#who created that thought? who put it in his mind? where does it all stem from?

[rx-aysgl]

On Kyle's Side: My Personal Take on Cartman And Kyle's Dynamic From Kyle's Point Of View

This is a four part essay in which i explore Cartman and Kyle's relationship, focusing primarily on Kyle's perspective. As said, i have broken it down into four different parts titled:

Sense of Identity

Martyr Complex and Competitiveness

Cartman

Their Relationship

There will be an extra chapter where i will make some additional commentary.

Hope you guys enjoy.

1. Sense of Identity and Selfishness

In the show Kyle is always concerned about “doing the right thing”, at least that's what he likes to tell himself. Though in reality, he is extremely selfish when push comes to shove and the reason for that stems from his constant questioning of his own identity and his stance in things. This makes him come off as rather inconsistent in a lot of ways. As a result, Kyle feels very lost. So what does he do? He decides to base his opinions and feelings and thoughts off of his environment because his own existance overwhelms him so much (eg. the "Tooth Fairy Tats 2000" episode). This puts him into this vicious cycle where he keeps getting lost even more due to not being able to pinpoint his own frame of thought and latching onto the external world that consists of many different people who have found their own way in life who also keep changing constantly and thus leaving all kinds of contradicting impressions on him. Throughout the series we see him try to change his apparence, religion, even his personality for the sake of fitting in (this also correlates to his martyr complex which i will get to). He creates this moral code for himself that he conditions himself to stick to in order to find his own identity and feel a sense of belonging but the sheer inconsistency of said moral code causes him to come off as indecisive, sometimes as a people pleaser and sometimes a hypocrite.

His defiance of a stable frame of mind pushes him to act on instinct and his momentary emotions while his refusal of self-acceptance causes him to distance his true self from others he considers close to him (Stan), hence the selfishness. It makes sense because how could someone get close to another when he can't even make peace with his own identity?

The reason i am mentioning this is to point out that since Cartman is so extreme in his beliefs and deliberately commits so many evil and selfish deeds, Kyle is obsessively drawn to him because it is so easy to call out and oppose him. Their polarity makes Kyle feel a sense of self he doesnt allow himself to truly make peace with and sugarcoat how fucked up he can be just like all the people in South Park that have wronged him but not enough to channel these feelings into. Cartman keeps Kyle grounded. Just like basically every other kid in the show, Kyle has done terrible things but he is so concerned about being right that he has to have Cartman by his side to make him escape from his own inner conflicts by reflecting it directly onto Cartman, the one person he is actually much more similar to more than he likes to think but he can only subconsciously acknowledge it.

2. Martyr Complex and Competitiveness

Another very essential aspect we need to pay attention to is Kyle's martyr complex. Kyle feels the need to not only to do the right thing but also to “sacrifice himself” for it. He is so self righteous to the point that not only does he not acknowledge his own flaws he also thinks he has to be and is some kind of heroic figure to others (eg. "Ginger Cow"), though this is more subtle compared to the other aspects of his personality.

The martyr complex causes Cartman to be seen as an even easier target than he already is and Cartman is more than willing to exploit Kyle for it hence feeding his very own complexes. They mutually feed off of each other to the point they are obsessed with each other and need each other. I would also like to point out that Kyle often shares some of his most vulnerable moments when Cartman is by his side in a suprising way (eg. choosing to stay by Cartman's side in the "You're Getting Old" and "Ass Burgers" episodes as an escape from Stan's depression at the time, crying with Cartman in "Kenny Dies" etc.) and vice versa. Though this is hard to notice on Cartman's side because Kyle conveys his vulnerability via confusion, sadness and desparation whereas Cartman does so via anger, jealousy and revenge.

3. Cartman

Cartman chastising Kyle like this most likely stems from how he believes Kyle was the catalyst to how fucked up he turned out to be due to his constant agression and bullying towards him in the earlier seasons, where he was mostly just a spoiled brat and nowhere near as bad as he is now. His pent up fury leads Cartman to also feel an extreme amount of envy towards Kyle with the reason of Cartman being a little more capable than Kyle at recognizing how him and Kyle share many similarities (being very emotionally driven, selfishness, neuroticism, stubbornnes, a habit of denying their own mistakes) who is in full denial of it on a conscious level. Cartman does try to get closer to Kyle and also the rest of his friends and seek their validation in the earlier seasons but as time goes by he realizes more and more that Kyle does not get the same treatment as him regardless.

Therefore, Cartman blames Kyle for his suffering and takes it all out on him in various disgusting ways because he thinks that Kyle deserves all the terrbile things happening to him.

It is very important to take into consideration how abhorrent Cartman's upbringing was and how influential it is to the way he feels towards Kyle. All of his childhood; he was raised with all kinds of abuse, neglect, extensive bullying and was depraved of almost all positive emotions. The result of this is Cartman ending up percieving positive emotions in a very traumatized, distorted and disturbing way. With this gradual build-up and "Scott Tennorman Must Die" being his breaking point by spreading fear to all of South Park and feeling an overwhelming amout of attention on him that he craved so much, Cartman ultimately comes to the conclusion that he can only and only validate himself by inflicting negativity on others. Independent from being conventionally "positive" or "negative" emotions, post-Scott Tennorman Cartman correlates all of his emotions to seeking attention and asserting himself as much as he can in means of a defense mechanism and in means of validating his own existance. His real feelings are filtered through a broken perspective, of which are conveyed intensely to the people he feels strongly about like Kyle or Liane.

How this all comes back to Kyle lies in the fact that Cartman also "benefits" from the way Kyle caters to his own problems via their seemingly very polarized relationship, not only does Cartman keep Kyle grounded as mentioned but Kyle does keep Cartman grounded as well.

At this point, their individual vicious cycles have become one, a constant play of cat and mouse; with both of them unable to differentiate which one is which, ever chasing.

4. Their Relationship

Describing their feelings towards each other as solely hate wouldn’t do justice to the times they tried so hard to keep the other in their lives (eg. the "Smug Alert" and "Skank Hunt" episodes) not only for the sake of just existing in each others lives or keeping in touch etc. but also to keep each other in their individual loops they are in, of which they cannot maintain with anyone else.

As a consequence Kyle and Cartman’s mutual obsession with each other leads them to go such lengths as saving each other multiple times. However, since there is a perpetual competitiveness between them due to Cartman's evny towards Kyle and Kyle's insatiable need to prove himself to be better than Cartman, they simply cannot stand each other’s happiness, especially if it involves someone really close to them, like a partner. Cartman ruining Kyle's potential romantic relationship with Nicole in "Cartman Finds Love" and Kyle trying to ruin Cartman's relationship with Heidi in "Doubling Down" and Kyle being unable to appreciate Cartman finally changing his ways for good and having a loving relationship and family in the Post Covid specials are all examples of both of them selfishly trying to involve the other in their own issues they should be able to deal with on their own, only have they not been such self absorbed people.

Their rivalry brings out the best and the worst in each other and they both know deep down that they are just like each other and they both hate it and feel an odd sense of comfort in it. That is exactly the reason why they simply cannot stand when the one of them goes on to have a happier life than the other. Not only do they feel as if they have lost some kind of battle but they also feel abandoned when it happens.

Extra Thoughts:

I find their relationship to be extremely complex and honest to god it has my multi media overthinker ass climbing up the walls and shitting furnitures. They are my favorite characters in the show and analyzing both of them was such treat to me. Due to some things i have mentioned in this essay especially on the last chapter, you can interpret some of them in the same vein as some kind of shipping subtext, even though this essay is essentially written in means of sheerly exploring this dynamic as it is. I honestly like keeping things really ambigious without necessarily categorizing relationships as romantic or platonic but if written properly i can enjoy both renditions of this relationship.

In order to clarify some things, i can enjoy romantic kyman ONLY AND ONLY in the condition of Cartman bettering himself over the years. I know it would be really difficult and may seem impossible to most of you but i find it an interesting and challenging story to think about and create content for. I believe that Eric is forever gonna stay as an asshole and i do not expect him to become an angel in the future. However I also think of him to be a really traumatized 8 year old, who is a really fucked up product of his really fucked up environment, a child who is smart enough to learn to be a better person, especially to those he values as his friends if given the proper opportunity. I do not think that their relationship will ever be a conventionally and classically an ideal one, especially from an outsider's perspective but Kyle and Cartman (and the entirety of South Park's cast) are both very far from being ideal human beings in the first place. At the end of the day, relationships can be very complex and unhealthy in real life, they always come in different colors and shapes. It is okay to explore a relationship in fiction without thinking it is the ideal relationship or the relationship you want to have in your own lives. It is okay to explore a relationship because it is interesting and well-written. This is what media literacy is all about.

As a disclaimer before some dumbass ship discourse happens, there are ofc some lines not to cross like the romanticization of inc*st, p*dophilia, r*pe and things like ww2 aus and shit btw. That being said, if you cannot separate fiction and reality to the extent i talked about in the previous chapter, this is your stupidity. Stop making it everybody's fucking problem.

anyways im gonna be extra deadass rn if someone gave me a 100k word long collage au that is written properly i would eat that shit up like theres no tomorrow. it doesnt even have to be romantic i just want more of them they are so interesting 😭😭😭 they also funny as fuck so the 2012 yaoi becomes even funnier. what a great dynamic godzamn 😭😭😭😭

Thanks for reading!!!

#south park #south park analysis #south park meta #sp #sp analysis #sp meta #eric cartman #kyle broflovski #sp discussion #south park headcanons #analysis #kyman #cartyle #kyle and cartman #dynamic analysis #media analysis #sp kyle #sp cartman #character analysis

[yannig]

I need someone to theorize with me about the Pit Babe 2 trailer

Ok so I thought a lot about Tony and Way being back. And I think we've got 3 options, ranked in how likely I think they are to actually happen.

They are actually alive (faked their death, resurrected, or maybe even clones/evil twins).

They are ghosts/spirits/whatever. They are there but still dead.

They are not here at all. All of their apparitions are due to nightmares, hallucinations, paranoia, flashbacks, etc.

I am entirely uninterested in them being actually alive, one way or another. I think this is largely the most underwhelming option out of the 3, and yet also the one we're most likely to get. For me, Tony and Way being back from the dead would just negate most of the impact of the first season.

Oh Way sacrificed himself to save Charlie as an attempt to redemption? Yeah no he's still alive actually. Tony was finally put done by the son he always treated like a dog, and who at last managed to escape his hold? Nope, he survived.

Talk about a way to undo major character moments. (I hated Way's death, but it was still an important character moment. and Kenta turning on Tony was great.)

(for Way as his own character, it could actually be interesting. Like "yeah no, you don't get to just die and be done with the guilt. you actually have to work for redemption". but 1) I don't think it's where they're going; and 2) I'm not convinced it would stem interesting development for anyone else.)

The ghost option could be fun, I guess. I don't really have an opinion either way tbh, depends where they go with it. Ghost possession could be a fun threat.

I know what my favorite option is, and it's definitely n°3, which sadly I don't think we will get. Mind you, Babe would be perfectly justified to have nightmares or flashbacks about these 2, considering how much trauma they gave him. Also Way giving Babe trauma flashbacks might help me forgive what they did to his character. But well. The show hasn't seemed very interested in talking about trauma before so...

Basically, I think the most interesting option is for the show to toy with its characters' (and its viewers') paranoia, by leaving all 3 options open for as long as possible. Done well, it could make for a very good thriller.

Are they actually back or is Babe just hallucinating in broad daylight? Are they actually vengeful ghosts that need warding against or is Babe just having very justified nightmares? Is there a threat at all or are they all just paranoiac after everything that happened? Is it really paranoia if they're really after you? They all thought Charlie was dead, didn't they? Does anyone ever stay dead?

I'd argue that if that thriller part is done well, all 3 options could work as compelling endings. I also don't think (from the writing in season 1) that they could pull it off effectively.

Or even that they would try. Season 1 wasn't a thriller in the first place, and the S2 trailer isn't giving thriller either. My problem being: I'm not really interested by their return if it doesn't turn thriller.

Basically, what I'm interested in is what impact their return would have on the other characters, after thinking they were finally safe. Especially Kenta and Babe. Kenta who finally escaped, finally managed to turn on Tony, to get free from him. Babe who is finally safe after spending the last 10 years looking over his shoulder, after so many betrayals, after loosing his best friend in all possible ways, after thinking his boyfriend was dead. Imagine how terrifying the prospect of Tony's return would be.

But beyond that? I have no interest in what they would do as independent characters. Tony has plans? What does it change from S1? Way is being an idiot, either working for the villain or clumsily trying to earn his redemption? I don't care. That is the exact same thing they were doing in S1.

Basically, I'm afraid that by bringing them back, the show is just being lazy and re-creating the S1 status-quo instead of imagining new stakes. And I am entirely uninterested in sequels that just undo the original story's ending. Which is exactly what I'm afraid they'll do.

TLDR: the psychological impact of the potentiality of Tony and Way being back is much more interesting than them actually being back.

Sure, give me confirmed omega characters (Jeff and Kenta at least), give me AlanJeff and BabeCharlie being cute together, give me Sonic and North finally getting somewhere and maybe involving Kim (or aro/ace/aspec Kim, that would also work, but only if explicitly stated in the show), give me heats and mpreg and stop being cowards. I'll watch it for the relationships between the main cast if nothing else.

But I'm worried about what the big conflict is going to be.

#pit babe the series #pit babe #pit babe bl #pit babe season 2 #pit babe s2 #pit babe season two #theory #fan theory #trailer analysis #pit babe 2 #tony pit babe #way pit babe

[j-yushi]

Paquette la Chantefleurie and Rollo Flamme similarities rambling

I just finished reading Notre dame de paris yesterday in just 4 days because I was too into it and I noticed how Rollo's backstory, character, personality is really leaning more into the characters in the novel (esp. Frollo in this case) more than the Dsney adaptation and here's my incoherent lowkey short rambling below about Paquette or Sister Gudule and Rollo. Obviously, this has spoilers for the novel so if you don't mind that then feel free to read.

Who is Paquette La Chantefleurie?

Paquette or Sister Gudule as known by others is Agnes or Esmeralda's biological mother. After the Romani kidnapped Agnes as a baby (which they replaced her with baby Quasimodo), the people believed that they cannibalized baby Agnes which lead to Gudule believing that she was dead and thus creating this hatred towards those people not knowing that her beloved Agnes is growing to be one of them (which she also showed hatred towards Esmeralda too when she first met her.) Anyways she has a tragic end which I won't dive into much.

Rollo and Gudule? What's the similarities?

After Agnes's disappearance, Gudule lived a life of seclusion (hmmmm.....) and holds great disdain towards the Romani. Familiar? While Rollo's hatred towards magic users might look like how Disney Frollo's hatred towards the Romani stems from, I feel like if we base it on the novel, it all stems down towards Gudule more than Frollo (cuz Novel Frollo is so into alchemy that people believe he's a sorcerer lol and he's really just a solely Esmeralda hater rrrr. He never looked at them the same extreme ways as Disney does and Novel Frollo's actually very tragic in the novel... rip.)

So how are they similar then? As I thought a lot lately, Rollo's hatred for magic only stemmed when magic took his brother the same way the Romani took Gudule's only beloved daughter. Rollo then grew up to be the thing he despises (being a magic user) and Esmeralda grew up to be the someone that Gudule despises. Rollo's hatred isn't because he's straight up evil like Disney Frollo is, but because there was an even deeper reason like Sister Gudule. (It's so hard to put it into words but that's it. That's ittt!)

Rollo's brother and Esmeralda

Now it finally stems down to this. Rollo's brother, while surely base on Novel Frollo's brother, Jehan, obviously does not take his rebellious personality. In fact, base on Rollo's flashbacks of him, he cares alot about Rollo and really shows him magic because... well, Rollo enjoys it too... even with minimal description I feel like Rollo's brother, if Rollo = Sister Gudule would be Esmeralda/Agnes.

Also I'd love to note how we know how twst characters aren't particularly always base solely on their counterparts, Rollo also has Esmeralda's features (green eyes), the goats being drawn to him and all (lol), and if he were to choose goats over anything else i'd even say he'd have Pierre Gringoire's silliness.

Additional random rambling

I swear to god Novel Frollo >>> Disney Frollo in terms of who Rollo is. Understandable since Yana base a lot on the musical which leans more into the Novel. Hjihsjssjd gosh when Jehan died in the novel tho, that's where Frollo really snapped and went, "fuck this I've got nothing to lose anymore." So yeah

For those who read here, here's one of the concept art of Claude Frollo from the Art of Hunchback of Notre Dame i've been reading on my school library lmao

#this person is just rambling #rollo flamme #twst rollo #twst rambles

[seblaineaddict]

10 Days Of Seblaine 2023

Day 10: I Want You Back! (Your own interpretation)

@seblaineworld

Summary: Sebastian Smythe has messed up big-time - again. Except this time, he's pushed Blaine too far. Following a fight that definitely stemmed from a complete misunderstanding that Sebastian was just too stubborn to correct before he left for work, he arrives home after a stressful day to find Blaine's engagement ring on the kitchen table, and all his clothes gone. As well as a note that simply says, "We're done!"

Bursting into wracking sobs, Sebastian pours a large Courvoisier to steady his nerves and throws half of it back in one go, trying not to fly into full panic mode. As soon as the shock's worn off slightly, he calls Sam, begging him to tell him where Blaine is (because he has a horrible feeling he already knows, and the very thought is causing bile to rise up from his stomach and threaten to choke him. At first Sam stands firm and refuses to disclose where Blaine's staying, but when Bas breaks down and he realises how genuinely upset he is, he tells him. Confirming Sebastian’s worst fears. Blaine's gone to his ex's Loft, and Kurt has told Sam Blaine doesn't want to talk to Sebastian.

Sebastian thanks Sam, and after promising (with fingers crossed) not to 'do anything stupid, dude,' he tries to calm his racing mind and form a plan of action. He can feel the beginning of a migraine prickling his skull, but does his best to shake it off. "Fucking HUMMEL!" Bas roars, puling his arm back and preparing to throw his glass at the wall. But then he stops. Blaine would hate him taking his temper out on inanimate objects. And he doesn't want to give him any more reasons to be mad at him.

He grabs his keys, not bothering with a coat and sets off. The second his feet hit the sidewalk, the heavens open. "Fucking fantastic!" he mutters darkly. "Even the freaking weather hates me."

Full ficlet up on Friday!

Don't worry, they'll be fine! Anyone who knows my Seblaine writing knows I love to put our boys through the wringer, but I'll always put them back together, and they are ALWAYS Endgame.

This was 100% the most complex, difficult graphic I've ever created, but also very fun to make! 💜

Hope everyone's enjoyed 10 Days Of Seblaine!

