#again words of affirmation make him melt into a puddle

[deerspherestudios]

How would Mycheal react if MC gave him a nickname like Mike?

(i love your game im SO obsessed with the green mushroom guy😞)

Funnily enough, he'd prefer it if you call him by his full name, since he has a lot of personal attachment to it.

He doesn't mind if you shorten it, nor would he correct you, but it does make him happy when you call him "Mychael" haha.

Other terms like (platonic) buddy/pal/my friend and (romantic) honey/sweetheart/my love also make him happy! Since it shows how you view him as someone close/dear to you.

[scuderiahoney]

In From The Rain

Oscar Piastri x plant nerd!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s looking for an easy to care for houseplant. You have just the solution. Check out the moodboard here!

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: none

The greenhouse is quiet in the early morning. It’s one of your favorite things. Before the customers come in, looking for flowers for their porch or vegetable plants for their gardens, it’s just you and the plants and the sun streaming in through the glass. So when somebody interrupts your morning solitude, you’re not exactly happy about it.

Sure, you’re technically open, but nobody ever gets here this early. You’re watering plants in your rain boots, a mug of coffee in your hand, when the front door swings open. You turn to look, the noise startling you.

The man who walks in looks sheepish when his eyes meet yours. He ducks under a hanging basket, nearly trips over your garden hose. His cheeks flush red. You’d be more irritated with his presence if he wasn’t being so cute about it.

“Sorry, the- the sign said open,” he says, backing towards the door.

“You’re fine. We are open,” you affirm, flicking off the sprayer before you drown the petunias in front of you. “I was just surprised to see someone in here so early.”

He laughs. It’s a nice sound. Almost as nice a sound as his voice, with an Australian accent. He stops backing away. You should probably point out that he’s standing in a puddle, but you’re not sure if that’s really your place.

“Can I help you find something?” You ask.

He takes a step forward. A thick band of sunlight shines down on the top of his head, like a halo. He brushes his floppy hair from his face.

“No, that’s okay. You’re busy, I’ll just have a look around,” he says.

You nod. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

You turn back to the flower trays in front of you. They’ll need pruning, soon. And some of the hanging baskets are getting a bit unruly- it’ll likely be time to put them on sale in the next few days, to open up space for new plants. You can hear the man walking around behind you, peering at the plants. His footsteps are hesitant, and when you look, he has his hands held behind his back. He leans close to read the signs, brows tightly wound.

He obviously has no idea what he’s looking for.

You put the hose away and set your nearly empty coffee down at your workstation in the back of the greenhouse. Then you make your way back up to the front, where he’s standing near the succulents.

“Sure you don’t want help?” You ask.

He looks up with a sheepish grin. “Is it that obvious that I’ve got no idea what I’m doing?”

“A bit,” you say, and he laughs again. “That’s okay, though. It’s what I’m here for. What are you looking for?”

He stands up straight, eyes dancing over the greenhouse. “So. I’ve been told my apartment is boring. A friend suggested a plant to liven up the space.”

You nod. A tale as old as time. He’ll either kill the plant within a week or fill his whole place with them.

“But I’m gone a lot for work,” he says. “Like, a lot. So I need something that won’t wilt the second I’m gone, you know?”

You nod. “Does your apartment get good light?”

He laughs. “I don’t know what good light means.”

“Which direction do your windows face?”

“South,” he says, confidently. “Google said that was good. Right?”

You fight a laugh. He’s a bit adorable. Trying very hard to get it right. Like this is a test with right and wrong answers.

“Yeah, south facing is great.” You gesture towards the succulents. “You could get a succulent. They can go weeks without watering, but they need lots of light.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “I thought these were cactuses. Or cacti?”

“Close,” you tell him, and he smiles again. “Cacti are the ones with the spikes.”

He nods in understanding. He crouches down, then, eye levels with the little plants. Your heart is melting. You scuff one of your rain boots against the ground. You could stand here and watch the way his long eyelashes flutter as he blinks all day, but that would be creepy and you have a job you’re supposed to be doing.

“How do I know which one to get?” He says, quietly. “Like… there are so many different kinds.”

Your face breaks out into a huge grin. He’s so endearing. “I think you’ll know when you see it.”

He appears at the front cash register ten minutes later, a succulent in hand. It’s a little one, the perfect starter plant. He’s eyeing the decorative pots next to you, brows furrowed again.

“Those are too big for that plant,” you tell him, and he breathes out a sigh. “There are smaller ones on the other side of the display.”

He moves to look. You hear him shuffling, hear him pick up pots and then set them down. Then he appears again, a little pot with black and white checkerboard print on it in his other hand.

“Perfect,” you say softly. “Have you got potting soil?”

He clears his throat. “Um. No, but I’ve got a courtyard at my apartment with a garden… but I’m sensing from the look on your face that that won’t do.”

You roll your eyes playfully. Then you reach under the counter and grab one of the small sample bags of potting soil you keep on hand.

“Here. On the house.” You say. “So you can put that plant in the pot.”

“Wow. Thanks,” he says. He sets the other items down on the counter. “Thanks for all your help, actually.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

You bag the items carefully, making sure the plant won’t be squished. You put a care instruction sheet in the bag, too. Then you slide it to him with a smile.

“There’s a care sheet in there that should help. Enjoy your new plant,” you say. “I hope it works out.”

“Me too,” he says.

He leaves, then, and you’re left with your quiet greenhouse once again. It’s odd. Usually you breathe a sigh of relief after a customer leaves. But this time, you almost want him to come back.

…..

Two weeks later, you’re back at your workstation re-potting a sad looking philodendron. You look up from it when you hear the bell over the front door ring. The watering is already done, the hose put away, so there’s nothing for the man to trip over this time. But it is the same guy, and he ducks under the hanging basket the same way. You should maybe move it, but he seems to be the only one who’s had an issue with it. You stand up, wiping the dirt from your hands on your apron.

“You didn’t kill that succulent already, did you?” You call out.

His eyes dart to meet yours, and he laughs. “No! Promise.”

“Good. That would be a new record,” you laugh.

You let him wander the store on his own for a few minutes as you get the philodendron correctly in the new pot. Then you give it some water and take it with you to set it back out on the shelf. He’s still the only other person in the store, and he’s currently eyeing the flats of flowering plants.

“It’s actually going really well,” he says as you walk by. “He has a new leaf.”

That’s when you know the guy is hooked. He has a new leaf. The plant is no longer just a plant to him. Absent-mindedly, you wonder if he’s the type to name his plants. You set the one in your hands down on the table in front of you, your back to him so he doesn’t see your wide grin. When you turn around, you tone it down.

“That’s great,” you say encouragingly. “So I’m guessing you want another one?”

He nods, rubbing his finger over the leaf of a fiddle leaf fig. “Yeah, but I’m thinking something different this time. Something bigger.”

“You don’t want that one,” you say, and he backs away from the fig tree slightly. “Fiddle leafs are notoriously dramatic. If you left her for a week she’d drop all her leaves.”

He sighs and stands up. “What would you suggest?”

You wave him over to another area of the store. He follows eagerly, footsteps splashing in the leftover puddles from the morning watering. You lead him to a section of spiky, tall plants.

“Snake plant,” you say, pointing at them.

He’s standing next to you, and your shoulders just barely brush. A shiver runs down your spine. You try to hide it.

“Snake plant,” he repeats. “The name makes sense.”

“People also call them mother in law’s tongue,” you add. You fight the urge to check his ring finger. “But if you’ve got a mother in law I’d suggest avoiding that name.”

He laughs, and his shoulder bumps into your again. “I don’t. But snake plant sounds cooler.”

You nod in agreement. “They do well with very little water. And, they can do okay in pretty low light, too. So if you’ve got a darker area that needs a plant, it would be a good fit.”

He’s up at the register ten minutes later, plant and a pot in hand. This one is plain terracotta. You like that he’s the type of person to buy the pots, too. Some people just leave them in the boring plastic, and it makes you sad to think about. All plants deserve a nice home. You say that to him as you ring him up, and he laughs. He’s also grabbed a small bag of potting soil this time.

Your repeat the process, same as last time, and hand him the bag. He takes it, and then he hesitates.

“Thanks again,” he says, juggling the bag until it’s held in one arm. He sticks his hand out to you. “I’m Oscar, by the way.”

You tell him your name, though you’re sure he could read it off your nametag, too. When you shake his hand, you swear the warmth of it runs all the way up your arm. He thanks you again, and then he disappears out the door once again. That ache is back in your chest. You find yourself hoping he’ll be back soon.

…..

He does come back. Multiple times. He buys more succulents on one trip, asking you to help him choose between them, and then he ends up buying all three instead. Another morning he comes in and you show him a ZZ plant you’ve just gotten in that you think will be perfect for him- you don’t tell him you’ve been saving it for him at your work station. It’s just… you know it’ll look great next to the snake plant he bought.

Each time he comes to the store, he hangs around a little longer. You chat about the weather, about the plants in the store, about his plants at home. You tell him funny stories about other customers and complain to him about the rude ones. In return, he tells you about his coworkers, specifically one named Lando who he seems to get into a lot of mischief with. He hasn’t said what he does for work. You field weird about asking, so you don’t.

The 4th time he stops by, you suggest a pothos. He eyed the leaves and vines skeptically.

“The other ones looked tough, you know? Like they’d survive even if I fucked up.” He tugs at one of the vines. “Are you sure about this one?”

You nod encouragingly. “You can handle it. I promise. Plus, the cool thing about these is you can cut parts of the vines, like this,” you say, holding up one you’d taken from the workstation. “And then you stick it in water for a bit, it grows roots, and you’ve got a whole new plant.”

He raises his eyebrows. “That’s cool.”

“I know,” you laugh.

He joins you up at the front to buy the plant. You go through the same routine. This time, he’s picked out a pretty blue ceramic pot for it. It compliments the leaves well. Then he leans on the counter and the two of you start chatting. You’d had a shipment that came in last week with a bunch of dead plants, so you regale him with the story of trying to deal with the company’s customer service. In turn, he tells you a story about his family back home- one of his sisters had a dance recital, his mother tried to videotape it for him, he received a video of his mother’s face as she watched the recital. You don’t realize how long the two of you have been talking until Jane, the next person on the schedule, walks in.

You stand up straight, face growing hot suddenly. “Hi, Jane!”

“Hi, hun,” she says, walking past the two of you. “Sorry I’m late. Bet you’re dying for your lunch break.”

She’s late? You and Oscar must’ve been talking for… forever. It had felt like only minutes. He smiles sheepishly and pushes away from the counter.

“Well, I should be going,” he says, taking the bag in his arms. “Thanks again!”

You watch him walk out the front door, unsure why it feels like you’ve been caught. It reminds you of the feeling you’d gotten years ago, when your teacher found you and the boy you had a crush on in the hallway alone. You hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but it still makes you feel strange.

“Friend of yours?” Jane asks when you walk past her to take your break.

You blink, shrugging. “I think he might be.”

…..

Oscar always comes in on Tuesdays. You avoid taking Tuesdays off and won’t admit to yourself that he’s the reason why. But when you wake up with a raging fever and a pounding head, you know you have to call in. Jane, always a sweetheart, takes your shift. When you see her two days later, it’s after you’ve already done the opening shift.

“Did you see your plant?” She asks as she breezes through the greenhouse.

You shut off the hose you’d been using to water a particularly thirsty chrysanthemum. “What plant?”

“The one your friend brought,” she says, and you only feel more confused. “He dropped it off Tuesday, said he was looking for you. It’s on the desk.”

You walk over to the workstation. Sure enough, in a tiny plastic pot- likely one from one of the succulents he’d bought-there’s a small pothos vine growing. You pick up the little plant, knocking over the piece of paper propped up on it in the process. You reach for it, finding a note written in rushed, messy scrawl.

I know you’ve probably got tons, but it felt right that you would have my very first propagation. Learned that word from the internet. Feel better soon! -Oscar

You turn to look at Jane. She’s at the register, not paying you any attention. You cradle the tiny plant close to your chest and do the same with the note. Then you tuck the paper away for safekeeping.

The plant, however, you carry with you all day. You place it in a sunbeam at the front register. When it catches your eye every so often, you feel a warmth in your chest.

…..

The next time Oscar comes in, he eyes the little plant at the register. You’ve stuck a little stake in it and tied a bow on top. He smiles softly and turns back to the display of pots. He chooses a tiny one with checkerboard print, the same as his very first purchase. You ring him up for all his items, but when you go to put that one in the bag, he grabs it and shakes his head. He slides it towards your tiny vine.

“For your plant,” he says, smiling softly.

You break into a face splitting grin. “You’re too sweet.”

His fingers brush against yours when you take it from him. You swear you feel sparks. You wonder if the red cheeks he sports as he leaves the store means he felt it, too.

…..

Another man comes into the shop early in the morning. It’s a Wednesday this time. You know it won’t be Oscar because of that, but you still look up eagerly. The guy nods, waving politely. You smile and go back to your watering. He walks the aisles, looking at the plants and never picking them up.

“Excuse me?” He says, after you’ve put the hose away. You turn, trying to hide your surprise at his American accent. “Um. Could you tell me where the succulents are?”

You grin and nod, walking over towards the area. You point them out.

“These right here,” you say. “Anything I can help you with?”

He stares at the tiny plants. “I have no idea what I’m doing. My friend, he’s gotten really into plants, and he talks about this shop all the time. Figured I’d see what the hype was all about.”

You tilt your head. He’s probably not, but it almost sounds like he’s talking about Oscar. You try and shake the idea from your head. Oscar is just a customer, he’s not going around and telling his friends about the greenhouse he goes to. He’s definitely not telling them about you.

“Succulents are a good place to start,” you say.

He sighs. “I don’t have much of a green thumb. I don’t think I’ll be very good at this.”

“Well, it’s worth a try.” You say with a shrug. “You might surprise yourself.”

He ends up picking out a little succulent. He doesn’t go for a decorative pot. He seems wholly unconfident in his ability to keep it alive for more than a few days. Still, he smiles as he’s leaving. He pauses in the doorway.

“You know, I thought Oscar was exaggerating when he told me about you,” he says. “But I get it now.”

He’s out the door before you can even form a syllable, let alone a word or a sentence. You think about chasing after him and asking what the hell that even means, but you stay rooted there. Oscar talks about you. To his friends. You swear your heartbeat doesn’t slow all morning, and the heat in your cheeks stays there all day.

…..

Oscar comes rushing into the shop the next Tuesday. He has a brown paper bag in his arms, and his eyes are wide. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. You stand up, setting the garden hose down. He nearly slips on a puddle as he rushes over to you, and you reach out to steady him.

“I just got home last night,” he rushes, “and something’s wrong with- with Greg.”

“Greg?” You ask, leaning to peer into the bag.

“My succulent,” he says. His cheeks have gone red. “I name my plants. Is that weird?”

You laugh. “No, it’s not.”

You don’t tell him you’ve named your tiny pothos vine after him. You take the bag from his arms and walk to the back of the store, towards the work station. You reach in and pull out the succulent. It’s a little withered, a bit droopy. It’s also doubled in size since he bought it.

“I’ve been watering him when the soil gets dry,” he says, “and he’s still getting sunlight. I’ve tried everything- I left music playing for them when I left, so-“

Your eyes flicker up to him. He plays music for his plants. He’s the cutest man you’ve ever met. You want to take his face in your hands and kiss his forehead. Or his lips. He has these cute little freckles and moles- you’d like to draw constellations between them. Your face feels hot again. You direct your attention back to the plant as he rambles on. You frown, tugging slightly to see the roots.

