenever i can’t see you, im just fucking anxious.” rafe places his head into your lap, relieved when your fingers rub over his scalp, his hair cropped short in the same fashion as most of the men.

“you’re not gonna lose me, rafe.” you promise him. “we found each other. here, at the end of the world, we made our way back to each other.”

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[emmyrosee]

EMMY MY DEAREST MY BABY MY BELOVED <333

could I be a bit greedy and make another teeny tiny request?? you don’t have to feel obligated to do it AT ALL if you don’t want to!!! I’ve just been having an interesting time lately and you do comfort so well ☹️

genuinely all I’ve wanted all week is to be babied a bit/taken care of/pampered/absolutely smothered with soft gentle affection by atsumu when he starts to notice I’m getting overwhelmed or burnt out :(

I think he’d be good at catching it before it gets too out of control and keeping me sane. he wouldn’t let me lift a finger and he’d be so over the top with his physical affection cuz he knows I love that 😕

I feel so bad bc I feel like I’ve been bugging you a lot lately so pls pls pls don’t feel like you have to!!! I completely understand, there’s no pressure 🫶🏻🫶🏻

anon <3

YOU HAVENT BUGGED ME IN LIKE. FOUR MONTHS HUSH YOUR CUTE FACE- EVEN IF YOU DID SEND ME ANYTHING RECENTLY, YOURE NOT A BOTHER AND I LOVE YOU 😠❤️

he catches it pretty much immediately, with how you were clinging to him a little bit more than usual last night, brows seemingly forever pinched in the middle of your head and your fingers fisting the collar of his night shirt. he didn't say anything, but he definitely makes a note to keep an eye on it.

especially when, the next morning, you turn to your side to let him get ready for practice, and you hike the blankets higher and screw your eyes shut to try and tune him out.

he sees this, and crawls his body back into bed, mind now only focusing on taking care of you before you drown.

"peepee-poopoo," he whispers, hanging his head upside down to look at you, his blonde hair hanging shaggily. "where's my fighty baby this morning, hmm?"

you shrug and avoid his eyes, and pulls his head back to take this more seriously, "c'mere. come talk to me."

"you have to go-"

"i don't have to do a thing," he assures. he's quick to take out his phone and text coach that he's not going to make it, but he doesn't tell you that because the last thing you need is worrying about him missing a day to care for you.

which is one of his favorite things to do- but you fight him on it constantly. and he hopes today you're compliant enough to let him be here for you.

"do you want to talk about it?" he asks, gently rubbing his knuckles over your shoulder, and when you shake your head, he leans over your body again to kiss your cheek. "okay," he whispers, lingering for a minute before pulling back to head to the kitchen to make you breakfast.

breakfast, that was supposed to be in bed, but you worked up the courage to wade into the kitchen not long after him. "hey-" you begin, but you're cut off by the yelp from his lips and the dropping of an egg square to the floor, which you both look at blankly.

he starts to snicker, "whups."

"sorry."

he clicks his tongue, "shut up- come get a kiss," he says, stepping over the egg and pulling you into a hug, and his shoulders relax when you loosen in his arms. he sponges kisses to the crown of your head, "don't ever be sorry for something i did. it wasnt your fault."

you immediately tense back up, and atsumu knows his hit the nail on the head with it, and you burrow your face deeper into his chest and he tightens his grip on you to keep you grounded. "go back to bed," he soothes. "im with you today-"

"i dont want to be so far from you," you say, and he smiles as you dont put up an argument, dont scold him for staying, but his heart sinks slightly at the idea that youre so in your head all you can think about is him right now. "not today. can i stay?"

"id be bummed if you didn't," he says. he smirks and scoops you in his massive arms, relishing in the giggles you let you as he carries you and sets you on the counter, where he then feeds you slices of fruit while your eggs sear on the oven. he feeds you breakfast bite for bite, placing a straw in some water for you to drink before carrying you to the bathroom, where he tells you to brush your teeth.

you get shy, "can... do you think... maybe-"

"yeah," he smiles. "open up, babe."

he brushes your teeth, sure to get all the areas the dentist warns him about, before pulling back with a happy sigh and holding out his hand.

you quirk a brow, "what?"

"spit it into my hand."

"ew!" you laugh, and god it truly is his favorite sound, and you turn your head to spit the froth in the sink. "youre nasty."

"and you picked me first. too late to question your choice."

"yet i do every day."

"little fucker," he snickers, and when he makes a move to tickle you, you dart away, laughter ringing in the air as he barrels down after you, down the hall and into the bedroom, where he tackles you onto the bed. "i made you breakfast and this is the thanks i get?" he sighs, playfully punching your tummy, successfully dodging your hands to try and still his barely touching fists.

"l-learn from osamu," you manage, and his jaw slacks at your audacity while you giggle more in anticipation.

"you're annoying," he snorts, leaning down to nibble your ear and neck while his fingers spider up your sides, you shriek and shove his shoulders weakly. he stops and kisses the rest of the giggles from your lips, and he hums when you wrap your arms around his neck. when he pulls away, you mewl and tug him closer. he shushes you easily, "not going anywhere babydoll, i promise."

and he doesn't. he doesn't go anywhere, merely rolling you both onto your sides where he cradles you close, cupping the back of your head protectively as you burrow into him.

every now and then, he feels your shoulders tense up and quiver, as if you're fighting tears, but he doesn't make you say anything. not until you're ready to.

and when you are, he's there, his thumb gently stroking the back of your head while your tears soak into his shirt. he shushes you softly when your cries turn to sobs, or your breathing picks up too much for his comfort.

he reminds you he's not going anywhere, ever, he's got your back no matter what, and if it takes one day or fifteen, he's more than happy to stay in that bed, brush your teeth, feed you food, anything to keep you from drowning in your own anxieties and thoughts.

"thank you for telling me," he whispers every now and again. "im so proud of you."

"im so tired, atsumu... i don't know what to do anymore."

he screws his eyes shut as your voice cracks, "you're doing great, angel. keep doing what you're doing, because its your best, and its more than enough. and i'm sorry the world hasn't let you think it has been.

"you're more than enough. please keep going for me, okay?"

"okay..."

"I love you."

"I love you too atsu..."

#i hope youre able to enjoy this 🥺💔 #i love you too pookie bear #and im so proud of you <3 #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya fluff #atsumu miya x reader fluff #atsumu miya x gn!reader #atsumu miya imagine #atsumu miya haikyuu #miya atsumu #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader fluff #miya atsumu x gn!reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #comfort #comfort fic #atsumu miya comfort #miya atsumu comfort

[kittenchancorruptionarc]

(( Hey guys, it’s been a few days. I’m so sorry I left so suddenly, I was experiencing burn out yet again and this case was ESPECIALLY bad. I kept guilt tripping myself over my break too because I felt horrible for leaving everyone in the dark.

The TDLR is I got too ambitious with events again and I keep poorly managing both threads AND asks and I need to fix that.

So here’s my requests to YOU (the beautiful person reading this) and how I’m going to do things from now on:

-Please try not to spam the ask box if I have (a) thread(s) going on, it distracts me badly. I thought about closing them during threads but felt that’s not fair so I will leave them open and see if you guys can respect my wishes. I trust y’all will you’ve been nothing but kind and patient to me (AND IM SO GRATEFUL AHHH) but still.

-KEEP SERIOUS RPS IN THREADS PLEASE, doing it via asks is very straining for me sorry if that’s an inconvenience :,]

-I won’t be doing colored replies anymore unless it’s for added emphasis, it was taking too long and it gave me a headache ngl. I have eyesight problems and I honestly made them slightly worse doing that.

-I don’t know if I’ll do any events for a while, up until I’m in the swing of things again. I got too ambitious and got severely burnt out and tired. :,]

-Threads are not time sensitive, assume they’re in their own time bubble unless it’s A stream RP or auction event. I make those interactive on purpose! Otherwise the rest of them are again in their own time bubble!!! This is so I don’t drive myself insane with time sensitive scenarios.

-I might make non auction and such events ask box only or limit it to one or two BIG RP threads, as I notice that’s what burns me out the most X_X

These are my “new rules” I guess okay? I think it’ll help me a LOT with the issues I’ve been having.

Also, let’s just say the events wrapped up and I’m going to have to call off any threads I STARTED before my huge burn out, sorry but I keep blanking on them and it’s for the best. We can start fresh or do a new one completely but oughhh I need to just. Start on a clean slate for my sanity im sorry guys. I hope you understand.

Also, my main focus will be on Fox and my OC account from now on, which I am going to revamp to mainly focus on his TPOF version due to a majority of my rp partners being based in TPOF timeline anyways. Strade is a fun side project and I abandoned Ren because I wasn’t happy with how I portrayed him tbh. Maybe I’ll revisit the account later, but rn I have no drive for it.

Anyways, I hope this’ll help me get back into this account because I miss being here so much but oh my GOD I stressed myself out ;; ))

-Fox Mun 🦊

#((OOC)) #((let’s get it boys))

[obliteration-onearth]

[ 12: 49 PM ]

kurona wasn't an affectionate person, per se. he was subtle with his touches but something led you to become skeptical over your boyfriend not being his usual self.

there was something off.. a gloomy glaze over his eyes that wasn't often there. aside from that, the way he'd hold onto you felt as though he'd wished your consolation?

he was clinging to you the way a koala would to a tree branch.

kurona was engrossed in your warmth, resistant in being pulled away from you as his hands would drape over your soft tummy, the other laying underneath the small of your back whilst his head would lean against your shoulder.

he'd elicit small content hums as you pet his head, fingertips gently coursing through his scalp to provide him with simple massage.

he would watch in adoration at how your fingers would twirl his braid around, poking and prodding at his burnt maroon hair.

after a while, you'd moved on to tracing each braid in a repeated motion, which he found to be rather soothing.

a flurry thoughts would storm your mind, concern washing over you as you'd contemplate waiting it out or asking directly, soon settling for the latter.

"you okay, love?" you'd whisper softly amidst the comfortable silence that seemed to encase the two of you mere minutes prior.

kurona would slowly shake his head against your shoulder in reponse yet remain quiet about the reason, causing you to sigh as you'd bring up the blanket over your figures.

"you can tell me.. it's fine, it's what i'm here for."

with your simple reassurance, kurona would stare up at you in complete awe as you'd notice the draining twinkle in his eyes, one that was just recently shining brightly and served as a reminder of his dedication and love for football.

"i haven't been doing so well on the team lately, coach keeps entrusting isagi with everything." he'd confess, parting away from you slightly to better view the sympathetic expression you'd hold over your features.

"aw love, that's okay. you don't need to compare yourself to isagi. you're special in your own way and if the coach can't see that then force him to."

the comfort that your words seemed to evoke from him was astronomical as he'd nestle his head into your shoulder further and embrace you tightly. with a small giggle, your arms would embrace him as well.

"he can only look at isagi for so long, right?" your teasing remark stretched a smile over his face and would showcase his adorable shark teeth.

your smile would widen upon seeing his shark teeth, your memories only able to recall previous poses he'd made in photos which would exhibit his shark teeth.

it was one of your favorite things about him.

he'd nod in regards to your statement before planting a kiss to your cheek in gratitude, his spirit uplifted even in the slightest bit. what a lucky guy he was.

"you're gonna be great, i promise."

---

( a/n: sorrows, prayers for my readers bc WTF and i promise im workinv on sum better )

#bllk #blue lock #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x reader #kurona fluff #blue lock kurona #kurona ranze #blue lock fluff #blue lock x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock oneshots #blue lock drabbles #blue lock scenarios #blue lock hcs #bllk oneshot #bllk hcs #bllk drabbles #bllk fluff #bllk imagines #bllk x y/n #bllk x reader #bllk kurona #bllk scenarios #bllk headcanons #kurona x reader

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

this tiktok immediately reminded me of your chef!ghost and i absolutely need your opinion on him sending reader videos of what he makes when she has the day off. theyre always a little suggestive, has his sleeves rolled up, flexing more than needed, always ending it with a wink and maybe a bite of meal that reminds you of him biting your thighs. . im feral for chef!ghost im sorry 💀

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7TLR98/

💀💀 bestie, I am also feral for Chef! Ghost 💀💀 Here are some thots, as requested!

The first time Ghost sent you a video of himself was...to try to show the right way to make a roux.  Because one time, one singular time, yours was burnt.  One time. (He's never let it go and he never will). (It was because you were thinking about his dick).

But then he catches you watching one of these videos he'd sent you.  You're flushed, biting your lower lip and absolutely mesmerized, hand fisted around a poor, harmless, completely obliterated bunch of tarragon.  

After that, the vibe of the videos change.

He's still doing the same thing, being horribly patronizing because it winds you up and he lives to irritate you, but now the videos feature him more heavily.  He’s a bit awkward about it at first, but he’s got the basics down. 

Sleeves rolled up to his forearm, so his veiny arms and that fucking tattoo just compete for your attention.  The effortless tossing of those heavy-bottom pans that take you two arms to lift.  The muscles in his arms flexing and jumping as he chops, his voice almost sickly sweet when he reminds you how not to bruise herbs, hold them tenderly, gently when you chiffonade them. (You don’t actually need a reminder, but your boyfriend's a cunt, what are you gonna do?)

And ohhh, he definitely starts to end these videos by bending down over the station and staring straight at the camera, straight at you, while he taste-tests.  It’s intense and you want to squirm and crawl out of your skin and sit on his dick so much when he does it. 

Even after months of dating, months of teasing you like this, every video he sends you is a treat. One time he sends you a video of him plating up a cheesecake he’d made.  He’d tasted a bit, and looked straight into the camera with smoky, bedroom eyes and shrugged.  I’ve tasted sweeter.

You're convinced you've finally lost the plot when that video makes you reach for your vibrator.   

#anon ask #ask #request #alford plea #lumi writes

[a-non-ymouswriter]

Alright, let's talk Rewind (or my MCYT fics)

i think it's time to finally talk about rewind/remix.

or generally, just my mcyt fics in general.

it's been a while since i updated any of them and trust me, i am very much FILLED WITH GUILT over not updating or continuing them- problem is; i just don't have any motivation in them at the moment. my interest and motivation for them have waned, wilted and withered. the three unfortunate ws that arent wins.

i dont want to say i abandoned them, i hate the thought of abandoning ANY STORY and i like the thought of getting back to them at some point. maybe my motivation will come back, it has in the past and that's a great hope to have.

however i am aware that these stories have been gathering dust and it's possible that motivation will never come back and i hate that.

i know partially why i'm no longer interested? partially- it mainly started with techno's death. it just didn't feel the same anymore now that cc!techno was gone, but if things went differently then maybe i could've continued just as normal. but i'm pretty sure my motivation took a great hit when techno died.

another great hit to my motivation is the whole... thing with cc!dream??? WHICH I WILL NEVER EVEN POKE ABOUT, YOU CANNOT MAKE ME, I WILL IGNORE EVERY ATTEMPT. it felt weird writing about c!dream even though i should REALLY be able to separate the two, cc!s are different from fictional c!s and all that but for some reason i just don't feel too comfy writing him right now.

and since my main series of rewind and remix is MAINLY RELATED TO DREAM- you can see my problem here.

the dream smp is done, over, there is no season 2 and my interest in this fandom is only tethered by the occasional fanfic that i stumble upon and the numerous fanarts that come and go. that interest isn't enough to motivate my writing.

a funny thought though, is that i think i spent a LOT of motivation and kind of burnt myself out in the future back when i was DAILY UPDATING REWIND- like i don't know if you readers remember but i was updating DAILY on rewind. every day, FOR ALMOST A MONTH- something that might never happen again really and i'm still kind of proud of that.

but i'm pretty sure it was very unhealthy of me to do daily updates the way i did- it took A POWER OUTAGE to make me stop doing daily updates and i remember STRESSING OVER NOT UPDATING while the power was out. so yeah, i'm pretty sure i set myself up for failure there XD

but i'm so glad that i was able to at least finish rewind. my very first story that i completed. unfortunately i'm not too confident about finishing the rest of the series (and some other fics).

a friend of mine actually suggested something that i've been thinking about from time to time; i give you guys the outline of what COULD have happened. what i was planning on writing and then completing my works.

it sounds like a good idea but i didn't want to let you guys down in just, giving up like that. but nowadays, it sounds like a better and better alternative than to just wait for my motivation and interest to come back. it's almost been a year already for wishes and family, and remix, i managed to update stream labs a few months ago so that's hopeful but the others...

okay, i'm going to give YOU GUYS the choice here. i'll tell the ao3 readers about it as an important update author's note, but im going to make a poll about this choice soon and i'll even pin it on my tumblr.

it'll last- maybe two weeks? but yeah, it's the least i can do to see what you guys want.

EDIT: polls apparently only last a week, so it'll be up a week.

#non post #dsmp rewind #stream labs live #wishes and family #this is a long time coming tbh #should have done this sooner but i just kept procrastinating

[thecontumacious]

Your writing is so good!! (*/ω＼*)

Can you maybe do a luxiem bois with a reader that's getting burnt out from work and the bois trying to help them? (*˙˘˙)♡

"Come, rest with me a while."

a/n: i told you guys i'd go a bit crazy with fics hehe ALSO ANON IM RLY SORRY I'M SO SO LATE IN DELIVERING THIS TO YOU

reminder that all my work and others in the fandom are purely fiction and intended to entertain, not to be projected irl. 

quick disclaimer: i based all these burnouts on my own personal experiences as burnouts are different for everyone!

Vox Akuma 👹🌹

man is hands on dropping everything upon noticing the tiniest of signs (´･ᴗ･ ` )

without much being said, vox is obviously no stranger to this and after centuries, he's pretty much already mastered the art of preventing the dreaded burn out

so when he sees you staring head on at your work, your fingers set on the side doing nothing, your gaze just a bit emptier than usual, he knows

"what's wrong, love? exhausted from work?" he coos, wrapping his arms around you from behind. vox immediately feels the strain on your shoulders, further indicating you were definitely close to your limit

if anything you already were

vox is one to just sit down and calm you down with words, coaxing you to take a mental break for yourself

it almost didn't matter if you were hungry or not

he's straight to the kitchen to cook something up for you

it could be a comfort food of yours, something of his or something completely new he's been wanting to try in a while

either way, you're eating all of his delicious foods

"but vox, i already ate though..."

"you don't want this food to go to waste now, do you?"

if you're the type to sit quiet during burnouts and rather not talk about the daunting mental block, vox is absolutely fine with it and would probably just stuff your mouth with his food

oh and his lips ;D

ah yes the sussy jokes and pickup lines

god pls have mercy(″ロ゛)

"my, my, if your lips are going to stay frowning like that, mind if i give it a smile with my own?"