#10daysofseblaine2023 #seblaineworld #day 10: I want you back! (your own interpretation) #seblaine #sebastian smythe #blaine anderson #seblaine graphic #seblaine ficlet #otp: we met at dalton #my graphic #my art

[kendallroygf]

Your Kendall post speaks volumes. I never knew how to articulate it properly but I always think (idk if it’s canon or not) His ex wife is Jewish, his best friend Iranian and his daughter, South Asian. But he’s aligning himself with parties like ATN etc. I don’t know, it’s a funny thing to me because wether or not the writers did this on purpose or not but the people he’s closest to (aside from his sibs) are as you said, from marginalised communities. Does he think the amount of wealth a person earns suddenly makes them immune to a system that wasn’t originally built for anyone aside for people like him. I wonder what his stance would’ve been on Mckenen if he were in the room when they were all deciding who should be president. It’s more personal for him, his daughter is quite literally apart of the community that Mckenen demonises. Not even just for Kendall but for Stewy & Marcia too. Like they can’t be seen opposing people like him because where does that put them? Just being poc in a cooperate world is threatening enough. This is me putting too much thought into it while also knowing the writers maybe didn’t when it comes to the Sophie/Marcia/Stewy and the role they have to put on.

hmm i don’t know how qualified i am to speak on this but in terms of ‘aligning himself with atn’ i truly think it’s never been an conscious choice for kendall to do that. like it came with the job. logan groomed kendall to one day be in charge of waystar and subsequently atn for however many years and i think a consequence of that is that kendall doesn’t really have any concrete ideologies/beliefs, much like roman. but similar to shiv (although her politics are way more clear) he has this abstract idea of ‘doing good things’ with waystar and wanting to be a ‘good person’ but this in itself kind of centres around logan . like his desire to ‘be good’ is just a desire to be good in comparison to his father (i’m a good person i’m better than you etc) but ultimately kendall (in s1 mostly) wanted to be the Good Guy but without much foresight on what that actually looks like and i think that’s where his relationships with stewy, rava and sophie come in i suppose. but i don’t think kendall intentionally created a relationship with stewy and rava or adopted sophie out of tokenism or anything. i simply think he connected to stewy and rava in some way mostly because they oppose logan and what he Represents very outwardly and consciously or unconsciously that’s what kendall was looking for. it stems from that patricidal drive + resentment kendall’s always had for logan but ultimately i think kendall is too self absorbed to think more deeply about what stewy or his daughter might face esp in terms of the toxicity of atn or what part kendall himself plays in it all. but i think i agree with you in the sense it seems kendall does think material wealth kind of shields you from having to deal with institutionalised racism + i played back that scene and kendall says wrt to atn and waystar he’s ‘trying to keep the world safe’ for his kids so i do think that he thinks that sophie was ultimately safe from all that and he probably assumes people like stewy and marcia are too. so with that in mind i don’t think he really counts his daughter as part of the many marginalised groups that mencken demonises even though sophie as we see isn’t exempt from facing racism. like at all. as for what kendall’s stance would be on mencken if he was in that room in ‘what it takes’ i could not say for sure but i think that itself goes back to kendall not having any concrete ideology or politics except on an entirely abstract level. like mencken’s a ‘nazi’ but ‘on a business level, they need to have a relationship’ so i think honestly his stance would be completely determined by his state of mind wrt to himself and his father. but no yeah i agree it’s probably extremely difficult for stewy, marcia and stewy who have all at one point been othered or treated as nrpi by the roys while still being closely connected to it all.

#idk kendall’s politics are just so esp hard to pinpoint bc yeah he’s sensitive to logan’s antisemitism and other forms of prejudice but #then a whole lot of his outward politics are performative and he can only really empathise with the marginalised if he can relate to himself #*relate it to himself #in some way like w the cruise victims in s3 . like when he hates his dad in s3 shiv and roman are ‘nazi lovers’ but in s4 he thinks it’s #imperative they have a relationship on a ‘business level’ so i genuinely think he’s like roman and sees all that #as Not Real and politics as pointless in a way but also he does acc give a shit abt ppl but kind of surface level. nd regards to stewy and #marcia it’s complex bc they kind of chose to align themselves with atn and waystar and the roys like while obv they do exp racism #stewy is also friends with mencken according to arian and marcia Married logan so it’s not like kendall’s belief that material wealth #divorces you from true marginalisation is coming from nothing bc ultimately the amount go wealth marcia and stewy have acquired means #*of wealth #they’ve stepped on the backs of many also marginalised ppl themselves bc that’s like. literally what capitalism is. #but also i am 17 and do not have enough time to read the books i want to read so my knowledge is quite bare. i wish i could talk more on the #politics aspect of this in a more meaningful way but alas #but yeah. thank u for sending this ask this was soo interesting to talk abt #p #succ. #kendall

[capricioussun]

More questions just for your blorbo Edge!

Does he talk to himself? Does he daydream? How does he keep his mind occupied when on patrol and at home? Can he visualize actual concepts in his head or are they just vague thoughts?

I still have more but only if you have the time! <3

Rotating him in my mind…

He actually used to talk to himself! Or more so think out loud, but again, unfortunately another trait that had to be unlearned for safety. However it never got fully staunched, instead now he’ll quietly mumble or grumble a final statement to himself after thinking something through, or he’ll hum thoughtfully (kind of like Jack Skellington lol). He’s like…quietly very vocal? Even his super exasperated sighs have little growls at the end of them. It’s always very subtle, and it helps he doesn’t have lips to read so others can’t usually tell from a distance if he’s faintly talking to himself, but in small ways, yes! He does talk to himself ahhdjsjd

Daydreaming not so much though. Being distracted is a one way ticket to being dusted, so he’s pretty strongly focused when out, in private though, it’s the same, but for slightly different reasons. Edge is a bit of a chronic overthinker. Much like my hc for UT Papyrus, he’s got Anxiety™️, except it’s. A lot worse from, you know, circumstances (the way the underground is, being a Guard/Captain, keeping his brother alive and safe, etc etc etc), so he overcompensates by focusing on Doing, rather than Thinking, and if he starts daydreaming, his mind starts wandering, and when it wanders, it tends to stray toward…darker territory. So it’s…best to keep himself distracted. All the time. This habit unfortunately stands true on the surface, too, since he’s…still under a fair amount of pressure. Best to keep working! And not think about it!! Or at least that’s how he sees it…

Now, specifically, he keeps his mind occupied at home by planning. Planning planning planning. He’s got back ups for his back ups, and then back ups for those, too. Always mentally going over stuff for the Guard, planning his own routine, constantly having to readjust based on happenings and unexpected changes, how to secure the supply routes, who needs to be stationed where, which patrols happen when; the schedule has to be semi-randomized since they can’t risk being predictable. Predictability is vulnerability. And once he’s a Captain, he has to consider the entire underground. Then he’s also low key thinking about his own role in everything, when he’ll have time to clean, cook (when they have enough to, how to get enough if they don’t), mentally trying to keep tabs on his brother, Undyne, Asgore- trust me when I say he’s got plenty to think about.

As for while he’s out, it’s mostly just a matter of staying focused on his surroundings and low key still going over guard stuff on the back burner. For the most part, all of his attention is on whatever he’s supposed to be doing (like resetting traps or just standard patrol, looking for anything new that might be suspicious) and his surroundings.

How he visualizes things might be a little odd? He pretty much sees everything as “blueprints”. He has a very analytical mind, and he breaks visuals down to key elements in his mind. He basically has a photographic memory for the things he does remember, and then reassembles them to create the whole, and that’s also how he envisions new things! Since he can basically visualize everything individually, he can put new things together using things he’s already familiar with. Kind of like a 3D modeling program lol. This actually stems from “his ability to ‘see’ code”, so he processes things almost like…computeristically. As you can imagine this helps a lot in planning both process and execution! This is also why he’s so good at painting/sketching realism <3

#sun spots #bro free to send as many as you like!! I don’t mind! but it might take time to get to bc I really gotta work on attacks lol #but please believe me when I say I’m *always happy to talk about Thoughts (especially specifically in regards to uf Papyrus lol) #underfell #undertale papyrus #uf edge #smol-dargon #🥭💛⭐️ #clear sky sunset

[rodivi]

Forgotten Curse: Sukuna x Curse! Reader: Chapter 17:

Stirring awake Sukuna opened his eyes to see her lying on his chest.

For once she's finally quiet.

Only one word could come to mind when he looked at her attempting to nuzzle closer to his chest.

Cute.

He stiffened at his thought wondering where such ideas could stem from. Him of all people, thinking so human. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and shoved her off, not wanting to think any more about this matter.

"Waah?!" Y/n was abruptly woken up by the movement and felt the cold crimson water take the warmth away she had.

"You were so quiet, don't ruin my mood." Sukuna said failing to stop a yawn.

"Were you sleeping?" She squinted her eyes at him in disbelief.

He paused, reading her expression. "Curses don't need sleep. Yet you did." He huffed out a sigh. "You didn't leave." He glared at her as he sat down on his throne.

"Why didn't you just kill me like you always do then?" She said disconcerted. Sweat rolled down her cheek as a long silence drew on for far too long.

"Don't you want to know what you accomplished while in your manic like state?" He smiled but it was the kind that makes one realizes that they are fucked no matter what they do.

"Well yes, I remember not being able to do my domain expansion. I was like I was ice itself." She said filling in the words so he didn't have to.

"You did well."

Her jaw dropped and she raised her hand to cover her mouth.

"No need to be so shocked, I pushed you to your limit and broke it. What did you think was going to happen?" He tapped his finger on the arm of his throne and continued, "Don't answer that. But this isn't enough to fight that curse...Kenjaku was it? Have I heard that name before?" Sukuna brought his thumb and pointer finger to his chin pondering.

"He is who I'm fighting against." Y/n leaned away from Sukuna and studied the ripples of water as if something was going to pop out to end the conversation.

"Oh, so you're finally telling me why you suddenly decided to switch the target of your rage?" Sukuna got up from his throne and rushed over to her.

"I realized that he was my true enemy." She clenched and unclenched her fists.

"Ah, I don't know if I really want to help you, I think I'd rather watch." He rolled his eyes.

"I didn't expect much from you. I guess you wouldn't mind having no humans left to kill because of him."

Sukuna perked up at her words and urged her to finish. "Haa? That would be such a boring world. What else does he plan?"

"To replace all humans with curses."

Sukuna couldn't hold back his laughter and it took a while for him to get a hold of himself, "What a joke!" His face deadpanned, "Did he even think how boring the world would be if humans didn't exist?"

Y/n pursed her lips, "I don't think so. I mean even though curses have their...qualities, it was human culture that shaped and created them. Would curses even be able to exist without humans?" She said going off topic.

Sukuna remained silent at this line of questioning. "Your blabbering is irritating me again."

"Then I'll take my leave, my king." She curtsied and did a half-twirl to position herself toward the entrance of her domain. As she ambled until she disappeared out of view into the crack in the wall Sukuna made.

My king? Since when did she address me as such?

Sukuna couldn't help a smirk cross his lips.

***

Y/n jolted upward almost headbutting Gojo if not for his infinity. She took a gasp of air and became acutely aware of her surroundings in Gojo arms that is.

"Good morning, I thought you were never going to wake up." Gojo gave a radiant smile almost enough to blind someone.

She turned her head away from him and inhaled, "Don't you have something you want to ask me?" She dared a peek at his face and found that he was still smiling. Something was wrong, very wrong.

There were an endless number of questions he wanted to ask her. But where should he start? Gojo sauntered along the streets going over the question in his head.

"Since you don't know what to ask how about you put me down first?"

Gojo paused his rhythm and gently let her feet hit the ground before letting go.

"Do you want to know if she is dead or not?" Soulless eyes bored into Gojo's blindfold.

He gulped and pinched his lips together, "I do."

"I thought she gave you the answer to that already? I mean..." She tilted her down as if resetting herself and looking back up at him. "Hey Gojo, look I'm okay!" Her eyes crinkled at the ends like a crescent moon and she beamed at him.

"Y/n?" He reached out a hand to her.

"That's what you wanted to see right?" Her expression became neutral as she squished her cheeks and made the happy moment disintegrate.

"Don't mimic her like that. She was right, I should kill you." Gojo built his barrier back up.

"But you won't. Cause' you want answers, right?" She mocked sticking her tongue out.

“Then tell me, what is going to happen to me.” Gojo stated.

“For three years…”

Gojo gave her a questioning look, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve been trapped in a box.” She said shuddering from her words.

“I don’t understand, how?”

She raised her hand telling him to stop. “The Prison Realm, a special grade cursed object that can seal anything or anyone in a pocket dimension.” Her breath became ragged at the thought. “Ah, I really don’t want to remember…I wouldn’t be surprised if you went insane from being in there all alone.”

“How does it work then? Avoiding it isn’t as easy as it seems.”

She frowned, “It doesn’t matter, this is another one of his plans I don’t know how to thwart.”

“If you tell me maybe we can figure it out. There’s no use trying to do everything on your own. I know you want to help; two heads are better than one.” He gave a grin.

“Fine, it’s not like a haven’t messed with the present already. The one in charge of this scheme has not shown his face because he wants to shock you. To fulfill the first condition, you need to experience one minute of time within your brain.” She said pointing her finger to her head.

“Who?”

“Shh.” She put a finger to her lips. “There’s more, the second condition is that you need to be kept within a four-meter radius of the cube.”

“Is the enemy someone I know?”

“Yes and no.” She sighed deeply. “You know this is tiring explaining all this, I really don’t have hope to save you—.”

“Listen, I’ll be the one to determine whether there can be something done about this or not. I can still try to change the future.”

The curse had a flash of worry on her face that was replaced with her normal neutral expression it was as if it was never there. “Geto.” She knew there was nothing more to say.

A flash of memories appeared in Gojo’s head. “He’s dead, that isn’t possible.” Gojo covered his mouth with his hand. “Why would he…”

“It isn’t him. A curse took over his corpse who has gained a multitude of cursed techniques from different sorcerer’s bodies he has taken over. Sukuna is only the tip of the iceberg. Kenjaku is the biggest threat to humanity right now.”

“Then is Kenjaku the one who took over Geto’s body?”

“I’m glad you were able to figure that out. But like I said earlier, even though I told you what difference that is going to make? You can’t tell me the memories you have with him won’t run through your head if you see him.” She rubbed her temple hoping she wouldn’t get a headache from all this talking. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes and she kept blinking to make them disappear. “Fuck.”

“Now that my future is out of the way. How about you tell me more about this Kenjaku?” Gojo shoved his hands in his pockets and nudged his head to motion her to keep walking and talking.

****A/N Apologies in advance if the chapters coming up (in December) are short but I have finals coming up. I am a science major...but I still want to keep posting every week. Make sure to like and add to your library! You can find me on Tumblr, Wattpad, and AO3.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #slow burn #canon divergence #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #curses #fear versus love #philosophical #action #adventure #romance #depression #drama #cognitive distortions #fighitng #fanart #rodivi #Forgotten Curse

[thevibraniumveterans]

Went on a small not-quite rant this weekend responding to a valid viewpoint about Marc and Layla’s breakup.

One of my group chat mates had stated:

“Yk i think we could do so much better if layla and marc's breakup was written better. When layla said- "i Dont want protection, i want honesty", as a way to establish why marc betrayal hurt her and Steven is better for her, i was like honey, reallllyyyy?! Do you realise what khonsu could do your mind+getting involved in the whole scarab hunt could straightup kill you+steven is cute but maybe deal with your divorce first? Like how do you fall out of love with Marc like that? I get that layla deserved to know the situation but that's not a good enough reason to breakup. More than anything i want a conversation bw both about the same. A proper breakup with palpable reasons. If i were layla i would eventually get back with marc cuz he did all that to protect me and offered to divorce me cuz he himself was partaking in lethal missions.”

She had a point! It’s valid, and I understand it. However, I respectfully disagree:

I'm not convinced Marc broke up with Layla. As far as I'm convinced, he still loves her. It's just that he can't really put forth his emotions, so due to whatever past trauma that led him to create Steven, Steven can handle all the emotions Marc can't. I am aware that Marc was pushing Layla away, not because he doesn't like her, he does! A lot! He loves her! But he wants her to be safe. Like I've said, she's only human, and therefore vulnerable. She can take care of herself just fine, hence “I don't need protection", but that's the thing, isn't it? She's just human. Marc has endured far worse. Why on this great green earth would he want her to experience what he has experienced?

Out of concern for her safety, Marc emotionally distances himself his wife because he knows Khonshu will pick her to be the next Avatar. Because Layla is the love of Marc’s life, Layla has inadvertently become some kind of a liability. Marc’s weak link. To him, if he severed that link, then therefore Layla is safe. It pained Marc, I’m sure, to hand his wife the divorce papers. I don’t think the divorce actually went through (“You sent these papers but you never signed them,” Layla says to who she thought was Marc (but was actually Steven) in Ep 2). Because when Marc confronts Steven in the tent and says, “Are you in love with my wife?”, Marc doesn’t say ex-wife. Remember Ep3, when Marc sees Layla in danger? He’s got that “touch her, and I’ll kill you so hard your ancestors wish they were never born” look in his eyes. Marc isn’t selfish. If anything, he’s selfless.

Marc’s desire to protect Layla stemmed from his guilty conscience over his inability to save her father. He wants to protect her in the only way he knows how - by emotionally distancing himself from her. I don’t think it’s bad writing because Marc and Layla have not broken up. There is so much evidence they still love each other, just not in the typical couples way where they’re all lovey-dovey over each other, and this is exactly where, and when, Steven comes in. Steven embodies everything Layla loves about Marc, hence why she falls for him. She likes so many of the same things he likes, hence why Steven falls in love with her. Steven falling in love with Layla can represent a scenario under which Marc wished he had fallen in love with Layla.

Marc’s entire relationship with Layla was formed solely because he wanted her to be okay. He had nearly died, and was resurrected by Khonshu and served under him, and so, by doing all these dangerous things, Layla wanted to be with Marc wherever he went. But for an ordinary but strong woman like Layla to be involved with powers beyond her grasp, Marc does not want any of that harsh life for Layla. He loves her so much, but he can’t deal with her being his emotional liability. It’s not that she’s getting in his way, he feels that the best way she can stay safe is to be emotionally distant from him. And I feel like there’s been some subtle character development for Marc all this time that Steven’s been in the driver’s seat. Let’s revisit that tent scene-

Marc stated point-blank, “I wish I could just disappear, I really do.” You know why he feels that way? He knows he carries the guilty conscience of not being able to save Layla’s dad. He wishes he could just disappear so he wouldn’t have to deal with this. It sounds harsh, but that’s why Steven’s here, isn’t he? Marc also tells Steven, “If you're gonna go through with this, you gotta be smart, for Layla's sake.” Marc loves Layla, that much is clear. Since Steven will not relinquish control of his body to Marc, best Marc can do is tell Steven to please take care of Layla. Because Marc can’t do that. Not really. Steven can, though.

Marc, in trying to protect Layla from the kind of person he is/was, that being an internationally wanted mercenary who kills to live, quite literally, it’s not a safe environment for Layla. She’s proven time and time again she can stand her ground, but she’s only human. She has no suit, no healing powers. She’s vulnerable. And Marc wants to protect her. The only way he can do that is by being emotionally distant. Let’s rewind a bit to the scene in the car.

Layla sounded hurt when she wondered why Marc would just want to disappear. It’s clear that she still loves him. Even Marc states yet again, “that deal didn't involve you getting Layla and us killed, did it? That's not gonna fly with me.” Layla being in danger is the Number One Thing that Marc does not want to happen. Even when Steven asks, “Well, hadn't he disappeared from your life already?” And Layla responds, “Yeah. I mean, whatever. His suit was his best feature, wasn't it? Didn't even have that anymore.”, she’s not entirely convinced that she’s over him, because she’s very much not. She’s trying to deny that Marc’s absence is affecting her, but she can’t. Let’s get back to the other half of the tent convo for a bit… (where after Marc says, “I’ve been in situations like this before”, the conversation continues…)-

The hilarity of Marc being jealous over Steven falling in love with Layla aside, it’s actually pretty deep with meaning. Marc wants to protect Layla but he can either do that, or he would’ve been dead. (Perhaps in trying to both save Layla’s dad and trying to protect her, resulted in Marc being shot and subsequently resurrected. But we’ll see.) His servitude to Khonshu is the reason why he pushes his wife away. She’s not getting in his way, but he’s only concerned for her safety. So, before Steven and Layla head into the tomb…

I’ve pointed this out before- Steven can give Layla what she never got (or stopped getting) from Marc. Steven is everything that Layla loves about Marc, but without Marc in the picture, he can’t protect Layla, but Steven can. Layla first moves in for a kiss, but before she can do so…

Layla feels that she wasn’t getting honesty from Marc - and the only reason why he’s hiding things from her is to keep her safe. Remember how Marc told Steven that getting Layla killed wouldn’t “fly” with him and that he’d never let that happen? Stuck in the passenger seat, all Marc can do in between punching Steven for kissing Layla and helping Steven in the tomb, is ruminate. Reflect. Let’s get to that scene.