“Osc, babe,” you interrupt, and he stops and stares at you. “He’s just a little root bound.”

You don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve just called him babe. It’s too late now.

“What’s that mean?” He asks, the panicky tone still in his voice.

“It means,” you start, nudging his side softly with your elbow, “that you’ve taken such good care of him that he’s outgrown this pot. He needs more soil. More room to spread out.”

His shoulders drop. The panic melts off his face. “Oh.”

You laugh. “God, I can’t believe when you came in here the first time you had no idea what a succulent even was. And now here you are, all panicked over a little wilting. You’ve become a true plant nerd, haven’t you?”

He shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“It’s cute,” you tell him, just to watch the blush creep up on his cheeks again. “Come on, let’s get him a new pot and some fresh soil.”

You lead him up to the front. He starts to pick through the display, holding the succulent up to the different options until he finds the right one. It’s a light orange.

You nod in approval. “Now you’ve got an empty pot,” you say, pointing at the original pot for the succulent. “Which means if you want, you have an excuse to buy another plant.”

“You’re so smart,” he says, eyes wide.

He rushes over to the display of succulents. While he’s picking one out, you carefully re-pot the plant into its new home. He takes his time, like always, indecisive to the very end. When he makes it up to the counter, he grins widely at the sight of the plant in its new pot.

“Thanks,” he says, softly. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

…..

When Oscar comes into the shop on a particularly rainy Tuesday, you’re trying hastily to hide your tears. He doesn’t come in every week, but it’s just your luck that he’s here today of all days. You wave and turn your back to him, sticking to the workstation. You hear the soft fall of his tennis shoes, though, even over the sound of the rain against the greenhouse roof, and you know he’s making his way towards you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, voice low.

You turn and find him with his hands in his jeans pockets. You wipe at your cheeks hastily, hoping he can’t tell how upset you are, but knowing you look a wreck. Your hair is soaked in rainwater, and your eyes likely red rimmed and puffy. It’s confirmed when his soft smile drops into a frown.

“I’ve had a shit morning,” you tell him with a sigh.

He pulls one hand from his pocket. “You, uh. You have dirt on your cheek.”

You groan and try to brush it away. Oscar chews on his lower lip. Then he reaches out, his fingertips sweeping against the skin of your face. His hand is warm, despite the chill in the air. Tiny sparks seem to spread across your skin, following the trail of his touch. Your face grows hot.

“There,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

He nods. “What’s going on? If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to, but…”

You sigh and turn away slightly, back to the plant in the pot in front of you. His gaze is so warm that you can’t stand to look at him, afraid you might start crying all over again.

“Just. Woke up late, so I was in a rush. And then I locked my car key in the car because I forgot something in the flat, and my mum has the spare key and she’s not even awake yet, so I had to walk here in the rain. And I couldn’t find my umbrella.” You brush a wet piece of hair away from your forehead. “And I slept like shit, and haven’t had any caffeine because I was late. So, yeah.”

“Shit morning,” Oscar agrees.

You nod. You finally turn to look at him again. There’s a soft look on his face, one you can’t quite place. He reaches out, places his hand flat on the counter next to yours. If you shifted your thumb just slightly, you could touch his. You want to, but you don’t.

“Sorry, I- Can I help you find anything?” You ask, blinking at him.

“You don’t need to be sorry, I asked,” he says. He rocks back on his heels and pulls his hand back. “I actually just remembered, I’m- I have to- I’ll be right back.”

He turns around and walks quickly to the front of the store. The bell dings as he walks out through the front door. You stare at the spot where his hand had been for just a moment and feel your heart shatter in your chest. You’d gone and over shared with your favorite customer, the one you thought might actually be your friend, and now you’ve scared him off. Yet another tally to add to the shit morning. You collapse into the chair behind the counter and rest your head in your hands, trying to will the tears away.

You’re not sure how long goes by before you hear the bell over the door again. And really, nobody comes in this early, so why are they choosing today of all days? You hastily wipe your face on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and stand up, plastering a smile onto your lips to greet whoever is in the store.

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s… Oscar. He’s walking towards you, though he’s not looking at you. He has three takeout coffee cups balanced precariously in his hands. His hair matches yours now, soaking wet and hanging over his forehead. You burst into laughter as he sets them down.

“Oh my god, I thought I scared you off,” you say, brushing a stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“No,” he says, eyes wide. “You said you needed caffeine. There’s a coffee shop just down the road.”

You laugh and press your hands to the counter, leaning towards the cups. “Three cups?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I got you coffee, but I didn’t know if you wanted cream or sugar. So,” he points at the smallest of the three cups, “this is cream,” he says while digging in his pockets. Then he places an assortment of sugar packets on the counter. “And here’s sugar. The other cup is mine.”

You grin at him, shaking your head. “I knew you were my favorite customer for a reason.”

The smile he gives you in return is bright enough to make up for the lack of sun, to wash away the rain clouds, to warm your cold hands. You open the lid to the coffee and pour a bit of cream in, and then add two sugars. Oscar watches, nodding.

“I’ll know for next time,” he says.

Your heart flutters in your chest. Next time. You like the sound of that. You wrap your hands around the paper cup and let the warmth seep into your fingers before you take a sip. You sigh happily, meeting his eyes over the lid. The cup in his hand has something written on it in messy pen. You wonder if the barista tried to give him their number, and you fight back the jealous feeling at the thought.

“Thank you,” you say, softly.

“It’s no biggie,” he insists. “I owed you anyway, for saving Greg.”

He hangs out for a while that morning, leaning on your counter and chatting. You re-pot some plants and then bring them out to the displays, and he follows along. There’s something about his presence alone that warms you up from the inside out. By the time he looks at his watch and curses, muttering about having a meeting, you’re feeling much better. His hand brushes your shoulder before he leaves. You call after him to thank him again for the coffee.

He stops in the doorway, rain falling on his arm that’s extended to hold the door open. “I’ll see you soon!”

Then he disappears into the storm.

…..

You don’t see him soon. It’s not abnormal for Oscar to go a couple weeks without stopping in, so at first you don’t think much of it. Each Tuesday, though, you look up eagerly when the bell over the door rings, and your heart sinks when it’s not him. Maybe you really did over share, maybe he did get scared off. You try not to think about it.

It’s just… he was cute, and kind, and fun to talk to. He brought you coffee. You wonder how his plants are doing, if he’s still playing music for them while he’s gone. You have fleeting images in your brain of him watering the plants, taking the time to look for new leaves and check the roots. You almost wish he’d have another plant emergency, just to give him a reason to stop back in.

Eventually, after a month goes by and he hasn’t been back, you give up almost entirely. You’ll move on eventually, find a new favorite customer. You couldn’t have expected him to keep coming around forever, after all. To him, you were just another retail worker.

You do end up seeing his American friend one more time. He comes in on a Wednesday morning, just like before. He doesn’t stop and look at any of the plants, instead beelining for you. You’re working on bagging some potting soil and watch him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you say. “Can I help you find something?”

“No, I just-“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I super killed that succulent.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re Oscar’s friend, right? He didn’t help you?”

The guy shakes his head. “He made fun of me, though. Said I overwatered it.”

“How is he, anyways?” You ask.

Logan frowns. “He’s good.”

You nod. “Well, d’you want to try again?”

“No, that’s not why I-“ he sighs, rubbing his temples. “He won’t shut up about you, you know.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Find that hard to believe, since he hasn’t been here for almost a month.”

Which is maybe a little mean spirited. And probably not something you should be saying to his friend. You wince.

Now it’s his turn to blink wildly. “So you miss him too?”

You squint at him. “Why are we having this conversation? I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Logan,” he says. “You haven’t like… reached out to him or anything?”

“How would I?” You ask. “I don’t even know his last name, let alone his phone number.”

“His last name’s Piastri.”

“That feels like information you shouldn’t be giving away to strangers.”

He’s not listening, though. Something seems to have clicked in his head. His eyes go wide and he starts to back away.

“I have to go,” he says. “Thanks!”

You’ve had a lot of strange interactions while working retail, but that one comes in pretty high on the list. And it leaves you wondering about Oscar, which is something you’re trying desperately not to do. All in all, not a great day.

…..

Two weeks later, you clock out of your Tuesday shift around lunchtime and head down the street. It’s raining again, but at least this time you’re armed with a raincoat and an umbrella. Your car is parked nearby, but you’re in the mood for coffee and warm food, so you head to the cafe nearby. You try not to think about the time Oscar had brought you coffee from there. You can’t help picturing his soft smile, eyes trained on the cups balanced precariously in his hands.

You make it halfway to the cafe before a gust of wind hits your umbrella at just the right angle and snaps the metal supports. Then, as if the universe is playing a cruel trick on you, a car speeds by on the road next to you, hits a puddle, and sprays you with muddy water. It soaks through your clothes and onto your skin nearly immediately. You fight the urge to ball your hands into fists and yell dramatically at the sky.

“Shit,” someone says, and the sound of his voice makes your breath catch in your chest. Then he says your name.

You turn, coming face to face with Oscar. Well. Okay. He’s studying you with a pained look on his face and standing under an umbrella.

“Yeah, shit,” you mutter, shaking water from your hands. “Oh my God. Hi, by the way. It’s been a bit.”

“It has,” he agrees, shuffling closer to hold the umbrella over you. “Here. Um. You okay?”

You shrug. “S’just water. I won’t melt.”

Oscar laughs- god, you’ve missed that sound- and nudges your shoulder. “You’ve got bad luck with rainstorms, huh?”

You nod. You’re trying not to freak out at the fact that he’s here. Oscar is standing next to you, holding his umbrella over your head. He’s here and he’s talking to you and he’s feeling sympathetic, which maybe means he doesn’t think you’re completely crazy.

“S’what I get for trying to go get coffee,” you say over the sound of raindrops on the umbrella. “And lunch. Now I’ve got to drive home like this.”

Oscar frowns, his whole face crumpling with it. “Hey, you know… I live just a block down. If you want, you could come and change into some dry clothes.”

Your mother would kill you for even considering it. You can practically hear her yelling in your head. But god, it’s Oscar. It’s Oscar and you haven’t seen him in a month and you might never see him again. There’s something about the soft look on his face that makes you trust him.

“Okay,” you say, quietly. “That would be… really nice. But only if you’re sure.”

“Of course,” he says.

Your shoulders brush as you walk, the umbrella over both of your heads. The two of you are nearly silent on the walk there. It’s like neither of you quite know what to say. You know you don’t. You worry he’s regretting inviting you to his place. But he lets you in the front door, leads you to the elevator, and all the way up to flat. When he opens the door, warm air pours over you like a river. You step in and toe off your boots, wincing at the squish of your wet socks.

Oscar winces, too. “Here, the bathroom’s right there,” he says, pointing at a partially open door. “I’ll go grab you some dry clothes. There’s towels in there too.”

You nod and step into the room. So far, the little bit of his apartment that you’ve seen matches up with what he’s told you. There are no shoes sitting out in the entryway. The bathroom is nearly spotless, which makes you feel a bit guilty about the dirty rainwater you’re dripping onto the floor. Oscar’s only gone long enough for you to take off your jacket.

He knocks on the door. “I’ve got clothes for you.”

You open the door, and he’s standing there, eyes squeezed shut. The clothes are held out in midair, like he’s trying to keep his distance. You laugh and take them, murmuring out a thanks. As you go to change, you hear him walk away.

You shuck your wet clothes off and drop them in the tub, shivering when the air hits your bare skin. You wipe the rainwater from your skin. Then you pull on the clothes he gave you- a t-shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants. Plus a pair of thick, warm looking socks. All of them are baggy on you, but luckily the pants have a drawstring so you can pull them tight around your hips. You wring the water out of your hair with the towel and then wrap it around your shoulders before you step out into the hallway.

You can hear him moving around in the next room, so you head there. He’s standing at the kitchen island, which is open to the living room. He looks up when he hears you walk in, and a soft smile spreads across his face. His living room is neat and tidy, too. His plants are all lined up on the windowsill. You recognize them all from your store, and you smile.

“D’you have a plastic bag I can put my clothes in?” You ask, and he tilts his head at you. “I don’t wanna get more rainwater on your floor. Or in my car, really.”

“I mean, sure,” he says with a shrug. “Or… you could throw them in the washer. Hang out for a bit.”

He’s not looking at you anymore. You’re glad, because you’re sure you have a dumbfounded look on your face. It’s then that you notice the coffee machine running on the counter behind him, and the snacks out on the counter. Your mind is racing. He hasn’t stopped by the shop in nearly a month, but now…

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you say, unsure what else there is to possibly say.

He shakes his head, still not looking up. “You’re not.”

You cast your eyes to the window. It’s raining harder now. And god, you’ve missed him. You didn’t realize just how much until you were standing here.

“It’s been a while,” he says, turning his back to you when the coffee maker beeps. “We have some catching up to do.”

You think about letting it go. Maybe it’s enough to be here. Maybe you just shouldn’t bring it up. But really, you’re confused about the fact that he stopped coming to the store.

You tilt your head at him. “Yeah, you stopped coming in.”

“Well, you never texted me,” he says. “So I figured I’d freaked you out or something. But then Logan said he stopped by and you asked about me-“

You stare at the back of his head, bewildered, and you break in. “Oscar, I don’t have your number.”

He freezes, hand in midair, reaching for a coffee mug. He turns his head over his shoulder, and his eyes meet your again. He looks just as confused as you feel. Suddenly, your heart is racing in your chest.

“I wrote it on the coffee cup,” he says, voice quiet.

You stare at him, wide eyed. “There was nothing on my coffee cup.” He shakes his head, opens his mouth, but you keep talking. “I’m sure of it. But there was writing on yours. I know because I wondered if the barista was trying to give you her number.”

Oscar just stares at you for a moment, his lips barely parted. “Shit. I gave you the wrong cup.”

Shit, you repeat in your head. He tried to give you his number. He thought he gave you his number, and then you never texted him. He thought you rejected him. No wonder he stopped coming in.

“You could’ve just asked me for my number, you know,” you tell him.

“Yeah, but this was cuter,” he says. “It was- it was my number and this cheesy ass pickup line that Logan helped me think of and I- I really thought you just didn’t…”

“Pickup line?”

“Looking back it sounds stupid,” he admits. “But yeah. I was trying to ask you out on a date. And so when you didn’t text me…”

You cross the room, walking right up in front of him. His hands have fallen to his sides. His eyes trace your face as you smile up at him. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, brows slightly furrowed. You can smell the coffee now- it reminds you of when he brought you the coffee weeks ago.

“You should ask me now,” you tell him, smiling brightly.

He nods. “Without the pickup line, though.”

You pout up at him. He grins. One of his hands comes up to the side of your face, fingers cupping your jaw. His thumb prods at your cheek.

“Will you go on a date with me?” He asks, voice low.

You pretend to think about it. Pretend it doesn’t make your heart melt just to hear him say it. “Hm. When?”

He shrugs, looks around. “How about now?”

“It’s raining,” you remind him.

“We can have a stay at home date,” he suggests. “Coffee, lunch, a movie, maybe.”

You tilt your head. “Sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” He says, sounding a bit like he doesn’t quite believe you.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since the day we met.”