"or would it better if i put them to better use?"

KAJHSJKSHASHSGJH?????

SUSSY SUSSY SUSSY

anyway 💀

if the day had been extremely cruel to you, your work piling over, the expectations ever so towering but your mind at a fucking dead end all until your sanity results to tears

"oh dear, shhh, shhh, sweet thing. come here," vox whispers, sitting next to you and bringing you immediately against his chest. "it's alright to let it out, my dear. cry as much as you want. but i'll stay here with you."

if this were me i'd be crying even harder yall 😭

slight mother instincts kicking in, he'll literally just baby you as you weep away your woes. it won't be super obvious but know that deep down, he cares so much about you

he'll just rock you back and forth wherever you are, stroking your hair gently while whispering things your heart needed right now

"all will pass, love. i promise it'll be alright."

"n-no it won't, vox..."

"really? what makes you think that?"

"j-just everything! look at me, i'm failing everything..."

"i'll be honest with you," he smiles, wiping a fallen tear. "i don't see that happening. to me, all i see is your body asking you to rest. it's telling you to take some time off."

"b-but--"

"trust me, dear," he leans down, bringing you closer against him as he placed a chaste kiss at the top of your head. "i believe you to be strong. but there will be times you need to take a break to make yourself even stronger next time. do you understand?"

once you've settled down, he's stuffing your face with more food (´ ω `♡)

no matter how long you're healing yourself, vox will always be there every step of the way. he's holding your hand, he's hugging you, he's kissing your tears away

and by the time you're back on your feet again, the light in your eyes a bright glow and your fire of passion burning through, vox will just proudly smile as you recount today's achievements

"vox, vox, look! i finally got it done! and the results for that other thing i'm doing came back positive!"

when he promised he will do anything to protect that beautiful smile of yours, he meant it with every fiber of his body.

he laughs, pulling you in to place a kiss on your lips, "well done, sweet thing. i knew you could do it."

other boys utc!

Mysta Rias 🦊🔶

i think it'd take a while for mysta to rly notice what was going on (despite being a detective yes)

initially, he thought you were just in a bad spot today. bad day? bad mood? one of those short term emotional breaks is all

but when he catches sight of you continuing to sigh in front of your work, groaning even more often and the many times your face lost its color from constant hopelessness

yes he notices

but he's actually hesitant to rly take action upon it

mysta is very used to seeing you be so positive and happy about things, telling him about your day, even if it was a terrible one

in short, he was used to seeing you smile

but even as one tiny joke didn't manage to bring that back on your face, mysta was extremely worried

was his joke funny? did it offend you more than it should've healed you?

he was nervous to talk you about it, afraid he'd take the wrong step

sooo i will have to ask you to be one opening up to him. at least tell him what's going on and what's been bother your mind to affect your moods like this(>_<)

mysta will appreciate you so much for doing that and once he understands what it is you're going through exactly, he'll definitely offer you all sorts of help

"burnout huh? they suck a lot," he sighs, taking your hand in his and rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. he smiles, kissing it, "it's okay, babe. that means you just gotta take a break, right?"

"as simple as that sounds, mysta, i don't know if i can right now... work is piling all over me."

"huh, what assholes to be overworking you right?"

you snort a bit, shaking your head.

phase one: get them to smile at least a bit. complete.( ◡‿◡ *)

"okay, okay, listen," mysta scoots closer, squeezing your fingers on the way. "i just saw this new (anime/show) come out and a few episodes have been posted. so many people have been saying it's good. up to binge?"

that is his go to way of cheering you up

mysta will immediately try to make you forget what it is that is troubling you, preferably through some entertainment like games or movies.

if it goes back to bother you again, he's quick to make a joke about it in hopes you won't feel as intimidated by it

oh and he's more than glad to take you to the grocery store to pick up a whole new stash of snacks <3

tbh mysta is a big snackie so it's also an excuse to be munching on some lmao

"wait why are we getting ice cream again, mysta? don't we already have some at home?"

"uhhhitgrewlegsandranaway"

"to your stomach?"

"nooooooooo?"

phase two: get snacks and movie plans. complete.(ง ื▿ ื)ว

he will not care how many snacks and or movies it will take to bring you back again mentally. he's there to handle the remote on what you're watching for the rest of the night and he's the one getting up on his feet to grab more snacks

but as soon as mysta sees the tears fall out and you're breathing a lot heavier then before, he can't help but want to cry too

honestly he becomes a mess with you at this point

"hey, hey.. d-don't cry, i-i'm gonna cry too now.." he tries coaxing you, his eyes pricking. he held your shaky hands in hopes to find stability within himself

but yeah it doesn't rly work

"goddammit," he mumbles to himself, sniffling

serious time: he feels rly useless when he can only sit there and watch you cry, especially when he finds himself crying too

"babe, babe, look, it's gonna be okay, right?" he tries but it makes you cry even worse

you don't mean to make him feel even worse, honest!

so what's the solution now?

well... cry together until one of you calms down┐(~ー~;)┌

most times, you're the one calming down first so when you cease your weeping and see that mysta was upset as well, you're the one comforting him.

you know what they say: to cheer yourself up, cheer someone else up.

mysta will just look into your swollen red eyes with the biggest pout in the world, "i-i'm fine, i promise, babe."

you giggle, leaning in to kiss his cheeks. "why are we such a mess, mysta?"

"we're destined to be together is all."(//ω//)

and then it's back to movies and snacks until dawn

once you're back on your feet, laughing, smiling and scolding mysta for something he's done, he knows you're okay again

when you show him an achievement you've gotten, sparkles in your eyes, he'll just grin at you while patting your head, "good job, baby. you're so, so strong. i love you."

Luca Kaneshiro 🦮🔆

not immediately but the moment he starts talking to you and your responses are not like usual, he knows something is up

although not necessarily assuming it was burnout

you're always putting on a smile for him or at the very least giving him more extensive responses to his questions and comments

instead of those, he's only getting 'hm's

his metaphorical puppy ears and tails droop down

"honey? is everything okay?" luca asks you gently while frowning

if you're the type to push people away during these rather dark times, i'm gonna have to apologize on luca's behalf bcs he's the type to push you until he knows you're okay

of course it's not so forceful it's toxic

but just know that luca is genuinely worried about you and if he doesn't know what's up, he's afraid he'll step on a landmine

"honey please? just tell me how you're feeling. was it a bad day?"

to be honest though, with luca's natural adorable charm, it's sorta hard to look away without giving in to him (biased asf lmao)

however if you still aren't in the right place to be speaking, luca will just sigh and give you a kiss to the temple, smiling gently, "alright then. just find me if you're ready to talk okay? i'll always be here to listen."

BABYYYYY

˚‧º·(′̥̥̥ o ‵̥̥̥)‧º·˚

ahem

he'll be so happy once he sees you approach him, tugging on his sleeve although still a bit sad(╯_╰)

"yes, honey?" luca smiles, putting away his work

i mean bro come on doesn't his smile alone just give you relief?

your heart feels a bit lighter and then you start to spill everything, informing him that it was probably burnout from all the work you've been doing

"oh, honey, come here, come here," luca is the one coming to you tho

you happily receive him in your arms, wrapping yourself in the comforting scent of luca kaneshiro

he starts stroking your hair, rocking you back and forth while humming a soft tune

"how about we hang out for the rest of the day? i'll clear up my schedule, no problem!"

and as much as you insisted that you just wanted a sliver of his time, he's not listening to you anyway and requesting his secretary to clear up any meetings today

he also even went as far as tweeting that he'll be cancelling the stream if he hasn't already

dw, us lucubs are nice! >:3

luca is the type to try and make you forget about your burnout like mysta although a little bit more active

games, movies, a night out, cooking together if you haven't eaten

i think the one thing luca won't ever forget to mention to cheer you up (especially in these dire times) is skin care!! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭

he's not afraid to be seen with cute bunny hair band to put his long hair away and have cucumbers on his eyes 🥒

i mean why would he? he always feel so nice afterwards

can't a mafia boss clean himself up too(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

always ready with a stash of skincare, from face masks, hair masks, lip scrubs, undereye masks, waxing, nail care--i could go on tbh and luca would prob still have more

or if you'd like, luca is more than glad to be bring you to a spa to get yourself done but honestly, he likes doing it at home with you because he think it's more intimate ;)

"careful babe you're gonna get it all over my eyes!!"

"i heard smoothies from these ingredients make your skin feel good from the inside."

"i feel like painting my nails today... i still can't get the hang of painting my right hand tho... "

"ooohhh this one smells so nice, honey! come on come on let's do this one."

at the end of the night, luca will have you snuggled up against him watching a gentle movie

he'll also just brush away at your face, deciding to bring up your case of burnout now that your heart is in a much better place

"hey, about your burnout. i know it sucks being in this phase of your life right now but listen to me," then he'll cup your cheeks and squish them. "i know you well enough that something like this is just another obstacle. and even if you have trouble going through it, i'll kick its ass down with you. you hear me?"

you don't even remember about your burnout, knowing your (yellow) knight in shining armor is good on kicking some ass down with you

you clasp your hands onto luca's, leaning up to kiss his nose

he frowns, "but honey you missed..."

laughing, you try again. this time, properly.

luca giggles, "i love you."

and once you're back on your feet again, luca has never been more proud of you. he'll hug you tightly, spin you around in the air and probably invite you for a night out at your favorite restaurant

"I'M SOO PROUD OF YOU, BABYYYY! POGGGGGG!"（〜^∇^ )〜

Ike Eveland 🖋💙

notices immediately and already knows what to do

although not as experienced as vox, ike tends to keep himself busy a lot so he has no shortage of burnouts

he's tried different ways of healing himself, from the internet from asking people

it can be super hard going through these things alone, so when he sees you in this state, with symptoms he himself is so familiar with, his heart aches and he reaches out to you so that you don't have to go through the same thing he did often

safe to say that he'll be very serious about this⊂(▀¯▀⊂ )

sure, jokes can help from time to time but i think ike is the type to rly take things head on

ike knows you super well so he knows if you'd like some space right now, or if you need some company

if you feel more reserved and "to avoid" him, he knows to back off for the time being. but he doesn't just go back to his work until you've cooled off

ike wants you to know (although indirectly) that he's there for you still

so what he does is step out of the room and place a drink of your choice near you

"remember to hydrate yourself, okay?" he gently tells you

and when you thank him, giving him a small smile, ike touches your hand like he's asking for permission

if you don't react much, ike will just lean down and place kisses all over your face

to rly rly rly rly remind him that you're not alone, despite all your problems and flaws(˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )

when the day is very bad, your heart just wanting to break and your mind shattering to pieces from the emotional distress, ike would prefer to be with you rather than give you space

seems disrespectful of what you rly wanted at the time, but pls bear in mind that ike wants to make sure you're okay

it's not that he doesn't trust you either

he just... doesn't like it when you're hurting, alone especially

"please let me stay with you," ike will tell you when you push him away

don't tell me you have the heart to rly refuse this soft king :<

he'll just hold you without saying much, stroking your hair, wiping your tears, kissing them away at the right times

if you want to ramble and rant about everything, telling him how work rly sucks, how you've been failing everything and just being in a terrible mental state, ike doesn't mind either

he's definitely the listener type, absorbing in all of your words like a sponge

so it seems as though he always had the perfect words to say at times like these

i mean.

he's a novelist, he writes songs--

his philosophy is bound to be different from others. or at the very least, word the most common phrases in a way it seemed so original????

ಠ_ಠ

you can't tell me otherwise that he'll be singing to you to make you feel better :D

he's slightly shy about it (this cute bby istg) but once he comes to terms that he was doing this for you and to hopefully make you smile again, he'll start humming a song

something he liked, something you liked, something he was working on

it never fails to put your heart and mind at ease

ike eveland will sit, sing, hold you etc etc for hours on end if it meant seeing you stand back up again

seeing as he's super used to burnouts, i think he actual has some concrete ways of slowly getting you back up there

he totally understands if you're not ready yet, but the way he persuades you--

yeah, sometimes you wonder if it's a blessing or not to be dating ike eveland

i'm just kidding it's always a blessing†_(ﾟｰﾟ*)β

he'll even set aside his own work to help you do yours, even as simple as organizing your papers, cleaning up your soft files and all the mundane things your work has you do

you'd be lying if you said that wasn't such a big big help

and before you knew it, you're back to being productive in a lesser time than usual

when you show ike that you've cleared up your work list and or the results of your hard work, he feels more fulfilling knowing that you were saved from the spiraling misery of burnout

he pats your head, brings you onto his lap and presses a very passionate kiss to your lips

then you pull away to see his slightly teary eyes, "i'm so, so proud of you älskling."

Shu Yamino 🔮✨

would notice you acting differently, say like staring off into your laptop but doing nothing or sighing just a bit more than usual

shu would def start speculating something is going on and he tests his own theory out by talking to you

"hey there baby," he coos, his eyes sparkling

"mhm," and although you were smiling, shu could tell it was half hearted

yep, something's going on

unlike luca though, he'll be a lot gentler when coaxing you to tell him

he would like to use his spells to spill out of you but he knows super well that's not rly nice so he'll just keep on asking you without using any underhanded tricks

after the third time asking, he'll just sigh and cuddle you silently, holding your hand

"it's alright if you don't wanna tell me. just let me stay with you okay?"

his soothing voice and the way he pleaded a little bit was hard to refuse :<

but just know that shu doesn't want to leave you alone like this, even if he doesn't know for sure what it is you're going through

shu kinda already had a hunch that it might've been burnout but he wants to you tell him himself

after a while, you finally tell him what's going on and he's more than glad to open his arms for you if comfort is what you need

shu is also super calm and smiling throughout the entire thing

it's a trick he learned somewhere

when you're handling something (especially if it's stressful), if one person is smiling, other people just tend to calm down a lot more

you'd be lying if you said it hasn't worked out with him :3

anyway

i think is all about reassuring you mentally

he wants to rebuild you back again before he can move onto other things

so he wouldn't immediately try to distract you from the stress

to him, it's important you recognize what you're feeling and learn how to face it head on instead of running away from it first (ofc this doesn't apply to everyone, you do you readers^^)

"take a deep breath for me."

"clear your head first and focus on my voice, okay? close your eyes if you need to."

he has the habit of pressing between your eyebrows if it furrows so it's just a super cute way to remind you that you should relax

٩꒰ ˘ ³˘꒱۶~♡

after you're calm, shu will simply smile at you and start telling you about your past achievements, about all the good things about you, about how strong you are and basically the wonderful being you were born as ٩(◕‿◕)۶

but if you're feel more broken apart this time and you can't help but tear up, shu will admittedly freeze up first

this was the one thing shu was so afraid of happening, exactly why he wanted to reassure you mentally first

he'll be at a loss of words on what to do next, he himself not knowing what to do

seeing you cry breaks his heart okay

but shu yamino is a keeper of his words so if he said that he's gonna protect your smile, he will do exactly that even if it daunted him

he'll cup your cheeks so that you're focused on him and you can see he's trying to maintain a strong smile for you despite the tears

shu will just kiss away your tears, each one getting longer every time

BRO THIS AGAIN WOULD MAKE ME CRY EVEN MORE ;-;;;;

after you've calmed down, shu will finally kiss you on the lips and say, "there you are. hi."

he'll then bring you into his embrace, so tightly against him as if he was afraid that you'd actually disappear from him, that something would take you away from him

something not even his jujutsu magic could do

"it's all gonna be okay. i'm right here to go through it with you," he whispers, rubbing your back.

"b-but--"

"when have i ever gone back on my word, babe?"

that he was correct about

you just sigh and melt into him, snuggling into his chest

and for the rest of the day, it really is healing time for both you and him

you're not allowed to be touching anymore work by shu (not directly but by unwilling to let you go hsakjshk) so you have the time to rly just relax and save yourself from further destruction

and as for shu?

it becomes a reminder for him that he should take care of you more often

not in a way that you can't handle yourself

but the fact that he couldn't prevent you from getting these burnouts in the first place, maybe he should've stopped you from working too much

then you suddenly touch his face

shu looks up at you

you're smiling now

"there you are. hi, shu."

he can't help but tear up and cry at the same time, leaning into your hands

it's definitely the little things with you and shu

and once you've picked yourself up again with the sorcerer's help, you're back to laughing and making corny jokes with him, you're in a way reminding shu that he's saved you all over again

"shu, shu, look! i got rly good feedbacks on these!"

ah, that glimmer in your eyes...

he leans in and places a kiss on your temple, "good job, cutie."

Masterlist!

#nijisanji en #luxiem #luxiem x reader #vox akuma #mysta rias #luca kaneshiro #ike eveland #shu yamino #akurylic #mystart #drawluca #ikenography #yaminoart #author chan’s delivery service ?

[ajaxpilled]

hai i love your chili posts! do you have any more headcanons, or for any other g/enshin characters? i feel like this fandom is so starved of this kink T_T

anon i am SO sorry that i've left this for months if not longer i've simply not been doing long posts as im burnt out as hell from work 😭 every time i think of my gen hcs i think of you and repent </33

anway here are some of my favs if you're still alive ! they're less so multiple headcanons and kinda extended singular ones idk. i included my hcs for cyno/tighnari, kaeya, xiao, thoma, kaveh/alhaitham, and childe/zhongli here ^_^

Cyno

▪︎cyno often forgets or ignores his need to eat. he finds himself too distracted with work, and prefers to give to his people rather than give to himself. this leads to his body unlearning hunger cues completely.

▪︎tighnari is quite unhappy to learn this - he believes basic self-care is the base of all things. you can't nurture others until you've nurtured yourself, after all. this leads to a routine of him waking cyno up with breakfast before leaving for work, as well as making sure he gets a good lunch in him. whether this means bringing him out to a café or packing something he has made for him, he always stays to make sure cyno eats it all (much to the general mahamatra's annoyance, who wants to take a quick bite and return to work). this sometimes ends in a stomach ache and a quick tummy rub from tighnari before he must return to his own job. on these days, cyno almost considers the interruption to his work worth it.

▪︎what isn't worth it is how his exposed stomach gently swells out after each of tighanri's particularly larger lunches. how he can't stop the yawns escaping his mouth, sated and sleepy with the big meal settling in his stomach. he crosses his arms over the sloping curve and tries to maintain his stoic image at work - coming across as stern and formidable to your subordinates is hard when you're sleepily excusing small burps and hiccups, with a rounded tummy after your dumb boyfriend visits for lunch. however, it is visible evidence of tighnari's love. as long as he's away from the eyes of others he secretly delights in it, as well as the gentle kisses tighnari presses against the small arc of his belly when he arrives home.