Notice how Marc’s tone went from assertive (“Steven, give me the body right now. This is a suicide mission.”) to one of resigned acceptance. Marc’s not even angry anymore. He’s not even mad anymore. And while Marc could not apologize for being involved in the murder of Layla’s dad, Steven apologized instead, not knowing Marc’s story:

I’m aware “I’m sorry” is a standard response to being told of someone’s death, but here it holds special meaning because Steven apologized where Marc could not do so, hence why Marc had time to really think it over, realize that Steven can be for Layla what Marc couldn’t be. It’s not bad writing. It’s complicated. It was meant to be complicated. A married man coming to terms with the fact that one of his alters is falling in love with his wife, it sounds hilarious but it’s also such a good way of saying, “here, I’ll take care of her for you. You need me, I need you. We need each other. She needs me, she needs you. And you’re not always there for her. In your absence, I’ll love her for you.” And this is precisely what Marc learns to accept.* It’s an unconventional relationship, but it’s a beautiful story. At first I was laughing my head off at the brilliant absurdity of it, but then I realized, hey, it’s deeper than I thought. And it’s off-the-walls wonderful.

* It also kind of explains why both the physical manifestations of Marc and Steven were so relieved to see each other towards the end.

#mcu #moon knight #moon knight ep 4 #marc spector #layla spector #layla el faouly #steven grant #steven x layla #marc x layla #oscar isaac #oscar issac hernandez estrada #may calamawy #them 🥰 #moon knight meta #moon knight thoughts #long post

[class1akids]

I thought we left the word redemption behind in the manga and only atonement is left. I feel similarly for the league that I don’t think redemption is possible anymore but they should still be given the chance to change and get psychological help. Why is it a concept that’s easier to accept with the lov and harder with endeavor?

The manga drew a distinction between forgiveness and atonement.

Redemption though I think is used broadly in analysis, basically meaning a change of heart that's linked to the villains changing sides and helping the heroes in some way.

I think it's easier to accept it for the Villain Trio because we see in detail how their villainy stems from being abused and let down as children. Shigaraki in particular has barely any agency (I firmly believe he even got his quirk from AFO) in what he's become, being manipulated and pushed down a path, and frankly I just wish for him a moment of total clarity, with his mind being his own where he can make his own choices freely for once.

I do love Touya's character a lot, because in his case the nature/nurture equation is more nuanced. He is clearly Endeavor's "creation" in the physical sense, and also in the worldview he internalized, but he also feels like he's trying to find his way out of the emotional loop the abuse put him in - just can't quite manage.

For Endeavor, there is no child-coding in the story. Visually he's often paralleled with AFO and frankly, his eugenics experiment with failed subjects is not very different than the doctor building his little nomu. Endeavor is so obsessed with his ambition (which is not some big altruistic goal, but just to be stronger than the other guy) that he willingly fucks up his entire family for it, and even as he sees how much they are suffering, he doesn't budge.

To me, Endeavor was the most sympathetic in Chapter 252, when he finally faced Natsuo, apologized and accepted that the best he can give them is distance.

But ever since Touya reappeared in the story, Endeavor has been falling back into his old patterns:

Upon waking up in the hospital, he's not even thinking "oh, my son, how much he must have suffered. No, he's thinking about himself, his hero legacy. All, me-me-me. It's a stark contrast to Shouto, who reflects about Touya, empathizes with him and talks about "we" as a family.

He ghosts Shouto and avoids trying to track down Touya, hiding behind totally worthless excuses.

He does this until they run out of time at which point, he leaves the whole mess to Shouto to deal with, giving him unthinkable choices to face that could compound his trauma and give him even more baggage to deal with. So Endeavor right now is harder to see as on an atonement path considering that since his talk with Natsuo, he hasn't done anything for his family. They came together to help him get back on his feet and he ran off to play hero, letting down both Touya and Shouto. Again.

You look at all the Todoroki kids (Touya included) and it's so apparent how much even this toxic, screwed-up family means to them, and how much they are willing to step up even if they never got the bare minimum of love and nurture that a child should get in a family. And then there is Endeavor, who created all of this out of his own selfishness, and even now, even after his change of heart - he's unable to take the steps toward them.

Rei was right - Touya needs to be seen by his father, yet all Endeavor does is find excuses to look away.

For the villain trio, the cards were stacked against them since early childhood. They barely had free choices, and by the time they did, their world-view was warped by the adults around them, so to make good choices, would have required some kind of good force in their lives to push them (the heroes who weren't there).

But for Endeavor - not to fuck up his family? Not to continue to run away? It's not some huge personal sacrifice. He could have saved Touya with small gestures of just basic fucking human decency. He could have told him that he didn't need to be in a particular way to be loved and valued. He could have taken 2 minutes just to look at him and see him. And he's got chance after chance after chance and kept running away from them.

TL;DR: The Villains didn't have chances, so it's easier to root for them to get one, to be in a position where they can make free choices, having a positive force to counter-balance all that's warped and twisted them. Endeavor had chance after chance, and he squandered every last one of them. They started out easy things, and yes, it's been progressively harder as he kept avoiding the issue. And at this point, it may cost him his life to do the right thing.

#c1a asks #bnha manga spoilers #bnha manga leaks #todoroki enji #todoroki touya #dabi

[thefanficmonster]

Stranger In The Crowd

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently ended the process of moving, Y/N is rightfully very tired but also very excited for the new chapter of her life. Funnily enough, this new chapter includes a newly formed long distance friendship/crush with a very special person from San Diego.

Requested by @boiled-onionrings Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and I’m really sorry you’ve had to wait so long for it to be posted but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

I let out a heavy sigh, relieved to finally be at home after such a long day of standing around in the Georgia heat with only a thin layer of fabric to protect my eyes and head from the scorching sun. Yeah, anyone who says that tent did well at protecting everyone under it today is nothing but a liar. I was in a short, strapless white summer dress, the fabric of which barely had any weight and consistency to provide heat of its own yet I still damn near melted. Ok, I’ll admit, some of the roasting heat probably came from the energy and force I put into singing the songs of my band’s new album ‘Starting At The End’. 

The mini concert we held in this large open field was meant as an introduction to the city of Savannah where all the band members - myself included - are actually from but we all moved to the West Coast to pursue our music career. And now that we’ve grown, and the majority of us are married, one of us is a father now as well, we’ve decided to return to our hometown. The decision was so spontaneous and was executed so quickly due to no one objecting to it that it still hasn’t me that I’m no longer in LA. The heat isn’t helping my ‘processing’ process but I’ll get to it eventually. Do I miss LA though? Not sure I do - I think I more miss the people I was closer to while I was there.

Suddenly, as if perfectly timed, my phone dings, notifying me that I’ve received a message. I don’t have to look to know it’s from - there’s only one person I actively text and his name is....

C ~ Your virtual buddy Corpse here, making sure you didn’t die of a heatstroke today. If you did indeed survive, just reply to this message, if not....don’t do anything, I guess.

I can’t help but giggle at the sight of the message. I promised Corpse I’d text him after the concert to let him know I was ok, but the even dragged out for longer than anticipated so I’m guessing he got worried.

How cute.

Me ~ Alive and well, but I do feel like a popped tire of an overloaded truck. Hope that’s a visually appealing description

Corpse and I met on the charity livestream Jacksepticeye organized and invited our band to so we could play Among Us with some of the best gamers and streamers on the internet. It was a huge honor and a ton of fun, definitely an event I’d like to repeat in the near future because I had such a good time and I know all my bandmates did too. We all got acquainted and even became official friends with the gamers that were practically our hosts, Corpse becoming the closest friends I’d earn. That livestream happened months ago and we still text just as consistently.

C ~ Oh I know EXACTLY what you mean. Anyway, as to not exhaust you further to force you into typing, how about you send me pictures to sum up your thoughts and emotions and plans for the evening

This is OUR THING trademark, mine and Corpse’s and no one can take it away from us. It’s a significant element of our friendship that enables us both to understand one another when one of us feels the way I described in my message - a popped tire or a deflated balloon. I’m usually the exhausted one - blame the many shows we do and the many meet-and-greets we organize for our lovely fans. It’s the type of exhaustion none of the band members mind at all, but we definitely need some time to recover from it.

As I go to sit down on my couch, the flower crown I’ve been wearing slips off the top of my head, falling on the floor, creating a soft noise that attracts the attention of one of my many cats - Sasha. She’s the youngest and most curious kitty in the family, always protected by the other four - Luna, Cassie, Silver and Lynn. Those four are far lazier and a lot more disinterested in comparison to Sasha who immediately runs over to see what’s fallen.

I smile to myself, taking the flower crown and undoing it to lessen it by a few stems to make it smaller, all the while being watched by the curious Sasha whose interest is rewarded in the end when I put the now adorably tiny flower crown on her head.

While she still hasn’t shaken the thing off I manage to snap a pic which I send to Corpse who opens it mere seconds after it was delivered. 

C ~ Sasha’s pulling off your aesthetic better than you. Sorry, someone had to let you know

I burst out laughing for two reasons - 1.The message itself, damn it! It’s hilarious; 2. Corpse has learnt the name of each one of my cats and never mixes them up - not even Luna and Lynn who look almost identical. That amount of attention to detail is astonishing and very meaningful to me, it genuinely warms my heart and that may or may not be dramatic but it’s definitely not exaggerated.

Me ~ You think I haven’t caught on yet? 

C ~ Well, if it makes you feel any better you pull off my aesthetic better than I do

He’s referring to the e-girl look I did for one show the band had in downtown LA one night. I was drunk and looking forward to trying new things so I improvised the hell out of my outfit but I apparently looked presentable enough to leave a good impression on Corpse despite the pic I sent him being a bit blurry and being a mirror selfie in the bathroom of the very bar we were performing in. It goes without saying that the mirror was dirty too - had a bunch of writing on it which Corpse said only added to the aesthetic. Looking back on it now I kinda agree, and luckily so did the fans in the comments of that same photo when I posted it on Instagram.

Me ~ Means a lot actually. Nowhere near enough to aid the burn of having a cat pull off cottagecore better than I do, but still helps XD

As if sensing that we’re talking about her, Sasha hops on the couch, poking her head over my phone to look down at the screen.

Now this is gonna be golden.

I take a selfie with my phone in my lap, the camera capturing both me and Sasha at a rather unflattering angle which has me losing my mind laughing when I send the picture to Corpse who immediately sends back a string of cry-laughing emojis.

C ~ I can’t tell which one of you is cuter

Me ~ If that was a compliment, I gotta say I appreciate it greatly

C ~ Just telling the truth ;)

It’s times like these that the butterflies in my stomach remind me just why I’ve started catching feelings for this man despite all the distance between us and despite barely knowing him - he knows me more than I know him but I don’t mind it, oddly enough.

I’m fond of our connection and though I sometimes dream of something more, I’m also content with what we already have considering that ‘something more’ seems rather unattainable as of now.

My phone dings again, clearing the fog of thoughts and presenting me with a new message from Corpse.

C ~ Oh, by the way, look what I got....

That message is followed up by a picture of a ticket. A plane ticket to Georgia! 

While I’m still busy stomaching this and dealing with my quickly rising excitement, he sends another message.

C ~ I hope to catch a The Silver Rays concert while I’m there. Heard they had an adorable frontwoman ;)

My breath catches in my throat as a wide grin spreads across my face. The thought of having Corpse so close to me sends those aforementioned butterflies in my stomach into a raving mood and they practically explode my insides with excitement and joy like I’ve never felt it before. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that we’re about to go from having an entire country between us, to being just some ways away - him in the audience and me on stage without a single clue of who to look for. That’s part of the excitement though, I guess, part of the guessing game that’s gonna make our meeting all the more interesting.

He’ll be a stranger in the crowd and I’ll be a performer on a stage - seemingly two people who have no relation whatsoever. But damn does it go beyond that: No one has to know how hard I’m falling for that stranger in the crowd.

Me ~ I’ve heard so too, can’t confirm it though

If this is gonna be a guessing game, I’ll flip the tables a bit - I won’t take any guesses. I’ll let the answer come to me. I’ll give the first move over to the stranger in the crowd, let’s see what he does.

C ~ I’ll check and let you know, don’t worry

Not worried whatsoever, Corpsie. I’m not worried at all.

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[anemo-writes]

hello travelers! again, thank you for putting up with my inactivity, it’s been hard to write lately haha. anyways, i thought this would be something fun to post and for everyone to enjoy, whether you celebrate Valentine’s Day or not :) (note: this will probably be more fanon than canon so please bear with me, i’ll make it as canon as it can be :’) i also kept this pretty short, so hopefully that’s okay too,, and sorry for this being late haha—i wrote this very late at night so don’t mind any typos you find please)

much love,

~ anemo-chan <3

(The Playable) Genshin Impact Characters on Valentine’s Day (Romantically)

super romantic; gifts you a bouquet of flowers and takes you out to eat at a fancy restaurant/cooks for you.

Diluc

He is nervous. He’s never paid close attention to the countless amount of people who have lined outside the tavern to ask him to be their Valentine, only to be rejected. There was absolutely no way that he would turn to Kaeya for advice, so unfortunately this was something he would have to figure out for himself. He figures that it wouldn’t hurt to go traditional, so that’s what he does; he buys a large bouquet of roses (which he had to get from Donna, seeing that at the hours that he ended work were very late and Flora’s shop was not open at the time—yeah, that was not fun) and presents himself outside your doorway, to which he invites you to join him for a late dinner—which he makes!

Lisa

She leaves a letter on top of your nightstand, paired along with a singular rose. The letter states for you to meet her outside of Good Hunter, where you find her sitting at a table with a candle dimly-lighting up the surroundings. She greets you with a warm smile, gesturing for you to sit down—the two of you enjoy a candle-lit dinner as well as bolognese she specially requested for Sara to make for the two of you to enjoy together why does this remind me so much of Lady and the Tramp,,

Tartaglia

Oh boy. It’s always a fun time spending a holiday with him, seeing that it could go two ways; one, he would be too busy to celebrate it with you on the day of, and he would take you out the day after, or two—have a store’s entire line of merchandise presented to you outside your doorstep, in which a very, very smiley Tartaglia hidden within the pile (after all, he was the best present!) After you’re done moving all of the gifts into your house (it took up the space of your entire living room), he tells you to cover your eyes and follow him. He takes you to one of the most well-known restaurants in Liyue (which currently doesn’t have a name because it is very late here!), and insists that you order whatever you want, and however much you want.

Zhongli

Over the years, he’s witnessed many, many couples celebrate this holiday and every year he’s wished to do the same. He finds the perfect opportunity to do so when Valentine’s Day is around the corner, and boy does he plan it out for the two of you. He’s even made sure to have his wallet on him at all times—it would be extremely rude for you to have to pay if he happened to forget his wallet. He makes sure to stop by to pick up a bouquet of flowers, as well as a bottle of perfume (not in a bad way, just to clarify) from Ying’er’s shop that he recalled you liked. He makes sure to pick you up early from your work place to make sure you made it to your appointment on time; after all, being late to an appointment was similar to breaking a contract, no?

surprises you with homemade sweets.

Fischl

Oh, she is so nervous—of course, she doesn’t show this. The entire week, she spent researching recipes to create a special batch of chocolate-dipped strawberries just for you—she even sent Oz to the nearby farms to “borrow” the freshest strawberries for the treat (the farmers were too scared to confront the talking bird who “borrowed” their strawberries, so luckily they got away with it). She dips them in a purple-colored chocolate (because what other color would she use, really?) and drizzles on a dark-chocolate syrup to top it off. She’s too shy to actually give it to you herself though, so she has Oz drop it off for her.

Ganyu

Even though she’s quite busy, she’s somehow found time to whip up a special batch of chocolate just for you! She shapes them into Glaze Lilies (which she found quite hard, which is why there are so few of them) and presents them to you in a neatly-sealed box. She’s quite modest when your eyes widen and tell her it’s the best chocolate you have ever eaten, claiming that she only followed a recipe, when she really made it from scratch.

Keqing

Like Ganyu, you have no idea how she finds time to create a perfect array of chocolates, which she made herself! However, with her tightly-packed schedule, she has to drop it off at your house in advance, to which you accept happily. She tried to decorate them with designs of cartoon-versions of your faces, but they’re a bit...messy. Nonetheless, they’re tasty, and to her relief, you enjoy them.

Mona

Somehow, she’s managed to scrape up enough mora to buy you a necklace; yes, a necklace, and a real one at that—none of that fake, costume jewelry stuff! She even added a pendant shaped like star, just so you could be reminded of her whenever you fiddled with it or even glanced at it. She’s quite flustered when she gives it to you, ignoring the way you ask how she managed to save this much mora to be able to buy something like this, changing the subject on how you should never-ever take it off (because it looks great on you.)

Noelle

One word: pancakes. (Have you seen the ones she makes for her special dishes? They’re frigging amazing) As a dutiful maid should, she wakes up especially early to prepare a homemade breakfast just for you, to which she serves to you just as your wake up in bed. The fluffy stack of pancakes are decorated with fruits cut up in heart-shapes, as well the words, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N”, written neatly with chocolate syrup—it’s quite a sight to see, to be honest, and utterly delicious. Lucky you!

Xiangling

The day before, she tells you to meet her at the restaurant around noon. When you arrive, the restaurant is adorned with Valentine decorations, as well as a terrifying amount of food; she insists that she only made it for you, so you better eat up! Before she can show you the other dishes, the restaurant is suddenly filled with a strong, bitter smell—something burning. With a yelp, she runs into the kitchen, coming out a few minutes later with a tray of half-scorched cupcakes, their Gouba-shapes adorned with...a lot of burn marks. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it?

buys/makes a present for you.

Albedo

Without your knowledge, Albedo has been creating a collection of artworks throughout all the time you had spent together. The pieces include portraits of you, portraits of you and him (sucrose helped with this), as well as just random sketches of the little things that remind him of you, such as the bare, snowy-white terrain where the two of you first met, as well as its flora and fauna. If you request it, he’ll even make the painting come alive (literally), and the two of you run to Sucrose’s dwelling, who is very shocked to see the pair of you running from a Frosted Lawachurl when she peered out her window to see if she could pinpoint the sounds of distant screaming.

Amber

Is there anything better than a matching set of wind gliders? Not only that—they were homemade! She spent the last couple of weeks putting together a pair of gliders for the two of you, customizing them to your tastes (which she nailed!) She quite literally drags you to the nearest hill to test them out, and the two of you end up challenging each other on who can get back to the Knights of Farvonius Headquarters the fastest—spoiler alert: she did.

Barbara

Oh, she would make the cutest card for you—the envelope is decorated with cute stickers (some of them even had her face on it; there’s nothing like promoting merchandise, am i right? jkjks) She also pairs it off with a box of chocolates that she bought from Sara—however, what she didn’t know was that in the box was a special-edition spicy chocolate truffle. With your luck, that was the first one you chose—and boy, were you met a surprise (it was so bad that you were begging Barbara to use her Vision on you, which she refused of course). Fun times.