Oscar laughs and leans closer. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for, then.”

He presses his lips to yours, and your eyes slip closed. You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him close. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear- it’s still wet from the rain, and both of you giggle into the kiss. His hands drop to your hips, shoving the sweatshirt out of the way to hold onto you. You could kiss him for hours, you think. It’s all you’ve wanted for months now.

The coffee is growing cold on the counter. Suddenly, though, you don’t need caffeine.

He pulls away slightly, looks you up and down. “You look cute in my clothes, you know.”

You giggle and tug on the sweatshirt, pointing at the orange logo on the chest. “Thanks. Big McLaren guy, are you?”

Oscar laughs and brushes his lips against your temple. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Then he goes back to kissing you. You’re not complaining. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn all about him.

…..

Weeks later, you corner Logan at the British Grand Prix. Oscar’s distracted by interviews, but Logan’s not busy.

“What was the pickup line he wrote?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest.

Surprisingly, he needs very little convincing. He just laughs, eyes darting to where Oscar stands behind you in the media pen. His gaze is full of amusement.

“I be-leaf we’re meant to be,” he says in a teasing tone. “He was down bad.”

You laugh and turn over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend. He’s grinning watching the two of you talk. Later, you tease him for the cheesy line, for hiding behind coffee cups and scribbled pen when he could’ve just told you. He teases you for the same, for not telling him how you felt, for not making a move. And then you look at him, knowing your gaze is terribly soft.

“I believe it, too,” you tell him.

When he kisses you, you draw constellations between the freckles on his face with your thumb. Outside, it starts to rain.

a/n: can you tell I am a big plant nerd? anyways live laugh love oscar piastri I want to help him pick out plants :)

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me

[wonwooslibrary]

svt as boyfriends ♡ chan edition

member: lee chan (dino) x gn! reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, bullet points

word count: 714

summary: channie's boyfriend things <333

warnings: mentions of menstrual cycles & insulting in a loving way

author's note: hello! normally this is where i would be oops i'm getting back into writing but i'll be completely honest this time and say that i am completely falling out of love with it and i genuinely haven't opened a wip in so damn long. if i wasn't so far into this series, I definitely would not have finished it....i want to write more but it just might take me a while to find my love for it once again...thanks for still reading though <3 sorry this is so late, and I hope you enjoy reading!!!

Socially stupid bf <3 

If anyone sees you, they will always know that Chan is close behind 

Is so madly in love with you and doesn’t know how to live without you

Quality Time 

Loves taking you anywhere he goes, including dance practices or shopping 

Dinner dates are his thing - he’ll pull off the roses and candles and everything 

Constant texts when you can’t be together because of work or visiting family 

Such as hey i managed to find that sock that went missing in the laundry last week !! or how long do i put 12 pizza rolls in the microwave for 

Loves just being with you when you take part in your hobbies, even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy them himself 

Gets worried that you’ll get angry with him because he’s always with you and knows that you need your alone time once in a while 

Words of Affirmation

Compliments you through jokes or insults type of boyfriend 

You’re all like “I love you,” and he’s like, “You wouldn’t if I was a worm though :(“ and then you roll your eyes because come on, how could someone not love Lee Chan

Always apologizes for things he doesn’t need to apologize for because he doesn’t want to upset you :((( 

I don’t think Chan would be a big fan of pet names, to be honest, but if he was, I think they would just be versions of your name :3 

Melts into a puddle when you compliment him because !!! you are complimenting him !!!! 

Basically he can dish out all the compliments, but the minute you try saying them back, he turns into a literal tomato because he’s embarrassed but also so madly in love 

Physical Touch

I think he is secretly one of the biggest cuddle bugs in svt and nobody can change my mind

When he laughs, he always manages to fall into you some way, whether that be resting his head on your shoulder or crumpling into you

Loves holding hands (especially in public) but not in a possessive way, more of a I constantly want to be around you kind of way 

And of course you love it because it’s Lee Chan and you love everything about him 

On the other hand, there are definitely days that he doesn’t feel confident in himself or that he deserves the love you give him :((( 

You know on those days that you need to show your affection and make the first moves yourself,,,he likes loving you, but sometimes he just needs to be shown that he can be loved too

Acts of Service 

I’m not going to lie, I struggled a bit with this category, because I feel it’s easier for Chan to say things rather than show it

He’s just not sure whether him making tea for you says “i love you” or “sup bro” and wants to make sure he gets the right message across 

Because of this, your relationship took a while to form because both of you cannot take a hint and were so convinced you didn’t like each other 

Absolutely loves helping you with literally everything: doing chores, studying, getting ready in the morning, as long as you are there with him, he doesn’t care and will do anything 

He doesn’t realize that what he does shows how much he loves you, he just thinks its normal to help you, and vice versa 

Sometimes you protest against his help but he’s just a BOY WHO IS IN LOVE let him do what he wants :( 

Gift Giving 

A huuuge fan of gift giving 

Will buy anything that you could ever want or need

Stuffed animals and snacks galore !!!! 

If you have menstrual cycles, he would totally be the type of boyfriend to go to the store and buy whatever products you need and surprise you with a bunch of snacks and treats throughout the week 

You of course also spoil him to the best of your ability and he loves it, but also always feels bad when you spend money on him in any way

Loves matching and customizable gifts !!! He likes to give you things that can make you laugh and remember a specific moment with him because he thinks it’s cute (and you think it’s sappy and adorable)

[pettypiastri]

alone together

quinn hughes x fem reader

requested: "Would you mind doing a Quinn x Female Reader? Kinda sad but happy at the end? It’s one of Quinn’s days off before a long road trip, and he’s been in and out of the reader’s at-home office all day asking if they can watch a movie or spend some time together. And she continuously says no and at one point she sees how upset he is. So later she slips out to the living room with a few blankets and sweeps him away to the couch just to dote on him and apologize for wasting their day? If not it’s totally fine! Just felt in a sappy mood :)"

wc: 1k

warnings: self deprecation, angst, two sad people who don't know how sad the other is

a/n: OKAY SORRY it got kinda angsty but i promise it ends fluffy to make up for it!! just a short lil quinn blurby. the incorrect spanish is intentional :)

Your shoulders jump toward your ears when the third knock in the past two hours sounds at your office door. The work in front of you is a pile that doesn’t seem to dwindle no matter how long you spend in front of it. Every time you refresh your email, more grievances come to light. And yet Quinn can’t seem to leave you alone. 

A part of you feels ruffled by his blooming persistence. This semi long distance relationship you find yourself in would almost be less painful if he hadn’t stopped in for a day at home; he’s been away for a few days and is leaving again for another week and a half tomorrow. It feels a bit like a cruel joke, giving you a taste of the quality time you crave and then finding your partner whisked away again, the Vancouver snow he trekked in on his shoes still melted in a puddle by the door. It’s not that you want to make him suffer, you just can’t find the heart sometimes to intentionally hurt yourself more by being in his loving presence. Especially when all he wants to do is cuddle and hold you. Childishly, you do want him to know you can’t always accommodate your work schedule to his wishes since his work schedule can never do the same for you. 

You’re hurt and you’re frustrated by a situation neither of you would choose if given the opportunity and annoyed by your meticulous work still to complete. Yet since you know, not even that deep down, that none of this is his fault, you suck back in the sigh beginning to escape your lips.

“Quinny babe I really can’t right now. I told you this project would take a few hours.” 

“How about just an episode or two of The Office? They’re only 20 minutes each…” Just 20 minutes with you is all he’s asking for. The reminder that this is longer than you’ve spent with him in the past four days hurts you all over again, now feeling like the villain in a situation you really had no responsibility in creating. Your short reply is more so to protect yourself from being too vulnerable than it is tailored toward reassuring Quinn.

“I can’t Quinn.” 

And he knows that. He does. But a small part of him hoped he’d receive even a tiny ‘sorry’ and maybe a few words of affirmation from you, just to know that he’s not hurting alone. That this is as tough on you as it is on him. With his attempted affections left hanging for the third time and now just feeling like a burden, he slumps back to the couch and buries himself in a blanket fort he built himself. 

Quinn’s silence followed by his receding footsteps is the soundtrack to your heartbreak. Resuming the clicking of your mouse makes the perfect accompaniment. 

—

It’s nearly nine by the time you emerge sheepishly from your work cave. After trying to work through eyes blurry with tears one time too many you decided you missed Quinn too much for this to go on any longer.

The house is dark, modeling the moonless night outside, save for the living room. A few paces allows you to see Quinn’s mousey brown hair peeking out from under a pile of blankets. SportsCenter plays the Devils game softly. Your heart clenches at the irony that this is how Quinn finds you most nights when he gets home. Tentative footsteps move your body magnetically toward him. 

Lowering to be eye level with his sleeping form, you run your fingers through Quinn’s soft hair. He stirs after a few passes.

“Can I join you?” He grunts and readjusts his head before opening his eyes.

His stormy eyes regard you with their usual fondness. It’s the look that first clued you in to Quinn’s feelings. When you realized, you couldn’t unsee it. And Quinn’s never once stopped looking at you that way.

“What’s the password?” 

Traitorous tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you huff a soft laugh. He’s not mad at you.

“Quinn is the best boyfriend in the world?” You try, voice an accordingly affectionate hum.

Quinn thinks. “It’s a three part-er.” He settles on.

“I’m sorry for working so long?” You try. Quinn nods and gestures for you to continue. Two for three. Your fingers haven’t stilled in his hair once but now they slip to caress his slightly stubbly cheek. 

“I’m the worst girlfriend in the world?” Quinn quickly shakes his head ‘no.’ Selfishly you tried that just to seek his reassurance; it works a little bit. “Ummm Quinn Hughes is the best Hughes??” Quinn laughs, your favorite sound in the world bouncing off the walls of the quiet Vancouver condo, making your house a home.

“Yes but no.”

A smile disguises the fact you find yourself genuinely a bit stumped. “What am I forgetting then?”

He gives you the same eye roll you’re accustomed to seeing during his media and rolls from his side to his back dramatically. Your hand slips from his face. Silence persists until,

“OH!” Giggling gently you move to bully your way under the tangle of blankets.

“Umm excuse me missy you haven’t finished the password.” Quinn protests but his hands are already grabbing at your waist to hold you against him. Once you settle enough against his chest you meet his eyes and say with full conviction,

“I love you Quinny.” 

Your words tickle a smile out of him, a blush darkening his cheeks, still not used to hearing those words from you after all these years.

“I love you too baby. Welcome to Casa a la Quinn. But I get to pick the movie.”

[marylily-my-beloved]

Marauders head canons (love language edition) P2: the boys

P1: here (yes I did make the P2 two months later.)

James. James. James. He would be into very extravagant gestures and gifts, and everything really. He would always love gifting people really nice fancy (expensive) stuff, and would always do big events. Completely opposite though, he would loveee simple guestures, simple touches just whenever he’s out with his significant other, simple birthday party’s, barely any events, he just wants to be loved in silence.

Sirius wouldn’t really be much into the grand guestures, more small diy gifts or anything that makes him think of his partner. Also like just random un-sirius gifts he thinks they’ll love (eg: he got Remus a crescent moon earring bc he hates the full moon but loves the moon when it’s not full). He would love physical touch when given to him, it’s like this thing where he truly only feels comfortable with a partner if he lets them casually touch him, and it just makes him melt into a puddle.

Remus would always show his love by doing the most random things ever. Whether that is making his lover a flower crown of their favourite flower, or holding their hand whenever he could. You name it, he did it. Remus would always want his partner to feel valued in any way and every way. He would love being touched, it would make him feel really loved, like every time of touch imaginable (even sometimes violent touches :() would make him feel less insecure about himself, and feel like he deserved to be loved, because he always thought he didnt deserve to be held, to be touched.

Regulus. Is. A. Cuddler. That’s it, he loves cuddling and loves to be the little small spoon. Not just that actually, he also loves quality time, both ways, spending time with his partner because he feels that’s the only way to truly appreciate someone. He also finds it really special whenever someone gives him something because he’s barely ever gotten gifts from people, especially from his ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’ and he also loves getting random weird DIY shit like he eats that up.

Peter would love doing stuff for his Partner, like he would always be a actions of service (?) kind of guy. You ask him FOR anything and he would do it, no matter how vile or weird or funny. He would do anything to show his love and appreccation because nobody rlly did that for him growing up. He would love TOUCH, TOUCH TOUCH TOUCH TOUCH TOUCH. Cuddling, hugging, hand holding, and also the occasional hand on shoulder bc he is either shorter or taller than his partner.

BARTY CROUCH... JR. Biter. Wound maker (with consent). Touches both soft and light and comforting, and also like biting. Both ways. That's all you need to know about that smart ass (and fine ass) man.

EVAN MF ROSIER. Kill me if you please, but this man would give GIFTS that are the most random and vile and weird gifts but they would be so cuteeeeee. Like imagine his partner gettinga wisdom tooth necklace with his wisdom teeth or smth, like weird digusting but also omgg like he did that, for his partner so yeah. He would feel appreciated and loved when his partner would spend time with him, doing anything, baking, sleeping, watching movie, staring at each other when having a friend dinner, chilling on their phones watching tiktoks, killing ppl together. The works.

FRANK. Frankly I have a feeling that Frank would be so into just downright praising people, or like affirming them. Even if they weren't dating he would just go like 'Aww thanks, you did amazing! You're so good at this babes!" and then he wonders why everybody is in love with him... He would love just telling people that they're good ppl, or they're amazing or affirming them bc it's in his blood and viens (projecting again...) and he would just love showing his LOVE AND ADMIRATION through words! He would also need the exact same thing back though, poor guy frankly can't live without ppl telling them they love him (same man same). He also loves winning quidditch games for his partner, like those basketball guys who are like 'this ones for you' and they acc make it? lol.

[girlfailure-smut-hour]

Levi's Little Dress

Nsfw content MDNI

There's a sequel to this one now!

Characters: Transfem!Leviathan X GN!Reader

CW: Levi coming out as transfem, You give her a little hickey, Nipple play, Oral (giving,) anal penetration (giving,) Lots of gender affirmation for her. Reader's gender is not mentioned, but they are offered a strap-on. Genitals are left ambiguous as well as whether or not the strap on is used.

A/N: I'm not really, like, a top or anything, but I think transfem Levi getting railed is really cute. For Levi the narration briefly uses he/him pronouns until she starts to come out where it switches to she/her. Please use she/her for Levi on this post. <3 ~1500 words.

Please check out my fic masterlist <3

Levi had always been nervous. Often you’d get texts when he wanted to try something new. It was rare for him to tell you face to face so when you got a text this morning saying that he wanted to try something new you were hardly surprised. Though shy about sharing his interests and kinks, he had a lot of them and reluctantly introduced many of them with you over time.

When you get to his room and knock he stammers “C-come in!”

You walk into the room and he’s already beet red. His eyes cast down, he brushes his fingers through his hair nervously. You don’t mind his nervousness. It’s cute.

“Hey Levi,” You say. “What are you up to?”

“H-hi!” He replies. He’s more nervous than normal. The usual blubbering mess reduced further to a puddle of nervous energy.

“You said you wanted to try something new tonight?”

“I don’t know if I can tell you,” He says. He’s done this a few times, texting you that there’s something he wants to try so he can’t back down, but getting too nervous to actually say it when you get there. Still it piques your interests. What could be so scandalous that he can’t tell you?