▪︎by the time cyno gets home, tighnari is back and has usually made one of his favourites for dinner, of which he serves cyno a second helping. cyno happily eats it up - he no longer has work to prioritise after all, and now he can eat his fill and enjoy it this time around. he finds he's beginning to like eating with tighnari - there is something satisfying about the tight, heavy feeling in his overly full tummy. about how tighnari shows his love for him through food. after dinner he always climbs into the forest ranger's lap and stretches out like a cat, exposing the curve of his stomach in an unspoken request for gentle rubs.

▪︎cyno absolutely revels in belly rubs!! whether he's poring over documents, cuddling with tighnari, or preparing tea, tighnari always knows to come up and hold him from behind. he presses a palm over his tummy to feel him melt into the gentle touch. he has discovered all he needs to do to get a "yes" from cyno on anything is to ask him while he's in a sleepy stupour from getting his stomach massaged. between long, tiresome days at work, and the pleasant sensation of tighnari's warm hands kneading and rubbing over his large dinner, cyno often finds himself dozing off within minutes of belly rubs.

Kaeya

▪︎i mean with all his drinking how does he expect to stay a skinny king ygm

▪︎his stomach is often sloshy and a lil bloated from the amount of drink he consumes, and becomes noisy in protest of only being fed alcoholic beverages on top of being otherwise empty. he frequently needs to press his fist to his mouth to hiccup or to stifle lil burps during work because of this, and tries to gently rub away the irritating gurgling. this only bothers his neglected stomach even more and it causes even more of an uproar. quite embarrassing during meetings, but he always plays it off.

▪︎on the other hand i like to imagine him healing from all that he's gone through, leading to alcohol being replaced with food

▪︎maybe he has help from kazuha or albedo on this journey. they rub his belly after each meal he finishes, beginning first as an aid in digestion but ending up as a vice of encouragement once they realise it's a feeling kaeya takes immense pleasure in. knowing it will pay off entices him to eat larger amounts, and more frequently too. finishing his meals has become the norm now but kaeya is an indulgent man and relishes in being spoiled and pampered - and they enjoy seeing him happy and well-fed, so tummy rubs soon also become the norm.

▪︎even in public, they find themselves wrapping an an arm around his waist and comfortingly pressing a palm to his middle to rub little circles. when they kiss him, a hand will always slide from his chest or waist to gently cup the crest of his belly. when they fall asleep, they do so with a hand resting on his warm, softened middle, come to a stop from bedtime belly rubs. kaeya loves to have attention paid to his plush tummy, and subconsciously it becomes ingrained in their mind - it brings them just as much comfort as it brings him, in the end.

▪︎it's only natural that kaeya fills out into a softer form now that he's nourished and cared for. his stomach plumps into a gentle curve, and his hips become more pliant. his face becomes less gaunt and hollow. his smiles turn more genuine, his cheeks fuller with each one.

▪︎his already thicc thighs become my religion

▪︎he knows he's still hot despite his weight gain - hot because of it, even. if ever anybody tries to make a not so subtle comment on it, he only smiles and agrees with them in a boastful manner.

Xiao/Alatus

▪︎i do just lovvve the idea of xiao eating a mortal dish other than almond tofu and it not quite sitting well in his stomach. maybe it's because he was distracted, or wanted to show his appreciation for the dish he was gifted, or didn't want to cause a fuss in a public café or restaurant.

▪︎his stomach endures random spikes of pain and waves of nausea as the unwelcome food causes it to churn and gurgle. burps travel up his throat with the pressure, unannounced, and he quickly swallows them back. he tries not to grimace with all the cramping that tightens and pinches his stomach.

▪︎he keeps his nausea silent and crosses his arms over his bloated middle - he cannot bear the thought of alatus, adeptus of liyue, last of the yaksha, slayer of demons, to be added onto with sufferer of a sore tummy. how humiliating.

▪︎his small blushes, stifled hiccups, and gurgling stomach do not escape the notice of either venti/kazuha however. they simply give him a reassuring smile and put an arm around him, pulling him close to their side and subtly rubbing soothing circles into his tummy under the table, after gently sinking their fingers in to gauge how upset his stomach is.

▪︎with how much he drinks, venti is no stranger to stomach pains and nausea. he didn't get this tolerance without hard work. when they arrive back at wangshu inn, he pulls the yaksha up against his chest between his legs to rub and knead the pain away, absently singing words of quiet songs between, to xiao's mortification, light teasing. he prays to the archons (except venti) to return his dignity to him.

▪︎kazuha, on the other hand, speaks words of reassurance and love, brushing his hair back and making him tea. pressing deep circles into the taut and tender parts of his belly to aid his struggling digestion, his hands coax up strings of tiny burps and hiccups. xiao finds himself alleviated of some of the nausea, and holds his hands over kazuha's with a whimper to add more pressure to his churning middle.

▪︎it's okay, kazuha hushes. you'll be okay. soon you can sit back and just bask in how nice it is to be full.

▪︎xiao is thoroughly humiliated - humiliated by his achey tummy and the noises it produces, humiliated that he needs help, and even more so humiliated at how much pleasure he takes in the feeling of warm hands rubbing and pressing his painful stomach.

Thoma

▪︎as i've said i KNOW this man has a soft lil chubby tummy

▪︎he taste tests his cooking for ayato multiple times with each meal - the kanjou commissioner is picky and specific, and each dish needs to be perfected to a T (also thoma is very much in love and won't have his meals be anything less than perfect)

▪︎this leads to a lot of tasting - however this isn't enough for a big guy like thoma, both tall and broad, and so he eats his meals with his colleagues in the servants' quarters on top of it. he cooks for them too. he's a good damn cook - he knows it, and he eats like it too.

▪︎however ayato randomly, but quite frequently, requests thoma to join him while he eats. this leads to thoma having a second helpings, or even thirds if he asks for him for more than one meal.

▪︎on one of the rarer days where work is light and not so distracting and ayato can relax and pay more attention to those around him, he asks for thoma to join him for lunch - and takes notice of the gentle curve causing an indent against his t-shirt. from then on he always claims he is too full to finish his dish and pushes his bowl to thoma. even if thoma could say no to ayato, he's unable to say no to his own cooking, and shovels it down under ayato's watchful gaze no matter how uncomfortably stuffed his poor tummy already is.

▪︎it's on these days that thoma regretfully wishes he either had more self control or a larger capacity, as he tenderly holds his stomach and tries to complete his tasks one handed. he occasionally gives his stomach a gentle rub to ease the tight pain.

▪︎while his friends often poke fun at him and teasingly pat his stomach if he's looking particularly full, he knows they only mean well. when feeling down, they always seek him out for the best hot chocolate and cuddle. with his cheery mondstat disposition, plump thighs to sit on and thick arms to wrap around his friend - and soft tummy to warm them up or lay their head on while he plays with their hair - there are few others who provide such comfort on rainy days.

Kaveh

▪︎kaveh, like cyno, definitely ignores his hunger in favour of work. unlike cyno, his hunger cues have not quite disappeared.

▪︎he's always getting defensive and arguing with alhaitham when the latter complains about the racket his growling stomach makes. in kaveh's defense, his roommate uses some rather crude choice words, and so if his stomach continues to annoy him while he works, he considers it a petty revenge.

▪︎one day alhaitham sighs, rolls his eyes, and leaves the room. good. only to kaveh's surprise he returns with food - slams it down on top of his papers and gives him a look. he doesn't completely forget himself, throwing in a comment how if he has to house him and feed him, must he brush his teeth for him and change his diaper next?

▪︎and if kaveh returns to a normal, healthy weight, instead of skin and bones without a home, nobody says anything. alhaitham's care is written all over him, but dare speak a word of it and the scribe would have you dead in minutes.

Childe

▪︎childe fills out fast when he's with zhongli, but truthfully he doesn't care

▪︎he often eats too fast, devouring his food like a starved wanderer - which he was before, in a way. before joining the fatui, he often skipped meals so his siblings could eat instead, and was always wondering where the next meal would come from. old habits die hard. because of this, he's prone to overeating and not realising until he's well over his limit. even then, he delights in the food more than he suffers the aftermath, and continues to enjoy the food.

▪︎zhongli brings him to different cafés and restaurants each day to introduce him to his country's cuisine. on top of this, he has no idea how to care for a mortal. food is a sign of love, yes? but also necessary for survival.

▪︎he has a lot of love for the harbinger. a lot of love means a lot food.

▪︎childe vaguely notices when people make subtle comments insinuating he's gotten bigger, but he just smiles and says to blame it on zhongli. extra weight is seen as a positive back home in snezhnaya. a sign of survival or of living a high life of privilege and luxury - he's able to take care of his family better, and his boyfriend makes sure he's taken care of too.

▪︎childe finds he likes being too full a little too much. likes the heavy feeling of so much food - love? - in his stomach. likes the way zhongli grabs the softer parts of his body when sleeping together. likes to be taken care of for once, instead of always looking after others.

▪︎it's one day, when he sits on zhongli's lap, that the ex archon realises how heavy the harbinger has grown on his love. a look is shared between the two after zhongli's initial grunt of surprise, and the two end up in the bedroom within minutes - and yeah, childe knows he's never going back to his old life now.

#asks #gen #these kinda differ between kinks oh well #hunger #stuffing #tummy rubs #wg #literally so sorry again for how long this took so its just some of my basic ones ! #sickfic #nausea

[kisses4suna]

hii, would you do akaashi and iwazumi and Kuroo if they found out their s/o would scratch themselves while washing their hands with soap aggressively so it makes their hands have scars? I use to do this all the time when I was stressed out. But I’m better now(:

FINDING OUT YOUR SCARS !

☆ featuring. akaashi, iwaizumi. gn!reader

☆ tw. scratching ? , mentions of ED ( eating disorders )

☆ a/n. hi babes! im so sorry about that :( i used to do that before too and it got really bad, my skin started peeling so i had to put a bunch of vaseline 😭😭 i’m so glad you got out of that habit!! and i am so sorry because i can only fit two charcaters for these, i’ll make a part two with kuroo and another chatacter ! also sorry if you waited long for this, ive been busy :((

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

AKAASHI KEIJI

you would always hide your hands away from akaashi, always wear gloves, mittens, or either shove your hands inside your hoodie or jacket. he didn’t know why though. he thought maybe you didnt wanna hold his hands? or maybe you were insecure of them like him

he asked you about them one day, and you didnt want to hide anymore. “keiji.. my hands are ugly! their all scratched up and scarred! im sorry..” you say, frowning. you wished he could’ve found someone better, someone who would actually hold his hand, or even show them at all.

it takes him a minute to ponder on his thoughts, before he asks why, “i just washed my hands a lot.. i scrubbed too much and now their all rough.. ‘m sorry keiji.. i didn’t know they’d get this bad.” you looked down, too ashamed to look him in the eye. “it doesn’t matter.. scarred or not, your hands will always be beautiful to me, everything about you will be beautiful to me. i love you, i want you to know that.” he grabs your hands, pulling them both up to kiss them.

and he isn’t lying, scratches or no scratches, you’ll always be the most beautiful living thing he’s ever seen.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

he was confused at first- maybe you weren’t one for physical touch, and just like akaashi he respected your wishes, but was just curious, always wondering why you never showed your hands, at all.

you two were both hanging out in his room, your hands shoved into your pocket of your favorite hoodie. it wasn’t till iwaizumi walked over to you, grabbing your face with his two hands and planted a kiss on your face, “hey” he says, looking down on you, where you were sat on his bed. “hi” is all you say, looking up at his tall figure. “i got you snacks” he said, “here, eat something”

“.. i think i’ll have some later.. i’m not that hungry” is all you say, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets. “c’mon, you barely ate anything all day, at least eat something, please?” he asks, sitting down next to you.

“hajime- really, im not that hungry” trying to convince him, he didn’t believe one bit of it. “y/n.. do you have an eating disorder?” he asks, worried. “what- no!” you say, eyes widening.

“then are you alright? why don’t you want to eat around me?”

“iwa, what do you mean! we always eat together-“ you ask, acting completely clueless, “yeah but you just sit there saying you aren’t hungry! i have to practically feed you myself!” he slightly yells.

“it’s cause i hate my hands!” you yell back. “your what?!” he asks, completely dumbfounded. “my hands.. i just, well..” you stutter out.

you bring out your hands to show him, all scarred and scratched. “hajime.. i hate ‘em.. i can’t do anything now with these scars..”

he sighs, he had a totally different idea in his head, “oh baby.. listen, im sorry i yelled at you alright? you know i love you, but you don’t need to hide those. i don’t care if their scared or bruised or burnt or anything.. i was just worried you weren’t eating or something.. you really scared the shit out of me..” he says, voice grumbling at the end of his sentence.

he leaned in and kissed your forehead, his hands interwinding with yours. 

#kisses4suna #akaashi headcanons #akaashi x y/n #akaashi comfort #akaashi fluff #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi #akaashi x you #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi comfort #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi fanfic

[definitelynotshouting]

Hello :DD I had sm Thoughts about this chapter, if your intent was to leave all your readers laying in a pool of tears u have succeeded 👍

-☀️

"He'd assumed, by virtue, that Mumbo was keeping himself out of the loop. Apparently not."

- GRIAN. HE TRIED TO TALK TO YOU TWO CHAPTERS AGO AND YOU IGNORED HIM.

- Also like how when we circle back to this point at the end of the chapter- Mumbo brings it up, Mumbo apologises- Grian lies and goes through the conversation "on autopilot", forcing himself to register absolutely NONE of the emotion so that when he goes through with his plan he can have this degree of separation- (if that's what you call it?). Just like how right here he's ignoring/selectively forgetting the fact that Mumbo did try to talk to him

-☀️

"some of the wariness clouding around them begins to clear, burning down into an ashen, sickly relief."

- I chose this one because of the "burning" metaphor. It creates this imagery of something akin to a wildfire when Grian's actions were first revealed. Emotions were blazing with fury, grief, confusion, horror and betrayal. It's all still there, but muted. For Mumbo specifically and how he initially reacted when G woke up the metaphor makes it feel like Mumbo completely burnt himself out with how he felt about everything. What's left behind in an ashen log, a carcass ready to collapse into dust at the next breeze.

-☀️

"A relieved Mumbo is a Mumbo protected against someone he can't save."

- "Someone he can't save", meaning mumbo being unable to save grian, but dually meaning that Grian doesnt believe he can be saved- not by himself, not even by his best friend. He's tried, tried to stop making the games, tried to live off of MCC. It didn't work; he's stopped trying to save himself.

-☀️

First batch!! Also, u mentioned this a while ago now but have u ended up going to that cafe you mentioned?

incredibly excited to receive your thoughts sun anon!!!! :D im so glad you liked this chapter and yes i was maybe banking on a LOT of tears over it ngl >:]

Grian's deeply unreliable narrator-ness makes me SO insane tbh, im so obsessed with how he very deliberately ignores things that dont fit into his personal narrative. Like ur objectively right Mumbo DID try to talk to him!!!!! But in Grian's head, that doesnt support his "i am doing this for everyone's greater good" agenda, so he dismisses it. Same as the gold farm-- Scar actually mentioned it to him all the way back in chapter 5, but when Mumbo asks if he knew, he insinuates that he wasnt told, without actually confirming or denying. Its a fun little tidbit that i enjoyed adding-- i really like highlighting just how unreliable Grian's perspective is rn wrt reality :]

I am SO happy you enjoyed that burning metaphor-- its definitely attached to that wildfire imagery, but its also attached to the concept of cooking for me too!!! The idea of letting something simmer down and thicken, except its burning, was very integral to that snippet ^.^

And yep!!! That was 100% what i was going for with the saving comment :] im so happy you enjoyed those, and i cant wait to see the other stuff you liked!!! Your inbox comments are a highlight of my day, truly❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

(also i did get to go to my cafe a few weeks ago!!! i was supposed to again yesterday, but alas i woke up with some bad allergy symptoms so i ended up laid up in bed instead 😭😭😭😭 hopefully i can go again next week, especially bc i have a very good friend visiting and i'd love to show it to them :] thanks for asking :D )

#shouting speaks #asks #compliments #hunger au #EXCITEMENT.... I LOVE UR COMMENTARY SUN ANON ITS TRULY ONE OF MY FAVE THINGS #txt

[tanushakyrano]

febuwhump day 16: semi-conscious

YES ITS NOT THE 16TH IM SO AWARE OF THIS..... writing the second half of this really sucked for some reason. words were not computing. but i got it done!

characters: Kayo, Alan

additional warnings: hypoxia (low oxygen)

______________

Alan was getting worried. 

It had been at least five minutes since he’d heard anything from Kayo. It wasn’t exactly unusual; the amount of times that she’d experienced ‘technical difficulties’ and gone dark on rescues was frankly ridiculous. Nine times out of ten, she was completely fine. 

It was the tenth time that worried him.

They’d split up to search for survivors. The space station they were on was large and sprawling, and the internal communication system was down which meant that figuring out where everyone was was just that much more difficult. Most of the crew had already been located, but there were a few names unaccounted for on the crew manifest. They’d agreed to split up to cover more ground quicker. Alan was beginning to think that that had been a mistake.

He turned a corner and suddenly his feet weren’t on the ground any more. It took him a minute to realise what the hell was going on. The station had been experiencing system-wide failures for a while now; lights were only on in about half of the areas he'd explored, and life support systems had given up the ghost a long time ago. Clearly the artificial gravity in some areas was failing entirely. He reached out for the wall, using the handrails to give him momentum as he pushed onwards.

A light flashed red over one of the doors as he passed. Alan glanced into the room that lay beyond, shrouded in darkness, then caught sight of the flashing message just above the locking mechanism: WARNING - HULL BREACH. Sure enough, he could just about make out the gash in the floor, the metal plating warped and jagged. He pushed himself onwards. The ball of anxiety that was pretty much a permanent resident in his chest tightened.

Every room Alan glanced into was completely empty even of other missing members of the crew. The silence - other than the occasional crackle of burnt-out circuits - was starting to unsettle him. He was intensely aware of the fact that the station was slowly tearing itself apart around him. They were on borrowed time.

A flash of teal behind one of the doors caught his eye. Alan made a beeline for it, slamming his hand into the locking mechanism until with a groan, the door slid partway open. It was difficult to get purchase in zero-gee, but he managed it, shouldering it open until the gap was large enough for him to squeeze through.

Oh. The gravity was back.

Alan was a little embarrassed to admit that it took him by surprise. As soon as enough of him was through the door, gravity tugged him determinedly downwards, and he fell unceremoniously to the ground. He banged his shin on the way down and cursed.