Chongyun

He’s real sweet. After his expeditions and commissions, he opens the freezer (yes he keeps them in there, don’t judge him) to an array of ice sculptures, shapes varying from flowers, hearts, and such—although it’s quite the simple gift, he’s put a lot of effort into them, even putting in the extra effort to cast a spell to make sure they would not melt; it’s all worth though, when he sees the absolutely giddy expression on your face, and the look of pure awe as you pick one up and study it closely, admiring all of the details and work that’s he put in.

Ningguang

She sends out informants to find out what you like, whether it be something that your gaze settled on for too long or something you’ve mentioned while talking to her—on the day of, you open your door to a mountain of gifts, with Ningguang herself peering out from behind it with a calm smile and a wave (which was the opposite of your reaction, because who has that much mora to purchase all of these gifts?!?)

Razor

He doesn’t have a clue on what the holiday until Lisa asks him if he’s planned something for the two of you during one of his lessons. When he shakes his head no, Lisa suggests that he make you something, to which he sets out on an adventure to do, looking for flowers and flower stems to weave into a pair of matching bracelets—they’re not the prettiest, but he is pretty proud of it; after all, it was his first time making something like that. He’s quite nervous to present it to you, afraid that you might not like it, but all feelings of worry melt away when you slide it on with a huge smile on your face, insisting that he wears his too.

Sucrose

At first, she considers gifting you a present that she created herself; of course, with her work being alchemy, she isn’t sure if that would be the safest option, despite being talented herself. And so, she resorts to buying a present for you—she is very picky with the present though, insisting that it should be perfect since she could not make one herself. She even consults Albedo when selecting some of the presents (he doesn’t help her unfortunately; he believes that she should figure it out herself haha). Like Razor, she’s quite nervous to give it to you, but lets out a huge sigh of relief as you thank her happily for the gift, wiping a bead of sweat from across her forehead (sucrose bby anything you give us would be perfect,,)

whisks you away somewhere sentimental, where the two of you can enjoy a special date.

Beidou

It’s ungodly early in the morning when Beidou presents herself in front of your doorstep, announcing that you’ll be joining her and the crew on a special ride. She tugs you along beside her until you reach the harbor, where you are met with the sight of her ship adorned with streamers and banners, varying between shades of pink and red. Onboard, there is a table filled with goodies the crew collected and made, and boy do they look delicious. The group sets out to sea, and you take your place next to the captain, who even lets you steer the boat (momentarily, at least.)

Bennett

He takes you to meet his dads; yes, yes—he knows that it’s not the most romantic thing to do on a day dedicated to lovers, but he figures it’s just as important. Besides, they’ve been asking about you for quite a while—they even set up a small party within the Adventurer’s Guild, with the help of Bennett, of course. You spend the day listening to their old adventuring stories, as well as bits from Bennett’s childhood (poor boy is flustered from all the information his dads are spilling, but he’s still happy either way; after all, he’s with the most important people to him.)

Kaeya

He quite literally kidnaps you; one second you’re walking in the streets of Mondstadt on your way to work when suddenly someone grabs you by the waist and pulls you into an alley way (that sounds so creepy but i swear he means it in a good way). He only chuckles and shields himself with his arms as you punch him lightly, retorting that he scared you. He doesn’t care that the two of you have an overwhelming amount of work to do—after all, Valentine’s Day only comes once a year, right? Surprisingly, he doesn’t take you the tavern, but instead...Dawn Winery! Diluc received quite the surprise when he is met with the two of you standing outside his gates, with Kaeya requesting a wine/grape juice taste-testing. Yeah...you guys didn’t get any of that, but you did manage to snag a couple of grapes on your way out! Good for you!

Venti

You wake up in your bed, opening your eyes to see a very-smiley Venti laying beside you, chin propped up against his hand as he watches you yawn sleepily as you force yourself out of bed. You’re then presented with a handpicked-bouquet of Ceceilias, the freshest of the bunch, if he may add. You barely have time to thank him before he hoists you up in his arms and out of your dwelling, gliding over the city of Mondstadt as he whisks you away to Starsnatch Cliff, where he’s prepared a special performance just for you (and no, you don’t need to pay.)

Xingqiu

While he’s not the most romantic, he does have a clue on what people look for on Valentine’s Day; after all, that’s what cheesy-romance novels were for, right? Unbeknownst to you, he takes you on a date very similar to the one the main characters in his favorite novels partook in—and you don’t find out until you catch him peeking into the pages while you weren’t (you were) looking. Again, it’s the thought that counts—

doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.

Jean

Sadly, she probably forgets about the holiday. She’s too busy holed-up in her office to notice the couples gathered up in the courtyard, sharing moments with their lover. It’s not until she walks out to take a breather that she notices the commotion—she immediately calls you over, apologizing frantically. Of course, to this you respond that’s it’s okay, but that you would much rather her take the rest of the day off to spend time together, to which she reluctantly agrees.

Xiao

“I do not have time to celebrate silly human traditions like that.” He would say as you bound up to him, exclaiming that it’s Valentine’s Day, the day where you can give sweets to your loved ones, and asking if he had someone special in mind to spend it with. He’s irked when your gaze falters and the grip on the object you’re hiding behind your back tightens—he only grows more irked as you mutter to yourself how you’ll give the chocolates you made to someone else. He scoffs loudly, avoiding your gaze as he lays out his hand in front of you to accept the chocolates (just because he doesn’t celebrate the holiday doesn’t mean he can’t get jealous!)

#anemo-writes #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #THE WAY THIS IS A DAY LATE #can you tell that i’ve never written for zhongli before :’) #bennett’s is my favorite i almost cried while writing it because it was so wholesome #diluc x reader #Childe x reader #zhongli x reader #chongyun x reader #razor x reader

[shoutogepi]

Red Roses

Kirishima Eijirou

word count : 7.5k

[ ✘ (nsfw!), flowershop!au ]  

themes : haaaa where to begin… almost dubcon?? (BEWARE!), dom!kiri, size kink!kiri, light spanking, tinyyy bit of ass play, little use of “Sir”

bio : Kirishima decides to educate you on the alternative meaning behind a red rose.

author’s note : this fic was meant to be for the @bnhabookclub​ provisional licensing exam event using their flowershop!au, but alas... i am a lazy procrastinator. anyway you should check them out!! i’ve absolutely loved being a part of something so great. also thanks to all who helped me with this fic <3 buuut special thanks to @lady-bakuhoe​​ for beta reading <3

tagging: @queensynderella @marilla-eldriana @1-800-callmekatsuki​ @hisoknen 

also available on AO3 here

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he bell tinkles overhead as you step into the quaint store, palm clammy against the metal doorknob and chest tight with apprehension.

“Y/N! Thank god for you,” your friend exclaims from behind the register, sliding over the counter with ease. She shoves the apron she’s holding into your hands before attempting to throw her hair into a messy bun. “I cannot believe my sitter cancelled on me this last minute— my husband has to be out of the house in ten minutes!”

You smile at her gratefulness, but your eyes are not on her. The curtains on the back room part and out steps the store owner, red eyes landing on you. “Y/N,” he greets you, the timbre of his voice low and cool. You nod and smile hesitantly toward him, shifting your attention back to your friend even though you can feel his gaze raking over your body.

Yuki wags a disapproving finger toward the man behind the counter, “Kiri, you better take good care of her!” She commands with a playful yet firm tone, body already halfway through the door you’d just come in through.

Your entire being screams out for you to beg her to stay, but you hold your tongue as you recall it was you who said you’d cover her shift. She already seems to have had the stress lifted from her shoulders at your arrival, and you can’t bear to back out after coming all the way here.

Looking back toward the source of your stress, you can’t help but admire him. Scarlet locks hang down around his face, majority pulled back into a sleek, short ponytail to give you a better view of his handsome face— jawline sharp as his teeth and the scar on his forehead slicing through his brow. He’s tall; well over six foot with rippling muscles adorning his long, tan arms. He’s wearing a crisp, white button down rolled up to the elbows, black and red ink poking out of the hem and trailing down his forearms. The store’s pine green apron is pulled snug around his figure, accentuating his broad chest and narrow hips. You already know his ass looks incredible, even though it’s hidden by the plastic countertop. He’s a five course meal on legs, for Christ’s sake, but you know better than to get ideas— he’s a player.

“Of course,” Kirishima replies across the store after her retreating form. His eyes drift over to you, catching your stare. “I’ll take great care of her.”

The door closes, sealing you to your fate with the red beast of a man. For a moment you just stand there, frozen as your mind runs through a thousand thoughts. Before he can comment about your blatant staring, you rip your eyes away from his, throwing the neck of the apron above your head. Tugging the tie around the back of your waist, your fingers fumble with the thick material as you turn to face him again. “So what should I work on?”

He seems amused at your question, even though it’s extremely valid. Not even bothering to hide the generous once-over he gives you when you've finally tightened the bow behind your back, he takes his time to answer you. “Yuki usually does the ordering for next week’s shipments tonight, but I’ll do that. You can put together some bouquets— I’ll give you one to follow off of.”

You’re honestly surprised that he’s giving you real work to do, but then again, you are covering a shift after all. Kirishima shows you the corner behind the counter designated for bouquet assembly, and he helps you make the first bouquet before he slips away behind the curtains of the back room once again, leaving you alone in the store.

He’d picked a simple bouquet for you to reproduce; a dozen red roses with a few sprigs of baby’s breath and a touch of greenery. The work is pleasantly methodic to complete, and by the time the sky is dark, a small sense of pride blooms in your chest at the pile of bouquets you’d managed to complete. It’s five minutes to close, and not a single customer has come into the store in the last hour. You’re snipping the ends off of the last branch of baby’s breath when you hear the rustle of the curtains behind you.

Immediately the atmosphere of the room changes. The once warm and light mood that filled the shop dissipates, replaced with a heavy, silent tension that causes trepidation to ooze into your veins.

“These look pretty good, Y/N,” Kirishima speaks from behind you, thick fingers moving over the packages of cellophane in a slow, analytical sweep. You roll your eyes, wondering if he’d thought you’d do a shit job or something.

You open your mouth to give him a curt thanks, but your voice dies in your throat as you feel his presence a hair’s breadth from your backside. The heat that rolls off of him licks at your skin through your clothes, your hands fixed midair.

“Though this one’s a little off,” he murmurs, breath washing over the shell of your ear. His hands come into your field of vision, arms absurdly thick and just generally large in comparison to you. His hands are just as big, dwarfing yours as he plucks the dainty flower from your stiff fingers.

The tattoos that peek out from the cuff of his sleeves hold a certain gravity that captures your stare. You watch him tuck the stem among the bouquet in your peripheral, placing it in precisely the perfect location to make the ensemble flawless.

Your stomach lurches when his chest brushes against your shoulders, fingers turning in on themselves to form to meager fists that you place atop the counter. “There,” he whispers, and you can feel just how close his lips are to touching your ear.

His voice does something to you; up close like this it sounds almost akin to how a tiger’s purr rumbles through its whole body. Except it’s your body that it thunders through, an unwanted heat beginning to form between your thighs. You shift your legs slightly, bringing your feet closer together in an attempt to mitigate the sensation.

You nearly gasp when he pulls away, eyelids fluttering shut in relief.

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” he comments, returning to the pile of bouquets that rest along the countertop. He starts to tuck them into his arms, red gaze flickering to gauge your expression. There’s a knowing gleam in his eyes, and you try your best not to allow heat to flood into your cheeks. But he doesn’t push it any further, turning and walking around the counter to crouch in front of one of the fridges that line the wall. You find yourself wishing for the cool air to wash over your own face, and you grab a few bouquets before making your way over to him.

You kneel down next to him, slightly annoyed that even sitting down he’s still at least a head taller than you. Stupid proportional man. You open the door and prop it open against your hip, leaning in to place the fresh bouquets inside an empty bucket, following Kirishima’s lead.

Kirishima watches you from the corner of his eye for a moment. “Thank you,” he says as he continues to fill the buckets in front of him, “for filling in for Yuki, I mean. The shop doesn’t look too busy but it needs two people to keep it up and running, so… I appreciate you coming in.”

His words are unexpected, and they bring a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks. You’d never seen the playboy be so openly appreciative before, although honestly you’ve only seen the fuckboy side of him— the one that eyes you down, and blatantly flirts with you when you come to visit your friend during her shifts. “Of course, Kiri,” you reply automatically. The burning in your cheeks only intensifies when you realize you’ve addressed him so informally, but when you turn to apologize to him, you find he’s much too close for comfort. He’s leaned in, taking you by surprise as the scent of his deep, savory cologne wafts into your face. Those carmine eyes piece into yours, making your stomach fill with butterflies, flapping round your stomach in a concoction of nerves and— you hate to admit it— hunger.

“You’ve done such good work today, Y/N,” he nearly whispers, and you watch as his full lips part to utter the words, sharp fangs glinting at you. Before you lose yourself to the moment, he stands, mollifying the intensity and severing you from the invisible string that pulls your gaze to his. You hesitantly take the hand he reaches out to you, trying not to think about how truly huge it is compared to yours. He pulls you up effortlessly, and you still as his other hand comes to touch the back of your waist when you all but collide into his chest. “Sorry,” he says but you wouldn’t deem his tone apologetic, “you’re so dainty, y’know— like a flower.”

You turn on your heel to face the other direction, hoping he doesn’t notice how much his comment affects you; you’re sure you look like a bird with fluffed, ruffled feathers— you certainly feel that way at least. You let out an awkward laugh as you take a hasty step toward the register, your body wanting nothing more than to rid itself of this infuriatingly delicious heat that Kirishima’s words create underneath your skin, licking and crawling along your bones. Finding yourself safely harbored behind the counter once again, your eyes fall to the nearly-completed bouquet you were just wrapping up when Kirishima exited the back room. Your fingers reach for a sprig of greenery, flat wide leaves fanning out in an elegant manner that could only accentuate the beauty and simplicity of the red bouquet.

But your sense of security is proven false, for Kirishima’s deep, demanding voice trickles like honey into your ears. “Red roses are accepted as the symbol of love all around the world,” he pauses for dramatic effect, and you hate to admit you’re left teetering on the edge of your metaphorical seat waiting for his next words, “but true florists know they convey another meaning.”

By the clarity of his diction you can tell he’s standing not far behind you, probably a step or two away. You can feel your heart rate spike again, your breath catching as you wonder what his next move will be. “And what’s that?” You reply dryly but it comes out more like a breathless whisper.

His thick forearms intrude your vision and settle on either side of your figure, leaving just a touch of space from your flesh. Your nearly shaking fingers drop the twig of leaves when he reaches between your hands, plucking a single thorny stem from the assembly before you and holding the soft, velvety petals to the tip of your nose. He doesn’t have to say the words for you to know to take a sniff of the blossom, and you inhale as much as your lungs will take before he answers your question, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“Desire.”

Your body freezes completely, too shocked to even draw in a breath of air, when his pointy teeth graze the very tip of your ear. Jaw hanging at his sheer impudence, you’re still as a statue when he moves the soft swell of the bloom across your far cheek, soft petals trailing along your fiery skin. The action tickles slightly, causing your head to turn toward his face that hangs down above your shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” he coos, and again there’s that rumble in his voice that resonates through your frame. He drops the flower, not caring to even spare a glance as it falls from his fingertips. The digits move to cup your chin, middle finger pushing the corner of your jaw to swing your face directly in front of his. Simmering red eyes stare deep into yours, flickering toward your lips briefly before he decides he no longer wants to drag this out.

You’re horrified to moan so unabashedly when his lips press against yours in a vicious siege, dominating them and claiming them as his. His kiss is rough, as if he can’t hold himself back from his beast-like passion, yet it’s much more meaningful and encaptivating than you’d imagined it would be. His arm slithers around your hips to place his hand atop your ribs. Your eyes widen at his undisguised motive, and you open your mouth to call him out— but before you can pull away to tell him to stop, his tongue slips between your lips. Knees wobbly at the sudden intrusion, your tongue begins to move with his, stroking, and swirling, and tangling into one sexy, sloppy mess. His hand slips from its place on your ribs, drifting underneath the side of your apron and cupping your entire breast— not much of a challenge for his large palm.

Kirishima moans into your mouth at your acceptance, and you can only croak out a small whimper of reciprocation. His hand is hot through the nearly sheer fabric of your blouse, and the bra does not do much to block his calloused hands from your chest. His other hand continues to grip your jaw, just hard enough so you’d have to struggle to pull away from him. That is, if you were ever to want to pull away from him.

Your hands are still frozen in front of you, unsure what exactly to do in this situation. Mind completely exhausted of all higher levels of thought, the only emotions you can recognize are lust and satisfaction. Actually, your brain is so hazy with these feelings that you don’t even complain when he starts to undo the tie at the back of your apron. His teeth drag across your bottom lip, the sharp edges not quite pressed hard enough to cut you, but for some reason it brings an unexpected thrill. Pulling away from your mouth, Kirishima’s lips meander across your jaw, his hand tilting your head up so he can continue his journey to your throat. He sucks on the tender flesh there, inhaling your sweet and clean scent as his tongue washes against your skin. You gasp at his brazen action, ass pushing against his hips to discover something long and thick there. Teeth prick into your flesh just a touch too hard, but he’s let go of you after only a minute, and he traces over the small wounds with careful licks.  

“Do you,” you suck in short breath when he squeezes your breast, your words faltering, “Do you do this with all your employees?” You taunt, but Kirishima can recognize the doubt in your tone. It’s hidden under false scorn, but your question is pure and filled with true intent. 

He pauses his treatment on your neck for a spell, and when he speaks, the wet skin on your throat feels cold as his breath falls upon it. “Of course not,” he purrs, raising his head to take your earlobe between his teeth, pulling away and sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. Your body jolts at the stimulation, and your bottom brushes against his crotch again. This time, his hand moves from your breast to wrap around your waist, securing you in place. He presses his concealed cock against the swell of your ass, and you bite your lip at the sheer size of him. Leaning in, he places a long stripe on the side of your ear with his hot tongue, and you can hear the teasing dripping from his voice. “Only with the pretty ones who beg for it.”

Kirishima’s hips rut against your ass, and he holds you in place so that the gentle grind he offers is felt in full effect. You nearly moan at the feeling of his hot length rubbing against you, your pussy starting to leak onto your panties. Of course you know he’s been around, but he’s so sexy— and he’s got to be good at what he does with all that experience.

He pauses, angling your face to still in front of his again. There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and a pleased smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth. He turns your face away again, and your eyes fall shut as his nose scrapes along your cheek. “Yuki says to stay away from you,” he grumbles, lips pressing against your cheek as he speaks, a groan slipping from his parted lips as he rolls his hips into yours particularly hard. Your bottom lip is held prisoner between your teeth in a desperate attempt to hold in the moan that craves to be set free. “Says a good girl like you is too good for me to be messin’ around with.” His words convey a dash of irritation, and you’re caught off-guard at the seasoning of disdain.

You wonder when she’d told him that— when they’d talked about you— but Kirishima does not allow you another moment to ponder it. He kisses you again, and all thoughts are cleansed from your brain as his lips seize yours. The hand on your chin drops and you gasp as it lands on the hem of your skirt, curling around you so his hot palm rests on your inner thigh, just a short distance from your soaked panties. Your feet move to draw your legs together, and your quivering thighs rub against his hand as you struggle to make your body move to your will. Pulling back to fill your lungs with fresh air, you mumble against his lips, “Kirishima, that’s—”

“But I know you’re not all that innocent,” he continues, fingertips brushing over the saturated lace. He groans as he traces along your slit, delighted to find you’re more than aroused from all his touching and teasing. Your cheeks feel impossibly hot, and you let out a soft whimper as he grazes over your clit a few times, your head falling back against his broad chest. Kirishima takes in your lustful expression, and the way your eyelashes flutter at him makes his cock twitch in his pants. “You’re so wet, sweetheart— fuck, you’re a naughty little thing. Y’want this, huh?”