“You can trust me,” You say. “I promise I won’t judge you. No matter what it is.”

He gulps and pulls out a cute little dress. Probably something from one of his animes. “Oh you want me to put that on?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “I…” He sighs. “I want… to wear it.”

You just smile and say “Okay. I don’t mind.”

“R-really?” He asks. “You really don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” You say.

“Could you also… maybe call me a good girl?” She asks.

You cup her cheek and say, “Of course sweet girl.”

She practically melts in your hand. Full body chills run through her body and her already red face is flushing even harder.

You tilt her head back up to face you, but she can’t meet your eyes. “Let’s get you into that cute little dress,” you say. You stand, but she stays seated.

“There’s one more thing,” She replies. “D-do you think… you could fuck me?”

“Like, penetrate you?” you ask.

She nods. “I’ve been practicing to get ready. I-I have things you can use if you’d like.” She gestures to a few dildos, strap-ons, vibrators, etc.

“Do you think you’re a woman?” You ask. “I’m here for you.”

“I’m not sure yet,” She answers, “b–but could you think of me that way… at least for a little bit?”

“Of course,” You smile. “Is that everything?” You ask. She nods again. “Then let’s get you into that dress,” You grin.

You inch closer to her, pull her top over her head and kiss her. You rub her nipples and she moans. They’re already hard, but the skin is so soft against your fingers. You can feel her smile against your lips as she moans into your mouth.

You move over to her cheeks and kiss her there, breathing into her ears. “Such a good girl,” you say as you stroke her nipples. She moans and shivers. So much blood rushes to her cheeks, you can feel the warmth against your lips.

You move from her cheek to her neck, leaving wet little kisses and sucking and nibbling gently.

“You can leave a mark if you want,” She blushes. You smile, and suck a little harder, leaving a red spot on her neck. You sit back to admire your handiwork and grin.

You kiss her now closer to her chest, making your way to her nipples. She moans through jagged breaths as you get closer, the anticipation almost too much to bear. Your lips meet her nipple and you flick your tongue against it. She shivers and moans as you leave wet trails of saliva between her chest and your mouth.

You move over to her other neglected nipple and flick your tongue over it before gently clamping your teeth down. She yelps a bit and giggles.

You reach down toward her pants and begin to unbutton them. As you unzip them her already hard cock pops freely out and you rub it gently. “Is this okay?” You ask. She nods. You stroke her cock gently up and down as you lick and suck on her nipples. She moans so sweet and cutely, closing her eyes and leaning her head back. Her skin feels so soft and pleasant against your lips and hand you almost don’t want to stop, but she has a dress to try on.

You pull her pants all the way down and stand up. “Let’s get you into that dress now,” You say. She smiles and blushes before taking your hands and standing. She steps out of her pant legs and you help her put the dress over her head. It falls over her body perfectly stopping just at her knees.

“Go ahead and look,” You say, turning her toward a mirror. She clasps her hands to her mouth and looks like she might cry. She throws her arms over you and wraps you in a tight hug. You kiss her and guide her to the bed.

She sits down on the edge, her dress flowing elegantly around her in the rush of her movements. You get down on your knees in front of her and lift her dress up. Her erection is still hard to bursting. You kiss gently up and down her inner thigh, occasionally brushing your nose against her hard cock. She’s shaking and convulsing as you tease her.

Without warning you wrap your lips around her cock and thrust your head down. She moans and throws her head back as you can feel her cock throbbing in your mouth. You thrust your head up and down, feeling her hard length in your mouth, even pressing against the back of your throat. She moans and starts to buck her hips wildly, pressing her cock deeper into your mouth. You pull back and swirl your tongue around the head of her cock before thrusting your head down and pressing your tongue to her balls. She’s practically shrieking in pleasure, heightened by the excitement of the dress. You can feel her tightening up.

“I’m not ready to cum yet,” She moans. You pull back and look up at her. “I want to do that when… when you’re inside of me.” She almost whispers the second half of her sentence. She’s blushing and holding her hand up to her face as she looks away.

“Then get up on the bed like a good girl,” You say.

She gulps and nods, crawling up on the bed and getting on her hands and knees.

“I just need a second to get ready,” you say.

When you’re ready you climb up on the bed with her and throw her dress up over her back. You get a little lube and rub it on her. She shivers and giggles. “It’s cold,” she says.

“I know,” You giggle. As you rub the lube on her you push a finger in and she yips. She’s tense for a second before relaxing. You push a little further in and rub her prostate. She moans and you can see her legs trembling lightly. You press another finger in and another. In no time at all she’s ready for you to push in. You apply a little more lube before pressing right up against her.

“Are you ready?” you ask.

She nods and you push into her. She practically gasps as you gently push into her. “Breathe sweet girl,” You say. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. You push in a little more and say “I’m all the way in.”

She giggles. “I like it.”

“I’m going to start thrusting, okay?”

You pull out a little and start to push back in. She moans as you press in and out of her. You place your hands on her waist, holding her tightly. You start to thrust faster and she moans louder and higher pitched.

“That’s a good girl,” You say as you press into her. She shivers and starts to press back onto you. You take it as a sign to thrust harder so you release her waist and grip her shoulders, pulling her onto you as you thrust. She moans with each hard thrust getting louder and higher with each one.

“I think I’m going to cum,” She says.

“Cum for me princess,” You say as you thrust into her again.

She lets out one long squeaky moan that turns into a whimper as her cock throbs, leaking all over her new dress. You pull out of her and she collapses onto the bed, her shaky legs finally giving way.

“I’m going to get a towel to clean you up,” You say.

“I didn’t get to take care of you,” She says.

“That’s okay princess,” You say. “I had plenty of fun.”

“I like being a girl,” She mumbles in her sleep drunkenness.

“That’s good,” You smile, planting a little kiss on her cheek.

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Help me help you

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky's been having nightmares again. And as his neighbour you can't just sit there and let him suffer.

Word Count: 2.2K

You opened the door to your apartment, kicking your heels off by the door and putting your bag down on the table. It was well into the middle of the night, so for your neighbours' sakes, you tried to be quiet. But after a full day of work, a long dinner, and a few drinks, that was easier said than done.

You dropped your coat on the back of the chair, snowflakes melting into a puddle on the floor. You unclipped your hair, placing the clip on the counter in your bathroom, and grabbing your makeup remover. You hopped in the shower, smoothing away the day's stresses. You grabbed the towel that you laid out on the counter and stepped over the dress you left crumpled on the bathroom floor.

You were brushing your teeth when you heard it the first time. A scream. You flinched. Another one broke through the silence. It was coming from next door.

Your neighbour, James Barnes, was an avenger. You knew that. But you also knew who he was before that - the Winter Soldier. You knew what he had to do. And you knew what you were signing up for when you moved in next door to him. But in the few months you'd lived here, you'd never seen him. around. You'd never heard him either.

You grabbed your coat and your phone and headed to his door. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door gently. He didn't hear you. You knocked harder, only to find the door was unlocked. You wrestled with yourself, as the door swung wide open. Another scream ripped through the air. Rationality thrown to the wind, you crossed the threshold into James' apartment.

There he was, on the living room floor in front of the TV. A dull static noise flooded the room, the grey light reflecting against James' tormented face. He was writhing on the ground as if he was being stabbed by hot pokers, the thin sheet becoming more tangled in his body by the second.

"James?" You venture closer to him, but far enough away that you don't scare him. A sob racks his body and your heart breaks from him. You come up towards him, your body blocking the light of the television.

Big mistake.

He shoots up from his sleeping position, eyes wide open and calculating. He pulls your arms down, flipping himself on top of you, his metal arm pressing gently against your throat.

You struggle against his arm in a futile manner, tears slipping from your eyes. His eyes begin to refocus, clarity seemingly crashing down on him.

"You're not them."

"I'm not them," you affirm as he lets go of your neck. He retreats back into the corner of the room as you sit up and massage your neck.

The silence that fills the room is almost suffocating. You get up and try to touch him, to console him, but he shrinks further into the corner.

“Don’t touch me.” You pull your hand back away from him at his request. His voice was strained - raw - hoarse from screaming. He looked scared and you realised, not quickly enough, that this is probably exactly what they did. So you take a step back.

"Hey, James? I'm gonna go, okay? I'm gonna go back next door, and if you need me, I'll come back, okay?" He eyed you nervously, but you kept your word. You left a business card on the table before grabbing your phone off the floor and heading to the door.

He didn't call. He didn't want you to come back. It was understandable - he didn't even know you. But it still hurt.

In fact, you didn't see him for a while. You got swept up in work, and you barely heard James in his apartment - let alone broken screams. You regretted making him feel uncomfortable in his own home. You had just wanted to help him. But all you had achieved was making him uncomfortable and yourself guilty.

You had just come back from a week-long business, and were making your way through a long list of chores that had to be done, when you saw him again. You were about to head out grocery shopping, when you heard a knock on the door. You set your bags down on the table and went to open the door.

There he was. He had his back turned to you, his signature jacket draped across his large frame. He turned around to face you, his eyes giving away his nervousness. You had managed to make the Winter Soldier nervous.

You invite him in, and he follows you inside like a lost puppy. He wrings his hands as his eyes sweep across the room. It's exactly the same as his. You offer him a seat, and he perches on the edge of the sofa. Your heart breaks for him.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, James." You grab a chair from the dining table and turn it around, forgoing sitting on the couch for his comfort.

"I know."

"You can relax."

"I know." His whispering confessions make your heart break again.

"I'm sorry," You say. He looks up at you, confused. "I broke in to your house. I disrupted your sleep. I scared you."

"It's fine." He said, eyes trained downwards.

"No, it's not. I disrespected your boundaries." He looked at you again. "You're allowed to have boundaries, James."

"I know."

The conversation died there, settling in an uncomfortable silence. He kept his eyes trained on you and you tried to look anywhere but at him. Burning in the tension in the room, you got up heading to the kitchen. You grabbed 2 glasses, filled them with water and brought them back to the living room. He took one from your hand, gratefully.

"I have to go. Shopping. You know, before the bodega shuts." You get up, grabbing your keys. "You can stay. I don't mind."

You reach next to him, to grab your wallet. He grabbed your hand, "Stay. Please. Just for a moment."

So you did. It took a minute for him to find his words.

"I wanted you to come back. I really did." He sighed, fidgetting with his hands, his eyes downturned. You knelt in front of him to meet his eyes.

"Why didn't you?" You whispered, your hands reaching out to touch his gloved ones. For the first time, he didn't flinch. Or move away.

"Because. I didn't want to - I don't know - use you? You - you don't deserve that."

"What if I want you to? What if I wanted you to call me?" You say, careful not to mention the word 'help'. You wanted to help him, but he didn't need to know that.

"You don't want that."

"I do." He looks at you, trying to ascertain whether you're lying to him. You're not. For the first time, he smiles at you. You fall in love. It was like all the Christmas lights coming on in December, the first light of day breaking over the horizon.

"Careful, doll. You might just get stuck with me."

"I'm okay with that." He grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. Damn, you could get used to this. He leaned his head into the crook of your neck, breathing out heavily. His breath fans across yoour shoulder, bringing goosbumps in its wake. You stay like that for a moment, before he pulls away.

"You have to go." He whispers as you latch back onto him. He lifts you onto his lap with ease. You straddle his hips while his nuzzles himself back into your neck.

"No, I don't. We can stay here." You almost plead him. He looks at you with such adoration in his eyes that your heart almost bursts.

He smiles lightly, "To the bodega, doll. You need to get your groceries."

You groan slightly. In this horrible December weather, the warm hug you were currently encased in was too comfortable to leave. James laughs - a deep chuckle that emanates from the bottom of his chest. It warms you to your soul. "I don't want to go. Please, can we just stay here?"

James shakes his head, before getting off the sofa, pulling you up with him. He hands you your phone and your wallet. You pout at him and he just smiles. He grabs your shopping list off the fridge, before handing you your coat and bundles you in a scarf, before leading you out of the door.

He grabs your hand and drags you to the stairwell, before leading you to the bodega across the road, frost nipping at your cheeks. You whizz around the shop, collecting basic necessities - you could always come back for other stuff later. James helps by holding the basket for you, and holding your hand too. People move out of your way, probably intimidated by James, but he pays no mind to them. To him, there is only one person in the entire world. You. You pay for the stuff, while Bucky leans on your shoulder and then you grab a bag each and head back to the apartment.

You spent the night curled up together before ordering takeout for dinner. You sat and just enjoyed each other's company before James left to go home. You tried to get him to stay, but it was futile. Nothing would make him change his mind.

"I had fun though. Maybe we can do this again sometime?" He said, as he stood outside your door.

"Depends."

"On?"

"What 'this' is."

"Oh." You looked at him, scared you's overstepped a boundary. He was smiling cockily, "What do you want it to be?"

"A date?"

"Then it's a date." You smiled as he walked back to his apartment.

These evenings start to happen more frequently. You watch movies, eat dinner - either takeout or some basic homemade meal - and talk. You talk so much that by the end of the year you feel like you've known James your entire life.

And yet, despite your closeness, he never once slept over.

It had been a few months of frequent visits when you heard him again. Those screams. God, they made your heart hurt. But you knew better than to scare James again, so you settled yourself on the couch, and waited. You waited for him to call, or for the screams to get so bad you couldn't stop yourself. Whichever one came first.

After 10 minutes, you couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed your coat and your phone and headed to his door. Instead of knocking, you gently opened his door and began calling his name. He was lying exactly where he had last time, writhing in light of the television. You knew better than to block the light of the TV, so you slipped onto the sofa, allowing the light to keep shining on his face.

You kept moving, until you can reach down and stroke his hair. He stirs gently, but his face is still screwed up in discomfort. You keep stroking his hair and whispering his name, willing him to wake up. A sob wracked through his body, so you gently leaned down and pressed your lips to his forehead.

James bolts up, but you soothe him, rubbing your hands up and down his arm. "You're safe. It's just me." He looks at you, fear present in his eyes. "James, I can go if you want me to."

He grabs your hand, "Please, don't leave me alone."

You settle down next to him and he leans into your chest, resting his head just above your heart. You stay like that for a while, resting together in silence. You can feel that his eyes are shut, but he's far too tense to fall asleep. So you decide to break the silence.

But he beats you to it. "You know, you can call me Bucky." He says, opening his eyes to look into yours, "Everyone else calls me Bucky, except you."

You smile. "Okay, Bucky. If that's what you want."

He sleepily nods his head, before settling back into your chest. The silence that settles this time is a lot more relaxed than the first. You hear him mumble something, but don't quite catch it.

"Hmm?" You say, looking down on him.

He clears his throat awkwardly, "I think I love you."

"What?"

"It's ok if you don't feel the same. I just wanted you to know." He says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded gently, still taken aback.

"I think I've always known, since the first time you came in to help me. But I don't think it hit me until we went to the Bodega together. And then I was too scared to tell you until my therapist told me to. I don't -" You cut him off with your lips, pressed chastely against his. It wasn't nearly enough, but you wanted to give him time to call the shots. You wanted it to be on his terms.

He immediately leant up for another kiss. This one was short, still, but had more meaning than the last. He pulled himself up to be seated in front of you, and drew you into another kiss.

When he pulled away, you both chuckled, a blush coming in to tinge your cheeks. "Not bad for 70 years out of the action, huh?"