He quickly scrambled up, assessing the situation. Kayo was slumped in one corner, head resting against the wall, knees pulled halfway to her chest. She barely stirred at his entrance.

"Kayo? You okay?" He was at her side in an instant, noting her blue-tinged lips with alarm.

Slowly, her eyes opened.

"Alan…?"

"Hey. Hi." Alan tried to smile reassuringly. "Kayo, do you know what happened to you?"

"Circuit…blew." Her brow furrowed with concentration as she attempted to from a sentence. "Oxygen tank. Damaged."

A quick scan of her suit's system confirmed it. Oxygen levels were low and getting lower, thanks to microfractures along one side of her helmet. Alan took a deep breath and tried very hard not to freak out. His hand found hers and held it tightly. Whether it was to reassure Kayo or himself, he didn't know.

"Look, this station could blow any minute," he said, keeping the wobble out of his voice. "We gotta go. You're gonna have to help me out here, I can't carry you all the way. My noodle arms aren't built for this."

It was barely a joke, but Kayo still smiled weakly at it, struggling to push herself upright as Alan slung her arm over his neck and helped her to stand up. He was suddenly very grateful that the gravity had malfunctioned in the corridors outside; even though Kayo was trying her best to help, Alan was single-handedly supporting most of her body weight, and he wasn't sure he could make it back in time if he had to carry her the entire way back.

"M'sorry," Kayo murmured, head dropping against his shoulder. Her voice was so quiet, so…small, that Alan's throat constricted. It was so unlike her that it scared him.

"Hey, no, don't apologise. We're gonna be okay."

She didn't reply.

They headed towards the half-open door, one shuffling step at a time. Kayo could barely keep her eyes open. Alan made a mental note listen to Virgil next time when he stressed the importance of weightlifting in training. Already his shoulders were aching viciously.

The gap was too small to fit through. Alan glared at it as if it had caused him personal offence, slamming his fist into the button several times - as if that would somehow magically open all the way.

Surprisingly, it did.

Alan blinked. Maybe the infamous Tracy luck had decided to go on vacation for the day.

The switch from gravity to lack thereof was much less jarring when he was prepared for it. It also meant that they moved much more quickly, no longer weighed down by artificial forces. Before long, they were nearly back at Thunderbird Three, thudding to the ground again, Alan barely keeping his balance under the renewed burden of Kayo's weight.

"Can I get some help here?" he yelled out, hoping that one of the crew was in earshot. Sure enough, Clove - the one who'd helped them upon their arrival - came hurrying out, ducking under Kayo's other arm and lifting some of the weight off Alan's shoulders - literally.

"The last of the crew made it back while you were away," she informed him. That was good. It meant he could close the airlock for good once they were safely back in Three, make a breathable atmosphere for Kayo.

Three was in arm's reach now.

As soon as their feet crossed the threshold, he slammed the airlock shut, listening intently for the hiss of air that confirmed the establishment of the breathable atmosphere. Carefully, he reached for the clasps on either side of Kayo's helmet, easing it off her head. Clove hovered worriedly next to him.

It was a sign that he was stressed as hell when the sound of Kayo's shuddering inhale was enough to make him flinch violently. Her hand grasped his arm instinctively as her body tried to get much-needed oxygen back into her system.

"You're okay," he breathed, grasping her forearm back. "Thank fuck, you're okay."

"Yeah." Kayo tipped her head back, chest rising and falling steadily. She gave him a weak thumbs up. "Good…job, kid."

#thunderbirds are go #cora writes #kayo kyrano #alan tracy #febuwhump23 #whump #hypoxia

[mxpotter]

A Morning With Viktor Hargreeves

A/N: Hi! I'm Mx. Potter. This is my first time writing for The Umbrella Academy(and most likely will not be my last cause i love this show a lot). I am obessed in love with Viktor/Elliot. If any of you have any request for him please dm me! I would love to write some more for him or any of the other characters! Or if you have any other requests in general theres a previous post with the shows that I do(and im planning on writing some for the new show The Sandman on Netflix(please watch it! its sooooo good!) Anyways I'm rambling. But I hope you enjoy this!

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL IT IS MY ORIGINAL WORK!

Summary: Nothing much going on just a little fluffy morning with Viktor

Warnings: None that i know of(theres a mention of house smoke and kisses i dont think that it needs a warning but just in case)

"Y/N?" You heard a soft voice call out to you. You mumbled something a little unintelligible and scuttled closer to the pillow you tightly had in your arms. A second passes by and you hear the shuffling of footsteps gentle yet filled with determination as they fill the quiet essence of the reverberating room.

You and Viktor just moved into this apartment staying at his old place for a while and with us working extra, we were shocked(yet not surprised) that the both of you could pull through and afford it. It still needs some decor to make it more; 'us' you both thought.

Today was our day that you and Viktor could have to yourselves.

"Y/NNNNNN" The voice dragged on and lightly shook your body that was under the trance of your slumber. You mumbled a little louder with a hint of annoyance fervent clear and apparent in your voice. The footsteps descended away from the bed as you slightly opened your eyes just enough to see Viktor shamble his way to the abnormally large window with a small window seat that perfectly sits two people.

He pulls both curtains open with a gentle force to not blind you nor himself in the process. You squinted almost immediately, and pulled the duvet over your head. "Noooooo!" you said just above a whisper but a little below a shout. He chuckled and peared the blanket off of your face. "Come on! I want to see that pretty smile!" he says to you adoringly. You pull the blankets up even more to try and hide your flustered face.

"I made breakfast!" You quickly sat up. "Really?" You questioned him. He nodded lightly. "Is it cereal?"

"Wowww!" He replied and gasped dramatically. "Is my cooking really that bad?" he interrogated back completely flabbergasted. "I don't know...tell that to the kitchen, my favorite pot that turned jet black and to the whole building that had to evacuate, cause there was so much smoke." You stated with your arms crossed and a smug grin evidently plastered on your face.

"How do you remember that? It was a while ago!"

"It was literally a week ago." You spat. Viktor then playfully scoffed.

"Well since you remember that then do you remember when mysteriously burnet cereal?!" He hummed in response.

You then mumbled something as you crossed your arms and pouted.

Viktor leaned in and gently grabbed your hands in one of his, then caressed your right cheek and kissed your forehead lightly.

"Come on, my little cereal burner. Time for breakfast." He said as he pulled you out of bed. You reluctantly got out of bed and followed him.

Another day, another most-likely-burnt meal.

With one of the most misunderstood, yet lovelyest person in the world.

Here's a little more(cause i knew i had to end it but it can't help myself i love this man!)

After we finished eating we(meaning you) immediately ran back to bed, as if it was calling out to you. Viktor chuckled as he witnessed you climb back into bed, he then joined you shortly after, wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your temple, whispered an 'I love you'. You would've responded but you were already fast asleep with a smile loosely draped over your face.

A/N: This kind of seems out of character for him at least a little but that's how i think Viktor is with his s/o! Fight Me! 😤

#viktor hargreeves #viktor x you #viktor hargreeves x reader #viktor hargreeves imagine #writers of tumblr #newwriter #writerscommunity #umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

Dave: so im at buc-ees right. weekly occurrence now apparently. and im about to pass out from goddamn exhaustion because ive been up since 3 am, it is now 3 pm, and i ran out of monster about noon. so i go all the way to the right side of this fucking oversized ass gas station because thats where they keep the drinks. and on the way over there i nearly get run over by two preps, a grandma, and my own brother. all seperate occurances. but i finally get over to the coolers and they do not have a single good flavor of monster except for the white monsters. so i go to grab one and then i look slightly down and i see sonic the hedgehog. i was not expecting to see sonic the hedgehog. i was caught extremely off guard by seeing sonic the hedgehog. can you tell how surprised i was to see sonic the hedgehog. he was on a can of gfuel. so what do i do in this situation? i get the sonic gfuel. what the fuck am i supposed to do. not get it? anyways the can is cold as fuck. like painful to hold levels of cold. which makes sense. it is refrigerated metal. but i have to wait for dirk and june because neither i nor june can drive and so here i am, standing around the buc-ees with a can of sonic the painhog, and my brother dirk walks up with a box of tissues and some cough drops. who the fuck buys that at a gas station. now i should mention; every time i have ever spoken to him while inside of a buc-ees he mentions at least once during the conversation that if slash when we make first contact with aliens, we should bring them to buc-ees because this is what humanity is. which no. its what capitalism is. but anyway. june finally emerges from the bathrooms and dirk waves the fucking box of tissues in the air to get her attention. and just as she looks over, i grab my can of sonic and lift it up to show her, and right as she realizes it's us the fucking can decides to jump out of my hand and catapult itself to the floor. anyways it's like 12 hours later and i am still drinking that exact same can of gfuel (it is completely flat) (and goddamn it does not taste good flat) unrelated but my room smells like burnt chicken and i cant figure out where the fuck its coming from. why am i writing this

#submission #based off of real events #homestuck #incorrect homestuck quotes #dave strider #we all have these moments #mod kanaya

[levmada]

First Times Anthology ch.8: endlessly, forever

work summary » Intimate, vulnerable, gentle. Concepts Levi is a stranger to, until you.

ch.summary: You and Levi take a retreat. After your relationship comes to a natural conclusion, he makes peace with the future.

content/warnings: light references/descriptions for PTSD, flustering Levi, highly domestic, highly horny, oral (f!receiving), edging (f!receiving), Levi’s birthday, creampie (f!receiving), very brief rimming (f!receiving), soft dom!Levi, heavy themes of self hatred at one part, getting Levi drunk and also fucking him to sleep, alcohol consumption, complete fluff overdose, Hange being chaotic (again)

wc: 17.5k

a/n: WOW HERE WE ARE!! i may or may not have worked extra hard for the personal satisfaction of posting the last chapter exactly six months since the first one.

i am horrified i may not have made the last scene justice, but i have also never finished a longfic ever in my entire many years of writing fanfic LMAO😅

i never thought this fic would ever be. a favorite for me, but then it was, and then other ppl read it, and they liked it too :( im simply very thankful + proud of myself for this.

v fitting i end it with an obscenely long chappy lol right?

THAT BEING SAID! a while ago i began to write some... side stories to this series. i just never posted them bc they are farther into canon. i dont plan on writing a sequel to this fic, so imma be posting those (3 rn) periodically to fill in the blanks for fun. think of them like one-off oneshots that fill in the universe lol.

anyway here we go!!

ps: i never project myself onto levi ackerman

previous part・work masterpost

Listened to while writing:

taglist: @peace-for-levi | @sckerman | @jayteacups | @levi-my-beloved | @alominum | @mwuah | @midtwenties-angst | @ackermandick | @halloweenmedic | @katty | @notgoodforlife | @chaotic-nick | @b-o-n-e-daddy | @levisbrat25 + link to sign up

It happens, as acts of fate often do, by surprise. 

Today, the sky is awash with that crisp, clean blue that autumn does so well, but clouds are forming and the air is breezy, the first warnings of the coming winter.

You (by Levi’s request, unsurprisingly) have half a dozen seasoned soldiers raking the burnt gold, crimson, and brown leaves, tossing them beyond the fences, and finally scrubbing the gutters until they turn silver.

Meanwhile, fresh-blooded Scouts—those who graduated just last spring, but also lived through the summer expeditions—are on their third or fourth lap now, showing only subtle signs of slowing. 

That’s because Levi is running with them.

He has always preferred the hands-on approach.

With a clipboard clasped in your hands, you smile slightly to yourself. It’s no crime to watch him frighten the others into shape while you add up some numbers.

The turn of the season calls for quality checks of all equipment before the Corps more or less enters hibernation for the winter. Besides, mice always find a way into the food stores time of year.

You turn your head as a Scout—a slim, doe-eyed man whose name you don’t know—thumps a fist to his chest in salute.

“There’s a situation at the gate that requires Captain Levi’s attention, Lieutenant.”

“At ease,” you reply with a nod, and he relaxes. Everyone knows about you and Levi, but most assume you both to share the same attitude.

You wave your hand in the direction of the field, but Levi is already on his way over, having noticed the scene. Under one arm is his uniform jacket, along with the padded weights he sometimes likes to strap on for the “extra challenge” when he trains.

Twenty damn kilos.

“What’s so important that you didn’t think to go to the Commander first?” Levi is asking, eyes narrowed.

As it turns out, a man waits at the front gates who wants to have a word with Levi specifically. He claims he knows him, and he hasn’t taken no for an answer.

Didn’t give a name, either—not to a bunch of screwy soldiers, anyway.

You shoot Levi an inquisitive look, but he has nothing in terms of explanation. He might as well go and see who it is, but no, “don’t waste your time escorting me. Get back to your duties.”

The messenger takes his leave.

You nod curtly at Levi with a promise to watch over the training (and the yard upkeep) until he returns, a task you take upon yourself without him needing to say a word. Just for that, a small feeling, like fear but sweeter, blooms in his chest.

During his short walk, Levi wracks his mind of any civilian men he knows with the audacity to show up to the Scouts’ headquarters just to “have a word” with him. It doesn’t feel right. 

The Survey Corps aren’t taken seriously, everybody and their mother knows that, but they aren’t protested against outside of the returns from expeditions—usually because of grief, but always convenience. 

He can’t think of anyone.

Out in front of Trost HQ stands a wrought iron gate of spear where another pair of Scouts acknowledge Levi with brief salutes.

He waves them away, revealing a scruffy mouse of a man standing outside, defiantly toeing the loose dirt with his shoe. A cigarette dangles from the side of his mouth.

An onslaught of memories rush through Levi’s mind, in sharp contrast to the slow smoke drifting up into the air.

Levi blinks, then blinks again. “Yan?”

A coy grin crawls over Yan’s cheeks, showing teeth. “Yo, Levi…! Good thing you remember me. Was afraid your comrades woulda arrested me soon otherwise.”

He shakes his head. Is he dreaming? “They wouldn’t have.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I guess I’m used to the MP’s way of doing things.”

Yan is as sheepish as ever, and as skinny, too. The last time Levi saw him, he was suffering atrophy in his legs, as lots of people Underground did. His treatment was the down payment on the job that got Levi in the Scouts in the first place.

Gripping one of the spears, he scrutinizes Yan with his eyes. “There are other ways to get my attention if you wanted us to chat. Why’re you here?”

Yan kicks at the dirt some more. He doesn’t seem peeved that Levi doesn’t bridge the gap between them by opening the gate just yet. It’s been years, not that Levi was ever the trusting type to begin with.

“You never liked small talk. I just don’t like owing people my life, you know?”

Levi’s lips press into a thin line. He means coin. “You’re not serious.”

Yan shrugs around another puff of tobacco. “I am.” He peers over Levi’s shoulder. “Your friends are being really nosy.”

A cursory look behind him proves Yan right. More than a few are now clustered around the entrance to HQ, curious as to what the Captain is up to, and more curiously, what some civilian wants with him.

Levi glares in their direction, causing them to quickly disband. “Caution is a positive quality around here.”

Levi doesn’t doubt Yan has honest intentions; he never was cut out for life in a gang. Any job he, or sometimes Farlan, ever gave him that was bigger than petty thieving made him go bright red in the face.

He was just a kid, like most of them were. Isabel’s nickname for Yan was ‘peep’.

Levi crosses through the gate, shutting it behind him. They end up strolling a few paces for guaranteed privacy despite the new clouds gathering above, threatening a drizzle. What few that are out and about on the streets are bartering coins for supper. Dew sticks to the grass.

Levi has a right to be wary. “I wasn’t the one who slipped you all that cash with your pay, back then. I didn’t even contact Lovof first. None of us could’ve afforded your treatment.”

“Hm.”

Levi crosses his arms. He can spew excuses all day. 

“Still.”

He scoffs. “What’d you do, then? Steal the King’s purse?”

Yan smiles toothily. “That'd be breaking the law… I would never,” he drawls dramatically. “I just seduced my doctor after she fixed my legs.”

He isn’t impressed.

It doesn’t take long to get an honest answer out of Yan, though. Apparently, he has been saving up for a long time now—some well-paying factory job in one of Sina’s booming industrial districts.

“Believe me, Lev’,” Yan tosses the cigarette away. “I know—"

“You better throw that litter away where it belongs.”

A throaty chuckle leaves the man, and he crouches down. “And here I thought military life might’ve made you go soft.”

“Are you a comedian now, too?”

Yan laughs again, but the light mood doesn’t last long. It dampens as the crooked smile on his face dissolves.

Levi braces himself in case Yan says their names. Out of everyone, he must’ve been the last to hear that they were gone.

“I don’t care about some slimy noble,” Yan says. “And about the extra pay, I know you didn’t know. You never would’ve okay’d it. You were a real penny-pincher when you wanted to be.”

Levi thinks back. His years in darkness feel like a recurring nightmare he one day stopped having. He says nothing.

But he can admit it feels good, seeing Yan again—like coming upon a keepsake that you were sure you lost years before. Levi has known loss all his life, and people born down there seldom ever get out, let alone live through the atrophy.

“Glad you’re doing well for yourself,” Levi tells him, and he is. “But you don’t owe me. Buy a house or something.”

“I got all I need,” he tells him, as serious as death. “C’mon, Levi. Don’t make me beg.”

The look on Yan’s face is pitiful.

Levi gets it. Just like the only reason Levi would even consider taking the money, Yan definitely came with Isabel and Farlan in mind. Not just him.

“You’re a fool,” Levi sighs.

“Well then,” you huff fiercely. “Hm, I have an idea. Let’s go over the reasons again.”

Levi’s tight hold on his reins tightens a little more, making Sweetie snuffle. He’s been dealing with two brats since you left this morning.

A shame that he checked out an ordinary scouting horse rather than taking Nibbles, his horse, but you made a good argument at the time, and besides, you liked her name.

“No.”

Mildly, you shake your head, smirking to yourself. “Well then. Are you gonna keep complaining about being given all that coin? Think very carefully about your answer.”

“Your only joy in life is embarrassing me,” he replies. No hesitation.

“It is not,” you laugh. “Anyway, let me remind you.”

He glances over his shoulder, past your connected wagon neatly packed in with enough belongings to last you this winter. That tree hollow doesn’t look any farther away than it was ten minutes ago.

Dammit, how much longer?

“First of all, HQ is dead in winter. Not even you can find a way to run yourself into the ground. Two: It’s money! It’d be a shame not to spend what’s left since you apparently don’t need it.”

He doesn’t. A week earlier, on the same day that he requested Erwin’s permission that he didn’t need to take a leave of absence (Erwin actually laughed at him), Levi had that recurring nightmare once again. He took a trip back Underground to deliver half of the “debt” to an old, trusted contact. A lot of good will be done with it.