Even though you only give him the slightest nod, he seems to accept your response, for his grip around your waist tightens considerably, pulling you flush against him. His hips buck against yours and you moan aloud when the clothed tip of his cock rubs against your panties through your skirt. You can’t even react when he spins you around, your head feeling fuzzy and laden with desire. He grabs your hips, easily placing you on the edge of the countertop before his fingers move to rip off your apron, then coming to undo the buttons at the front of your blouse. “The— The store,” you pant, eyes darting toward the door that currently sports the ‘open’ side of the sign. You swallow thickly when Kirishima falls to his knees, landing at the perfect height for him to put his head between your thighs.

His hands move to snag the hips of your panties, and you nearly whine in embarrassment when he slides the item down your legs, a thick string of your lust connecting the material to your pussy before it severs. Kirishima only moans in awe, pride oozing into his system as he takes in how drenched you are for him. He shoves the soiled lace into his pocket, and you whine at the action, about to complain but he cuts you off. “Don’t worry, Princess. No one’s gonna bother us,” he breathes out as he comes closer to your weeping core, your slick trickling down your ass cheek to drip onto the countertop.

White hot mortification bursts through you as he takes a long whiff of your pussy, and you squirm to move backwards but rough hands trap your thighs open, dragging your ass to hang halfway off the edge. He smirks as he looks up at you, examining your flustered expression.

“You ‘dunno how long I’ve wanted to have a taste of this sweet little pussy,” he growls, and your hands fly to the end of the counter to steady yourself, grasping onto it tightly. He chuckles when your cunt twitches before him at his words, his hands spreading your thighs apart into an obtuse angle, moving forward to drag his nose along your slick folds. You whimper at the contact, clenching around nothing as he teases you, your mouth falling open to suck in ragged breaths of air. His tongue darts out just slightly, and he runs the tip along your slit, separating your folds and savoring how your thighs shake underneath his grasp. “Mmmm,” he moans, sending tiny vibrations echoing through your sopping cunt, “good girls always taste the best.”

You can’t bear to look at him any longer, and you move your hand to place your curled knuckle between your teeth as his tongue creeps out, the flat muscle petting over your entrance slowly. His teeth graze your clit and you whine at the stimulation, the smooth enamel sliding across your bundle of nerves easily. His tongue is slow and playful, stroking you and avoiding where he knows you want him most.

Kirishima nuzzles into your cunt, rubbing your clit again with a lewd snarl pulling up his lips. “Look at me,” he commands and you follow his direction instantly, eyes blown wide with lust and tongue pressed tight against your knuckle. He groans at the sight, and you only shift your hips in his grasp to try to get closer to his mouth. Those scarlet eyes find yours once again, and you struggle to hold his gaze as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking it in and rolling his tongue over it. He moves the muscle hard against you, just fast enough to have you moaning out, your hand flying from your mouth to grasp the top of his crimson hair. Pulling away briefly, he blows a small huff of air across your heat, shit-eating grin splitting to gloat. “Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart? Be a good girl and keep those pretty eyes on me.”

Your lips waver as they press into a firm line, your thighs straining to close at the intensity when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. But his massive hands hold your legs apart without any effort, and he lashes his tongue against you without mercy. There is nothing more you want other than to throw your head back and close your eyes, jaw hanging open and heated pants drifting out, but you force your gaze to remain on the man between your legs. Your fingernails scrape against his scalp as you try to find some way to channel the pleasure he introduces to your body, but the action only seems to spur him on. One hand leaves your thigh only for his other arm to wrap right around your ass, and your hips buck helplessly against his face when a fingertip prods your slicked entrance.

Kirishima does not ask for permission, and you suck in a silent gasp as his finger spreads your pussy, shock and pleasure shooting through your limbs at the stretch just one finger provides. “You seem a little quiet, sweetheart. Wanna hear that sweet voice of yours again,” he growls against your pussy, tongue flicking down to trail along the edges of his finger lodged deep inside of you.

You can only whimper as he glides the digit out, pushing it back inside slowly and nearly making your eyes roll back in your skull. His finger is already so long and thick— god, if you had fingers like that you could probably make yourself cum in—

A shriek of bliss rips from your lungs as he thrusts his finger into you, curling toward himself and rubbing some place your fingers have never reached. There’s a cocky grin on his face, and you hate to admit he looks so good looking up at you like that from between your legs, but you can’t bring yourself to form any words. “That was cute,” he chuckles, jagged teeth nipping gently at your pearl again and forcing your entire body twitch against him. He makes sure to capture your full attention before he finishes his thought, the corners of his lip curling with something darker. “Is that the best you’ve got? I think you can do better.”

He’s anything but gentle, the heel of his palm rubbing against your folds as he fucks his finger into you at a rapid pace. You’re seeing stars flash before your eyes, the sliver of sanity you were so desperately clinging to ripped from your grasp. You cry out when his mouth returns to your clit, sucking, and flicking, and slurping. Your eyes just won’t stay open, jaw losing the opposite battle as it hangs ajar, broken and unrestrained moans tumbling out like a burst dam.

Kirishima seems satisfied with your reaction, and he begins to groan against your cunt. You’re dripping with enough slick to coat the entire lower half of his face, and the vibrations from his throat only reverberate through your pussy, making you sharply tug on his hair.

“K-Kirishima,” you pant, a plea about to leave your lips. You’re not sure if you want to beg him to stop, or to give you even more. But Kirishima makes that decision for you.

A strained gasp slices though you when his finger slides out of you, only to be pressed against another digit and shoved into you. The unexpected addition causes you to yelp, a strained moan purring out of you as he allows a few slow strokes for you to adjust. Jesus, having two of his fingers in you feels like you’re being stuffed already— a fleeting pang of fear shooting through you as you wonder what his cock will feel like. But you’re not allowed to ponder the thought, his fingers picking up the pace and curling against that spongy spot again.

Body squirming with bliss, your hips thrash in his hold, switching between scooting back and forth, rocking yourself against his mouth. Kirishima can feel your cunt begin to tighten snug round his thick fingers, your walls fluttering and pulsing at his rough but generous stimulation. “Gonna cum? Bet you make sucha pretty face when you cum, come on sweetheart,” he murmurs, slick lips kissing along the top of your pussy, across your clit. You would’ve cum already if he just kept that sly mouth of his on your clit, and you don’t expect his next words to affect you so much as you cum all over his hand. “Sooner you cum, sooner I can split you open with this cock. You want that, right? Wanna have me fuck that tight little cunt— y’wanna be my good girl, huh?”

Kirishima holds your hips close, arm tightening around your bottom as your body spasms with your orgasm, euphoria zipping through your entirety. The broken moan that rings out into the room makes his cock pulse in his pants, trousers feeling suddenly much too snug for his liking. Your head is thrown back in ecstasy, thighs quivering atop the counter and toes curled in your sneakers.

Finally he allows you a moment to breathe, fingers slipping out of your pussy and standing before you. His arm slides up with him, snagging around your waist to lay his palm flat against your shoulder blade and hold you upright. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he smirks as your eyes finally open, only to catch him tracing his tongue along the fingers that just brought you to heaven’s gates.

Your palms land on the broad expanse of his chest, fingers curling around straps of his apron. He laughs as you whine gently, ducking down a considerable distance and allowing you to slip the loop over his head. You undo his shirt as your lips collide, this time in a sloppy and desperate kiss. His tongue rolls over yours in your mouth as he tugs your bra to rest on top of your chest, your breasts spilling out into his eager palm. He thumbs over your nipples and growls against your mouth, and you whimper and allow your fingers to spread across the flesh of his chest. When you open your eyes, you notice a black and red dragon carved into the top of his pec, dipping halfway down from his collar bone and curling around his shoulder down the length of his arm.

Shirts thrown to the floor in crumpled heaps, you trail your fingers down his hard six pack, thumb combing through a neat trail of black above the button of his jeans. Digits running down to cup his hard length, you look at him with wanton eyes and groan. “Wanna taste you, Kiri.”

Kirishima clicks his tongue in his mouth, a beefy hand wrapping around your wrist entirely and steering your hand to rest on the bulge on his thigh. Your eyes widen almost comically, your throat drying and pussy tightening with a cocktail of apprehension and excitement. He leans down to run his tongue along the column of your throat before he pulls back with a brief nibble to your jaw, locking eyes with you. “I don’t think a sweet girl like you can handle taking me in your mouth.”

His fingers move to undo the button on his jeans, the suspense thick in the air as you watch in awe. He tugs the jeans to rest beneath his ass, the bulge in his black boxer-briefs already indicating you might be in for more than you can handle. You try not to let your jaw drop when his cock springs free, swollen tip glazed with a sheen of pre and pulsing veins decorating the entire shaft. Hand around the base of his cock, you whimper as it only covers half his length— his fist is already considerably bigger than yours and suddenly you’re in fear for your pussy.

Kirishima laughs at your expression, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and smoothing the hair from your forehead. “Don’t worry Princess,” he murmurs, arm around your waist again to push your hips to the very edge of the countertop. Your pussy twitches when the head of his cock brushes your folds, and you find yourself wondering if you’re about to be in a world of pain or pleasure. Probably both. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promises, nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing gentle, wet kisses there.

“I don’t— I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you croak out, arms hesitantly wrapping around his neck. Yet your legs spread on their own accord, inching forward so his cock rubs against your opening.

Kirishima purrs at the action, licking his lips against your throat. “We’ll make it fit, sweetheart.” He brings his hand up to his mouth and spits into it, the crude noise making you flinch and wrinkle your nose in disgust. But it doesn’t last for long— any conscious thought leaves your brain when you glance down, seeing him stroke the top half of his cock with his slick hand. Biting your lip, you close your eyes and pull him closer, trying to prepare yourself for whatever is about to come.

Thankfully his movements are slow as he pushes into your wet cunt, and you’re surprised how easily his length slides into you. The stretch is unreal— unlike anything you’ve ever felt before— and it takes all your willpower not to clench around him for you know that will just cause you further discomfort. He only enters you halfway, grip tight on your waist as if he’s having a hard time controlling himself. Sighing against the flushed skin of your neck, he moves to kiss you again, lips tender and careful.

You whimper when he gives a tentative thrust, your nails clawing into the muscles lining the top of his shoulder. His cock is so thick, and knowing it’s only halfway inside you has your stomach twisting in terror. He’s goddamn huge. It takes a few more gentle thrusts for your grip on him to loosen, and your body relaxes slightly in his arms.

Kirishima clearly has enough experience with this, because the pace he sets is perfect. His hands slide all over your body, cupping and squeezing every inch of flesh he can find. Hips rock into yours at a slow, benevolent pace, your pussy stretched wide around him and fluttering as his thick veins drag along your velvet walls. Lips finding yours again, his tongue and pointed teeth distract you as with each thrust his cock shifts a tiny bit deeper inside of you.

At some point you start to moan, head falling back and mouth open wide as long, unadulterated sounds float out from the bottom of your lungs. Kirishima’s pace hastens, hands landing on your hips and thrusting into you swiftly. His cock is making your head spin, brain full of fog as your heart hammers in your ribs. He swears as his rough hand claps atop your ass cheek, taking note of the way your pussy shivers around him and a sharp squeak is summoned from your lips. “God you’re fuckin’ tight sweetheart— fuck, you a virgin?” He moans, fingers biting into the reddened skin on your ass. When you shake your head at him, he questions how on earth it is possible for you to be this snug around him, but he makes sure to thank whatever deity there is for it.

You cry out when his thumb greets your clit, and he fights to maintain his measured pace at the way your cunt squeezes so tightly. Your slick is dripping onto the countertop, his cock buried deep in your core, again and again. His added stimulation to your clit has you gasping for breath, a coil in your stomach filling with pressure. “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod Kiri please don’t stoppp,” you beg, pupils drifting up into your skull and your hands flying all over his torso, grabbing whatever skin you can reach.

Kirishima groans, palm pushing your tailbone forward so your hips bump against his. You scream at the full intensity of his cock inside of you; every inch and every vein setting fire to your insides, his thumb relentless on your clit. Your vision turns white as you reach your peak, your body seizing in ecstasy. Pulling him close, you wheeze for breath against his chest, his thumb never stilling its movement on your clit until you grab his wrist and rip him off of you, overwhelmed with the bliss from your orgasm rippling through every bone in your body. He’s still moving inside of you— albeit at a snail's pace— but it’s enough for him to prolong the pleasure simmering in your veins.

Finally you collapse into his chest, mind numb and eyelids too heavy to keep open, your lips pressing clumsy kisses into his skin. A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, his fingers carding through your tresses. “Now, that was cute, Princess,” he says, the amusement in his tone laced with something darker. His fingers curl in your hair, pulling your neck back so your head tilts up to meet his sinister gaze. “But you didn’t get permission to cum, did you?”

Your heart begins to race, your stomach plummeting as he holds your gaze without vigilance. You whine as he pulls out of you, your cunt never feeling this empty before as his hot length disappears. Kirishima picks you up without effort, biceps swelling with intricate swirls of charcoal ink. He places you on wobbling feet before spinning you around, your hands flying out to grab the counter as he shoves your shoulder down.

“That makes you a bad girl, Y/N.”

Horror streaks through your every limb, and yet, only a sinful moan wanders out of you, your feet moving apart and thighs spreading for him to fit between. You crane your head to look at him, drinking up the beautiful man behind you. Broad shoulders trail into a broad, thick chest, tapering down to a tight and powerful waist. Each muscle on his body is prominent and enticing, covered snugly with tan skin that glimmers with a sheen of sweat. His red hair hangs to frame his handsome face, mostly still tugged back into his low ponytail.

As if reading your mind, he moves a hand back and snags the tie off, vibrant locks of scarlet licking the tops of his shoulders. Running a hand over his forehead, he looks at you with a predatory gaze, a smirk curling up one side of his lips. “Y’know what happens to bad girls, right?” You bite your lip and shake your head, egging him on as the top of his cock traces around your opening. “Bad girls get punished.”

The loudest scream of the night rips through you as he thrusts into you without warning, his cock hitting all different kinds of places than before in this new position. Kirishima doesn’t allow you a moment to adjust; he starts slapping his hips against your ass roughly, fist gripping the hair near your scalp again and pulling it tight so your back arches. You cannot breathe, or speak, or think— but somehow his name slips out of your mouth between all the moans.

A harsh slap across your ass sounds, the sting causing your pussy to quiver around his length. “Bad girls don’t get to use my name,” he growls into your ear, leaning over your body to take the tip of your ear between his teeth.

Your eyes are crossed in pleasure, your expression probably comforted into the most lewd, carnal face you’ve ever made. His cock is too big, and you know you won’t be able to walk right tomorrow, but maybe that adds to why it feels so fucking good right now.

“You’re makin’ this seem like a reward, not a punishment, Princess. You like taking it rough, huh?” He teases, pulling your head back by your hair and eliciting another moan from you. “Answer me.”

His cock pounds into your cunt, the sheer stretch enough to make you cum, let alone the length. Your lungs begin to shake as you feel your orgasm building again between your legs. “Yes Sir!” You yelp when his palm cracks against your ass again, your knees wobbly and the pressure continuing to build.

Your reply makes his cock twitch inside of you, and Kirishima sucks in a cool breath of air between clenched teeth. His hand grips the bottom of your thigh, and you cry out when he hikes your knee onto the countertop, cock drilling into you even deeper than before.

Your pussy twitches as you cum instantly, a drawn-out moan vibrating through your throat. Fingernails scraping along the countertop in your gaze of euphoria, Kirishima is forced to halt his assault on your cunt as it squeezes him tightly, his teeth piercing into his lip in pleasure. But as soon as your cunt loosens, he’s fucking into you with renewed vigor, your hips knocking into the counter as he plunges his massive cock into your sloppy heat. “You just don’t fuckin’ learn,” he snarls, wrist twisting to pull your hair tighter, bending your spine to his will.

“I’m sorry Sir,” you choke out, tears beginning to trickle down your cheeks. Each thrust brushes your cervix and it hurts, but at the same time the intensity of it all feels incredible. “I didn’t know I could… could cum so q-quick! Please, Sir— ah!— Please forgive me!”

Kirishima tosses his head back at your admission, your apology immediately accepted. His hand slips from your hair to your throat, turning your head so he can see your face as he pounds into you without mercy. The tears slipping down your cheeks make your eyes sparkle and he groans, his own end in near reach and only approaching quicker at the sight of you. “Y’look so pretty when you cry, sweetheart— shit, I know you have one more for me,” he leans in and pokes his tongue out to collect a salty tear, kissing the wet skin on your cheek. His thumb on your throat wanders to your lips, and you take the digit into your mouth with enthusiasm, keeping your eyes locked with his.

You whimper around his finger when his other hand comes around to circle your puffy clit, already overstimulated and thighs shaking. Your legs try to close but he keeps them spread apart, cock still ramming into you as his lips trail down to your neck. His hand on your throat loosens and comes to rest on your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and tracing his slippery thumb over your puckered hole. Your eyes widen with shock, and you force your voice to work even though it comes out scratchy and breathless. “W-What are you— Kiri wait, that’s—”

“Have you ever had anything in here, Princess?” He inquires as his thumb slips into you, making you shriek at the fiery stretch. Pushing the digit into your ass, he moans at the sight of you sucking in his thumb so obediently, your hole trembling and squeezing round his finger.

You shake your head, at a loss for words once again. You can feel his cock rub against his finger through your walls, and though it’s a foreign, unfamiliar sensation, it’s far from unwelcome. More tears of pure pleasure descend from your lashes, the combination of all his stimulation driving you insane. You can feel your climax building with every thrust, your walls dragging along his cock and his finger, his other hand rolling your clit.

“C’mon, baby. Cum for me, it’s alright,” he purrs, balls feeling tight with his near release. His fingers pinch and rub all over your slick clit, and you mewl out as that familiar pressure heightens in your stomach. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Show me how good you are, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t allow you a second to think, and you whine out for him when his hips crash against your ass, shoving his entire cock inside your soaked hole and spreading your aching walls. The spot he’s hitting with the head of his cock causes your eyes to cross— you didn’t even know it existed before now— and suddenly everything is too much, and you’re crying out his name as your orgasm tears through you.

Kirishima gives a few more hard thrusts before he’s there too, the tips of his teeth piercing into your neck as he floods your pussy with his heavy load. Your cunt pulses around him, milking out every drop he has to offer as you’re thrown into waves of complete euphoria. Eyes closed, toes and fingers coiled tight in pleasure, you whimper as he gives your clit a few more rubs before his hand moves up to push his hair back. “Good girl,” he praises, hot palms sliding along your curves and rubbing circles into your skin.

You’re totally spent; body limp atop the countertop, nipples hard and hot against the cool plastic, tears drying on your cheeks, ass feeling warm and fuzzy, and pussy trembling with the aftershocks of your climax. Kirishima is careful when he pulls out, and you can’t even find the energy to make a noise of complaint at the emptiness between your legs. You can feel his release begin to dribble out of your abused hole, and your body twitches when he presses his thumb in to shove his seed back inside.