You laughed at that. "Not bad at all, Bucky."

[androgynousblackbox]

How I Met Your Father. 15 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

How I Was Welcomed Back Home

One second he was looking at the shocked expression on Sera´s face as she processed what Lucifer said, and the next he was looking at the wall of a room he didn't recognize. But it didn't matter at all, because that oppressive sensation that drenched Heaven wasn't there anymore. The warmth was still there even as the flames of the summoning circles died down, his nostril instantly getting rewarded with the ever present smell of something burnt and comforted by the knowledge that somewhere, surely, even if he couldn't hear it, someone was more than likely screaming in pain.

He was back at home.

He wanted to ask Lucifer if he had really eaten Adam and how he did it to get past his awful tasting blood, but when he opened up his mouth only a strangled groan came out as his whole body tensed up. The pain started out in the center of his chest, as if someone had shot him, but quickly spread to the rest of his torso, creeping down his legs and arms until his vision turned blurry. None of the other wounds inflicted on him during his time as a demon could compare to this.

He didn't know how, he ended up on the bed, curled up on himself with Lucifer at his side. What was happening? Why wasn't he healing him? Soon the paralyzing sensation reached his neck and went over his head, making him squeeze his teeth tight to avoid screaming until his burning lungs gave up.

Through his tears, he saw the stupid halo above his head lose whatever made it shine and fell to the bed, a useless metallic looking ring. That is when he understood.

This is what falling meant. Everything felt like burning because his soul was burning, being cleansed of whatever divine blessing he was granted against his will. The fires of hell were claiming him once again and if that was the case, then he was sure to embrace them, laughing through the excruciating pain. What a warm welcome indeed!

After what felt too long, his nerves suddenly stopped being actively tortured and he coughed against the mattress, burying his face as he had been thrown against it.

Lucifer had stayed at his side the entire time. Alastor sighed when he felt the hand massaging the back of his neck, but as soon he hissed at the lacerating pain on his back. Trembling, he grabbed onto the sheets as Lucifer rushed to clean up the wounds left after he lost the angelic feature there. The smell of his own blood combined with the slow creeping of it down his sides did not surprise him. He almost wished he could be in Lucifer's place to see it entirely.

"Is it bad?" croacked, coughing again.

His throat felt he had swallowed sanding paper for an entire week straight. Lucifer made a bottle of water and kept it floating for him to receive as he kept working, careful to not put any pressure on his back. The relief of something cold after what happened almost took a moan out of him.

"If you consider bad having two long gaping wounds, then yes" Despite the sarcastic words, Lucifer sounded apologetic. "I am sorry, I should have warned you."

"It would have been the same whether I knew about it or not '' Alastor sighed, feeling Lucifer using his magic all along his back. He could perceive himself turning into a puddle, the tension of his muscles melting away like ice in front of a chimney. The mattress seemed to be devouring him as he sank more into it. "That is what you went through when you fell?"

"Mmm" the sound coming from Lucifer was affirmative. "I told you it really, really sucks."

That was going to be the only thing I told you so that Alastor was going to accept without a reply. He swallowed some more water as he closed his eyes before speaking again.

"It could be worse" said, trying to shrug but his shoulders were so heavy and he gave up. He still turned to see his husband, shaking his head, incredulous.

"Worse than having your soul burn from the inside out?"

"I could not have you after it. That would be worse" answered Alastor with ease, hiding his smile on the sheets as he knew that would shut up Lucifer instantly and he wasn't wrong. "I hope you are aware that I would do it again in a heartbeat" added. The last thing he wanted was for Lucifer to believe that he could regret his decision somehow.

"You won't have to" said Lucifer, uncharastically serious. "I won't ever let something like that happen to you again. All eternity is all eternity, babe. You are truly stuck with me now."

Alastor chuckled, a warm feeling spreading over his chest that had nothing to do with the healing magic.

"Is it a threat or a promise?" asked with a teasing tone.

"Both."

"Then you better carry them out, my king. I don't respond kindly to empty threats."

"You know, I could take that more seriously if I wasn't seeing your tail wagging right now."

Alastor tried to consciously stop his tail, but gave that up. Too much effort and he was feeling so good just doing nothing, letting Lucifer to work on him.

"Quiet" said Alastor still.

The king of hell rewarded him with a small laugh, but at least didn't add any more.

By the moment the pouring of magic stopped, Alastor breathed out a sigh of pure relief as he elevated himself on his arms, noticing how easy it was now. In fact, now he is probably better than before.

"How do you feel?" asked Lucifer.

Alastor sat on the bed. He saw his hand that looked darker, but couldn't quite tell in the dim room if it was the same hand he had before the extermination. When he called onto his shadows, he saw their black shapes dancing in front of him. His shadow too wrapped around Lucifer and hugged him from behind.

"I will take that as better. I missed you too" said Lucifer, his hands over the hands of the shadow and Alastor was surprised that he could feel it too, more clearly than ever before. The shadow kissed Lucifer's cheek and it was like he was doing it. He could even smell some of the essence of Lucifer by proxy.

"Huh" said, making the shadow disappear with a gesture. "Interesting."

"What?" asked Lucifer, tilting his head. "You have your powers back, isn't what you wanted?"

"Indeed, but it is different." He conjured his tentacles now to take out that ridiculous heaven hoodie that unfortunately he still had on and didn't feel bad at all to see two burned holes where his wings were. He throws it to the side before letting them come back to his body. It was definitely easier now, as if it barely cost him any effort. "It will take some time getting used to." That is when he finally took on the place they were in. Mostly the bed that was definitely not like their previous one. "Where are we?"

"Ah, you wouldn't know," said Lucifer, scratching the back of his neck. "This… is the new hotel. We finished it off recently and I have been staying with Charlie. I… I kinda didn't want to be in the palace and she needed the help, so…"

"How recently?"

"Uh, almost a month, actually."

Alastor looked around, definitely taking notice of how empty it looked. How devoid of duckies, finished or otherwise. It looked like no one had actually stayed there or the one who did was just waiting to be called outside at any moment, without bothering to put on any personal touches to make it their own. It was temporary, borrowed, with a thick air of closeness as if nobody had opened up the windows or doors in a while.

A weird lump got trapped on his throat and he swallowed it quickly, turning to Lucifer, who looked to a side, embarrassed and waiting for a comment from his part. All he could think of was the words he had shouted at Sera back in Heaven, about finding his dead body to have to present it in front of Charlie. The entire time he was in Heaven at least he could take comfort knowing where his family was and that they were okay. Out of his reach but existing somewhere. They didn't have that privilege.

"I was hoping you did make a new one" said instead, trying to be casual about it. Lucifer had been through enough already and wasn't about to throw it on his face how he managed to keep moving. Whatever he did or didn't do all that time, Alastor was sure that he would have been a lot worse in his place. "It would have been a waste, now that it turned out our daughter was right all along about redemption. It's just a pity that the opportunity of finding it out didn't go to someone who actually wanted it."

"Even if it did, we wouldn't have ever found out" commented Lucifer with a bitter note on his words. Alastor heard him shuffling on the bed before feeling the arms of the king around his middle from the side. "I shouldn't be surprised at this point about how little of a fuck they give, but I can't fucking believe that they would just let me think you were gone forever."

Alastor moved, hugging Lucifer back from the front. He nuzzled the top of the blonde head with his cheek, breathing in deeply for what felt for the first time since his second death. The hands of Lucifer grabbed his shirt.

"Fuck this" said Lucifer suddenly and snapped his fingers. Alastor shivered briefly when the shirt suddenly disappeared from his body, but relaxed quickly when Lucifer shoved his face on the fluff of his chest, shaking it. "I can't believe I lived without this" came out his voice muffled.

"You would be insufferable if I had actual breasts" commented Alastor, with zero intention of resisting him anyway.

It felt not only good, but right even, to be touched by him like that. He didn't realize how much he missed the physical affection of Lucifer until it was suddenly gone, like he had lived through the longest winter without his favorite blanket and finally had it back. The touch of others was not the same.

"That would be so hoooot" sighed Lucifer, looking up with a goofy smile. "But I like this too" added, running down his now completely healed back with one hand as the other found his tail, caressing it without grabbing.

Lucifer relaxed against him, content. He wasn't intending to take things beyond that, just getting familiar with his body again for comfort. Alastor played with the strands of hairs on Lucifer's nape.

"I always wondered" started softly ", what would you have done if you knew I was there? My mom had the idea that you would storm Heaven to try to take me out."

"Oh, she did?" Lucifer sounded mildly surprised, barely moving from his place on his chest. "Yeah, at the very least. If they wouldn't just let me take you, I wasn't going to let that slide. Charlie convinced the cannibals of help us out once, we could bring them to be as annoying as possible if not to devour new souls that tried to enter until they let you out" He raised up a little to kiss Alastor's clavicle, who had to laugh a little at the pure consternation on everyone's face if news such as that one spread on Heaven. Oh, that would have been hilarious. "I would have only offered the contract as a last resort" added Lucifer, putting a hand behind Alastor's neck to gently push down for his lips to reach.

"I would have accepted it even if it wasn't," said Alastor, moving his head to give him more space.

"Really?" Lucifer was trailing lazy kisses, his hands locking together around Alastor's waist. "Giving your soul to anyone is not a small thing."

"Do you think I don't know that?" asked Alastor with a frown. Lucifer stopped moving. "Being married to someone or having a child with them are not small things either. And I did them all with you. What difference does another commitment make?" He sighed, separating a bit to hold Lucifer's face in his hands. The light that could enter from the windows almost completely covered by the curtains were reflected on Lucifer's eyes, like a cat. "If anyone was going to have my soul, I would choose you over Heaven immediately. That is not a question worth entertaining. But even without Heaven, I would still choose you. Do you understand?"

He could feel the mouth of Lucifer moving as if he was swallowing and his breathing hitched up. A moment of silence passed as Lucifer licked his lips and found the air necessary to speak.

"Y-yes, I do" whispered, as if overwhelmed by his own emotions.

Alastor couldn't say he didn't relate, with the annoying beating on his own chest that threatened to break it apart. Instead of saying more words that would only make it worse, he hugged Lucifer again and brought him with him to bed so they would lay on their sides.

"Now that is clear," said, kissing his forehead. He grabbed his previous halo with a tentacle and threw it away from him like it's mere existence was annoying ", let's go to sleep, darling. Don't think I didn't notice those bags under your eyes."

Lucifer mumbled a wordless sound, resting his head against Alastor's chest. He snapped his fingers quickly to change his own suit for his usual pajama, a sigh escaping him in relief when he could tangle his legs with Alastor's still covered on the light pants he was using.

Alastor really didn't like the idea of keeping anything from Heaven on him, so he had to separate enough to pull them out and throw them wherever the hoodie had landed. Tomorrow he was definitely burning all that trash on the biggest fire he could make. When he fell into the bed again, Lucifer quickly stuck to him again and he hummed soothingly, letting his tentacles bring the bedsheet on top of them.

"Goodnight, my king" said softly, holding Lucifer as strongly as he was being held.

This bed could be new to him, but already felt a lot more comfortable than any other that had those last months. The natural heat emanating from Lucifer's body, combined with the slow rise and fall from his chest, was a better comfort for his tired heart than he could imagine. He could even smell the essence of Lucifer off the pillow, relaxing him with each breath he took.

"If this is a dream, don't ever wake me up" muttered Lucifer, sleepy.

Alastor looked down, but the eyes of Lucifer were closed and his breathing was that of a man that had succumbed to exhaustion already. Just how many nights did Lucifer spend without being able to find rest? It had to be way too many in a row to actually show on his face.

When Charlie was a baby that naturally would require the attention of their parents at night, Lucifer was more usually than not the one to get up in bed, stay with her until her crying subdued and wake up the next morning just as well rested as if there was never any interruption. Being the king of hell himself brought that kind of perks. Everything had to go to the extreme in order to affect him in any visible way. That was the kind of insight that someone that had shared his life with him would have. Charlie herself wouldn't realize how truly worrying a sign like that had to be, because why would any of her parents tell her that?

Alastor sighed deeply, kissing the temple of Lucifer in the dark. Lucifer made a wordless little sound from his throat, without moving. It sounded like a vaguely happy response. Alastor held his head close and stayed there.

There were too many thoughts rising for him to just deliver himself to oblivion like his husband, even more so than he had the night before preparing for the summoning. If anything, last night was the best one he had in a long while because he was sure to be coming home soon, that his freedom was close by. Now that he was there, he realized how much he had to catch on as the rest of the world kept moving.

There wasn't even a hint of ego boosting to imagine what his lost must had meant for them. Just think about how Charlie had to be on her own revolted his stomach, equal parts angry again at what happened to him and frustrated because he didn't come sooner, even as he knew that wasn't by choice. Maybe, by some twisted order he couldn't understand, he did deserve to go through all of that, perhaps, but definitely not his little fawn. Definitely not Lucifer, as far he was concerned.

Eventually the sun started rising on the red sky. Alastor send his shadows to open up the curtains all the way, illuminating the rest of the room. He also took the chance to open the windows themselves to let some new air come in to breath into his lungs to fill his chest. Who didn't love some smell of blasphemy and damnation on the morning? Despite how early it was, the sounds of someone in pain could already be heard.

Lucifer hasn't woken up through none of that since Alastor barely moved, and probably wouldn't in a while. Alastor hummed pleasantly and kissed his head, dissolving into his shadows to appear next to the open door of the bathroom… only to almost lose his balance and needing to grab to the frame. The quick movement was another thing that he had to get used to again.

Inside, he turned on the lights and looked at himself in the mirror. For a man who had kept the same style of fashion since the 30s, there were too many new faces he had to keep accepting as his own. First human, then sinner, then winner and now fallen angel. When he lifted his eyes, he sighed. At least this iteration wasn't as terribly different, but it was still different to bother him. His hair was a darker shade of red, standing out from his skin tone that had become even darker entirely, not just his hands.

But the worst tell tale that something had happened were his eyes, now permanently blackened around green pupils. When he was closer to his full form, his whole pupils went completely black, so at least now he and Charlie could still have that in common. That and their black antlers. After searching on the drawers, he found a hand mirror and held up as he turned to see what actually happened to his back.

The wings were not physically there. If it wasn't because of what he knew about Vaggie pulling out hers after having ripped out, he could have felt relieved that they were gone for good, but he could probably still be taken out if he applied his will into it. Something he very much did not want to do. Those things could stay hidden for as long hell existed as far he cared. But their existence had left two long marks of gray fur where they used to be. He wondered if maybe he could apply a permanent disguise spell to get his old looks back when he came out of the hotel. Not because he was going to answer those curious, but he prefered to avoid those types of questions in the first place.

"Alastor? Babe?" the voice of Lucifer made his ear twitch.

The moment he turned his head to answer the golden shackle appeared around his neck. It didn't hurt him, but it did surprise him enough for Lucifer to suddenly appear at his side on a puff of red magic. His panicked expression only seemed to relax at the sight of him.

"You are here…" sighed, letting himself fall against him to wrap him with his arms.

Alastor rubbed his back without thinking and touched the shackle with the other. It seemed to dissolve just as quickly as it appeared. Lucifer squeezed him harder.

He couldn't have been there more than ten minutes.

"Is this something that I should expect from now on, dear?" asked with a sigh.