“You’re right so far,” he says.

But he knows what’s coming next. With your horses lugging along the wooden wagon, he can’t gallop away to avoid a repeat of the reasons you gave him to do all this.

It’s not that you’re that serious, nor does he have anything to vehemently disagree with—it’s simply that embarrassing.

He locks his gaze straight ahead, focusing in on a single tree branch that looks like it would collapse if someone blew on it a little. He can’t wait to pass it by.

“Besides the fact that it would be good to take a holiday for once,” you go on, “unfortunately—”

“Stop.”

“—our headboard is cracked! And you didn’t want to be at HQ while it got fixed for some reason.” You smirk. “So there. And how could I forget reason number four?”

He drags your name out in warning, but apparently, you have become deaf. The crunch of thin snow beneath your horses hooves has no chance of drowning you out.

“Let me set the scene for you,” you cackle. You’re enjoying yourself. “There we were, in the privacy of our own quarters, in quite a compromising position, don’t you remember?”

He crushes the pathetic tree branch with his glare. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Your high little laughs litter every word now. “S-Sure you do! It was the third time that month, Lev’, and it was the same culprit—”

“Hange is a fucking pervert, even worse than you, I know. Are you done?”

You spot the utter contempt on his red face and take pity on him. It’s only as much fun to tease Levi as readily as he plays along.

“Yeah,” you relent with a light sigh, fog puffing out.

He relents too. “Finally.” 

“I know this is a big deal for you,” you say, a touch more seriously. “I can’t even remember the last time I slept in my own bed back home.”

He, who doesn’t have a tangible home to speak of, feels as pained as you sound. He nods, knowing.

You bring up your family a little more often than he does, which is never. But the thing is, in preparation for this trip, you were both passing through Utopia District and decided to pay them a visit since you find yourselves that far north so rarely.

It isn’t that some tragedy struck home in the meantime and you weren’t informed. No one got laid off or went broke, no one was even sick.

The exact opposite. Your mother and father were happier than ever, actually. Retired. What reconnecting you did came down to a slew of joyful nothings, which made it impossible to talk about your own life—except for one Levi-shaped piece of news.

Your mother practically launched through the ceiling, crying out in glee. It was mortifying for him, but up to then, he had only allowed two people in his life to ever hug him: his own mother, and you. Yours really knew how to squeeze the life out of someone.

But then, there were the nothings. How the cold snaps back in August were worrying, but December has been surprisingly warm, so the Chrysanthemums were miraculously still in bloom. Your mother’s old garden—“You started a garden?” you had asked—was flourishing. And now that he was retired, your father had nothing to say about the scar of resentment whose fresh wound had propelled you into military life in the first place. His biggest concern these days was watering your mother’s plants.

They were older. You told him that that part put it all in perspective for you. “I should be thrilled they’re doing well. I mean, I am, but…I’m too different now. They don’t feel like my family anymore—like we’re two different species. You know what I mean?”

After hearing that, Levi took you to your favorite bookstore in Sina to buy you something (as it turned out, somethings) to make you feel better.

Afterwards, he even let you kiss him on a crowded street despite his crippling embarrassment of showing affection in public. For that reason, you asked first.

Without saying anything, your cloth sack of books hooked under one of his arms, he turned towards you and scooped up your chin. That peck really seemed to make you happy.

In truth, he hadn’t known what to say at the time. Sure, he doesn’t know what Kenny’s up to, if he’s still breathing enough to be up to anything at all, but if he is, Levi dreads the day he finds out about it for many reasons. One being that Kenny’s dearest joys in life differed from most people’s, to say the very least.

“What’re you looking at me for?”

Your eyes stay on him. “I just like looking at you.” 

Face pinched, he turns the other way. An image invades his mind of himself from a third person perspective, and he inwardly recoils.

“Well, stop,” he complains mildly, blushing. Since this morning this has been happening, because he just can’t get away, which you have been taking full advantage of.

“I can’t.”

He makes a sour face. “I mean stop looking.”

You grin. “Give me an hour to gather the strength.”

“We’ll be there in an hour.”

“That’s right!”

Levi doesn’t have a passion for decorating as long as things are in perfect order. This is why you tell him what you want where, down to exact inch, and he can do it all without a single margin of error.

He isn’t perfect of course, but he’s always determined to be.

The biggest thing you brought along (that wasn’t already here) was a mattress, and you don’t have a speck of dust in terms of decorations, but still.

Now that the wagon is empty (the largest piece of furniture you brought was a mattress, but still), your horses are secured in their stalls, and you’re done spending the better part of the late afternoon cleaning the cabin from ceiling to floor together, it’s time to breathe.

Levi leans back against the kitchen bar with his cravat undone around his neck. Seeing how he sweat through his shirt long ago, he has three whole buttons undone below his collar.

What are breaks, anyway?

He takes in the finished product and decides he’s pleased, but it still feels like a blank sheet to him, it being so new, so unused. What to do next?

That’s how you find him the next time you pop your head in from outside, dabbing your forehead of sweat with a handkerchief as white as the snow on the ground. You whistle.

He crosses his arms and looks away, looking unbearably coy. “What’s next?”

The possibilities have you rocking in the doorway. You simply can’t contain your energy.

“Well, it’s the golden hour, ‘Vi. Are you hungry?”

You both set up in the kitchen and get to work, however—odd cooking of all things soon becomes in his mind. Time isn’t counting down before work, and you have so many options, for once excluding watered down stew and bland military provisions.

He frowns as he sparks a match for the wood underneath the stove. The thunk of a knife on a cutting board, that’s you.

It hits him, sudden and severe, that he will be enjoying your cooking every day, at least when he wasn’t doing it. You always say he has a knack for making something out of nothing.

Earlier, you made fun of him for hopping back onto the counter in order to reach for a can of broth you had placed in the highest cabinet.

Whenever he pointed this out, you offered to get it for him, to which he scoffed: no, he obviously doesn’t need help. It was just a can.

An odd feeling turns over inside him.

Despite your earlier transgression, he still wanted to follow your recipe tonight. However, for as long as the cabin has sat empty before now, parsley, rosemary, and all manner of spices were overgrown beyond the clearing outside. While you were busy picking those, it was up to him to chop the lettuce.

Which quickly turns into a much more arduous task than he expected. 

His personal dagger that followed him up from Underground had finally breathed its last years before, but he has always kept a collection (a habit that has followed him since childhood), including kitchen knives. Any weapon he can hold is an extension of himself.

Which is why it is frustrating him to no end that he can’t cut this damned lettuce right. Suddenly, he feels like a novice.

Brow puckered in irritation, he stops and measures the mass of filleted greens with one hand. With his other, he flips the blade backwards absentmindedly as he reconsiders his approach.

This isn’t flesh, and it most certainly isn’t a threat. The kitchen air is dense with steam from the wood burning under the stove, screwing with his head.

Come to think of it, he can’t remember the last time he took all this preparation into cooking. Maybe he’s been killing things for too long.  

This is how you find him, asking, “How’s it coming?” to which he grunts noncommittally. It’s not coming along at all, which makes him even more determined to make some progress.

So, he lines the thin pointed edge up, and tries again with a flurry of quick chops. What results is a murder scene on the lettuce’s part.

After a long moment, he senses you watching over his shoulder, so he stops, waiting for your judgment.

“Baby, you’re stabbing them.”

“Tch.” He flicks the blade around once more, and shaves the cracked, brown pieces off the board and onto the napkin. “No, I’m cutting. There’s a difference.”

Then you’re closing in on him from behind, and loosely taking his hand that he grips the handle with. “Well, you’re cutting like it’s going to attack you,” you say softly. “There’s not gonna be that much resistance, either. Hold it looser, like this.”

Without thinking much of it, he slowly relaxes against you, tilting his head a tad to make room.

“I would’ve figured it out eventually,” he argues weakly. His chest flips in embarrassment.

“I know,” you reply. “But I’m already here, right?”

A nod. He decides to follow your direction if you insist on giving it, it’s just unthinkable that he would require help with a task like this. It’s a surprise, how complacent he has become.

From behind, he hears your breath hitch. The steam. Neither of you say anything, but you’re hasty in lowering the flames after that.

It takes two weeks to adjust when this vacation was to last five. By mid-January, the frost will have melted away enough for there to be work to do again. In the meantime, there is only the two of you.

No matter what environment he’s in, Levi pours his energy into a clean environment, but suddenly the environment started begging for his attention even more, like the loose gutter leaking due to melting snow.

What about the mess of leaves plastered to the roof, too? And all the damn weeds crawling up the side of the cabin closest to the forest like leafy tendrils?

So this is what average people get fussy over? he thinks. These are their worries? Their priorities?

Either way, they are yours to share.

Most things you do, you do together. You pull the weeds and rake the leaves, he fixes that dangly gutter on the roof, and while he was at it, replaces the rotted bricks in the chimney, and cleans soot out of the fireplace, and also—

Surprisingly, he begins to find immense satisfaction in getting these simple, but crucial tasks done.

The problems that sometimes erupt are even simpler, and even at those rare times where they aren’t, they’re still child’s play in comparison to the more hellish ones he’s used to. 

Like the acorns. Levi got it into his head that he would clear the entire yard of anything but grass, including acorns. You started snatching up each and every one he tossed aside, plopped them in a wicker basket, and threw them back to the squirrels.

By their nature, however, the acorns never stop coming. It infuriated him. He only came to enjoy this chore once it became a routine each morning, following slow blinks and easy yawns.

To such an extent that he constructs a simple wooden bench for the rear side of the cabin. Most of the squirrels live in the forest, so you could throw your acorns out all you want without tiring yourself out.

It was a surprise, too.

You weren’t done thanking him even as you were shaving it down and polishing it, having been an apprentice to a woodworker in your youth. The result was more elegant than Levi could ever have dreamed of doing himself.

The best part of all however, was waking up together. You can always wake up together. Every morning carries a slow, gradual rise to awareness, and your warm lump under the blankets is always there for him to reach for. Plus, he can always, always grant your request for “five more minutes”.

The mornings are his favorite, to say the least.

The bedroom is simple, but larger than you’re both used to (despite your ranks, especially Levi’s, luxury simply doesn’t exist in the Corps). The perpetual smell of ceder, laundry, and more faintly, old paper always sits inside. The folded curtains, hued like thick cream, stay closed in the mornings to block out enough sunlight for you two to sleep in.

But Levi can never bring himself to. Instinct, or habit, always wakes him around dawn, and at dawn he still trains. It was unthinkable that he would allow himself to grow soft, so there was no argument.

In fact, you join him more often than not for the same stringent exercise routines you’re used to back at HQ. Sometimes you spar, and at others you hike into the forest while the sun is still creeping up into the sky, flooding the morning with purpley pinks. Even the birds are just waking up.

It’s not yet that time when you jolt awake this morning, or rather, late enough for it to be considered that.

Why? A freezing hand is brushing over your bare belly where your blouse fails to cover. An arm curls around your waist.

You whine sleepily and knock away the ice cube. “Hand’s cold,” you groan, eyes stubbornly sticking shut. “S’wrong, Lev’?”

No reply. You toss a look back to be greeted by what you can make out to be a blank look on his tired face.

He blinks, and then you blink, long and slow. “Was I not touching you anymore?”

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters. 

Levi doesn’t deny it, which means yes. In response, you tug his hand back around you, causing him to grunt.

Sometimes, one of you rolls away from the other during sleep, causing him to always snap awake shortly thereafter.

There is nothing else he’s still embarrassed over more than that.

“Hm. C’mere,” you whisper, and squirm over to face him. He tangles your legs together and puts his arm around you, even clinging—but not without another choked grunt.

Now that you’re more awake, you delicately tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. You’re close enough to feel his warm breath on your face. 

“Is it your hand again?” you ask.

He huffs through his nose. “Go back to sleep.”

Ever since he had quite literally fixed the cabin’s every conceivable flaw, he has been floundering for more projects to complete.

He’s definitely compensating, but you don’t point this out.

You kind of expected it, which is why you approved at the beginning, but only as long as the land’s beauty didn’t cost his health.

“Levi.” you chuckle a little, blinking in the dark. “Don’t make me ask you to take a break for your break. The roof won’t leak for another hundred years ‘cause of you.”

“Hm. You’re welcome.”

“I mean it.” You brush your noses together in an eskimo kiss. A lazy peck on the side of his mouth, however, has your brow wrinkling. His skin feels rougher than usual, even scraped.

With another kiss, this one to his sharp jaw, he huffs again. “Not now. Sleep.”

“I’m not trying to start anything,” you huff back in pretend-offense. “I never see you with facial hair. I think it’s cute.”

“…I don’t think so.”

“Have you ever tried growing more? Like… a curly mustache.”

He snorts loudly. “Go back to sleep.”

“So that’s a no.”

His scoff is muffled by the pillow he buries his face into. “I just, haven’t had the time to shave it.”

You scrub the sleepiness from your eyes and sit up a little to peek down at him. With what little side-eye you’re given, you can tell he’s giving you attitude.

You lay your hand over his jaw, and lo and behold, rough hairs scrape your palm.

“‘Haven’t had the time’ my ass,” you grumble quietly. “I’ll do you one better than that.”

He buries his face deeper into the pillow. The most you can do now is scratch gently at where his undercut lays, stuck up in places.

What must be the sheer agony he feels from your offer makes him groan a little. “You do enough.”

“Never,” you say.

“Always.”

“Never.”

You go back and forth more and more insistently. He, just on principle, quits the game first, but doesn’t compromise, either.

So neither do you. You climb belly-down on top of his back so you’re stacked on top of each other like pancakes.

“Ngh.”

“Levi,” you whisper in his ear, but no response. His eyes are closed.

You gape softly. “Are you actually pretending to be asleep right now?”

Nothing.

You’re at your wit’s end. “Let me,” you whine into the curve of his shoulder.

Huffing, you bully your hands under his lean sides. “Or else.”

“You’re a brat,” he mutters fondly.

Your lips quirk, but that isn’t the response you wanted, so you scrape your fingers all over an infamous tickle-spot of his: right below his ribs where his belly muscles properly begin, and a huffy laugh immediately bursts from him.

Even though he could easily throw you off, he bullies a hand under himself to bat you away as his chest wracks with contained snickering. His squirming is neverending.

Not on your watch. In a frenzy, you wiggle your fingers all over his ribs. 

Levi makes lots of grabs, but it’s too sensitive, and his hand feels like a broken paperweight. He scrambles for the sheets instead, airy, earnest laughing sounding from the pillow. You burst into a fit of your own to hear it.

“You brat,” he gasps, and in one solid movement finally throws you off, like a bull. On your side of the bed, thighs land on either side of your waist, his bony knees digging into your hands to keep you still.

Your laughter quickly dies out. New tension eats at the air as you stare up at each other through the darkness, at a stalemate. The only sounds are your rough breathing.

“Never,” you pant, and you mean that. “You never let me do anything for you.”

His sigh has a touch of defeat in it, which is what makes you cry out so loud to feel his freezing palms snake up under your shirt. You didn’t expect that.

Reflexively, your back bows away from him, until a small gasp is pulled from you. The way his hands slot up underneath your breasts makes his thumbs dangerously close your nipples.

“Fine,” he relents, and casually begins to roll his hips down into yours. “But let me do one more thing for you first.”

You do.

Levi has never allowed (or needed, really) you to do something as personal as shave his face. The fact that this is happening in the first place is a testament to how much he loathes the “rat shit” on his face, and how hard he’s been working lately.

“You not going to return the favor,” you tried to explain to him. “We’re not bartering.”

“That depends on whether you cut me or not,” he said, not inspiring a wave of anxiety to wash over you.

To accommodate for his height, you decided on taking the cushioned chair from the sitting room whose color could be easily mistaken for rotten plums. Sitting on his lap was just an added benefit, which is the only reason he told you, “Good idea,” instead of rolling his eyes and retrieving the chair anyway.

The basin you’re using is clean, white porcelain, in sharp contrast to the sick-looking state of the water once you’ve gotten started.

For good luck, because you’ll be prettified just to knick him on accident, you tap the side of the basin (ting-ting-ting) with each pass of the small blade—which also helps in case of stray hairs.

He looks personally insulted every time you do this. 

“Don’t ruin the blade by tapping it with the edge, and you’ll chip the—”

“Shh,” you soothe. 

The straight edge falling down around his mouth abruptly quiets him, but he always has plenty enough attitude for all hours of the day, in all situations.

He glares at you.

Ignoring him, you cradle his chin and sweep it downwards in long, fragile motions. With a soaked cloth, you dab away all stray hairs and cream.

Just a little longer. 

So another hour, he likes to retort, all because you’re taking this job seriously—a grave statement considering you perform any and all tasks with care already.

“You just like to complain,” you quip lightly, although his scowl dissolved about a half-hour ago. As some point, he just started to watch you, and hasn’t averted his eyes since.

It’s a titillating feeling, his eyes like soft silver, always in your vision. The air feels like a fuse, eternally waiting for sudden ignition.

He traces the knobs of your spine beneath your shirt. “If I praise you, you’ll lower your guard, and there’s a higher chance you’ll make a mistake.”

Ting-ting-ting.

“My Levi just gets sweeter by the day, hm?”

He glares, just barely.

“Don’t clench your jaw like that, honey.”

He obeys. 

You know he has a point, however, which motivates you to imagine this as more of a battle. A real fight leaves no room for mistakes, let alone praise.

He is sweet, but he gets clingier and clingier these days, which never fails to make you a little smug, warmly so. If things were different, you would enjoy it even more, the way he holds onto you (right now, literally).

Another fifteen minutes pass after you reach a perfect rhythm: a continuous loop of slow swipes, tap-tap-tapping the basin, then sweeping the rag over the spot you just completed. Only sometimes, you lather on some extra shaving cream.

With your thumb and forefinger, you hold the nape of his neck, not unlike in those moments you want to comfort him. 

You’re in your own little world, and so is he, for his gaze hasn’t left yours since you don’t know when anymore. One moment, he was glancing in the mirror, but before you knew it, you couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t looking at you.

Your hold the same, you raise the razor once more, and the dream is shattered.

Just before the edge could brush down below his chin, Levi’s eyes snap wide. He seizes your wrist at once, causing you to jerk back.

To your shock, he still doesn’t let go; his shoulders rise and fall with his breaths, his grip so tight that you feel your bones grind.

“Levi,” you wince, “Stop! Too tight.”

His hand pulls backwards as if stung, and he retreats back in the seat, eyes wide and blank. 