He sighs as he grabs a paper towel from the sink behind him, dragging it along his weeping, yet still impressive, length. As you’re still catching your breath, he walks around the counter and into your field of vision, tucking himself back into his pants nonchalantly. When he reaches the door, he flips the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed’ before sauntering over to you, eyes trained on yours. “Well, sweetheart,” he chuckles, gaze raking over your exhausted form, still collapsed on top of the counter in a sedated-like state. He reaches forward, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he smiles brightly, but a shadow of something more ominous lingers in those scarlet eyes. “You’re gonna have to cover Yuki’s shifts more often.”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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soooo that happened. finally some dom kiri on my blog!!! please be sure to lemme know if you enjoyed <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#kirishima eijirou smut #kirishima smut #bnha smut #mha smut #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #kirishima eijirou fic #kirishima fic #bnha fic #mha fic #my fics

[snackhobi]

Had the worst day at work. 🗣🗣Need fluffy soft android tae to make it better

this is set in the human touch verse / part 1.5

Part 1 / [1.5] / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: android!taehyung x reader / word count: 1.4k / genre: fluff (sfw/general) / warnings: none! (this is set after part 1, no spoilers for part 2!)

ANON I GOT YOU! 😤 I’m sorry your day at work was bad but I hope this lil oneshot makes it a little better!! ✨ and I hope tomorrow is better for you! this hasn’t been beta’ed, I typed this out as soon as I saw your message, I’m sorry for any mistakes! was a fast one!

You love your job. Honestly, you do. You know you’re lucky and that a lot of people hate their jobs, slog away at them just to make ends meet, no real passion for what they do. You’re lucky that you have a good job that you like with coworkers that you love. Really lucky. Extraordinarily lucky.

But everyone has bad days.

Days where clients are rude and brash. Days where the ideas you submit aren’t right, aren’t good enough, where everything you come up with gets sent back to the drawing board or scrapped altogether. Days where the café down the road from work is out of your favourite pastry, the last cinnamon roll stolen out from your very eyes by the person in front of you, your little guilty pleasure gone just like that.

(You watch, aghast and agape, as the other customer takes one bite into that last cinnamon roll, wrinkles their nose, and discards it in the trash. It would be one thing to have stolen it so brazenly from you, but they didn’t even finish it. You’re in disbelief.)

Your usual coping method for days like this? Get home, flop on sofa, eat takeout, feel sorry for self. It’s something you’ve gotten good at over the years, wallowing alone in your empty apartment, feeling angry and sad and small; left to stew and circle on those Really Rough Days that everyone has, unfortunately. Compounded by your solitude, your own lonely, echoing chamber. You could complain to your friends, of course, co-workers who would understand what you’re going through—but you feel stupid. Selfish, even, in complaining about these little things. So you keep it to yourself.

Or at least, that’s the plan.

Taehyung’s greeting is vibrant and bright, as it always is. His hair is red today, a shock of scarlet that fizzes on his head and frames his lovely face—he’s even changed his eyes too, a rarer occurrence, muted hazel, almost-green, an autumn forest at dawn. Seeing him makes everything a little better, an ice-pack on the mottled bruise of your day, a warm compress against an aching pain.

A little better, but not entirely.

“Hey, Taehyung,” you reply, trying to etch a smile across your lips.

Instantly, his LED flickers yellow.

“Y/n.” His voice is soft and low as he watches you kick your shoes off, hang your coat up, going through your usual daily motions, smooth with ease of practice even if your limbs feel heavy. “What’s wrong?”

You pause.

“Nothing,” you say. “I’m just tired.”

You hadn’t realised you were so transparent. Hadn’t realised that it would be so easy for Taehyung to see that something’s off, that the levity behind your words is forced, today.

Maybe, back when he’d first stepped foot in your apartment, your lie would have slipped past him. But he’s been here for a few weeks, now, and he’s grown to learn your idiosyncrasies so fast it should be frightening. (But it’s not. It’s… comforting, actually. Knowing that he can read you and does so because he cares about your wellbeing, worries about you, just as you worry about him.)

“Y/n,” Taehyung repeats. 

There’s something a little more emphatic in his tone, something firmer, and you can’t help but look at him.

His LED is yellow and there’s a little frown laid across his brows, his smiling mouth set in a pursed line as he looks back at you, but he’s still soft around the edges. Concern. It’s written all over him, across every inch of his face and body, curled in the curve of his fingers as he reaches out to take your hand.

“What’s wrong?” He says, again, and something inside you dissolves, melts from black ice to gentle water under his warm touch.

“Just a bad day at work,” you admit, an almost embarrassed murmur at this confession of weakness. “I’m feeling a little stressed, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s okay.”

Taehyung’s LED is flickering, swirling yellow, before it transitions into that soft blue you love so much. “Go sit down.” He squeezes your hand. “I’ll make you something.”

Taehyung is still learning, far better at art than most other things, but he knows exactly what you like. The hot chocolate he presents you is piping hot, thick and creamy, and he’s even arranged some of your favourite biscuits on a small plate for you, set in a neat half-circle, a rainbow of cookies and otherwise. And when he sits next to you, he reaches for your hand, holds it loose but safe, looks at you with his big, big eyes—eyes that are back to their usual brown, now, his hair black atop his head, his default settings. 

(You’ll never say it out loud, because Taehyung looks incredible no matter what, but you love this look. It’s your favourite, his dark hair and darker eyes, because it’s what makes him look the softest. It’s entirely Taehyung. There are no remnants of V.)

“Do you want to talk about it?”

And… you do, actually. You do want to talk about it. But still, you hesitate, until Taehyung squeezes your hand again, and all the tension rushes out of you like the air out of a balloon.

It’s weirdly easy to talk to Taehyung, someone who listens intently—like he always does—his LED a gentle looping river that flows on his temple as you spell out the minutiae of your day, each rock caught in the shoe of you life that you’ve struggled to kick out.

It’s strange, to feel coddled like this. Strange to have someone just want to listen to you, someone who cares about the things in your day that had built up into a mountain. Strange, but… nice. It leaves you feeling lighter, buoyed up, like you’ve shed part of the burden on your shoulders, like Taehyung has helped you lift it.

Things are better, the next day. Everything is fine, and your day is good; you know that yesterday was just a blip, something easily dismissed, all the easier for Taehyung’s unswerving support. A bad day is nothing important and doesn’t need thinking about. So, you put it out of your mind as you work, all but forgotten when you get home, back to Taehyung’s glittering eyes and wide grin.

His fingers are stained with paint and there are swipes of it down his apron, staining the once unmarred fabric, evidence of his endless creation. You love it, love that he loves to paint, to create, making things just because he can. For himself.

“I made something for you,” he says, and, oh. 

Oh.

For himself, and for you too, it seems.

It’s a series of tiny, beautiful canvases. There’s an incredible floral display, chrysanthemums and peonies and roses and lilies and more, more, more, paint layered so thick that the petals literally rise from the page. Each one fits in the palm of your hand, so small and gorgeous, so much wonder contained in each small canvas; you’d forgotten about these. Wonder where Taehyung unearthed them from, without leaving chaos behind, your studio as organised as always.

“Do you like them?”

“Taehyung,” you murmur, staring at the canvas of forget-me-nots that’s cradled in your palm, each petal warm blue with softened hints of pink and purple, so pretty as they sit atop their stems. “I love them. They’re for me?”

Taehyung’s smile is warm, warm, warm. “I thought you could keep them on your desk at work. That’s why I painted them so small,” he says.

No one’s ever painted anything for you before.

“They’re so beautiful, Tae,” you say, and Taehyung’s LED flickers in delight at the nickname, the endearment, familiarity.

“You had a bad day yesterday and I thought you might like something nice to look at while you were at work,” he says, and his voice is so yielding and sweet, marshmallow soft. “Looking at your paintings makes me happy, and I thought you might be happy if you looked at mine, too.”

Your fingers tighten around the tiny canvas in your hand. You do feel happy.

You feel happy looking at Taehyung’s paintings.

(You feel happy looking at Taehyung.)

(The forget-me-nots sit next to your monitors, your eyes resting on those tiny, delicate blooms more often than you realise. Forget-me-not, you think, and then smile. As if you could ever forget about Taehyung.)

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #android taehyung #joy.masterlist #just a quick lil thing so I'm not gonna tag it properly but!! I hope u like!! #anon #ask

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Death Does Not Discriminate Between the Sinners and the Saints

Part 1

Tony Stark x Male Demon Reader

Word Count: 3361

This is for the amazing @charliedakotariley who keeps absolutely making my day with all the sweet things they say.

This one is a bit angsty, but there is fantastic tooth rotting fluff at the end for anyone who gets that far. Keep yourselves safe and don't read anything that will make you go down a bad path.

Warnings: The title kind of says it, we are going to be dealing with the concept of a loved one dying in this. NO-ONE ACTUALLY DIES.

--------------

Y/n had known for months now that something was wrong with Tony. They had gotten past the hurdle of Tony's new self-consciousness thanks to the arc reactor that was a part of him now, or at least Y/n thought they had. He had spent weeks reassuring Tony (in and out of bed) that he still found him attractive.

Of course, the rest of the world would be surprised to see Tony Stark be self-conscious about anything, but they didn't know him like Y/n did. He found Tony's public persona to be hilarious. As a literal demon he loved to watch Tony wind up anyone who thought they could get under his skin.

That had been a surprise to Y/n. He had approached Tony at a party one night for a little bit of fun. Hey, he wasn't about to censure himself, he was a demon. Fun was what he did best.

As cliche as it is, Y/n hadn't expected to fall for the dashing young man so many years before. He sighed for at least the tenth time that night. They had been together for years and still no-one had connected the dots.

'Friends my ass,' Y/n snorted as he thought back to that latest tabloid headline, 'or Tony's ass, as the case may be.'

The problem right now was that Tony was avoiding him. Y/n watched disinterestedly as Tony got eye-wateringly drunk at his birthday party.

Y/n was long over the days where all chaos was his preferred fun. That had stopped when he fell properly for the billionaire. He much preferred it when the chaos didn't stem from his boyfriend getting drunk, putting on his Iron Man suit and proceeding to destroy large parts of his home.

Pepper stood beside him looking equal parts furious and worried. She was alternating between biting her fingernails and sighing in frustration. She looked up at the much taller man.

"Isn't there anything you can do to stop him Y/n?"

Y/n's expression soured.

"No, he hasn't told me what's bugging him. He hasn't even looked at me once tonight."

That was when Rhodey came busting in wearing one of Tony's other suits. For a minute Y/n considered getting between them, but then he decided that if Tony couldn't be bothered to even talk to him, then he could get out of his own mess.

It wasn't until Y/n was back in his own apartment staring out into the darkness of the night sky that he realised what it was that had been bugging him.

Tony smelled like death.

----------

Y/n was a man of many talents. As a demon, he had lived for over a hundred years, all the while, seemingly never aging a day. He had been all over the world and met (and ruined) many amazing people. (Thank the devil for the light telepathic abilities he had that allowed him to make people see him as human looking. Well, at least more human than he really was.)

He had never once been in love. Until Tony. Y/n was starting to regret not getting closer to other humans over the years, because now he had no idea how to deal with the idea of Tony dying.

What was he going to do? He was a demon, they lived for over a thousand years at least. That was like the lowest natural age to die for a demon. He couldn't live the rest of his life without Tony, he was his everything.

That pulled Y/n up short. When had he fallen so low as to be so affected by the death of a lowly human? But that lowly human was Tony, his adorable chaos-creating boyfriend. He wasn't even dead yet, but Y/n was already acting like he was gone.

A glimmer of a thought flickered through Y/n's head.

There had to be something he could do, instead of sitting back and letting this happen. Tony could NOT die. Y/n wouldn't let it happen, no matter who had to fall in his place.

'How do you stop the death of someone who doesn't even know they are dying. If only there was a google search for something like this.'

Y/n grinned manically. They had healers in Asgard. Some of the best in the universe. He had heard whispers of paths between the realms here on Earth. Heck, he had even used some of them himself, how else did you think he got here in the first place?

Y/n's face set in determination. He could do this. He would stop Tony from dying even if it meant his own death.

He wasn't a demon for nothing after all.

-----------

Getting into Asgard shouldn't have been that easy Y/n lamented as he stepped out into the lush forest that surrounded the portal. He was pretty sure that there was supposed to be some all powerful, all seeing God that watched over the realms. Y/n wasn't sure what to do about that, but figured that if there wasn't a squad of Asgardian guards waiting to arrest/remove him on arrival then he must not be a valid concern.

Y/n bared his teeth at the thought. He considered letting his perception field fall and making a big dramatic entrance, but let it go.

'For Tony.'

Y/n walked as carefully as he could through the forest. It wouldn't do to get all tattered and look even more suspicious than he already would.

Luckily it didn't take more than an hour to get to the edge of the forest, and even more luckily it bordered on the golden city itself.

Y/n stopped to take in the grandeur of the city of Asgard and thought that he must be the only demon to have ever set foot in this realm. How ironic that he wasn't even there to try to destroy it like so many of his kin had dreamed of doing.

No one really paid Y/n much mind as he made his way into the city proper. It turned out Asgardians were taller than humans generally speaking, so Y/n actually fit in better here than on Earth where he just about towered over everyone.

He even saw a couple of other people with skin as pale as his was, and the same white hair. No one had eyes like his though. Y/n knew that his eyes looked like the lava that covered so much of his home realm. They even glowed if he got too emotional.

This realm was so much more open. The streets were wider, there was so much more room to move than on Earth. Y/n was starting to feel like a tourist, gaping at every little thing in the city. That wouldn't help him in blending in, but he couldn't help it. He had the sudden urge to see if he could do a full spin and not knock anything over.

That had been one of the hardest things to unlearn when he first made it to Earth. His long armored tail was pretty unwieldy in such tight enclosed spaces, so he had had to learn to balance all over again with his tail tucked closer to his body. Unfortunately his perception field only changed how people saw him, so if they tripped over his tail and really looked to see what had tripped them, they sometimes saw what he really looked like. Luckily for him, they were usually written off as insane or, as one really unlucky woman found, it was written off as women's hysteria.

Y/n reined that thought back in and tucked it away for later. If he got out of this alive he would think about it later.

Y/n was sure that the best healers would work in the palace, but that would mean trying to sneak in and abscond with a royal physician. That would be noticed much more quickly, and would be met with a much harsher response.

Y/n set his shoulders back in determination. He would just have to be incredibly convincing, or this would go sideways much too quickly.

'Well,' Y/n thought grimly, 'at least that would solve the problem of watching Tony die slowly.'

--------------

The palace was quiet. This was just too odd. Something supernatural must be at work here.

Y/n was starting to freak out. He had made his way into the palace totally unhindered, and even his admittedly amazing luck had never been that good.

He slunk around another corner, still on high alert. Which was why he didn't miss the shimmer in the air that meant something else was in this space with him.

Y/n shot out an arm at it, aiming for the same height as his own neck.

His hand caught around a slimmer neck than his own, and he tightened his grip to almost unbearable for a demon. He wasn't about to underestimate the people of Asgard.

The stories of Asgardians from back on his own realm lauded them as incredibly strong and fast, and able to live as long as demons themselves.

The Asgardian struggled fiercely for a moment, but when it became apparent that Y/n was stronger than them, they slumped and dropped whatever incantation had allowed them to be invisible.

They appeared to be male, and around the same age as Y/n, but then, so had Tony when they had first met.

Y/n shoved the man away from him hard, and took up a fighting stance.

The other man sputtered and heaved in deep breaths to make up for his previous lack, thanks to Y/n. He looked pretty pathetic, laying against the wall, black hair falling over his face, which was red from lack of air.

"Why have you brought me here mage?"

The man looked up, affecting a surprised expression.

"What makes you think I have brought you here? Are you not an assassin, here to remove either the King or Crown Prince? Both are in the throne room, if you were interested."

Y/n remained in his stance, passive.

"I have the feeling that you know why I'm here already."

The man pulled himself up at last.

"Fine, I might have sensed you when you first stepped foot in our realm. I must say, I haven't seen anyone from Helheim before. Whatever are you doing here, a place that some have dubbed the promised land, home of the Gods?"

"You don't half think highly of yourself, do you?"

The man's response is a sneer.

"I need help."

Y/n stood up from his stance. It didn't feel like this man was going to attack him, and he could hardly ask for help much less receive it while preparing to attack.

He definitely gave off an odd vibe, but it wasn't an 'I'm about to kill you and all of your family just for breathing near me' vibe.

The man looked positively delighted.

"A demon of Helheim needs help," He crowed. "What can I, the humble Loki of Asgard, do to help you Oh Great Demon of Helheim?"

Y/n's left eye twitched, but he reigned himself in once again. Just because Loki seemed like he would benefit from a good smack upside the head, that didn't make it his job to deliver it.

"My, paramour, is in need of a healer. We do not have the ability to heal him, and I will not see his life ended without every attempt having been made to save it."

Loki apparently noticed the pause at the beginning of my request.

"My, my, what type of paramour could you possibly have that would warrant such a delicately put request? Surely not another demon, I thought you were nigh on indestructible?"

He was wandering around Y/n now, getting closer in his circling, all the better to whisper intimidatingly in his ear.

"Perhaps, to be in such desperate need of rescue that you, a demon, would risk everything by coming here of all places, your 'paramour' is something a little more frail?"

Y/n took it back, Loki was pure evil. He grit his teeth and squashed the urge to deck him in his smug face.

"Me thinks, perhaps, something so frail as, a human?"

They stood face to face in silence.

"Your silence speaks volumes my dear."

Y/n lost the battle. With a cry of outrage that came from somewhere deep inside he leapt at the smug God and prepared to smash his stupid face into pieces.

Shockingly his fist simply went through Loki's face. The image rippled and flickered out as it did so.

It flickered back into place beside him.

He spun into a roundhouse kick and the God went down.

"Stop! Dammit, just stop!"

'Some God,' thought Y/n.

"I was sent to get you."

Y/n was done with these so-called Gods and their mind games.

"What do you mean you were sent to get me? Spit it out!"

Loki looked up and glared at Y/n from his position on the floor.

"You were Seen. The moment you stepped foot into Asgard Heimdall Saw you and reported it to the All-Father. Luckily for you Queen Frigga Saw that you weren't here to attack, and that you only sought our help. I was sent to collect you and bring you to her rooms."

------------

The Queen turned out to be much sweeter than Y/n had assumed. He had heard stories of course, but how much could be believed from the daughter who was banished to Helheim?

"Y/n, come, sit. How was your trip dear?"

Y/n was confused. She was acting like they were old friends. As far as he knew he had never met the Queen of Asgard before.

"Ma'am, I'm here for aid. My partner is not long for our home realm. I could smell death on him."

Y/n looked at the ground and clenched his hands into fists.

"I can't lose him. I thought once before that he was gone for good, but he fought tooth and nail to come back to me. Now I am having to sit and watch as something pulls him ever closer to deaths waiting arms. Please, I'll do anything, but please, heal him."

Y/n knew he was begging, but what else could be done. He had thought maybe he could intimidate a regular healer into healing Tony. After that was hazy, but he had been prepared to do anything that would be necessary to make Tony better.

This was not going to plan. He couldn't do anything to make the Queen decide to help him, he would just have to appeal to her softer side.

Frigga knelt by Y/n's side and softly took one of his hands in hers. Her eyes softened as she took in the genuine distress on Y/n's face.

"There is nothing to be done dear. No, don't panic, your loved one is fine. You were right, he was dying, but events have conspired to keep Tony Stark alive. Something needs him still alive, and I am talking about something bigger than you or I. He lives, and at this moment is going just a little bit more out of his mind than normal in his search for you."

Y/n was on his feet and by the door before Frigga had even finished speaking.

"Wait!"

Y/n turned, not wanting to waste another second when he knew that Tony was looking for him, but not able to be disrespectful of the one who had given him hope back.

"Eventually, when you are both ready for that next step, come back and bring your partner. I can organise for one of Idunn's golden apples. You can grow old together."

Tears gathered in Y/n's eyes at the offer.

"But, why? I'm a demon. Tony is a human. Neither of us are anything special. Why are you offering this to us?"