"Fuck you" Lucifer's voice almost got cut out by a sob that he tried to keep down. His shoulder started convulsing as he breathed in. "We had two funerals for you. One for royalty and other for the Cannibal Town. So don't you fucking dissapear on me like that again. You have no idea what it was like here."

He was right. Alastor received the stab up front.

"I was checking how I look now, that is all" said gently, now returning the hug fully. He caressed his back and rubbed his thumb over the start of Lucifer's neck. When Lucifer started breathing deep, he nuzzled the top of his head. "I am here. I am not going anywhere, remember? That was our agreement and I wouldn't dare to break it."

Lucifer sniffled. Alastor gave him how much he needed to regain himself. He tried to call some calming jazz music to sound from the center of his body. What came out instead was too strong for both of their ears. Lucifer jumped back, covering his. Alastor grabbed his throbbing head as the mirror behind him cracked with the loud radio static as he forced it to turn off.

"I… I didn't intend for that to happen'' said, his ear going flat as he sneered to himself, displeased and maybe a bit embarrased.

He never had any issue controlling the sounds around him to his own whim. This felt just as stupid as shooting himself on the foot with his own gun. Lucifer waited a second to make sure no other surprise was coming and then gave out a little chuckle.

"It's okay" he said, coming up to fix the mirror easily with a gesture of his hand. "You aren't used to having the kind of energy that you have now. You want to use the same input you always did to do what you wanted, but now end up sending too much at once. Just give it some time and you will feel it naturally again, with some practice" He sighed looking at his reflection before whipping his cheeks.

Lucifer looked over at Alastor. More specifically at his neck.

"Did… did that hurt? Being called suddenly like that?" asked, extending his hand but hesitating at the last second before making contact.

Alastor took his black fingers on his and brought them to his lips.

"No at all" answered sincerely, keeping the fingers to caress with him. "You didn't intend to hurt me, just know my location. Without that desire, I barely felt it. I was surprised, that is all."

Lucifer nodded, a little more calm after that.

"I am sorry" sighed, bringing his hand back to rub his eyes with both of them, embarrassed now. "I got scared for a second."

"I don't blame you" assured Alastor, bringing him over by the waist closer again, rubbing his sides. "In your place I would have already locked you up in some cage so I never have to wonder where you are again. Compared to that, you are doing amazing, my love."

Lucifer snorted. He looked up with an endeared smile.

"You would" recognized, bringing him down by the shoulders to kiss his cheek and massaging the zone around his ears. Alastor leaned to him, a little squeak accompanying the movement. "Don't give me ideas, though."

Alastor chuckled. He considered making it known that the idea wasn't especially repulsive for him, but decided against it, for now at least. Maybe at another time they could talk about that properly.

"I was planning to get a bath" said, holding the hands of Lucifer to stop him enough to give him a quick kiss as he straightened up again. "I want to get rid of this Heaven stink as fast as possible. I can't feel it, but I know it's there and it bothers me. Do you want to join me?"

Lucifer blushed. Immediately realizing that the offer wasn't as casual as the tone of Alastor was.

"Don't get me wrong, I do love your natural essence" said, taking his shoulders to turn him to the bathtub. His blonde hair was still beautiful, there was no way to change that, but Alastor as a fine connoisseur knew for a fact that it wasn't as shiny as it used to be. Lucifer hasn't been taking care of it as well as it should. "But I think a bath is exactly what we both need."

"I got it already" said Lucifer, pouting.

Alastor laughed softly as he went to open the water. He noticed the lack of duckies lining up on the border, waiting to accompany Lucifer while he was washing himself. Despite the shampoo and other products put there, it looked utterly empty.

He was never as great a fan of them as Lucifer was, but their total absence was never an option. When he let the water run, Lucifer moved his fingers above so it would fill up a lot quicker. A gentle steam quickly started filling the bathroom. When the water started bubbling, Alastor's smile went wider.

"Oh, love, you still remember how I like it" commented, taking out his underwear that soon was going to join the burning pile of his old clothing before he slipped comfortably inside. He let out a big sigh, relaxing against the interior of the bathtub as he let himself submerge entirely down, eyes closed. When he came out again, he only did under his lips so everything else was still under. "In Heaven the water never gets this warmth."

"You poor baby" chuckled Lucifer, not entirely mocking as he petted the space between his antlers. Alastor was so content where he was he didn't bother with a scathing reply. He let a few bubbles he made with his mouth serve as enough communication. Lucifer smiled. "That must have been awful for you."

"A nightmare. It was cold all the time" agreed Alastor. He opened up an eye to arch an eyebrow towards Lucifer, resting his chin on a hand as his elbow stayed on the border. Making no effort whatsoever to get in. "What are you waiting for?"

Lucifer shook his head slightly.

"I missed seeing you, that is all" said with a shrug, standing up to take his own underwear and putting it on the dirty clothes bin on a side. Alastor followed up his movements all the way until he was back with him and then he sat up, offering his hand to help him. Lucifer laughed a little, amused. "I can enter on my own but thank you" said, taking it as he moved inside.

Alastor admired his hooves as they came in contact with the water, then his thighs, the stomach, the chest and at last his face, relaxing over the water before he went under for a bit to get his face wet.

"You know what" said Lucifer, moving his head from side to side with eyes closed. "I haven't done this in a long time. I am starting to think you had the right idea. This is nice. "

He was sitting over his own legs, but Alastor's hooves were still brushing against his thighs on each side. An unacceptable distance separated them, so Alastor took matters into his own hands and reached over to him. Lucifer opened up his eyes just in time to see him hold his face, joining their lips for a moment. Alastor brushed away any wandering strands of hair off his forehead. Lucifer's skin was always warm, but with the boiling water his lips were almost burning at the contact. Lucifer sighed again as he regarded it with a half lid look.

"Can we just sleep here?"

"No" said Alastor, nuzzling his cheek with his. He wondered if that was something that Lucifer did on the regular. "Turn around, I will get your back first."

"Fine" Lucifer did as much, yawning into his hand.

When they were reclining themselves against the sides, the level of the water reached below Alastor's chest so Lucifer had to elevate himself on his legs for his back to keep him underwater. As Alastor started working on his back using the soap directly, Lucifer cleaned his arms and front with a sponge he conjured up. Alastor massaged the shoulder until it was making a soft foam and then continued with his shoulder blades.

One of the marks of the wings he could conjure was there, shorter than his, above the one who followed around where the ribcage ended and finally the pair on his lower back. Such old scars were that Lucifer already didn't feel anything on them.

"I was wondering," commented suddenly. Lucifer made a noise to notice he was paying attention. "Isn't there a way to get rid of my wings permanently like the halo?"

"I am sorry, babe, but angelic wings are pure magic. They don't work like an arm or a leg that once is gone, is gone. You can control when they are out, though."

"I know that" Alastor sneared, his hands still going over them and around. His own tentacles were gathering the water to rinse it from down to up ", it just bothers me that they are still there."

"Mmm" Lucifer nodded. "How are you feeling in the area? Itchy? Sensitive?"

"Nothing when I touched it, no" He grunted. "I don't know how you can fly so easily. I hated every minute I had to do it."

"Well, it is different when you are just born with it and you just suddenly gain them out of nowhere. I can only imagine how uncomfortable that has to be" Lucifer chuckled when one of the tentacles made him lower his head, while the other dumped more water on his back, taking away all the foam on his body. "My turn" said, perking up.

Alastor shrugged. When Lucifer turned to receive the bar of soap from his hand, couldn't help to notice the half erection between his legs. The sudden realization that was even a possibility took him by surprise for a second. It had been so long since anything related to sex was a thought for him and Heaven wasn't especially eager to remind him either. But it made all the sense of the world that Lucifer would have that kind of reaction if they were both naked in the same space, he supposed.

He sat again with his front to the wall, as Lucifer started washing him. At the start he was doing just that, his long and skilled finger pressing where it was needed to massage his muscles as he went down and down. When the devil inevitably reached for his tail and had to grab it on his hand to rub the soap, Alastor released a sight as he laid his arms and then his chin against the border, feeling his tail twitch slightly. Lucifer snickered, his voice closer as he leaned forward to get at his shoulder and kiss it. Alastor hummed when he could feel the cock brushing against his lower back, no doubt full hard now. He couldn't help to arc a little against it when Lucifer dumped more water on him, getting rid of the soap.

"Al, can I…?"

"Yes" Alastor was sure now that the warmth on his face wasn't just from the steam. Ignoring that, he took the hand that Lucifer had put against the wall next to his head and directed it under water, towards his own member that hanged lifeless. It was never just about sex with Lucifer, so he didn't need the arousal to have it. "But take that away and use the other hole" He turned his head and kissed Lucifer's cheek, licking the red dot. "I want you inside."

Lucifer's whole body shivered for a second, but he quickly regained his composure and smiled big. If not for the intense golden blush on his face, any person could have guessed he was happy for receiving the best gift he had in decades. Just by seeing that, Alastor knew why he even said that in the first place. How could he ever refuse the opportunity of making Lucifer so happy with something that, for him, was so simple?

Lucifer nuzzled the crevice between his shoulder and neck, his one hand already between his legs seeming to press the member back into his body. By the movement of his body, Alastor knew the other hand of Lucifer was working on himself.

"That is it, babe" Lucifer nibbled his neck, his hand slipping between his new folds and opening them up. Alastor sighed against his arm when the familiar tingling started to spread from somewhere deep within him. "You always had the best pussy in all of hell. So pretty and warmth just for me."

"Lucifer" warned Alastor with a sneer, buckling against his fingers with a movement of his hips. "I already said yes. Just get on with it."

Lucifer chuckled against his skin.

"Sssh" The small shushing came with the workings of his hand, drawing circles and pressing on a point that had Alastor's legs twitching slightly. "I want to make sure you are all ready and prepared for me. You realize this means you are a virgin again? I have to honor that now."

"Seriously?" Alastor called his tentacles from his back, pushing Lucifer against him. He rubbed the head of the hardened cock slipping between his legs, making circles with his thumbs over the slit. "I assure you, my king, that I consider myself no virgin. There is no need to be so precious about something I never cared about in the first place" He used another tentacle to bring the chin of Lucifer up, so their lips could make full but brief contact. "We will have all of eternity to take our time, don't we, darling? Right now you must be wishing so badly to just let out, to claim me."

"Always" Lucifer sighed as he took hold of his waist, thrusting against Alastor's hand. He helped his cock to press against the little nub of Alastor with his own, making friction between each other. Alastor swallowed when he heard the throaty moan behind him. "I always want you, babe."

"Then don't make me wait too long." As soon he ended talking, Alastor felt himself being lifted in the air and then turned around.

Lucifer's magic lowered him gently back on the bathtub as Lucifer himself accommodate the long legs over his own shoulders. Alastor supported himself upwards using his tentacles as a pillow for his lower back, huffing until he found it comfortable and send to the other a half hearted glare. He could have warned him at least.

"As you wish, but at least I want to look at your pretty face while I do it," said Lucifer with a chuckle, moving forward.

"Even if the face is different?" asked Alastor, arching an eyebrow.

"You are still Alastor" pointed out Lucifer, as if that was a silly question. "That is all I need, baby."

He guided his cock to rub at the small center above Alastor's entrance before slipping it inside. Alastor couldn't keep his eyes away from following the slow disappearance of Lucifer inside his body. He took a quick, deep breath as he looked up, just in time for Lucifer lunch to kiss his open mouth, stealing the little whiny noises that Alastor failed to contain. The sensation was so weird for the lack of practice or because of the change in anatomy, but at the same time so familiar that it was almost obscene how natural it was to be connected that way.

He wrapped his arms around Lucifer's neck, not wanting to miss on every detail on the devil's mouth and swallow every portion of his flavor, as if getting his saliva on his bloodstream was going to prevent them ever turning apart. When Lucifer started moving, Alastor clung to his shoulder with claws out, digging into the white skin. His whole new parts were throbbing like a heart full of adrenalina before succumbing to a predator.

But there was no struggle here, nothing but against his own will to keep a head somewhat clear as Lucifer was moving faster, whispering praises that turned into grunts. Alastor reclaimed those on his tongue too, as they clearly belonged to him.

"Lucifer" managed to say, taking one of his hands to his own chest.

The fingers of Lucifer tangled themselves on his fluff, but he shook his head a little. That wasn't what he had in mind.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Alastor concentrated on what he wanted to do and kept the magic at the minimum to avoid any other mistake. His hand on top of Lucifers started moving when there was opposite pressure. When he looked again, two breasts had grown over his chest, bigger than he intended to, but soft and malleable like a real pair one would be. Lucky he still remembered the succubus form of Lucifer to take as reference for the tact and shape.

Admittedly, it was probably a stupid idea to try his new power on something like that for the first time in those circumstances. But when he saw the dazzled look on Lucifer's face, as if hypnotized by them, he could only be proud of his job. He directed the hand of Lucifer to touch them further.

"You like that, my king?" asked cheeky, already knowing the answer.

"Fuck yes" was the growling response, a puff of fire coming out for him before he buried his face between his new breast, covered in

Alastor let out a snort, amused that such a thing could have that reaction and thinking maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let Lucifer have it again. But then Lucifer started going even faster, harder than before, to the point his mouth was constantly open for more noises that echoed against the walls of the bathroom. He bites down on the neck in front of him to try to contain them somewhat.

The golden blood that he tasted on his tongue made it even worse. That flavor that he could never conjure up in his dream revitalized his body like nothing else could, electrifying all his nerves at once so everything was amplified on every lick.

The thrusts of Lucifer felt more profound, the open mouth of Lucifer over his breast felt more intense, his bites more painful as if he was ripping entire chunks of meat out of his bones. Without any thinking mind to grab onto, Alastor grabbed Lucifer instead as his insides clamped down. His scream reverberated around him, shattering the mirror that his radio waves cracked.

Neither of them cared for the sound of broken glass falling to the floor. Lucifer especially was still relentless and Alastor had no choice but to hold at the borders of the bathtub, making pathetic whiny noises that he hated only seemed to encourage Lucifer further. When he tried to cover up his mouth, Lucifer took his hand away and held his chin in place to kiss him. Too late Alastor realized that he had bit his tongue down to feed him his blood again.

The ceramic of the bathtub he was holding on his other hand crushed under his fingers, bringing Lucifer closer. A violent spasm ran through his back again, immediately followed by another exploding right behind it. Only then the movements of Lucifer started to stutter and he let out a puff of red fire. Alastor's leg twitches when Lucifer falls on top of him, but that was about as much as he could bother to move.

"Pent up?" asked when he managed to speak.

Lucifer nodded against his clavicle. After a few more minutes, he kissed it gently and lifted an arm to pet his hair.

"Are you okay?"

"I… I am, actually" said, surprised himself nothing really hurt. He looked at the crack he had made on the bathtub and then his hand. "Darling, explain to me again what kind of powers you gave me."

"Essentially a copy of mine" Lucifer sighed, nuzzling his neck. "Not quite the same, but very close. You are probably one of the most powerful beings in all of hell now after me."

"I see" said Alastor, his mind going blank for a second.

Was that really it? He was really at that level? He had signed up for it and a contract never lies, it literally can't. At most could distort the truth, but if Lucifer was being direct then he had truly made his dream come true. Everything he ever worked all his time in hell was already his. He could kill, maim, devour, essentially do whatever is that he wanted to without ever fearing anyone else getting in his way. Nobody else above but his husband, and Lucifer would not stop him. Any restrictions that he ever had were gone. He could rule hell with an iron fist to his heart's content.