Sitting very still, he swallows as he rubs the bridge of his nose. “…Sorry. I’m sorry. You surprised me.”

You lean back as well, your heart pounding in your throat. After how hurt his hands seemed the night before, you underestimated his real strength.

You should know by now. He’s just always so kind to you.

Despite rubbing your smarting wrist, you shake your head frantically. “It’s okay.” 

He blinks back into reality, still looking somewhere past you. “What did you say?”

Once upon a time, he couldn’t even stand being kissed on his neck. You should’ve known putting the razor anywhere near there without a warning would upset him.

“It’s okay,” you repeat. “I’m sorry, you’re safe. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I wasn’t thinking.”

He’s watching you with as much space put between you as possible. “Did I hurt you?”

“It’s okay.”

His eyes dart down to your wrist, which seems to answer for him. With his knuckles a peachy white on the armrests, he takes a swift breath through his nose. “Get up.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You shake your head, your hands slapping down over both his hands. “No, I’m not hurt! It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an accident.” 

Levi doesn’t doesn’t so much as twitch to shoo you off, but he looks devastated, as if he injured you within an inch of your life.

“Here,” you say, voice high with pleading, and set your wrist in front of him.

You shake it a little. “Levi, please, look. I’m okay.”

“Okay…” He drags the word out skeptically, but you don’t move, and with some more time, he eventually reaches out to touch your wrist.

You don’t stop swearing up and down that this isn’t the catastrophe like he thinks it is. Even though it feels like a bruise is waiting to rise to your skin’s surface (which you don’t voice), you know you startled him. It was as accidental as an accident can get. He didn’t break you.

“I don’t wanna stop before I’m finished,” you tell him gently. “And if it makes you feel better, I know you won’t let it happen again.”

His chest rises with a long, even breath. “Forgive me,” he speaks against your wrist. He’s been kissing it.

In response, you glide it over his soft cheek, shaking your head. “Why? There’s nothing to forgive.”

He swallows heavily, his adam’s apple rising and falling with it. He does feel fine for you to continue, but he feels like a sitting safety hazard, too. Handling a razor shouldn’t be as dangerous as it usually is.

“Is it okay?” you ask.

“Worry about yourself.”

“I’m okay,” you tell him again, real close.

He sighs.

“Honey.”

“...I believe you.”

A tiny thrill moves your stomach. Your brows raise. “You’ll let me?”

“Are you asking me to repeat myself?” he retorts, but sheepishly. Turning his head, he presses a chaste kiss to your palm.

This warms your heart. The blade was left on the counter at some point, but you lift its handle now, and settle back in.

You take your sweet time lathering on the perfect amount of shaving cream below his chin. For all the agonizing, he needs very little work done here.

“You’re stalling,” he comments quietly, and bears his throat a little. He doesn’t sound annoyed, which means he’s nervous

Over the act itself or hurting you again, you don’t know, but he’s no longer looking at you.

You begin.

Once again holding his nape, you tip his chin where you need it, and eye the dark hairs that trail below one of his sideburns. Easy.

“Good,” you will say every so often. You don’t care that Levi isn’t a child, whether he needs to be praised or not. At least he won’t make a mistake for lowering his guard, not here. “Good job staying still for me.”

He shifts. Now you guide the razorblade downwards, over where his pulse thuds beneath his skin.

You pause when he takes your forearm. If he changed his mind, it’s not clear; he simply clicks his tongue and looks the other way.

“Lev’?”

“Keeping you steady.”

You are steady. He on the other hand could double for a wooden board.

His lips tug down. “It’s not you. You should know that.”

“I do,” you say, and you mean it.

Nothing but your breaths and the scrape of the blade’s thin edge breaks the air anymore. Other than the bump in his throat bobbing when he swallows, frightening you into pausing, you don’t hit any more obstacles.

His steady hold on your arm never completely leaves you. Eventually, he moves further to caress your bicep, the bare minimum of holding it, and near the end, it floats down to your waist.

“Done,” you murmur, scratching a little at his nape. You’re proud, and not only of him: your hand didn’t waver the whole time.

He glances towards the mirror, rubbing his face.

You hold your breath.

“You did well.”

Your heart leaps. Sighing evenly, you finally lean back and trace your thumb across his sharp jaw, ignoring the ache in your back for your efforts—even moreso, your wrist.

He looks perfect, skin soft and smooth again.

“So… Trust me now?” you quip lightly.

He shoots you a small, pinched look, and glances back at the mirror, now feeling his neck as well.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says quietly. “I told you, it was—”

“Joke, honey.” You scratch his undercut, then lean in to kiss his cheek. “Just a dumb joke.”

After you coerced him into letting you trim his hair too (to be fair, he had been complaining about it for a while; it had gotten to the point of him pinning up his bangs in the front as well as that fucking rat’s tail in the back), he coerced you into doing your hair. 

“This is what you get,” he retorted, “if you’re gonna be such a saint.”

It wasn’t even his birthday yet. He expected, as usual, that you were concocting some secret plan in order to celebrate, so he wasn’t about to take all your pampering lying down. 

So he used everything he knows about hair on you, and everything he knows about hair, he learned as a kid.

The tips of his ears burned when he saw your lips part, then your eyes sparkle in the mirror’s reflection.

“Wow, you made me look so beautiful.”

To which he flicked your ear. “Don’t insult yourself like that.”

Your beauty isn’t conditional.

Mercifully, the stakes didn’t rise any higher than that, no matter how you pounced on him twice later—first when he was coming upstairs after locking up the cabin, and then as he left the bathroom—to squeeze and rub all over his shoulders. 

He won that one. A repeat of that night a few months ago—your magical hands lathering that fiery-cold lotion into every inch of his aching muscles—was cruelly appealing, but this amount of pampering was overwhelming all the same. You did enough without him asking.

So he didn’t need one, not today.

Now, the bedroom is full of darkness. He can’t see you; he can only listen to your slow breathing and feel you there, comfy and pliant in his arms.

Tonight is one of those nights when his mind refuses to slow down, let alone stop. Sleep is stubborn and far away, but at least relevant thoughts sit there for him to chew on to pass the time.

There is no other area in Levi’s life left where he doubts himself, besides here. It is crippling at the worst of times and a murmur at the back of his mind at the best. The worry of the hour tonight revolves around showing you how thankful he is, and how grateful.

He doesn’t doubt you: your resolve is strong, and it doesn’t falter, doesn’t drift, day by week by month by year. If you ever have a concern, he has utmost confidence that you will voice it, but this issue is firmly between Levi and himself. 

He knows your feelings, but he doesn’t believe you understand the true gravity of his own. A wave washes over his chest when your soft, sleepy face crinkles into a smile when he’s the first thing you see upon waking up, and his throat tightens in moments of fleeting peace. Casual kisses at the most random of moments jolt him with electricity, and he knows now that he would risk too much if the worst of circumstances demanded it.

Earlier today, he meant what he told you: if what you did hadn’t especially caught him off guard—hurling his mind to a different time, place, and feeling—he wouldn’t have doubted pressing his throat against your blade, not for a moment.

But funnily enough, after all this time he still isn’t good at knowing when you’re joking.

There are words to convey his feelings when actions fail—of course there are. His word is his bond; they’re promises (even if not explicitly said), but he frowns deeply, because that isn’t the problem. Caring for you more than he has ever cared for another is a promise he can keep.

Sometimes, he feels real jealousy with the ease with which you annihilate him with your random compliments. Using words is important to you, but he struggles so deeply.

Could he? He gets the distinct feeling the world will end—that the sky will rain fire, or the ground will crack open the ground’s foundations—if he so much as parts his lips, but at the same time, he has never been more confident. Words stick to his tongue.

He whispers your name.

No reply. You don’t even stir. All you are is a warm, sleepy lump cradled back against his chest.

He presses his lips to your clean hair. You sleep as if you have hundreds of years at your disposal to do so, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Frowning under a sudden sense of nausea, he turns his head to cool his face with the deep navy pillow. His lips part, then shut, then part, like a fish moments away from suffocation.

Thunder is in his chest. Could he?

“I… love you,” he whispers.

But the world doesn’t end, it just feels like it does. Why?

It presses down on him so much he could shout, so, after holding his breath until his lungs burn, just in case, he shuffles away from you. The mountain of blankets are yours.

He turns over onto his other side, facing the curtained window. 

Why does he have to catch his breath? Why is it so terrifying to let someone in? 

Despite the thick veil of curtains, he knows what vast night exists beyond it. It is easier to believe that you both exist in a void where no one and nothing exists beyond it, than to take enough air into his lungs. He feels that same terrifying freedom as if he were just passing under the gate that divides the cage from the sky.

Words are binding, and as such, sometimes prisons. But you aren’t shackles, and this skip in his heartbeat isn’t chains. It took him so long to come to terms with that.

Even when he shuts his eyes, the world spins. If he was ever in range of sleep before, he’s certainly wide awake now.

Now, all he can think about is whether he locked the window before you both laid down to sleep.

It’s nearing the turn of the winter season when nature is the most dull, discolored muck it’ll ever be, with a sky like wet cottonballs. The chill day by day is so ferocious it bites through layers of wool and cotton.

Fittingly, you and Levi share an unspoken conversation, and come to an unspoken fact: the two of you can’t stay here annually. You communicate in little looks—the way Levi visibly grows more antsy, or the pinch in your expression when looking out into the fog in the mornings. Neither of you comment on fixing up the house anymore, and his sleeping patterns have worsened again.

Whether you can or can’t becomes a moot point when the cabin is indeed heaven, but all the while, hell waits beyond the mouth of the forest. 

Your duty (especially his) waits, freedom waits, and the turbulent future waits as well. Your responsibilities are a burden you could, and would not, give away. 

The way things used to be, Levi’s duty was his sole cause for living. While he’s never stated it outright, you’re confident you’re important to him—but more severe matters take precedent without question.

Like a weed, even guilt has been growing in you, not just for Levi alone. You’ve spent more years as a soldier now than you’ve been alive (the consequence of entering the Cadet Corps as young as you did ). 

Neither of you can live in good conscience in this bubble for long, where no fighting, blood, or death exists. You understand the way Levi has always felt now, if to a lighter extent—how it all feels too good.

You feel, you know that while you’re away, you will yearn for this the rest of the year just as much as your very first day without it. 

Worst of all, neither of you—even you—can’t promise that you one day will return. There are many promises you wish you could speak into existence, but you must keep in mind that they’ll never come to pass.

For instance… you love him. So much as glancing over at him on the sun-speckled porch after supper, his knees folded up to his chest in what has come to be his chair (when you’re alone, he doesn’t feel the need to appear so prim and proper), makes you overcome with adoration. That’s all it takes.

Levi has taught you that you don’t need to speak a word to hear it loud and clear, but you want to.

The yearning to make sure he knows worms around in your chest madly, but you’re confident he’d never hear of it. Seeing how you’ve never heard it before, and the pressure he feels where normal people wouldn’t, you fear endlessly how he would react. 

Your cuticles are swollen from picking at them in all your nervousness.

You came to this conclusion about staying at the cabin at the end of December, near his birthday (his supposed birthday, anyway). 

The day itself turns out to be the perfect distraction. You couldn’t get away with stealthily keeping awake until the sun crawled above the horizon so you could surprise him with breakfast, nor could you sneak away before he woke. Impossible in any circumstance, really, so either way he was out of bed before you could even surprise him a different way.

Infamously, Levi loathes celebrating his birthday—”What’s so special about the day I was born?” he likes to retort. “It’s just another day.”—but that has never mattered to you.

Last night, you prepared in advance. As soon as you shoot awake in bed, you dash downstairs while still half-asleep to slam the apple fritter in the oven, and put away the tea he already brewed in favor of the more precious tea leaves you had saved for him. 

You take great care in everything you do, especially the tea (down to counting down the seconds it needed to steep in your head), then a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, buttery toast, avocado from the closest market, and even sliced ham. Ham! 

It’s going overboard for sure, even for you, but he deserves it.

Levi’s footfalls abruptly pause upon the sound of the back door shuttering closed.

You can’t help but grin. The sweet, greasy smell of cooking meat must have spread throughout the whole downstairs at this point.

Then, rapid clicks of his boots against the creaky wood erupt until he appears in the doorway.

“Good morning,” you chirp over your shoulder. “You know what day it is?”

Scoffing, he marches right over and crushes you in his embrace from behind.

You laugh despite the ache in your knees; you’ve been stooped over a hot stove for the better part of the morning.

His lips make a trail of kisses from your jaw to your shoulder, saying, “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I thought I had to?” You touch his hair. “That’s news to me.”

He blinks down at the counter, then abruptly lays down wetter kisses. “How broke did you go?”

You melt against him and make more room for his teeth, making you shiver. “Levi.”

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

“No.”

His hands slip beneath your top, humming softly in satisfaction to find you aren’t wearing a bra.

“Levi,” you say, softer.

He massages your soft breasts into his palms, pushing, then squeezing them together.

Your eyes flutter as heat pools down below your waist. “Honey, I’m not done.”

“I’m thankful,” he murmurs, ignoring you, and rolls your nipples under his rough thumbs.

You swallow a whine. “Don’t you want to eat?” you ask thinly.

No answer. He’s busy suckling a reddish mark into your neck.

He’s very convincing. Maybe letting breakfast cool isn’t such a terrible idea.

Delicately bracing the center of your chest, one of his hands slips down. Its rough callouses feel immensely satisfying against your belly.

Just when it (surprisingly) looks like he’s going to go along with eating after all, his palm follows a path down between your thighs. 

You gasp softly. One fingertip sweeps continuously through your slit, beneath your panties. 

“All this is for me, isn’t it?” he says conversationally into your ear. “Of course I want to eat.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, taking support from the counter to rock into the fingers just lightly circling your clit. “Fuck, Levi.”

With no hesitation, he cages you in against the counter so you feel a hint of hardness pressed against your backside from behind. Heavier, hot breaths puff against your neck.

Suddenly, you don’t care if everything is ice cold by the time he’s finished with you. He can take you anywhere, and the idea of it happening right here, makes your heartbeat throb in your clit.

“Let me—”

“Yes.”

With an amused huff, he rubs you with practiced fingers and pulls away, making you whine.

Now turned to face him, his middle finger lands on your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. You feel it’s wet.

Maybe you should’ve worn lipstick.

Levi’s eyes gleam as your tongue darts out for a taste. “You’re so messy,” he comments, guiding you towards the dining table. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.”

Shocked by his forwardness, your stomach jumps as you’re bent over the wooden table—which you already set with placemats and silverware. Your bottom half is in flames. 

“Thought you were eating,” you hear yourself say.

“That too.”

As your shirt comes off, “Real funny, Captain.”

He ignores you. The moment you sense him dropping to his knees, taking your sticky panties down along with him, your breath jumps.

“Exactly.”

A tiny whine is stolen from you as his hot breath hits your pussy, constructing sharply from the cool air.

He kisses the backs of your spread thighs. Lithe hands spread you open. “If you’re gonna make us celebrate, I wanna celebrate my way, and not hear you complain about it.”

He doesn’t bother teasing. His lips press to your fluttering hole, before he begins lapping at your cunt.

Levi, not teasing you.

“Ah!” you gasp from the bottom of your lungs. A hot, wet tongue pushes through your slit, which is now properly soaked. 

You grope for something—anything to steady yourself. You manage his soft hair, and a groan of approval vibrates your clit.

Bright pleasure vibrates through you, and doesn’t stop. Hell if you know where his sudden confidence is coming from, because while sex with Levi never fails to blow you away, he’s making you go cross-eyed.

The sound of slurping sounds from below, made louder by the way he holds you completely open.

You jolt from the overstimulation, your hole twitching around nothing.

You shudder, begging, “Please, please,”—you feel so empty.

You want to ask what’s gotten into him, but the words evaporate as soon as his heavy tongue pushes into your tight cunt.

Instinctively, you tighten with a soft cry, which only encourages him to start fucking you with it. 

He keeps your twitching thighs spread, and moans deep into you. Even more instinctively, you pull him by his hair, forcing his tongue. The sound that results has you gaping into the polished oak table. Something clatters to the floor.

Levi’s hips twitch forward into nothing but his zipper. He’s forced so close he’s halfway suffocated, but he loves it—he loves to be used for you to feel good.

It’s a mystery to him how you really believed he wouldn’t want to fuck you with his tongue, especially on his birthday.

His favorite part is your sweet, heavy taste—he simply can’t get enough—or how you cough out a cry in surprise when three fingers sweep your clit up and down in swift c’mere motions. Maybe it’s your warm, pillowy cunt squeezing his tongue, or the way two of his fingers easily bury inside next to it. He curls them up snug against your favorite spot.

“Right there,” you gasp. “Fuck, don’t stop!”

Breathing hard, he smacks a kiss to your swollen pink clit before giving you his mouth again. He loves you like this, and he loves you. His heart skips a beat.

“I’m already…” You moan, your tone a warning. 

It sets him on fire, the way you need him. 

“Ca-Captain, I’m not gonna last if you don’t stop.”

His cock gives a hard, heavy throb. He moans loudly and pulls his mouth off, but his fingers stay curled inside. They piston in and out slowly, but deep enough for your pussy to swallow in his second knuckles.

With his free hand he takes a handful of your ass, and spreads you open.

“You don’t wanna come, pretty girl?” he asks, thick with that teasing tone you know so well. 

“No!” you cry, and realize what you just said. “Wait, yes, please please—”

His balls ache. He wets his swollen lips before leaving forward, swiping over your much tighter hole. 

You wail, “Levi!”

“Oh, yeah. It’s not up to you, is it?”

His fingers slow, then stop, making you keen into the wood. Your pink cunt is drooling for him.

It’s—It’s your birthday,” you whimper, feeling betrayed by yourself. “You can do anything you want to me.”

Working your soft thighs and ass in his palms, he hums, “Uh-huh.”

Once again he rises to his feet, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

His hand lands on the center of your back to keep you steady while he makes quick work of his belt and trousers. As it clinks, then zips, he can feel your dazed eyes on him, watching.

“Fuck,” you sigh, dragging it out. “You’re so hard.”

“Turn around for me.”

You do. With his help, your backside lies on the table edge with you bent in such a way that your ankles rest on his shoulders.

Your wet cunt is completely exposed to him. The cool air on your clit makes you twitch.

You gaze up at his messed hair and red cheeks, stricken by how good he looks. Between his plump thighs his cock is bright red and swollen, beaded with cum.

He holds your hip, keeping you together. “Are you comfortable?’

You nod, feeling dopey, and reach to guide his round cockhead past your rim. The push is easy, filling you to the brim. Perfect.