Frigga smiled, beautiful but so broken.

"Because you remind me of someone. So passionate and loyal to the ones who you love that you are willing to flatten entire realms."

Y/n didn't know what to say to that, so he turned back to face Frigga fully. He bowed from the waist to her.

"Thank you Queen Frigga of Asgard. I am in your debt."

Y/n heard her words spoken softly as he left, not entirely for his ears.

"Will you ever forgive us, my dear daughter?"

--------------

Tony was broken. He had thought that the lowest he could get was knowing that he was dying from something that was supposed to be saving his life.

He was wrong. When he had finally come up for air after the whole thing with his arc reactor, Shield and the Hammer Fiasco as he was calling it, he had realised that he hadn't seen Y/n since his disastrous birthday.

He had searched for what felt like forever. Not even Jarvis could find any mention of Y/n anywhere in the world. It was like he had dropped off the face of the planet.

Tony was now spending his time in his boyfriends apartment. He was sure that when he finally came back from wherever he had been, this was one of the first places he would go. He loved his boyfriend, but they were both equally as vain as the other. Any big dramatic entrance back into Tony's life would need to be planned out meticulously by Y/n. So he was sure if he just waited in his apartment he would see him again.

He was not wrong, he realised with rising hope as he heard the door swing open. He poked his head up over the back of Y/n's couch, hair a mess, goatee completely unkempt, knowing that he was wearing rumpled clothes that hadn't been washed in a few days.

In short, he was the only thing that Y/n wanted to see when he got home.

They collided with a slightly painful thump, banging limbs into each other, but not caring in the slightest.

"Oh God, Y/n, I'm so sorry! I--"

"Tony! Thank God you're alright!"

They fell into hysterics at this. Both knew that it wasn't funny at all, but after all the stress they had been through lately, simply being in each others arms was the most amazing feeling in the world.

Neither of them wanted to move, but common sense won out in the end, and they found themselves on the couch some time later.

They had pulled a soft blanket out of somewhere and where wrapped up together, totally unwilling to move for as long as possible.

"I was so scared when I realised you were dying. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tony had never heard Y/n so quiet before. He sighed heavily.

"I wanted to, but then whenever I tried to tell anyone, it wouldn't come out. It was never the right time, and then I realised that I didn't want anyone's last memories of me to be clouded with the knowledge that I was going to die soon. You especially. I didn't want you to have to carry that around, that I was dying and there was nothing you could have done about it."

They were silent for a while after that.

"Maybe that makes me selfish, but I couldn't bear the thought of adding to the hurt you were already going to feel when it happened. God, I'm so sorry."

Y/n just pulled Tony in closer, wrapped him up a little tighter into his arms.

"It's okay, but next time, tell me. I know you remember that I'm a demon. You have the best memory in the world. Next time you have some unsolvable problem, let me in. There might be something I can do that you can't, but even if there isn't, we would still shoulder that problem together. There's nothing I would rather do, than try to help lighten the load."

Tony was crying now, he could feel the tears dripping openly down his face, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I love you, so much it hurts. Never leave me."

"I will always love you Tony. You've changed me irrevocably. If there ever was a point where I could have turned away from you, if was long ago. You're never getting rid of me now."

#Tony Stark x male reader #Male reader #iron man #tony stark #Iron man 2 #Loki #Death does not discriminate between the sinners and the saints

[cozycottagetarot]

Pick A Pile: Your Next 6 Months

July - December 2021

Disclaimer: All readings and tarot/blog games are for fun and entertainment purposes only. It is in no way meant to act as or replace professional advice of any kind. You know yourself and what’s going on in your life best so I asks that you trust yourself above all else. Finally please take only what resonates from the reading which may be some of it, all of it, or none at all.

Reading Specific Disclaimer: Keep in mind this is just for fun and ultimately your actions and things you can’t control are the factors that will truly determine how the next 6 months pan out for you.

PILE 1

Theme // The Lovers Rx — Hello Pile 1! The theme for your next 6 months are all about finding your passion and building a relationship with yourself. Are you going through a rough patch right now Pile 1? Because I’m seeing you getting out of it or having a major shift by the end of the year.

July // Knight of Cups — With the knight of cups, I see you need to get your mood and mindset in check during the month of July. The energy you are in right now could be sooo much better my love. I feel like you’re holding back, there’s this brooding energy I’m picking up on. Focus on expressing yourself in some format (creatively, journaling, when talking to others) because if you do so I see you can allow yourself to begin this journey of transformation.

August // Seven of Pentacles — I’m picking up this energy you may potentially have of “when will things start to get better?” The answer— when you start putting in the work. That’s what August is about. Take some time during this month to really check your strategy at whatever it is you’re brooding about and come up with a game plan.

September // Ten of Swords Rx — So far if you’ve taken the tarot’s advice, then in September you’ll find yourself finding your momentum and strength again as the Ten of Swords Rx can signal getting off of rock bottom in a sense.

October // Ace of Pentacles — To me aces represent new beginnings. During the month of October something you’ve been manifesting (remember August?) is going to start coming thru. I’m also picking up on your financial situation improving or new financial opportunity coming through.

November // Ace of Swords — Your are going to be able to think and see things much clearer during November Pile 1. I don’t see a major ‘aha’ moment, but I do sense a subtle "oh my gosh look how well I’ve been doing" type of energy. 6 may also be a number of importance for you here too.

December // Death — Finally we’ve made it to December and I feel so much good vibes. The previous months may have been… challenging and have pushed you to grow, but when I look at the cards I see something beautiful, and I see progression. You started out, Pile 1, with the knight of cups riding forward with his/their white horse, cup in hand (an intention of sorts) and end with Death on their white horse but now a skeleton holding a flag of what we’ll call victory. I know, it sounds morbid, but the point I’m trying to make is that Death represents transitions and endings, and that is what December had in stored for you.

Oracle Card — Chant//Invoke

Yogi Tea Messages — “In every moment of life, you should be what you ought to be.” | “If we are happy, everybody looks up and shares our happiness.”

PILE 2

Theme // The Fool — Pile 2, I’m not sure the cards wanted you to know what’s in store for you over the course of the next three months. Therefore your reading is kind of short so if you have specific questions just send it in an asks. The general energy is very guarded. The fool here represents, beginnings and potential.

July // Ace of Cups — Ace of Cups is mainly about love and peace. I felt inclined to draw another card and out popped the Ten of Swords. Maybe you’ve had a not-so great experience happen recently, and July is about healing from it and trying to find a place of love and peace within yourself.

August // The Hermit — On this idea or energy, I see The Hermit as hinting that during the month of August you may find yourself doing a lot of self reflection Pile 2. I wanted to know what you were potentially doing self reflection on and out came the Six of Wands which, summarised, is about success and recognition. Self reflection on your progress maybe?

September // Death Rx — During the month of September beware of being resistant. Alternately, things maybe moving slowly and in wanting things to move faster, you maybe creating resistance to your blessings coming thru. Ultimately going with the flow.

October // Eight of Wands — I moved the eight of wands and under it was The Star which I hadn’t realised and was pleasantly surprised. With these two cards, I’m hearing if you heed death’s advice of being aware of your resistance to whatever is going on, you’ll see a sudden improvement in your situation. In October things are picking up and the things you’ve been wishing for will come to you.

November // The Chariot — One of the first things to come to me with this card was ‘faith, trust and pixie dust’. I have no idea why but maybe you do Pile 2. I see you having lots of motivation with The Chariot, finding balance, and success with a problem or situation you maybe having.

December // Four of pentacles Stability will be yours by the end of the year pile 2. However there’s an energy I’m not feeling. I pulled a card to clarify and got the Knight of Swords. Things are coming through for you in December but there is also a message to be aware that the chariot energy you’re carrying from November to December doesn’t morph into an energy stemming from greed and superiority.

Oracle Cards  — Mystery//Dream & Align//Ignite

Yogi Tea Messages — “Think seriously and think honestly.” | “We are born wise, we are born complete.”

PILE 3

Theme // 10 of Swords — Have no fear pile 3,   I’m reading this card as the next 6 months marking completion to a rough  phase in your life.

July // 6 of Wands — Success and   victory you’ve been growing and working on yourself or a creative endeavor. During July you may find yourself acknowledging your progress,  or other’s may comment on how well you’re doing.

August // 8 of Swords Rx — If you have been feeling powerless or trapped Pile 3, that is going to change. You may be opening your eyes to a situation or a truth maybe revealed.

September // King of Swords — I’m seeing you stepping up and being in-charge... being more levelheaded. With the butterflied on the throne, I’m thinking maybe you were more erratic in thought or and emotion? Or maybe during September butterflied will be of importance. Honesty and good communication is also key.

October // 6 of Cups — During October you maybe taking a trip down memory lane, or indulging in old/childhood enjoyments. Someone from your past may also be showing back up in your life.

November // 10 of Pentacles — I see you coming into abundance. It could be material abundance but it doesn’t have to be. There’s also a message of keep doing what you’re doing.

December // 9 of Cups — To end the year off you maybe feeling more content and satisfied with the things you’ve been doing. Keep up the mindset you’ve seemingly come into and enjoy the good things life has to offer.

Oracle Card —  Love//Empathy

Yogi Tea Messages — “People who love are giving.” | “Let your energy be used to build not destroy.”

PILE 4

Theme // 6 of Swords Rx — Pile 4, my chaotic little bunch. With the 6 of Swords reversed I feel you maybe regressing if you’re not careful.

July // 5 of Wands Rx — Here this card represents the end of conflict and moving on. I don’t know if it’s working out for you... I feel like you might just be like ‘screw it’ and move on. Throughout the reading I kept feeling like it was related to familial disagreements so for some of you that could be it.

August // The Fool —  The fool is about fresh starts, potential and being carefree. While I do see that, in this reading the dog by the fool’s foot jumps out at me as a warning of sorts. While new beginnings may be in the works, be careful of making rash decisions and not thinking things through.

September // Justice — I see things as balanced for you during September Pile 4, maintain that energy of balance going forward.

October // Queen of Wands — For me this is one of my favourite cards because I see it as being in your ideal energy, being your own muse. It’s time to come into that healthy, attractive, confident, creative energy.

November // Queen of Cups Rx — Why would you be wallowing Pile 4? You were doing so well and now the cards show me you finding yourself in an upset and moody energy. This is where familial disagreements really came to me since depending where you live the holiday season really kicks off in November and potentially so does family tension. Regardless of what it is, during November you may need to show yourself some extra love and prioritize self care.

December // 5 of Swords — You’re fiery Pile 4, and I don’t see you as they type to take crap from anyone. You know your situation best and the people around you best so there are two main messages with this card. The first message being one of ‘the world doesn’t revolve around you’. While you need to put yourself first, you also need to understand your actions and decisions affects those around you. Alternately — you need to claim control your rights, your power... whatever you want to see it as. If someone is taking advantage of you, you need to break free and be able to choose yourself.

Oracle Card —  Spiral//Cycle

Yogi Tea Messages — “Life is a flow of love; your participation is requested.” | “An attitude of gratitude brings opportunities.”

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card reading #tarot reading #tarot reader #tarotblr #ariesmoontarot #tarot predictions

[xxsmokeyy]

Levi x Reader (F) It’s The Tea

genre: fluff, canon divergence — coffee shop setting

summary: a misplaced table and a pair of hands that had a knack for good tea; you wonder what brought Humanity’s Strongest to your shop.

wc: 6,262

part II

“I’ll have one flat white,” a customer says as she picks money from her coin purse. You give her a smile after receiving her payment, the exact amount saving you the task of calculating change.

“Coming right up.” And you make your way to the coffee beans to make the blend she ordered. She watches in patience as you skillfully maneuver around the counter, getting everything done along the process. You incline the porcelain a little to make for the finishing art, steamed milk piercing through the coffee and creating a signature shape. In no time, you hand her the drink on top of a saucer.

She silently nods as brief thanks, and as soon as she turns her back to you, you dart your eyes on a table of one by the far right windowpane. You carefully spectate her and what direction she’s going. She’s going to the table!

The make-do suspense keeps you on your toes as you look at her intently, breath slightly hitching, waiting for her to sit on the lone chair. The woman navigates across the room, heading straight for your wishful desires. Your hands fly to your mouth in shock, witnessing the life-changing moment unravel before your eyes. No way. She really is.

The cup of coffee on her left hand, she uses her right to move the chair to take a seat. But just when she’s about to pull it back, someone calls her from another table, waving at her excitedly.

You stand upright and alert while your scrutinizing gaze follow her movements. She looks at where the voice is coming from, and almost immediately, her face brightens upon seeing who. Her right hand lets go of the wooden furniture and proceeds to where the caller sits. You look at her destination and find three people on a table of four. It doesn’t take long before she takes the free seat and starts chatting with them.

Your body slumps back with a disappointed sigh. Looks like no one’s sitting there yet again.

It’s the closest call you’ve ever had after years of this shop’s existence. Why no one chooses to sit there is beyond you. Either your customers are not alone, or they are, but only to take out their orders. Actually, even if they’re alone, they’d take the table for two instead. Do they not want to look lonely that bad? You groan in annoyance.

The table consists of a small, circular table and a single chair by the window. In your mightiest opinion, it’s the perfect place to just sit down, enjoy a cup of hot coffee, and read a book. But nobody’s ever done that through the passing years, and you can only witness the table being neglected by people.

It irks you a little. Could there have been another way to maximize the space that stemmed from unproportional construction? Maybe it really is time to remove those. Maybe it’s not really a big deal.

You’ve been contemplating too many times replacing it with a plant vase or a decorative ornament to take up the space since it’s of no use anyway. But something just tells you you shouldn’t. Besides, just thinking thinking about feels costly.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, and before you know it, you’ve opened the store again, serving customers after customers. This time, you never gave the table another glance. Surprisingly enough, you spent the whole night debating with yourself on what decoration you should fill the space with. A nice bookshelf would’ve been good, but you decided to go with a monstera plant to make use of the window right by it. Not until your day off, though, which is still on Sunday.

Having consecutively served around six customers and cleaned used tables, you sit and take a breather, resting your eyes by reading a book to let a couple minutes go by.

You slowly get sucked into the story, the marvelous art of prose bringing you into the plot’s little universe. The way the writer used the most fitting descriptive words possible astounds you, making a smile of enjoyment involuntarily creep up your lips. Somehow, you think writing is similar to making coffee, mixing different elements to create the perfect blend, the sole goal of making an exquisite taste that will leave people aching for more? Oh, and they both smell good, books and coffee. A chuckle leaves your lips.

Just when you’re deep in thought, things starting to stir up in the narration, someone speaks in front of you.

“One black tea,” a stern voice curtly orders, interrupting your peace. Harshly brought back to reality, you rise to your feet to resume to work. First tea of the day, huh?

Sure, your shop is known for its good coffee, but your tea can put up for a competition, too. It’s just that these days, coffee is more on the popular side, since tea can be made in almost any household now.

You close your book to attend to the customer, but not without leaving a bookmark on the current page. When you look at him, you almost freeze in your tracks. Well if it isn’t Humanity’s Strongest himself!

A pair of dazing stale eyes bore into your own with an unreadable expression and you compose yourself. Crap, you must have been caught giggling to yourself. You feel heat speedily cover your cheeks, turning you to a blushing mess. How shameful.

“Pardon me,” you excuse, clearing your throat before telling him the price. He wordlessly fishes for his wallet and pays. He does find you a bit weird, laughing at nothing, but pays it no more mind. He’s supposed to be on leisure, not meddling with some brat’s uncanny actions.

As you turn your back to make his beverage, you squint your eyes in loss of face. It really is the Captain Levi, and you probably looked like a creep in his eyes. Now what will become of your shop’s repute?

You shove the thought to the back of your head and start working. The ravenhead watches back as you work your hands into making a, hopefully, good blend. Your heart is beating wildly inside your chest like it’s about to jump off your rib cage, but you try to ignore it. The thought of a widely known persona such as him inside your very shop is crazy. To what do you even owe this pleasure?

Oh well, you’ll just pour your heart into making his tea, that way you might erase his ridiculous impression of you in his head. Hey! What’s so bad about giggling while reading? your subconscious tries to defend while you strain the boiled tea leaves into a clean china. The earthly smell hits your nose, making you want one, too.

You smile as you hand over the teacup. “Thank you for your service,” you add, even going as far as bowing. The moment the phrase escapes your lips, you regret it right away. Chills shoot up your spine. It sounds so awkward and unnecessary, but should you just treat the Captain like any other people knowing he’s done so much for your country?

Your cheeks flush into a faint, pink color. Thankfully, you’re slightly angled downwards, he might not see. Levi only eyes you for a second before nodding and taking the cup of tea in his hands, his calloused fingers grazing your hands fleetingly.

When you hear his footsteps fade, you rise and rub a palm against your face. You hesitantly take a glance toward the Captain, and shock takes over your whole system. To be totally honest, you never thought you’d see the day someone would sit on that table.

He looks perfectly placed on the table, like it’s reserved a long time just for him. He’s in civillian clothes, probably to not attract a lot of people. The sunlight gives his face a pretty sheen, the air from the window blowing lightly on his dark fringes. Your heart continues to skip several beats for no clear reason. Maybe that is the reason why your instincts keep telling you to not replace it.

Meanwhile, Levi sips on the freshly brewed tea, the strong flavor staining on his tongue just right. As he occupies his mind somehwere else, the taste hits better. Everything feels evenly distributed, the base smooth and pleasant, the amount of water not brimming. The temperature isn’t so bad as well.

Then and there, he guesses you source fine leaves from the innermost walls, which is a luxury at this point, not to mention your non-overpriced charge.

Not bad, he thinks.

You’re dumbstruck as you sit back in awe. You weren’t able to decipher what he’s thinking, but you know for sure he doesn’t hate it from seeing that he emptied the whole thing and left a generous tip.

You grab your tray and proceed to cleaning up the table he previously seated on, the whole decision of shopping for a plant on Sunday going down the drain.

—

It’s been a whole month since the Captain’s visit, and you think of the once in a lifetime moment often, and at times randomly. You sure as heck won’t be removing the table now that something has happened.

“Thank you,” you say as you hand the cup of coffee, serving the last one for the queue. It’s a late, cloudy afternoon, looking like it’s about to shower, and the shop is pretty dull. Well, that only means you can read more.

“Is this the shop they say sells well?” you hear someone from the ordering area. “Yeah, you go ahead,” they converse. You’re making coffee for yourself at the moment and you can’t peer to look at whose voice it is.

“What? You do it!”

“Just go! We don’t have time!”

“What the fuck? You’re the one holding the knife, aren’t you?!” a man shouts in a whisper. You can’t hear crystal clear due to being far into the counter, although you know they must be disturbing the atmosphere.

Vexed by their rowdiness, you turn around and stop making the blend. You walk to the front of the counter, “Excuse me, please lower your—”

“Give me all your money, lady. Let’s transact in peace so nobody gets hurt,” the man grabs your collar, knife pointed straight into your neck. Another man of his companion moves to the side to cover their actions. You don’t feel the sharp edge prick your skin due to intense panic.

You look around frantically, worried if there are other people harmed. To your relief, they seem to not notice anything, if you can even call that relieving. Now there must be no saving you.

“It’s alright, we won’t bring someone else into this, just do what we ask,” the other guy says, wide, haunting eyes looking straight into you. You feel cold sweat drip from your forehead.

“Now hand us what you got.”

On the other hand, Levi finishes with his errands around the capital and stumbles within your shop’s vicinity. Walking mindlessly, he checks the skies to tell the time, but sees the dark clouds instead. It seems it’s about to pour.