Why wasn't he more happy about that?

Why did it felt so empty?

"You will get used to it" commented Lucifer, thinking he was still processing the small wreckage he did without realizing.

With a snap of his fingers, the bathtub was back to normal and the shards of glass all over the floor floated back to the frame, all the crack disappearing. As he was making the hand gesture for that spell, Alastor took notice of the wound he had left and frowned.

"I bite you" pointed out, confused. He had bitten Lucifer before, but never enough to break skin. Everytime that they agreed Lucifer would let him drink from him, it was only possible with the help of an angelic knife or Lucifer's own claws. "Shouldn't that be impossible?"

"Ah, is that what it stings?" asked Lucifer casually, touching on his own wound to then lick his own blood. He let out a light chuckle. "Well, would you look at that. I guess since your intention wasn't to actually hurt me, the contract had that loophole to let you do that. Do you want me to keep it for the rest of the day?"

Alastor tilted his head until he got it. His powers were meant to be to protect his family, so as long he didn't went against that then it would still allow him to affect them. He looked over back to injury on Lucifer and something about the idea of the king of hell walking around with a mark left by his own hand somehow managed to rise above any confusion plaguing him.

"Keep it" answered instantly.

Lucifer chuckled. He lifted his hand so it wouldn't bleed anymore, and Alastor groaned, slapping it away to bring Lucifer closer again. His legs locked him up around the waist, keeping him inside and unmoving as he licked him, suckling against the skin. Lucifer put a hand on the back of his head, but didn't do anything to stop him until Alastor himself finished with a few small licks. The comfort and gentle warmth that always accompanied his blood relaxed him once again, kissing the area in a silent thanks.

"Did you have enough already, big guy?" asked Lucifer playfully. Alastor nodded, kissing his neck and hugging him tight. "I love you too."

Alastor hummed pleasantly as he let himself just enjoy this. This quiet, serene moment that could only dream of in Heaven and now was his for the rest of his life. There was nothing empty about this. It made all his dreams of power seem so small, almost irrelevant in comparison.

The water had gotten cold and a good portion had ended up in the floor around them. Lucifer had to refill it again and warm it up so they could clean themselves again. Alastor was glad to find out that he could make the enlarged breast disappear on his own, ignoring the pouty mouth of Lucifer. The new parts between his legs could be hidden just by using pants, that other addition could not.

But now that he knew the effect they could have, and he could do it on his own, at least he was open to trying them on again. For now, they both needed to finish washing up their heads to only then come out. Alastor put on a towel on his waist and nothing else as Lucifer used his robe on top, another towel wrapped around his head to dry the hair.

As they passed in front of the mirror, Alastor threw a glance to himself. How did Lucifer manage to get used to seeing him like that so quickly, he didn't know, but to him it still felt strange.

After Lucifer borrowed him some underwear to hear, Alastor picked up his old clothing and sniffed them, instantly feeling the difference. A disgusting holy smell that actually made him gag for a moment. Is that how he had been smelling until then? How did Lucifer resist it with a straight face? Although he didn't know how he smelled now either.

"Bye, bye, Heaven, and I may never see you again" sang happily, making all the clothing into a big pile and burning them between his hands. The green fire extended even above his head. A pre-recorded audience celebrated the action as he dumped it out of the window, seeing it all being consumed without leaving a speck of ashes behind. "Now I feel so much better without that horrible burden!" declared with a sight, taking a deep breath. "It smells awful! Just like home should be! Ah, my love, who needs early birds when you have screams as those one to receive you in the morning!"

Lucifer chuckled, hugging his middle from behind. He kissed the space between his shoulder blade and stayed resting his forehead there. Alastor searched for one of his hands and held it on his, taking on the chaotic, horrible, polluted, comforting view of hell from that room with the devil. What else could a man ever want?

"Babe."

"Yes, dear?"

"Would you marry me again?"

Alastor snorted at that and turned around. He lifted the face of Lucifer to caress his cheek, looking at his happy and still tired face. What a silly little man he was.

"My, my, Lucifer, anyone would say that your sin is actually greed instead of pride" commented with a smirk, arching an eyebrow. "You have my soul, my body, the rest of my whole existence and now you even want my hand in unholy marriage? Are you ever going to be satisfied, my love?"

"With you? Never" Lucifer grinned, covering Alastor's hand to hold them on his. "Come on, we could do it properly this time. No weird conditions, no soul requirement and no benders. Just us. Charlie can be part of that story to tell to her own children someday. Or, well, whoever she wants! It doesn't have to be anything extravagant, it could be as small as whatever we want it to be."

Alastor sighed, bending down to kiss his forehead. Lucifer closed his eyes briefly at the gentle contact. Looking at him like that, Alastor already knew what he wanted to do.

"If you really want a different story, maybe this time I can be the one to propose?" suggested, trailing his knuckles under his neck to caress the bite that the robe didn't completely cover. Now he understood what Lucifer felt when he was the one doing the marking. He hoped he still felt that seeing the new ones over his body. "But it will be under the circumstances and moment of my choosing. Then you can say yes to me."

"Let me guess. You won't tell me when you decide to do it."

"Not a single word" promised Alastor, lifting his face up as he bends to find his lips. "A surprise you won't ever see coming if I have any say on it" added against his lips, feeling the smile of Lucifer get larger too.

"Alright" said, kissing him back as he put his hand on his waist again. "Do your worst then."

"Don't I always?"

That time they both snickered together. Lucifer was still laughing as he got on the tip of his toes to reach his mouth, licking his teeth to ask for permission to enter. Alastor was about to give it when a knock on the door paralyzed the two of them.

"Papa" called the voice of Charlie.

"Oh, shit" whispered Lucifer, cringing. "I forgot."

[lychniis]

― MISTLETOE AND VISCARIA.

zhongli | rex lapis x reader.

“kiss me.” + “will you dance with me?” + fluff.

WARNING(S) : nothing much here safe for fluff, zhongli and the reader being an old married couple and sweetness that will induce terrible diabetes. also allusions to reader reincarnating and some angst if you squint ( but it's nothing serious ).

#main masterlist | flos anthalogy masterlist

“THIS ONE SOUNDS familiar…” you comment lightly when Zhongli plays a song on the radio. You can see the wistful smile on his face as he steps away from it, a look that spells an old fondness, a happy time, something that had emerged out of his treasure chest of memories ( a diamond, a ruby, a sapphire, it matters not. Zhongli always remembered the smallest of the small and he handled them all with the reverence of gold ).

“It is…” he agrees. “Come, dance with me.”

You set aside the sliced bamboo on the counter, his tone too alluring to ignore. He stands tall in the midst of that room, the light from the golden hour illuminating everything in him; the amber of his eyes, the brown of his hair and he looks godly, beautiful, ethereal — and he was, as a deity from a time long passed should. 

Zhongli takes your hand gently and he pulls you closer, his lips pressing against your temple while he leads you into a slow waltz. How romantic, you almost sigh. And how utterly Zhongli this act was, so gentle, so old fashioned yet so endearing and undeniably lovely to experience. 

“I believe…” he whispers in your ear. “This was the song that played when we met…” 

“Of course…” you breathe out and it makes sense now. “It was two lifetimes ago, yes?” you ask.

“Yes.” he affirms, twirling you. “You were the child of a perfume seller back then…you played this on the record your father owned while you were managing his store…” He pauses, then hugs you even closer, if that were possible, with the air of a man near desperation ( like he was stuck in a dream too good to be true ). “And our eyes met…”

“I thought you looked familiar.” you muse, a smile tugging up at your lips.

“And I thought you looked as beautiful as ever…” he finishes. He traces your shoulder, then your arm, slowly, carefully, his eyes lidded and you could see the years in his eyes and the adoration and the love ( a love he harbors for years and years, one that was stoked by passion as it held a warmth so soft.

A part of you always wonders if there would be a time when Zhongli would tire of you. If he would grow weary of waiting for you to return in your next life, because it was a cycle that hardly ceases, one that would weather down the patience of one too many. And it was a painful cycle, a cruel one for those who could hardly bear witnessing the unfamiliarity in a beloved’s eyes when they chance upon them.

But he never does and he always finds you. Always, waiting with a smile on his face and you’d fall in love all over again, steady as stone, unmoving as the earth he rules. Zhongli was reliable in that sense and he holds his promises as close to his heart as he does his contracts. )

“You nearly dropped the perfume bottle you wee holding…” you add with a cheeky light in your eyes. Zhongli huffs.

“Could you blame me, when you looked upon me like that?” he asks. “How cruel of you to tease me so, dear love.”

He could be playful too, in his own ways and he murmurs those words against your cheeks. You feel your cheeks grow hot and you find yourself melting, your insides warming till you were nothing but a puddle that flowed to to the whims of this silly old man. 

“Is that so? My apologies then…” your voice lowers to a soft coo and you bat your eyelashes coyly. “What can I provide in recompense to you, Mr. Zhongli, for my terrible behavior?” 

Zhongli’s smile widens. 

“A kiss perhaps?”

You find yourself smiling as well.

“How scandalous, Mr. Zhongli.” you laugh, throwing your head back while he pulls you against him. You lower your head, your nose brushing against his and there is a shared, almost bated breathlessness between the two of you that you could hardly describe ( it feels like everything, like a barrage of euphoria and tenderness and all the aches and butterflies in your stomach and the perfect longing, rolled into one heavy, restless ball in your chest ). “Kiss me, then.”

He does. His lips are on yours, gentle, coaxing and his hands are tangled in your hair, then on your cheeks and his breath tickles your lashes. He puls away for a moment, then descends upon you again.

“I love you.” he lets out breathily between each kiss. “I adore you. I love you.” 

❪⠀🎬⠀❫ AINE SPEAKS ;;

requested by : @deus-lapidis

*kicks head back and screams* ZHONGLIIIIIIIIII. also, i will bet my ass nahida and venti were totally spying on him shhhhh gimme some drunk uncle and flower niece content.

taglist — @x-zho, @dustofthedailylife, @deus-lapidis, @silentmoths, @nebulaera, @niverine, @aestellia, @ofoceansandtombsanew @the-travelling-witch.

AINE © 2022. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.

[breezybubbles]

Hi breezy! Could may order an an tea with cinnamon, Cappuccino? Mabye a little fanfics or Headcanons with Eijirou, shinsou, shoto and mabye aizawa with an reader (fem) who is insecure about their chubby thighs.

Take your time and have a lovely day/night!

Stay healthy!

-Tiniwini

Hi my love, this was such a cute request, and I had fun writing it! I'm such a simp for these boys

cw: body insecurity, fem reader, a tinge of angst, really just pure fluff, some suggestiveness

Eijirou Kirishima

Kiri is the sweetest boy, and his love language is definitely words of affirmation.

Not to mention that he most definitely praises the ground you walk on

You could just breathe, and this man would fawn over your being, spewing on and on about how perfect you are and how lucky he is to have you

So, of course, he is utterly shocked when you mention that you’ve been feeling insecure regarding your plushy thighs

You express to him that it is hard to feel confident about your body when all of the models that you see on instagram have a thigh gap and no stretch marks to be seen

This man just stares at you blankly before melting into a puddle and instantly comes to comfort you

At first, he’s like, “how dare you call my baby anything other than the magnificent goddess she is?” but he moves on to the actual comforting part

He is just so shocked and confused as to how you could see your thighs or anything about yourself as not perfect, and god-forbid unattractive 

He’s definitely the type to lay you down and massage your thighs, whispering soft praises and reveling in how squishy they are

He explains that the models you see are specifically picked to be the extreme of what society considered beauty, and they in no way represent what he sees as beauty and the general public’s appearance.

He encourages you to unfollow the people on instagram who make you feel self-conscious as you don’t need that on your feed.

If he hears you start to talk shit about yourself again, he will one hundred percent bend you over his knee and give you another thing to complain about (in a soft way ofc)

Shoto Todoroki

Okay lets be honest, this man can be an airhead sometimes (a himbo indeed)

So, he probably isn’t going to be the one to notice when you are feeling self conscious or unhappy with your appearance

In his mind, you are the most beautiful and radiant girl on Earth, so why would she feel any different than what she is

However, if you ever let him know how you are feeling, he will 100% give you an honest answer

When you explain that the way your jeans never fit you the way you want them to because of how thick your thighs are, he will simply shoot back by saying that your thighs make the jeans fit you better

I also see him as the kind of person to remind you that you shouldn’t be fitting the clothes, the clothes should be fitting you and that if you are not happy in your clothes, then don’t wear them

He will look you dead in the eye with a serious, set-in-stone face, and tell you all the things he loves about you, and if you try to counter those with your insecurities, he will come back just as hard and begin to list at least 10 ways each of them make him love you more

You guys also bond over each other insecurities, confiding in one another and comforting on another, with no judgment only love.

Shoto is the kind of guy to have his head between your thighs, kissing every inch of skin he can reach and leaving little love bites every once in a while.

Hitoshi Shinsou

Unlike Shoto, Hitoshi is very intuitive and he’s an observer.

He listens to you, he watches you, and he knows you. He notices when you mention a negative thing about your body in a passing conversation, he if you are merely saying it to yourself, and he sees if you stay in front of the mirror clawing at your body like you are a piece of clay you can mold.

So he will definitely confront you on it if he can tell that is hurting you overall

Don’t get me wrong, he respects your boundaries, but it upsets him to see his Kitten so upset over something so stupid and superficial, so if he needs to set some things straight, he will.

He definitely doesn’t want to just spring his questions on your like he is some kind of interrogator, so he will just try and find when you are in your head about your appearance and ask you what's on your mind.

When you confide in him, he’ll try to act surprised, but he saw this coming a mile away.

He will talk you through your insecurities over a cup of coffee, rubbing your thighs firmly while you two sit on the couch.

I totally see him having you strip down to your underwear (or nothing at all ;)), and making you stand in front of the mirror, admiring yourself and pointing out three things that you find attractive.

Like maybe he does that every night, and you are not allowed to repeat a feature from the night before, and if you don’t say it with your chest, then you have to try again

After that, he will do the same thing, pointing out everything (literally everything on your body) that he finds attractive, smothering you with praise, and kissing you wherever he can reach

Shouta Aizawa

Okay, once again, we have another observer on our hands

He knows every inch of your body. Every. Fucking. Inch. So when he observes that you are clearly self-conscious, he is genuinely stumped

He has no idea what it could be

I feel like he is a lot more blunt than Shinsou, needing to confront you on it as soon as possible so he can eradicate whatever insecurity that has you so distraught

When he finds out that it’s your thighs that make you so upset with your body, he is honestly a little sad

He loves your thighs; they’re plush, warm, and make the perfect cushion to nap on

So he makes it his life's goal to make you love your thighs again

He’ll praise them, give massages and kisses, always have at least on hand on them, even while driving, and will always whistle when you wear anything that is close to tight clothing 

He’ll also talk you through your self-doubts, reminding you that its okay to not look like all the K-pop stars, and that all that matters is that your healthy

If you need a little more convincing he will be more than happy to oblige.

Will always be down to leave bruises on your thighs while doing certain, ehm, activities, so that when you look in the mirror you remember that the most important person in your life loves your thighs

a/n: this was super cute, and I'll probably do more characters for this headcanon if it gets popular enough!