Your head falls back. “L-Love your dick, fuck. You’re perfect.”

A bitten moan rumbles in his chest. Tight.

He pushes and pulls by shallow inches. “Is all this really that surprising to you?”

“This?” Your hand grabs his. You reach with the other, feeling where you’re connected. “No. Just, you’re not usually—” you search your dizzy mind for a word, “So much.”

It dawns on him what you mean, and his shallow thrusts pause. “D’you want me to stop?”

You manage to gape. “Don’t you dare.”

This position won’t let him kiss you, so he kisses low on your thigh instead. Even here he tastes sweat and sex, all traces of last night’s shower gone.

“Guess I’m in a good mood.”

He takes you right there, from short and shallow to soon pistoning his cock in and out of you in long, hard thrusts—so much so the table lurches several times (more metal clatters, and something swoops to the floor). In order to keep you close, he takes your hip like a vice and fucks you with abandon. 

You encourage him louder and louder— “Yes! Yes, fuck—!”—until his jaw slackens. Your pussy, soft like silk, starts to squeeze him.

“Fucking perfect,” he groans.

He folds you completely in half, one leg now dangling high, and it changes the angle.

A flurry of hard, wet thrusts, and you come.

A shiver rocks his whole body. As your pussy gushes, pleasure like liquid heat overtakes him, and he fucks his cum into you soon after.

“Do you know what you do to me?” he wants to ask. “Do you realize yet how perfect you are?”

As usual, he can’t muster the words. In the come-down, the only sound throughout the sun-bathed kitchen is both of your heavy breathing.

From where your chest heaves upon the crooked table, like a model for some erotic artist, both your thighs tremble.

“Your breakfast,” you croak, grieving.

It’s hard not to smile. As he wipes down your inner thighs with a wet rag, he corrects you: “Brunch.”

“All my blood, sweat n’ tears… gone to waste.”

He tuts softly, and lugs you up. “It hasn’t been left out in the rain, has it?”

“No…” But you don’t sound convinced.

“It’s fine. Just don’t expect me to eat off this table.”

You have a smartass retort for that, he can feel it since he did, technically, eat off this table… but you’re too spent. Your chest only drops with a dramatic sigh. 

After a much more thorough cleanup (including a change of clothes), Levi takes good care to restore (what is now) lunch to its former glory.

He’s proud of himself. Granted, all he’s had this morning is some tea, but his mouth waters from the smell.

Out on the porch, its overhang protects you both from the surprising amount of sun breaking through the silvery cloudcover this far into Yule.

However, the sharp air remains stubbornly chilled. In case you shiver, he retrieves a blanket that you drape over your lap.

In your respective cushioned chairs, you eat with your plates tucked in your laps. 

“You, in a good mood, on your birthday,” you’re musing, that stupidly warm smile on your face. “That’s a first.”

Levi grunts. You couldn’t be more right; anything resembling a good mood and his birthday mingle like oil and water. There’s a one in 365 chance that it’s even accurate, but he genuinely doesn’t see what needs celebrating anyway.

He blames his actions the night before. It weighs on him heavily still, in the lightest of ways.

Cautiously, he pushes his cut of seared ham around on his wooden plate. He prefers everything to be separated, but now that that’s done, and the toast and eggs leave the faintest trace of crumbs, he still doesn’t feel quite right about it. 

When he tasted the apple fritter, he had to pause and reel. Admittedly, he had never had it before; no matter if he’s given the opportunity, he’s quite picky when given a choice. 

But how could he act wary? And it was fantastic.

Has he ever tried ham?

In that chaotic space of time before Maria fell but after he left the Underground behind, meat was much more of a commodity, but he was, and still is, a soldier. You like to say being a Scout specifically is a thankless job by everyone but the dead, and you would be right.

Underground “meat” on the other hand was almost always crawling with something, despite the fact that it always cost a fortune in comparison to most people’s incomes.

He supposes he’s a vegetarian, albeit against his will. Hange has a tendency to randomly blurt out facts about anything, and he’s heard that if a stomach isn’t familiar with ingesting a certain type of food, it usually can’t learn. 

He hopes that isn’t true, for your cooking’s sake.

“Is it good for you?” he asks, mostly so you don’t point out his reluctance.

You fork more eggs into your mouth, nodding happily. “I’m very confident in my cooking ability, thank you.”

“Good. You should be.”

Your gaze flickers down to his plate. “It won’t bite you, you know. If you try it and decide you don’t like it, that’s fine. More for me.”

He grunts and leans back, one leg now crossed over the other. How would you know it’s his first time?—You must have a damn good eye for him.

“You shouldn’t’ve said that,” he remarks, flipping his fork backwards absentmindedly.

You scowl. “Absolutely not. At least try it first.”

“Remind me. Whose birthday is it?”

“You asshole,” you laugh, biting your lip to make it stop. “I don’t need any more.”

“But do you want more?”

Silence.

“...Tell me,” you set your fork down, “in exact words what you mean by that.”

These back-and-forths between you two are his purest form of entertainment.

“Are words so important?” he replies.

He sees you—nibbling at your lip like that. You like what he’s implying.

“It may be up to you, it’s your birthday, but at least let me suck you.” 

His chest rises.

Your voice turns into silk. “You caught me off guard earlier. I deserve much better than that, don’t you think?”

A challenge. Setting aside the way his lower half stirs, he leans over and practically drops his plate into your hands. 

“We’ll see.”

—

You suck, lick, and fuck him so good that you actually put him to sleep.

Well, partly. 

After making good on your word, you let him fuck you to tears under a hot shower spray, but getting clean turned out to be irrelevant in the end. Soon afterwards, as naked as the day you were born, you shyly asked him, “Do you maybe wanna drink, this one time?”

And, after some thought, he said yes. It takes more booze than it’s usually worth for it to do anything for him, and when he does drink enough, he can’t be on his guard like usual. The anxiety of that is usually enough to take away his buzz.

Besides, after growing up seeing boozehounds everywhere he went—the (sometimes) uncharacteristic fits of rage, the burning stink, and the zombie-like idiocy about them—he has some convictions about drinking. If anyone asks, Levi doesn’t get drunk.

Opportunities always present themselves of course, but he only makes it a goal to get drunk on special occasions. That included tonight.

He popped the cork off a bottle of scarlet merlot. The mood was comfortable, you drank slowly, and you enjoyed yourselves. Even him.

You grew slow and slurry not two glasses in, so he dutifully refilled them (until you’ve had enough). It took him longer to get to where you were, but when the world finally began to narrow in that comforting way, the inexplicable warmth creeped in, and his mind began to buzz, he was with you.

Time stretched as you sipped the syrupy alcohol in front of a crackling fireplace. Mostly you chatted, but you also climbed on top of him there, and when it got late, he draped a thick, downy blanket around your bare shoulders.

Later enough for your bedroom to be an abyss, Levi twitches to awareness from a bottomless sleep in a stinking bed between stuffy sheets. He kicks them off as soon as he gets some handle over his leaded limbs, and rubs his eyes.

Sleeping so deeply, and waking with no memory of how he got somewhere is unheard of for him. His head is even still buzzing a little, despite the nausea.

Shit, is his first intelligent thought. I sleep when I drink.

It would be terribly easy to sleep some more. Only, when lazily reaching across the bed, he finds your warm, lumpy pillow, but not you.

Suddenly he’s wide awake, stone-cold sober, and shooting up in bed. You’re not here.

He tosses a look over. The bathroom is dark.

You’re probably getting water.

Anxiety tears him up anyway. He pulls himself out of bed.

With fresh briefs, an open shirt, and a pair of pants on, he paws his empty pockets.

He fishes through a pair of his boots. He’s very aware that carrying a weapon in these circumstances is the furthest thing from necessary, but his judgment is garbled—another reason he dislikes drinking.

After the dim hallway comes the stairs. He lets the banister guide him going down.

You’re getting water. The kitchen is cast in gold by a lantern set on the island, joined by the slaps of your bare feet padding around inside.

His anxiety blows away. After the last step he heads in your direction like a man on a mission.

Sleepy-eyed, you jerk your head up from your glass of water and smile just in time for Levi to wrap you in his arms from behind. 

He sighs softly. Better. As you sway together, he makes like a baby possum and refuses to let go.

“Hm,” you murmur, relaxing against him. “Hi.”

“You left,” he speaks into your neck. You stink deliciously of sex. “Don’t do that.”

You seem to find this adorable. As you pet his hair, his annoyance melts away.

“I was only gone a second,” you say. “I was thirsty. What if I died of dehydration?”

“No,” vibrates against your shoulder.

“No?” you laugh. “Did you miss me that much?”

The drink makes his tongue loose. “You have no clue, do you?” Squeeze. “Jus’ don’t go anywhere I can’t follow.”

Your heart leaps into the sky. A grin breaks onto your cheeks as an obnoxious Awww falls off your lips. “You’re so fucking adorable, ‘Vi.”

You try to twist around in his arms, but he mistakes this as you pulling away, and only tightens his hold.

If that’s how it’s going to be, you go completely lax a moment, sending you both nearly toppling over. 

As you wanted, he huffs against your hairline and pins you to him by your shoulders and middle, clinging.

“You’re the biggest brat I know.”

“Did you hear me? Adorable?”

He sighs. “I never know what to say when you call me shit like that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. You’re just adorable.” You hug his strong forearm that’s pinned across your chest. “With a heart of pure gold, who anyone would be lucky to know. The most brave, most handsome, most pretty—”

He makes another unhappy sound and reaches to clamp your mouth shut, which you don’t allow to happen.

“My Levi,” you sing-song. “Whom I adore.”

“This is torture,” he speaks softly. “Torturing me, after I made all this effort.”

“Effort to keep me from getting a drink of water?” you cackle.

“You don’t need—”

“And not torture—”

“—water, I’d get you some—”

“Levi, you’re being—” you laugh—

“—if you were really dehydrated.”

—so hard your sides twist into cramps. You laugh until there’s no air left in your lungs, so your belly merely wracks. At the same time, tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

You can feel him smiling softly against your hairline.

Oh, what you’d give to see.

“Levi,” you shake out the last giggles. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

He freezes, whatever face he was making slipping off his face. His stomach drops out of existence. “What?”

Did he not hear you right? He retreats backwards, causing you to spin back around. 

“W-What did you say just now?” he asks again, no louder than a whisper.

That sober look on your face. He knows it was real, what you just said. The silence, so thick you couldn’t pierce it with a hacksaw, proves it and proves it.

Your mouth opens, shuts. “Levi.”

“What?” he asks again, now demanding. It’s hard to breathe suddenly. His face heats. He feels himself tense, as if for attack.

“I—I don’t know.” You blink, and that’s shock painted on even your own face. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t know?” he snaps, motionless. Even his shoulders rise and fall with his breaths.

He doesn’t know why he’s growing so upset. Loathing festers inside, and the more upset he becomes, the more it grows.

“It just slipped out,” tumbles out of your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” You stall, at a loss.

In the third person, he feels himself crashing through the floor outside his body, dropping out from underneath himself.

He takes another step, this time measured. A silent feeling screams for him to escape this situation, but another plants his feet to the floor.

His silence must be telling.

“No!” you exclaim, lips moving rapidly to explain. “I mean, I c-couldn’t help it. I wasn’t thinking, it just…” Your eyes glitter with tears. “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, Levi doesn’t even trust his feet to hold him up. He is totally lost for words.

In the doorway that feeds into the sitting room, he discreetly holds onto it. His other hand lies limply by his side, nails digging into his palm.

“Wait,” you call from the same place, voice soft. “Are you going to leave?”

A beat passes before he shakes his head, disbelieving. What do you mean by that?—Do you have so little faith in him? His dry mouth stops him from asking.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It’s hard to swallow. “...We should sober up.”

And so he retreats into the darkness, stopping briefly when the backdoor enters his sight. As much as he craves the fresh air, going that route would confirm every one of your fears.

He scours his memories. An empty bedroom sits on the ground floor, he remembers.

You insisted on remodeling that room, but inside, it still might as well be a sealed box besides the pathetic amount of moonlight pushing past the blinds, casting shadows.

He twists the knob all the way to shut it as quietly as possible, then staggers to the corner attached to the same wall as the door, and slides down into a sit. 

He knows he’s being pathetic. As a kid, it was a good technique he used to hide. As a man, it lets him get an advantage over enemies. You’re not a threat.

He wrestles with his head silently and folds his knees to his chest while he waits for your steps. You’ve never invaded his space in the past, but tonight, he can’t be confident.

Tonight. He’s stuck on that all the sudden. Just a few hours ago was his birthday, but that feels so far away now.

Of course, you were drunk. That’s what troubles him. There’s a thin line, he’s found, between the truth slipping out of a drunk person, and saying things they don’t mean. It’s better he doesn’t trust a thing until you’re both sober enough to know for sure.

Partly, he wants to hear you say that it was a mistake. You’ve realized that his suspicions were correct: he really did trick you by seeping so much good out of you to take for himself. To make himself believe that he is not a murderer, a thief, and a bastard. How he needed your goodness because there is not a single bit of good inside himself, how he is so selfish that even without realizing, he deceived you.

How could he do that while you’re in the middle of this losing war against the Titans? you would ask him. You realize that he’s unlovable. He is so fucking unlovable in fact that he’s better off dying in battle tomorrow so at least he will be used for what he’s meant to be used for.

Partly, he wants you to slam the door open so hard it punctures the drywall, yank him up by his shoulders and scream in his face how foolish he’s being. Yes, he’s abnormal and far from perfect, and yes this world is a nightmare but the way you feel makes all that cease to matter.

You will pour your heart out to him and recite the specific moment you realized you love him, with tangible reasons he can replicate. You will promise to return to his side safely every day for the rest of your lives.

And partly, he doesn’t want to know.

His head pounds. He closes his eyes.

He used to hate, much more than he does these days, that he can’t remember a time his mother ever spoke the same. Granted, he doesn’t remember more than a few glimpses of his childhood—maybe because of the hunger and all the shit he survived—but either way, it’s more reassuring to imagine she never told him because she never needed to. 

He isn’t naive, he knows that not all parents love their kids, but she did. He knew, without her having to say anything, that she felt that way.

His train of thought crashes against the sound of wood whining, signaling your ascent up the stairs.

Staring straight ahead, he breathes carefully and tames his hell of emotions.

Why does he feel this way? He said it too, just when you had no way of knowing he did. Emotion raged inside him then as well, but not as intensely as this.

He feels like a little kid staring up at that cold bed. Even though it crawled, and the stench hung thick in the air, he begged for her when she wasn’t conscious to hear, and never would be again.

He gnaws on his thumb. He doesn’t want to remember that.

It occurs to him, he didn’t think his feelings would be requited, deep down.

It’s a mystery to him how love can fit into this world at all, much less there be some reserved for someone like him—how you have room in your golden heart for someone like him. It takes a flick of the wrist to swing a knife, and it’s an automatic reaction to hit when you’re struck, but he’s an amateur with the rest.

Being born in violence, raised in it, trained at it to perfection—it just doesn’t add up. He thinks he will die in it as well.

But he knows his feelings for you by now. He knows most of all that it’s impossible to put them to bed, let alone destroy them.

He hugs himself, hissing softly. Because of everything else, he didn’t realize he was freezing.

He has scarcely felt so sober in his entire life. In fact, if a pin dropped in another room, he would hear it—he’s that alert—but he wants to give you more time. 

To be sure, he thinks, knowing he’s putting the confrontation off. Partly, he doesn’t want to face you. But then, there’s another.

—

The floorboards whining under his steps on the second floor drone like alarms. He knows you know he’s coming now—there’s no way you’re asleep.

Terror thuds in his ears as he stares at the front of the bedroom door, willing himself. He is wrestling with thoughts he defeated a long time ago: whether he should knock, how to carry himself once inside, how you’re likely to react, and—

The turn of the knob is so sudden he locks up for an attack before the door whines open. Immediately, his eyes are on the floor.

“Are you…?”

Whether you’re about to say ‘mad’, ‘sober’ or ‘okay’—his next question is the same: “Are you?”

It rings in the air. You apologize before you sit down on the window sill.

His lips tug down. Whenever you apologize unprovoked, he thinks it’s for you simply existing, whether you know that or not.

“I’m so, so sorry. We can just act like it ever happened.”

He forces his lips to move. “Quit apologizing.”

“Why…?“ You look stumped. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear it.”

He stares from the doorway, back straight. In some way you’re right, but is it also possible you didn’t think he’d feel the same? 

The doorframe is his only support. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you just… don’t.” It's a statement that sounds more like a question.

“That’s confusing.”

“Well sometimes,” you sigh, “you’re confusing, too. When I said it, you physically left the room to get away from me. Now here you are, making me feel stupid because I thought that meant you didn’t want to hear it.”

You’re extremely hurt.

His chest is cold. “It wasn’t you, it’s what you said. Without any warning. Then you said you didn’t mean it.”

“Oh.” The word sounds punched from you. “That’s not what I—”

His teeth grind. “How exactly did you expect me to react?”

You look down at your feet.

“I would be doing anything other than standing here if I didn’t—also feel that way.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “Fuck, I’m crying.” You furiously wipe your eyes. “I meant it slipped out. I guess I just think about it a lot, s-so that’s what happened.”

“You think about it…?” he trails off, genuinely confused.

“I didn’t wanna put pressure on you. And you always—” you gesture vaguely, “—you always say stuff without saying it.”

He waits for you to go on, but you’re busy collecting yourself, wiping your eyes. 

“You surprised me,” he offers, blandly.

“I know.”

But you weren’t the first to say it. It was a slip of the tongue on your part, even though your feelings are just as true as his.

For him, it was premeditated. He was sure.

For you two, this is a serious argument. He feels the need to get you both on the same page.

“You're wrong,” he tells you.

“What do you mean?”

For as long as he’s stood watching you, he looks away. “I said you’re wrong.”

Your lips part, moving, but not understanding. “Which part?”

“The last part.”

“A-About saying stuff?”

“Second to last,” he snarls.

“Pressure,” you sound out. “You said it?”

His cheeks heat, he’s excruciatingly embarrassed. “…Yeah.”

You look at him like he’s just grown a second head. “…Well, then—when? If you did, I would’ve heard you.”

“No. You wouldn’t have.” He shifts his footing and frowns at the look on your face. “Don’t make me say it… it’s embarrassing.”

A long, arduous silence thickens the air again. Hopefully you gather what happened—which mortifies him much more than if he just told you outright, making it seem as if it was casual for him.

Then he hears a heavier sniff, and his feet lurch into step. An ache permeates his fingers—which he notices only now—from knuckling the doorframe. 