He’s already in front of your shop, but the threatening rain will be bigger trouble, he might get stranded if he stops by. Plus, he probably didn’t bring enough money, so he’s got no choice but head back now.

Just when he’s about to leave, his peripheral vision miraculously catches sight of your horrified expression through the window, putting him to an abrupt halt. He turns to see better, and finds two men roughing you up while trying to hide the commotion.

He clicks his tongue and spins to turn away. It’s not his business anymore, it’s for the Military Police to deal with. They might be loan sharks for all he knows, and you’d be held entirely accountable for that.

Unable to take the view of the knife pointed to your neck out of his head, he sighs defeatedly and eventually discovers himself inside the store, else it’d slowly eat at his conscience.

“Oi, what’s going on here?” he questions with a firm voice, turning heads his way.

“It’s Captain Levi from the Survey Corps!”

“What a lucky day!”

People stir up upon seeing the Captain to which he only ignores, full attention on you and the two criminals.

The robber without a weapon quickly turns around to check, shaking in fear. As he makes terrifying eye contact with the Captain, he makes haste for the door in desperate hopes of escaping, but to no avail. Levi grabs the back of the poor guy’s head and slams it against an empty table, putting him to deep sleep. Then turning to your armed assaulter, Levi closes in with big steps and takes the knife down before swinging the side of his hand, striking a nerve on the man’s neck to knock him out.

Levi perceives they’re complete amateurs and wonders why they even steal. Atleast one of them tried to run, he thinks as he looks down on the passed out crooks.

You’re not exactly sure if your heart calmed down or speeded up even more—maybe both, but you feel safe and more at ease.

Tying the last knot, he stands from his kneeled form and dusts his hands off to rid himself of the filth.

You only watch silently, mind clouded in confusion of what to do. Captain Levi came just in time and saved you and your shop of possible bankruptcy. Say, it could have been the worst timing considering you haven’t cleared your cash box for weeks now. You’re reminded of how much you owe the Captain.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be out cold for a while, just call the MP’s on them,” Levi assures before taking a glance at you and fails to understand your expression, your face looks like it’s leaking shit in his opinion.

You look at the two robbers dozing off tied together by the help of Levi and your spare rope before giving your savior another bow. “Thank you so much!” you exclaim and raise your head to meet his fierce gaze.

“And sorry for the trouble, people around here can get belligerent, especially to us business owners,” you add.

He observes you from head to toe, eyes particularly lingering on your neck, and you blush in embarrassment, feeling his hot stare.

“Is there—?”

He takes something from his pocket and offers you a handkerchief which you cluelessly accept. You later on realize what it’s for, finally feeling a sting on your neck. You wipe the bleeding area and see trails of crimson on your apron as well.

With no reason to stay any longer, Levi steers to leave, but is just in time to witness the rain pour down heavily, big droplets washing against the windows. He sighs, it’s just as he guessed.

You, on contrast, get an idea to show your gratitude, feeling a physical candle light up in your brain. “Captain Levi, please stay and let the rain pass while I brew you some coffee,” you negotiate with strong willed eyes, fixed on returning him a favor. It’s the least you could do from within your limited skills, and you’d like it if he’d accept. Actually, you won’t accept if he rejects, fully wanting to pay him back atleast a tad.

He looks back at you, slightly surprised. You seem like a more persistent person now rather than an easily flustered mess. Could he be so insensitive as to decline your generous offer after seeing your firm resolve? But more importantly, coffee? Could he be so thick-skinned as to ask for something else other than that?

When he stays quiet, you decide to go ahead and make him a drink from one of your premium coffee beans, but you’re put to a stop as he speaks.

“I’d prefer tea.”

Oh, right. He did ask for black tea a month back, didn’t he? You give him a smile and a thumbs up of approval before turning your back to make his tea.

Levi massages his temples and takes a seat, eyeing the immobilized crooks and the outside, thinking what he got himself into. It won’t be so bad to stay for a while and let the rain ease down, right?

You wait for the water to boil before dropping a bunch of mint leaves, then waiting for it to simmer. You prepare a porcelain cup and saucer and pour in the hot liquid, adding honey for a natural sweetener. You mix in a couple droplets of lemon to balance the flavor and you’re good to go.

You set the tea on his chosen table of two, giving the free seat a momentary glimpse. You wonder how it would feel like to have a proper conversation with Captain Levi, only to quickly dismiss the thought of joining him as you hear someone call you from the counter. Thankfully, people are back to minding their business and don’t bother the Captain anymore. You excuse yourself and return to work, still a couple hours away from closing time.

Levi sits back and enjoys the tea you made, soon learning it’s a fresh peppermint tea. Though it’s only the second time he’s having your brew, he doesn’t know why he already has high expectations. The choice of blend is perfect for a rainy day, and it’s exactly what he would have made when he returned back to the headquarters. You don’t really look like someone who prefers tea, but he’s impressed nevertheless.

He sips on the cup, letting the weather pass and the taste line his tongue. A variety of things occupy his mind involuntarily and before he knows it, the rain has calmed down into a shower.

He stands to leave but suddenly notices an umbrella left on his table. When did that get there? He takes a glimpse at you and finds you looking back at him with curious, alert eyes like that of a cat, immediately averting your gaze and resuming to pick up the dirtied tableware onto your tray.

Levi confirms it’s from you, and it’s another one of your acts of gratitude. He’s left with no choice and grabs it, wraps his slender fingers around the handle, and takes his leave.

Satisfied, you sigh in relief as you watch his back drift into the darkness. You look at the handkerchief in the pocket of your apron, smiling. Despite rumors of him being an unrelenting leader and a ruthless thug that stretched way back, the Captain is a kind man, isn’t he? If there really is such thing as coincidence, you’d like to consider yourself lucky for having experienced it.

—

About two more weeks pass when Levi finds himself hooked into the sweet aroma of the tea you make, the ambience of your shop’s environment, and something else he can’t put a name on. In actuality, he may or may not be using your umbrella as an excuse to go to your store right now.

He takes a glance at his hand holding the same umbrella. He briefly questions himself what he’s doing but pushes the thought aside with the use of his well thought of excuse. True enough, he can’t just go around using other people’s possession, can he?

He begins to sense the growing familiarity of your shop as he closes in. The choice of location being just at the mouth of the city, the distinct line between rural and urban is visibly emphasized.

As Levi enters through the saloon door, his eyes almost immediately find your form, leisurely reading while leaning on the counter, back turned against the entrance, your hair up in a braided bun which he finds neat. He clicks his tongue as he approaches to order.

“It’s easier to mug you that way,” he says and you jolt in surprise. Recognizing the stone cold voice, you spin to see the Captain in front of you, inside your very shop once again. This is no coincidence anymore!

“Captain Levi!” you greet with a beam, utterly delighted to see him. “Pleasant afternoon, what can I get you?” you ask and look him straight in the face. He’s in casual clothes, so you guess it’s another one of his day off’s. His sombre eyes of a unique bluish grey color take on your gaze fiercely. It’s true that the eyes convey one’s entire personality, as you feel his menace even though he doesn’t intend to display it.

“Black tea,” he says without a hitch, giving you the exact amount of money, and you proceed to your working space. Boiling of water, straining of tea leaves, pouring it into clean china; as you hand it to him, they start to resemble a routine.

He goes ahead and takes the corner table, and you couldn’t be any happier, thinking he seems to like the spot, choosing it among every other free seats. Levi takes a sip, and enjoys it with no wonder. You didn’t fail to make an exquisite blend.

A couple moments later, he’s still there. While everyone else chitchats with their company, he sits in silence with his beverage, ocassionally looking at the sky freely laid out by the window. He’s never really one to catch up with the bulletin and read daily papers, he’d prefer books for that matter.

As you wipe with a rag the empty tabletop just beside him, you see him looking at the window, cup of tea in hand. He, however, feels your stare, and wordlessly slides an umbrella on the table without batting you an eye. You recognize it as yours and take a step towards him.

“You better not have arrived home drenched that night,” he says. It’s only until he returned to the headquarters that he had realized you must have given him your only umbrella.

A chuckle leaves your mouth, aren’t you concerned. “I might have.” He clicks his tongue.

You grab it in your hands and follow his gaze, soon looking vacantly at the view as well. “You can see the skies from there, right?” you ask, earning a low hum in response.

“I wonder how far they stretch from outside on… Some say they’re boundless,” the words unconsciously slip from your mouth as you watch the clouds move. Something about relatively slow afternoons just hypnotize you to no end.

Levi shifts his gaze to your figure upon hearing a frame of your mind, finding a glimmer of ambition in the mesmerizing pools of your eyes. He can hear your train of thoughts out loud, while you wonder if you could ever get to experience the outside world. He remembers a couple friends thinking the same thing way back, and he realizes, it’s people like you that he hates to see drift away, one of those whom he feels he has to protect, though it’s not like you know each other to great extent.

He brings his cup to his lips and frankly speaks, “It’s not pretty out there.”

His words interrupt you from your daze, making you look at him. You notice he grips the teacup oddly, holding it around the mouth instead of its handle. You heave out a shallow sigh. “Figured you’d say that,” you say with a sad smile. It’s undeniable, coming from him.

You fish something from the pocket of your apron and leave it on his table, then making your way back to the counter. A seemingly little exchange of borrowed objects. He eyes his cleaned dry handkerchief and leaves a comment before you can stray farther, “It does seem endless.”

The corners of your lips upturn into a grateful smile. He really is soft. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t know exactly what you’re thanking him for.

—

Time and time passed, and he always comes every week without fail. Sometimes, when days are light, he even visits twice a week. You could say you have developed quite a relationship with the Captain, though not something that can be considered close to sentimental. The distance is still present, but you’d have small talks here and there, sometimes you’d lend him your books just so he doesn’t bore himself to death, or maybe so he’d stay a little longer.

You gradually learn to read his moods through the language of his orders. You find that he’s more of a tea lover based solely from the fact that he never once asked for coffee. Black tea is his regular, Oolong tea is when something probably turns out good or successful, since the price a little higher and you guess it’s his little way of celebrating, Chamomile tea when something is roughly off, you figure as he never speaks excessively when he orders it.

You never end up joining him, though. Of course, he always takes the table of one, there isn’t room for another.

“The usual,” Levi briefly says and hands you the exact charge. Never faltering, you smile and continue to make black tea for the man. “You still haven’t hired a helper,” he points out and you hum in agreement.

“I can manage by myself,” you inform as you stir his tea. You’ve managed years by your own, what use is there for an extra hand? Besides, it’s not like your shop gets hoarded by huge amounts of people. Coffee shops attract a moderate number, and you’re fine with that.

You slide the finished drink to Levi and he accepts, heading to his own little corner. Ever since he first came, you labeled the corner seat as his own, and you never thought of removing it again. He doesn’t seem like a very social person, like he’s a man of few words if talking is unnecessary. You always wonder how it must feel to have a conversation with such a persona; must be novel and inspiriting. Problem is, you don’t have the guts to initiate it. You don’t want to be overlooked as a fangirl of the sort. If possible, you want to converse casually.

It’s the looming distance between a coffee shop owner and a country’s renowned soldier that obstructs you from feeling on level as him.

Still, you don’t know why you’re currently grabbing a book from one of your drawers and why you’re currently making your way toward him, tray still in hand to clean afterwards as an excuse.

“Fancy a book?” you offer as you set one of your favorite titles on his table. He darts his eye on it and studies the cover for a brief moment, seeing if it’s up to his standards. It doesn’t really pique his interest, but you made an effort, and it’d be of great companion with the tea.

Levi accepts the book in his hands and starts reading, later learning about the main character’s introduction. “You have a lot of books,” he comments out of observation. This isn’t the first time you offered him one, nor is it just the second. He’s come to a conclusion that you have a liking for it.

You hum in agreement. “I like collecting them, but they’re still not enough to fill a shelf, though. I’m thinking about putting one here,” you say, already envisioning where to place it.

He almost immediately thought of the Headquarters’ library. A lot of books there just get covered in dust, unmoved. Cadets these days don’t take reading as hobby. He considers the idea of bringing some for your shop to make use of it. “I can hand you some,” he says, flipping the page.

Your eyes widen in an equal mix of delight and surprise. He’d go that far? For what? Is the Captain really like this? “Really? From where?” you try to hide the excitement in your voice, but it doesn’t escape his ears. Well isn’t that great? An upgrade for your shop and a chance to see him again. Not that he’s not showing himself enough.

“Scouts’ library,” he says, flipping another page, and you’re deep in thought. Is that allowed? Do I have to pay?

Just a couple of pages in, he seems partially engrossed. The protagonist is a traveller who encounters metaphorical life obstacles and is most likely to find self-discovery through it, that’s as much as he knows.

He notices you still haven’t left and bats you an eye. You look troubled and euphoric at the same time, he couldn’t understand entirely what you’re thinking but he has a clue. “It’s free. Some of it are old anyway,” he informs, which seems to bring your face relief. So his hunch turns out to be right, you were thinking of the burden.

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking that!” you deny right away, waving your hand dismissively, cheeks blushing. You definitely were.

He stays quiet, and you feel ashamed. Does he think you’re a cheapskate? Or thick-faced? Hey, he’s also reading, you must be a distraction. Oh god, how can you make acquaintances with him now?

You aim to leave and give him his space, afraid that you might be bugging him for too long now, but Levi suddenly speaks just in time.

“You have an allurement for things about the outside,” he asserts in heed. When you don’t answer, he continues, “It’s not all rainbows out there, you know.” His perception of you still stands as he’s continuously reminded by you of people who go through great measures to reach their dreams, and those he lost due to wanting to seek for more.

You don’t know if it’s a positive connotation or a negative but he doesn’t sound so enthusiastic. Your grip on the tray tightens. The way he puts it… is he trying to make you drop your interest?

“I do know that. I just,” you pause, contemplating what to say. You’re stuck with I just want to dream, is it so bad? or I just want to experience the forbidden, I’m sick of being stuck in this birdcage, or an impulsive one: I just want to see, would you bring me outside?

Instead, you settle with “I wouldn’t know, I’m a mere shop owner. I don’t have the chance to sit and talk with someone who’s gone beyond the walls.” Like you, sir.

He studies you as you look back at him with firm eyes. Brat, you already live a life with fair peace. The resolve in your eyes didn’t waver, not one bit. He thinks, will you be content with knowing about the outside? Levi heaves out a sigh and closes the book before leisurely taking a sip on his tea.

“Maybe if you’d put another chair, we’ve been talking for months now,” he then says, an even amount of sarcasm in his tone, enough to not come off as rude.

Dumbfounded, you gawk at the Captain for a good five seconds, eyes slightly enlarged in surprise before laughing your head off, turning a couple heads your way for a fleeting second.

“What’s funny?” he quizzes, thin brows furrowed together, and you wave him off, wiping your euphoric tears away.

“Well, I didn’t know it’d be that simple, Captain!” you giggle, eyes genuinely happy and hearty. Just put a chair in? In all seriousness, he doesn’t exactly look approachable with those half lidded dark eyes and a permanent scowl now, does he? That’s one of the primary reasons you have trouble making advances to him.

Levi looks at you, taking in the undeniably beautiful sight before clicking his tongue and averting his gaze.

He’s absolutely certain he paid no attention to the way you tucked your hair behind your ear in a timid manner, the way your silky locks sway gracefully by the wind’s cool breeze, the way your delicate fingers held to the tray tightly as you try to compose yourself, and the way your glowing eyes looked back at him with a gentle gaze once you’ve finally calmed down. Yes, he likes to think he paid no extra mind to those details.

“Tch, did you think I’d bite you or something?” he deadpans, taking another sip on his cup.

“No, absolutely not!” You absolutely did. “I’ll put another chair some other day,” you say and wave him goodbye upon seeing a customer enter, returning to your working place.

He shakes his head lightly and finishes his cup, bringing the book with him as he takes his exit. The smile in your face never disappeared throughout the day, chest booming in an unrelenting speed.

Sunday comes, and you decide to do a general cleaning. You also buy a small shelf from the nearest furniture shop and have it delivered, filling it with some of your books. You squeeze in a chair to the corner by adjusting the other tables’ distances, and you can only laugh at yourself for not thinking of this long ago. You think, why not just sit on a table of two? but figure maybe the Captain’s already grown fond to the spot.

You feel like a schoolgirl as you mindlessly prepare things to talk about and questions to ask. How much does he know? Are titans really that big? Is the ocean real? What brought him to your shop?

But after that, you never saw him again. You think maybe he’ll arrive later or the next day, but more weeks pass, and not even his shadow appeared.

The slowest weeks achingly turn to months. You’ve been awfully attentive to the morning papers since then, looking for the slightest news about him, or their operations. You think it’s completely understandable, being perfectly aware that the Captain is a busy man. You know that visiting little tea shops isn’t actually a luxury that a guy like him affords, but it tugs at your heart a teeny bit, a small part of you involuntarily longing for him. Eitherway, you just wish for his and his people’s safety.

About five months have passed since you last saw him. Levi, on the other hand, has gotten busy those said times. Expeditionary Operations came after another, and he’s buried with work once they arrive back. His squad got promoted to Special Operations Squad, and intensive training was mandatory. The amount of free time he had back then was generous, and in those five months, he had no time to slack off.

But he never forgot you, every single time he drinks tea, he starts doubting his own blend as compared to yours.

“That’s the last of it,” Levi says as he hands over piles and piles of paperwork to the Commander. Erwin only grunts his response.

The ravenhead contemplates for a few moments before finally speaking, “I’ll be out. I’ll return before dinner,” he informs and turns his back, words more of a statement than asking for permission. The higher ranking officer only stares at him as his figure leaves the room. Fair enough, he’s done with his current tasks as a Captain and it’s his first day off in a while. He leaves him be.

Levi dismisses his tan jacket and fixes his cravat as he heads to the shop he favors. He ends up forgetting the books he’s supposed to give but pushes it aside. Oh well, just another excuse for him to visit.

Minutes of walking on foot, steps a little quicker than normal, and he finally arrives, the ambience hugging at his aura. It’s been long since he last set his foot here. He pushes at the saloon door, a ton of improvisations greeting his sight. The interior is now painted a beige color, the warmth going along with the wooden accents. You’ve added the shelf you said you wanted to put, a fair number of books in it. Lastly, his preferred corner seat already has two chairs opposite to each other.

Your back is turned against the door again, leaning on the counter as you occupied yourself with a book. He notices that your hair has gotten longer in a span of months. He shortly wonders what else has changed.

“Oi, the usual,” a familiar voice says, stoic tone resonating in your ears and you immediately feel your soul light up, like it’s been ages since you last felt so giddy. A chaotic mix of worry, excitement, longing, and bliss surges all throughout your body.

When you face the stale eyed man, your tingling heart shamelessly speeds up, a smile rising on your lips.

—

You wave him farewell as he leaves, and as he cuts eye contact, heat shoots up into your cheeks like crazy, which he totally misses out on.

One step out and Levi feels the presence of a stalker just around the alley. He gives her a bored look and starts walking away, which she then reveals herself and follows suit.

“So this is you and your secret lover’s getaway, huh?” Hange teases, obviously aiming to pry for more. Now what, she’s spying on him? This insane woman.

“Don’t be ridiculous, she has good tea,” Levi answers in nonchalance, staring right ahead the road. The woman makes silly noises at his response, similar to those sounds only she can produce when learning new discoveries about titans.

“Precisely,” the redhead says in satisfaction, nodding her head with her hands stroking her chin as if she got the answer she’s waiting for.

He shoves her actions aside, couldn’t care less about whatever conclusion she came up with. But no matter how much he keeps convincing his subconscious, it’s the tea that draw me in, he just can’t bring himself to believe in it.

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