He paces over and sits down next to you, leaving space. Mostly for his own peace of mind.

“Levi… Why in the world would you do a creepy thing like that?”

He’s shocked to hear you sound coy. You’re even making a face when he glances over. 

As usual, he doesn’t get the joke. He doesn’t have a good answer, either.

“J-Just to see.”

“See?”

“What would happen.”

You nod a little, expression even again. “When?”

“…What is this, an interrogation?”

“Well, for all I know…” you smirk a little, “…you said it two years ago, before we started dating. Or four years, when you were—”

“I get it,” he cuts in, scowling. “Quit guessing. They’re bad guesses, anyway. You’d never figure it out.”

“I doubt that.”

“Of course you do.”

You scoff, in mock-hurt, picking at your cuticles in that nervous way you never quit doing.

You’re smiling a little. He sees its radiance out of the corner of his eye. “And unlike me… you were sober,” you guess.

He clutches his hands into soft fists. “So? You can say anything while sober.” His lips press together. “Can’t you?”

“Yeah.”

With no room for urgency, you lay your head on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen. 

He doubts he makes a good pillow right now; he’s so tense that if a brick was thrown at him, it would break into pieces.

It’s not like you to sit in silence—it doesn’t even feel like the conversation is over—but each moment drags. It feels like a long feather is stroking his insides, not because of what you’ll say, but the very words themselves.

“I love you,” you whisper, and he sucks in a swift breath. 

He is at a crossroad: breathing hard, forcing control, or not breathing at all.

What this feeling is, is magma boiling up inside him and burning him alive, and he squeezes his eyes shut so tight it aches because he doesn’t know why he can’t just get over himself and be normal—to react normally to those words.

But it’s not too much.

Obediently, you raise your head to give him space. The look on his face is unimaginably pained, even tortured.

“...Is it okay?” You whisper this, too.

He swallows, and looks away. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I don’t know either, but I don’t care.”

It takes him several long moments before he can trust his voice. “C-Could you say it again? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, I can.” A smile is in your voice. “I love you. I love you, Levi.”

“Are—Are you sure?” he asks, voice raw.

Your breath shakes. “Yes.”

“Make sure.”

You humor him even though you can probably tell that he’s overwhelmed. It suddenly, just—sounds so good to hear it. So fulfilling.

You say it and say it, finally breathing life into what this is and giving it away fearlessly—or as fearlessly as one can speak despite their trembling breath. 

While making knots out of his trousers, he shudders his own breath. If you touched him right now, he might explode.

You actually love him. Someone can, and it’s you.

“I love you,” you say, and gently, so gently, your hand lands atop his own. 

“Levi.” You mouth at his hairline. “I love you. I love you with all my heart.”

He makes a face, teeth grinding so he doesn’t either snort, or give into shaking. 

“You’re so fucking sappy, it makes me sick,” he rasps, pulling away. 

You have a pretty laugh. As your hand moves to pull away, he abruptly takes it, and still not looking at you, pulls it to his lips.

That look on his face, you’re conflicted on. A deep frown tugs his lips down, and that wrinkle between his brow is more pronounced than ever, but he’s blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. Silvery blue eyes are open, shining softly.

“Levi.”

He pauses with your hand, as if contemplating something, before giving it the smallest of squeezes and letting it go.

You feel the need to preface, “You don’t need to say anything.”

So he doesn’t say anything. For a moment.

“It’s difficult for me.” His voice shakes, and he feels pathetic.

“I know.” You touch his shoulder. “But I know how you feel… you know?”

Nod.

Your expression reminds him of a tired dove. “I’ll be in bed, okay?”

Relief. He nods again. He’ll join you later, but he needs time to calm down, and to think.

He has never been happier in his whole life.

—

At the turn of the new year, your last days, you climb up on horseback behind Levi most mornings and spend afternoons going wherever the wind takes you, however long you want, doing anything.

Endlessly, forever, for both the first time and possibly your last. 

That last evening midway through January, your cheeks still hurt from smiling so much. That day, you had stumbled upon the largest field of sunflowers either of you had ever seen and had a picnic, despite the sleet still layered on the ground.

Levi was quieter than usual, but if he wasn’t enjoying himself, even the slightest bit, he would’ve found some way to complain—which never happened. 

The eternal struggle even momentarily drifted from your mind, which you had been wrestling: this war, its demands, its aftermath, and its end (if it will ever come). Slavery to the fight.

It was your idea to make your last evening last as long as possible by spending most of the night up talking and rating a ton of teas.

He didn’t have a single issue staying awake; you were the one who dozed off with your head propped up on your hand during the twilight hour.

Now he nudges open the stiff bedroom door with his back, taking care not to let your feet bump the doorway, nor for your neck nod off his shoulder.

After he lays you down in bed, you moan softly in your sleep and roll onto your side, away from him.

His lips quirk, just a little. You make it hard to help himself.

As soon as he’s curled up behind you, tangled in the sheets, you roll again and all but plant him on his back to lay your head down.

Nobody says anything. Maybe it just comes naturally to your sleeping self.

Levi’s lips quirk again. 

He wants to sleep. Nights of solitude never truly bother him unless you’re sleeping peacefully; it’s an especially excruciating pit of loneliness that forms after an hour or two of finding patterns in the cracks in the ceiling. Only the guarantee that he will be ready for any possible emergency that concerns you (may it come or not) reassures him.

He can feel it. Sleep won’t come.

Until the mourning doves begin their crooning, his mind wanders around in pointless directions. Dawn’s grey light creeps in.

He sighs softly to himself to the tune of your soft snores. There’s still much to get done before you can properly go. He might as well get a headstart.

You’ll need the rest. Your mood is twice as antsy as his if you don’t get enough sleep compared to when he doesn’t sleep at all, which is saying something.

So he climbs out of bed.

By the time the sun has properly risen in the sky, Levi is laying out a small breakfast on the dining table; the lazy sound of wood creaking from upstairs was his signal.

The last of the butter melts on a crisp piece of toast next to a bunch of strawberries he sliced this morning. It’s the last of those, too.

You toddle down the wood stairs, which also whine under your steps, scrubbing sleep from your eyes.

“Good,” he greets you. “You’re dressed. Eat. You’ll need the energy.”

“Good morning to you too.”

He bites down on the inside of his cheek as you plop down in the chair. It’s not even a good mood that’s begging him to smile: you amuse him.

“Thanks,” you grunt, and take a real look at him. His insomnia is chronic enough for him to hide seamlessly, but you know him well (“Too damn well,” he likes to say.).

“Are you nervous?”

“There’s a lot to do,” he replies, sits, and crosses his legs with one arm slung over the chair back.

Truthfully, it’s hard to tell. This is more of a feeling of being sure something’s waiting around a coming corner, but he can’t tell if it’s a friend or a threat yet.

He resists the urge to rub his eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock,” you sigh. “I can’t remember anything that happened after we tried that…” You blink hard. “Keemun.”

“Don’t look so guilty. I don’t sleep much.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

He’s pleased you never woke up while he carried you; the keemun was the best place to end things, anyway. It tasted as smooth as an expensive cigar, if rolled in baked plums and chocolate.

You’re leaving here with so many good memories, it hurts. The pain makes him wonder.

If the opportunity never presents itself for you both to return, or worse, he alone would be given it, then all that would ever remain in this place is ghosts.

He watches you nibble away at the last of your toast like a chipmunk, and knows for certain—he would always feel for you the same way, even if Yan didn’t “repay” him that “debt”.

Would he have told you he loves you?

No, he decides. His pessimistic side wants to write this while trip off as being lulled into a false sense of security.

To be fair, that’s what it is. False.

This bundle of peace is left standing bright at your retreating backs. One day, it could be a horrible memory, a reflection of broken dreams.

There are other dreams which wait to be fulfilled, but you will still be with him, as long as you don’t leave him behind.

He awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you think you’ll remember this in the future?”

You nearly spit out your toast. “Huh? Of course I will. Won’t you?”

“Yeah.” The bookshelf a few paces from the front door holds only a few lonely books now. He looks at that instead of you. “But that means missing it.”

“I know, but…” you wipe your mouth with a napkin, “…We’ll miss everything, you know?”

“Yeah, but this is… more than that.”

Your lips tug down, and he kind of wishes he didn’t say anything.

“More than everything?”

Yes.

“Forget it,” he says.

“…Would you rather we not have done it?”

No reply. You put what remains of your toast down. “You can be honest.”

“I’d rather not miss it.”

The good things are a blessing, and a curse. He knows too well what this world is majorly made up of—he needs to be ready for that. He can’t be sure of anything, including the good things.

But he forces himself not to regret. This winter, it was still good. He got to be with you. It isn’t what he learned to let himself do, or feel, or think—but not to do any of those things at all.

To simply be.

Comfort. False security. All these in passing turns a prick of pain that will inevitably come along into a thrashing whip. It makes one complacent and comfortable when they can’t afford to be. Tragedy waits, always.

He has never experienced such happiness, which is why he has never been so disappointed in himself for allowing himself to do so.

Quiet persists. You have your listening face on now, napkin crushed in one hand while you exchange soft blinks.

“I don’t mean to shit all over the mood, but I want your opinion,” he decides. “…D’you think this was for nothing?”

You reach across the table and lay your hand on his. 

“Nothing’s for nothing,” you say.

He wants to believe you.

—

As you expected, Levi has double his weight in bags slung over his shoulders when he pokes his head in the bathroom. 

“How long is it gonna be till you’re ready?—Another month?”

“Hm. More like two,” you reply, smiling. 

A scoff, followed by the clacks of his boots retreating out the front door. 

And you keep smiling. Really, all that’s left to do is take a cursory look around to make sure nothing got left behind.  

Retreating from the bathroom, you stand at ease and examine the bookshelf in the hallway. It feels different than leaving the dining table, or even the bench off the side of the house.

You really read a horse’s weight in books while you were here. Most of the books themselves are still with you, but… it won’t be the same.

Only the rumpled spine of one and the faded covers of a few others are left stacked neatly in one desolate corner. Those ones were bad, and not in the fun way, you both agreed (these days you more often than not read together). 

You took your all-time favorite stories with you, which you’ll treasure until they too are faded. The classics as well, the just-okays, and the bad ones that turned out somehow fun.

The few so contrived, goofy and terrible that you begged to keep, because it made Levi honestly, earnestly laugh—and sometimes a little louder, more than once.

You step off the front porch steps, feeling torn, yet oddly fulfilled.

Nothing’s for nothing. A moment within a lake of millions, but you want to remember them all, all the same. 

This one especially.

—

It takes three hours under a cold, clean sky to reach Trost. By then, the afternoon sun is high and there is much unpacking to be done.

Levi slapped away your sticky fingers every time you insisted on helping carrying a lumpy bag or box inside from the front. 

“I got it,” he bitched earlier. “You don’t need to do anything.”

“But I want a job!”

He scoffed. “Fine. I have one for you: sit down and look pretty. You think you can do that?”

You roll your eyes at the memory as he passes down the small set of stairs by you. You’re still brooding, planted on top of a flat stone column just outside the tall doors. 

He knew you would, but then you make a game out of it, much to his chagrin.

For every one of his treks, you pat him somewhere—usually the top of his head—but he never knows where you’re going to aim next.

He dodges a flick to his elbow.

“Woah, you look unsteady,” you say, tone full of artificial concern. “You need help?”

He catches your wandering eyes with his cheek pressed against the cardboard box in his arms. “Don’t you have anything better to do besides distract me?”

You smile. “I can stare.”

He rolls his eyes.

Two trips later, you get dangerously close to his backside. He manages to pivot just in time and stares you down suspiciously, a box under one arm and a knapsack slung over one shoulder.

He doesn’t even look surprised anymore.

All you do is smirk.

In the end, you win that one.

It’s a blessing that HQ is still unpopulated. That’s the way it’ll be until next week, something Levi planned far in advance.

All for the better in his mind. A Scout, someone from your squad a long time ago (and who apparently almost beat him to asking you out for Mayfest a couple years ago) left the Corps early last spring. He had gotten married to a scullery maid out of Klorva District. Weird.

You put up the wagon while he stabs a familiar key into a familiar lock, and steps into his familiar quarters.

His nose scrunches as he surveys his office. He can physically see the dust particles floating in the air, especially in the glow of the windows, thanks to the afternoon sun above.

Scraping his fingertips underneath the desk confirms his suspicions.

This place is a wreck, he thinks, scowling at nothing in particular.

But after wiping his hands off with a handkerchief, he does find something to scowl at. A white wicker basket sits in his chair. It’s adorned with red and pink frills, a bunch of fresh fruit, and even… a teddy bear?

He snatches up the card on the bear’s lap, and as he reads, his glare darkens.

‘Hope your honeymoon was productive! (I know it wasn’t officially a honeymoon, but why else would you take a vacation? Levi? Vacation? Ha!)

Mike insisted I buy you this stuffed bear in preparation for the next nine months! I can’t wait to have another little Levi runn—’

Levi tears his eyes away from the card. Fucking four-eyes.

Using a stool, he gets the thing stuffed up high in a closet behind a carton of cigars. Those are for special occasions; he has no more fitting place for the basket (except for the fruit, which he stores in the kitchenette).

Just in time. Outside his office, the door opens, then thumps shut to the sound of your boots clicking as you cross the floor.

“Everything’s put away,” you tell him proudly.

“Good. I have work to do,” he replies without turning, setting the stool back in the corner of his office. “You have anything you need to do first?”

You get an early start on paperwork while he takes a much-deserved shower. After that, you work together in comfortable silence.

A sense of coming home crashes over him after he randomly blinks out of focus from his current sheet of paperwork. This one contains a list of grades and statistics of Cadets who seem likely to join up this coming spring.

He glances over at you without moving his head—you, bathed in gold thanks to the sunset moving across his desk.

Another random fact of Hange’s enters his mind: apparently, pregnant women’s skin tends to glow. Something about hormones.

Your pencil scratches paper.

He covers his warming cheeks with the back of his hand and averts his gaze. That stupid basket.

Work. Surprisingly, he spots one name on the page he remotely recognizes. Jaeger. A doctor with the same name was famous in Shiganshina for curing an epidemic several years back.

The next time he looks up, you’re planting a bowl of stew down on his desk, green tea and bread included.

He takes a breath, and his mouth instantly waters. He forgot to eat lunch earlier.

Then you place a hand in his hair. He glances up towards your fond smile.

“Do you wanna start the fireplace after you’re done eating?”

A wave of affection crashes over his chest. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m about to,” you reply. “So?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

By the time your bellies are warm and full, he has stoked the logs enough to get a real fire going. Past the sitting room’s windows, which stretch across the entire back wall, snow floats down in weightless drops.

He stores the poker away, stands, then turns. Your arms are open. 

“C’mere.”

That same feeling flips his chest over again. He pins his tongue between his teeth before quickly approaching. 

You tug him down until he lays sideways down the sofa, his head in your lap and facing the fireplace. Despite you being sat right in the middle, he’s still too short for his feet to knock against the armrest.

“I had to get that stew from the mess hall,” you’re murmuring, tucking dark bangs behind his ear. “It wasn’t that good.”

“Your standards are too high,” he replies, leaning into your palm. Everything is so warm.

“Oh? What’re my standards?”

“Your cooking. Of course everything else tastes bad in comparison.”

You laugh at this. “You’re too kind.”

Huffing, he closes his eyes and covers his face lips with a loose fist.

You’re so wrong it hurts.

He never wants you to stop.

A different realization hits him. This doesn’t feel too different from some nights you spent back on a whole other world, at the cabin.

He blinks off into space. It is just a house, a place. There would be nothing nearly as enticing about it if you weren’t there with him.

“You okay?” you ask. “You’re more quiet than usual.”

He rolls over to face you. As you slouch a little, getting comfortable, he moves with you.

“When I first got inside, this basket of fruit was sitting on my desk from four-eyes. I’m trying to figure out how they got in.”

Through giggles, “Was anything missing?”

“I don’t think so.” He was too stressed out at the time to check thoroughly. “But still.”

A thin, felt blanket is pulled off the back of the couch, then laid over him, up to his shoulders.

He turns his head.

“You looked cold,” you offer as an excuse, and he rolls his eyes, even though he was.

The fire was also dying down, but since you didn’t say anything, he didn’t stand to get it.

Typically, he would do it anyway, but…

You pet his hair down, scratching gently at his scalp.

It can wait.

He looks much more comfortable now that he’s covered up. A spontaneous memory unfurls in your mind, when losing Wall Maria. You think about forgetting those three days all the time, but the memory of that one night (or early morning? It’s hard to remember) you want to keep forever.

He was so shy then. And much more aloof. When you embraced him, that was the first time you had ever hugged a steel pole.

“We’re both still alive, but if you want to keep it that way, get some rest. Otherwise I’d have to tag along to make sure you don’t die. Doesn’t sound fun, does it?”

You bite down a bittersweet smile while what feels like big wings flutter in your chest. Was that really five years ago?

“What’s so funny?”

Your eyes meet Levi’s scrupulous ones. Most of his expression is hidden in your shirt.

“Nothin’.”

Yeah, right, he thinks, but his eyes fall shut to feel your hand carding his bangs all the way back over his forehead.

That’s something Mom used to do, if he remembers right, especially after cutting the rat’s nest that was usually his hair.

His childhood had more peaceful times than he gives it credit for. This time, though, he aims to keep these times from ever stopping.

He isn’t foolish. As long as Erwin’s dream hasn’t come to fruition, the fighting won’t cease. It may never stop, at least by the time he’s no longer there to fight for it, but he knows some things for sure.

You two will never be normal—he has long-since accepted that. As long as he has this, you, he can make peace with his more selfish dreams.

Within the coming months, the 104th batch of recruits will be up for the chopping block; a bunch of brats spit out into the three branches like marbles. Erwin will give his honeyed speech, and Levi will be near, and he won’t have to say much.

Some of those marbles will land in the Survey Corps, most won’t. But those few are more brave, or foolish, than any slack-jawed cow of a noble could ever fully grasp.

And finally, always, when you two return to HQ—bustling or sparse, the day heavy or light—you will be with him. 

Home. He knows what that means now, and it doesn’t have to be a place. Maybe you will stretch his legs across his lap, or make a casserole. Maybe he will replace the flowers in your vase that you accidentally neglect often enough to worry him.

He will feel time wandering and expanding, daring him to believe your midnight conversations will stretch on forever.

They won’t, but he has made peace with that. This life is, in fact, more heavenly than he ever could have imagined wanting for himself, let alone making.

You and he will simply have to fight, within an inch of your lives at worst, in order to keep it.

The End.

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