[cicerenella]

Okay so this is not headcannons but it's something I think you might have some fun with.

What do you think would Feli and Roma do of they found themselves magically locked in a room each with the younger version (young as in, how young they were before they got separated) of the other? What kind of conversation would you think they'd have?

And then after the conversation ends, Feli and Romano find themselves with their own younger self. Sorry for the unsilly ask but I'm kinda sick so. Yeah.

hello again! this ask was very interesting to respond to, so let's jump straight into it! (Spoiler: very angsty)

Premise

it's a bit tricky tracking down exactly when the Italy Brothers last saw eachother. However, I might have reached a conclusion in affirming that the year 800 is the date when these two got "officially" separated. Basically, that year is when Northen italy was incorporated in the Holy Roman Empire (HRE), while the South was being raided and conquered by the Saracens, the Byzantine Empire and the Longobards. It did not look good for neither of them during that time, but feli proooobablyyy got it better than his bro.

Moreover, taking in account that both Roma and Feli where alive in the last years of the Roman Empire, that would make them around 300 years old. Not terribly young, but I envision them as preteens during that period, since they didn't have any autonomy over their territories for many years (not being independent is something that affects nation growth in my canon lol. although nations can grow up from other means even if under foreign influence).

Romano

If Romano ever got locked in a room with a roughly 10 year old Felice, I think he would immediately hug him and react very emotionally. I'm not gonna lie, Romano wasn't very fond of his brother even before they got separated by foreign powers. He was the golden child, the favorite, the one that (unintentionally) outshined him in every way possible and one of the roots of his inferiority complex.

So seeing this small kid, scared just like him at that time, at the mercy of this new powerful nation that is HRE and so on. if no one was in the room with them well... he would be eaten by remorse. Romano would hug him, tell him that everything would turn alright for him, and that he would not endure all the hardships that Romano otherwise had to sustain.

Felice

When Feli comes face to face with an angry and also scared 12 year old Romano, he would initially be at a loss. This kid absolutely hates the man that it is in front of him, so the initial approach would be...awkward, but only initially!

Feli would talk gentle words to his "big" brother, seeing an otherwise wounded kid rather than the mean big brother he once thought he was. Feli would then comfort little Romano, even going as far to excuse himself for not sticking with him till the end. And, after a lot of calming down little Roma (he was spewing obscenities as soon as he saw his "little" grown up bro), he would hug him. Even if the child is the kid is throwing punches at his chest, he's going to hug him anyways. Feli recognizes that he needs it.

so yeah! that's about it. in both scenarios there's a lot of feels and words that they would probably never say to eachother in today's age LMAO. I guess if they ever saw the kid versions of themselves/the opposites, the young appearance would make them instantly melt in an emotional puddle. these guys have trauma~

[emmetsboyfriend]

Submas crushing on a friend!

Because what kind of respectable self-shipper would I be if I didn’t make this

EMMET

Slower to realize he’s got a crush, but quick to embrace it once he does.

Loves giving you gifts

Mostly food, if we’re being honest here.

If you have a craving, this man is ON IT

His love language is Acts Of Service, mainly because he often comes across as being rude when he talks.

And the last thing he wants to do is hurt your feelings.

Not very good at hiding his crush, let’s be honest

You’ll catch him staring at you fairly often

He can’t help it, you’re so cute!

Point it out and he’ll go beet-red and stutter out an apology

Flirt with him?

You’ve created a monster

Emmet is a very intense person, and his feelings for you are no exception to this

He wants to flirt with you, of course, but he’ll never intiate it out of a fear he’ll make you uncomfortable.

Even if it never moves beyond flirting, he’ll just be happy just being able to openly express how he feels, regardless if it’s taken as a joke or not.

But if you flirt first he’ll take that as a signal that flirting is okay now

He’ll never escalate things, of course, but that doesn’t mean he won’t turn on the charm for you.

“Ah, you must be cold! Take my jacket, it’d be verrrrry bad if you got sick. …Hm! So I was right, you do look cute wearing my jacket.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I am your friend, Emmet, and as your friend I want you to trust me when I say that you’re one of the most amazing people I know.”

He never considered himself a cuddlebug until he met you.

All he wants to do is hold you and it hurts to hold back how much affection he feels welling up inside him anytime you’re around.

Has a giant, fluffy, stuffed toy in his room that he holds in the death-grip of cuddles when he misses you. (Which becomes more often the longer his crush goes on)

Ingo takes up the role of wingman, much to Emmet’s chagrin.

Always talks Emmet up to you, no matter how much Emmet insists he’s going to die of embarrassment if Ingo mentions the skitty-in-a-tree incident again.

If anyone makes you uncomfortable or threatens you, Emmet will go full guard dog.

Would-be creeps and attackers make sure to stay far away from you once Emmet thoroughly thrashes them in a pokemon battle.

Won’t confess first

Even given the perfect moment (which he has decided would be on top of the ferris wheel at 7:28 pm exactly), he still wouldn’t confess

If you decide to tell him you like him, he’ll have a panic attack

Like, an actual panic attack. Hyperventilating and everything.

You may want to hold him to help him calm down.

Once he does, though, he’ll be the single happiest person in Nimbasa

Expect lots of cheek kisses (with consent, of course)

INGO

He’s a romantic at heart, let’s face it

He’ll start crushing on you hard fairly early into your friendship.

But it’s hard to tell if he has a crush on you.

He’s not the type to act like a goofball on purpose when he’s trying to impress you

But that doesn’t mean he still won’t feel like a dork in front of you

Fumbles more than a few pokeballs when you’re watching his matches on the singles’ train

Poking fun at him because of this will result in him turning the most interesting shade of pink you’ve seen

Too polite to stare at you, but will occasionally try to sneak glances when you’re sufficiently distracted

Words Of Affirmation is his love language, so expect a lot of praise

Like

A lot

Win a battle?

“What wonderful skills you have as a trainer! You’re so attentive to your pokemon’s needs it’s like you two become one as you battle!”

Cute outfit?

“Stunning outfit! You’d fit right in on Elesa’s Runway!”

If you return the praise? Hoo boy.

He’ll melt.

Sorry, your subway boss has transmuted into a puddle, please return later when he regains his cellular structure.

Externally, all you’ll see is his cheeks going pink as he pulls the brim of his hat down to cover his face.

Internally? He’s having a complete meltdown because holy shit this is the best day of his fucking life.

Gushes to Emmet a lot, who just sits there and listens to Ingo’s lovesick rambling about everything he adores about you.

…At least until Emmet drops him a “When can I expect the wedding Invitation?” and runs before Ingo can shake him until he gets dizzy.

Funny enough, I think he’d confess earlier than his brother.

He’ll take you to a café during a slow day, so the two of you can have a little privacy without any of the pressure.

Because the last thing he wants to do is push you into something you don’t want.

Will cry if you return his feelings.

Bring tissues

[mazya]

so, what do you think sve bachelors and bachelorettes (and even some adventurers if you like to write about them too) love languages are?

thanks for the request! and sorry for the long wait, I didn’t think it would take so much time, and I just wrote about bachelors sve..sorry again!

Magnus

1. Words of affirmation

I think he knows how to make a farmer melt with words and this is the quickest and easiest way for him to say that his partner is wonderful and that he loves them no matter what.

2. Quality time

Unfortunately, he can not spend time with a partner so often, because he still continues to study. And he also teaches Morgan himself, which takes a lot of time

3. Physical touch

Ohohoh, he will always find something to give, he is still a magician. He loves to give gifts because it makes his farmer so happy.

4. Gifts

I think he sticks to a partner to some extent, especially after a long time spent alone. Yes, we all know this affair with Olivia, but I don't think it gives him enough of the love and touch he wants. Returning to the farmer, I think he likes to hug and in general, at least somehow or stay close, the main thing for him is that he can feel their warmth

5. Act of service

. Magnus knows how to suddenly please the farmer, it will be a date in a beautiful place or the same magical gifts! Or a sudden kiss in the morning before leaving for the day. I also think that he will learn a couple of spells for protection and easier work on crops.

Lance

1. Words of affirmation

He is not as good as Magnus, as he practically did not date anyone, maybe in his youth he tried, but because of his studies he could not. But I think he knows how to cheer up at the right time and tell you that he loves you.

2. Quality time

Just like Magnus, when the farmer meets him, he doesn’t see him that often anyway. Yes, the farmer has his schedule, but they also have things to do after all. But when the farmer marries him, oh my god, he will try to be with a partner 24 on 7. they need to water your crops, already done thanks to magic.

3. Physical touch

I think that he is not as good as Magnus, but he still knows what to give. Maybe a few amulets or wands so that the farmer can be safe. He will also be happy to train with them, if the farmer of course asks for it

4. Gifts

Absolutely yes. This is something new for him and he wants to learn it. He loves to give, of course, but when a farmer does, he just becomes a puddle himself. The way his partner's hands massage his scalp or touch his muscles is just a separate kind of paradise for him.

5. Act of service

As I wrote earlier, he can teach something, for example, how to quickly get away from danger or how to make totems for sunny weather. As for romance, I think he will try to please with his favorite food and try to take him on a date to the island. Maybe he'll arrange a date in the summer, when moonlight Jellys are near the coast of the island.

Victor

1. Words of affirmation

he read how to talk romantically on the Internet, not otherwise. I don't think he had a romantic relationship before, because basically he studied as his mother wanted. Coming back, I think he tried to say a couple of pickup lines a couple of times, but it was a failure, but on the other hand it was nice of him. So he left the matter and always said what he really thought.

2. Quality time

Almost always will be next to the farmer, and after the wedding, he almost stuck, because he works from home. Maybe in rare exceptions he goes on a "business trip" to see how things are going there and that's it.

3. Physical touch

I think he will mostly notice what his farmer likes. Either it will be an ornament or just fertilizer for crops. Especially when you are married, it doubles because he loves to please his beloved partner too much.

4. Gifts

I think he is somewhere in the golden mean. He loves to be hugged from behind when he works or a sudden kiss. But he is always ready to respond to these touches and wait in the wings to catch his farmer by surprise.

5. Act of service

Whenever possible, helps with both farm work and everything else, even moral support.

ok, I want to apologize for the delay! and also for the fact that I have not yet written about bachelorettes 👉👈 I'll try to post it this week, but I didn't think that this post would be such a test for me hahaha... my apologies again.

[notmuchofatail]

Jagged Gorgeous Wings || Glow

Summary: As the first blooms of spring arrive, Zero wants to show Gregory one of the many wonders of a march equinox in Enchantra.  Date: Early March  Warnings: None - fluffy.......’friendship’ @zerohallows

Zero: Zero kept a curious eye to the weather; spring was exceedingly busy for him. Winter was melting away, all the dormant decay that had been working under the chilly blanket of snow and sludge had finally begun to thaw, so it was time for new things to grow from it. Spring was exhausting; a reminder that no matter how much time he spent in town his role in the Hollow would be no less demanding. Zero was tired, but he was also waiting for something very specific.

He'd been ghosting around Enchantra for days, feeling the tug of change and the way the spread of old things sinking back into nature was almost a full ache under his own skin. Spring was difficult, but it wasn't without its positives. He had been studying a cluster of trees when he felt that little itch of awareness he had been waiting for and while he had been planning to keep this to himself his thoughts shifted in that moment and he reached for his phone instead.

I want to show you something. Come to the forest. He typed the vague message. Edgar will find you. And hit send, looking at the screen a moment longer to check for a reply before reaching down to give the small dog's ears a scratch. "Okay buddy, go find him."

Edgar tilted his head, not fully understanding the words but the idea seemed clear enough and when the dog darted off through the brush Zero wasn't worried; Enchantra had a way of making sure people ended up where they were supposed to, if they were welcome there.

Gregory: For Gregory, Spring time was both his favorite and least favorite season. While he loved the season of blossoms and blooms, the season of new life and creatures, baby animals and growth — there was also just... Something about it that tensed his muscles all the same.

At the very least, it was a good time for him to be able to open the windows without freezing himself while he did his usual tasks; work or mope. It was on this particular day, in the middle of a furious mope session that his phone vibrating interrupted him.

With that of a request from Zero. Honestly, it wasn't really that much a request Gregory had to think about, already tugging on a jean jacket over his sweatshirt as he gave a quick affirmation to his.... friend in response and headed out the door. After all, he rarely needed an excuse for Enchantra.

Thankfully finding Edgar wasn't too hard a task either - the tall man greeting the little terrier with a gentle scratch behind the ears before he went running off into the woods ahead of him again. No matter. Gregory wasn't too far behind.

And truly Enchantra would always guide him where he needed to go. This case was no different, as he came up on the familiar figure after only a few minutes of trudging through the wilderness.

"....using messenger dogs now, are we...?" Gregory teased as he approached, gesturing lightly towards his ever helpful guide.

Zero:  Edgar bounced along, he wasn't a pup by any means but there was a lot of energy in that small form as he ran along the path and hopped over fallen branches and damp spots where the melted remnants of winter puddled, splashing through the larger ones he couldn't jump across. And as soon as he'd made it back he ran up to paw at Zero's leg, nose shoved under his chin with a little wiggle when he was scooped up.

"Well, the birds don't listen to me." He pointed out with a chuckle, arms full of squirming dog a few moments before he set Edgar back down again.

"That didn't take much convincing," he mused, sometimes it did with Greg, but that was only if you didn't know the sort of things that were bound to catch the other man's curiosity. "What were you going to do if you came all the way out here for nothing?" He teased, but that was hardly the case, and Greg knew it.

He took a step towards the cluster of trees,  he rarely wore his gloves in the forest, so his fingers rested bare on the bark. "Want to see my favorite part of the spring?"

Gregory: "They listen to me." Gregory teased back, but he knew it wasn't necessarily true. They 'listened' in the fact that they seemed respectful of his property and other animals. That didn't mean he thought he could send a message through them of course. He shrugged though, easily. "..Dunno why you thought it would. Even if I came for nothing, I'm still coming to see Enchantra." The part where he was still going to see Zero too went unsaid.

He was curious though - what Zero had brought him all the way out here to see. "...your favourite part..?" He responded as he trailed behind Zero carefully. "...'course I would."

Zero: He was tempted to point out that it was less listening and more that they liked Greg, but that seemed too obvious. It wasn't magic, it was just Greg and his strange connection to the natural world; or maybe it was magic and just a different kind than what a person was born with. One cultivated over time with patience and a need to do no harm, unfortunately probably because too much harm had been done to the person exercising kindness.

"Enchantra, huh?" He countered, his shoulder was turned to Greg but the lifted eyebrow range clearly in his amused tone. "Well, I can't compete with an entire magic forest I guess."

He was studying the surface of the tree, the sudden twitch of motion that was masked by the same earthy tones, a tiny little flick of wings. "Most moths only live through summer, but some types go dormant in the cold, make little nests and sleep through winter. It's still early, not spring yet, but the forest is thawing out, and they're waking up."

There were spots like that around the forest, where the moths clustered their burrows and waited out the winter. And then they woke up, damp wings fluttering and little fluffy bodies shaking to get rid of the moisture. Most people assumed moths weren't out in the day, most people were wrong.

Little fuzzy bugs shuffled around the trees in hollow spots, a few were testing their wings. Zero watched, then caught one as it lost grip and tumbled. "Hey, careful, you gotta dry out first." He reminded the creature as it crawled up his fingertips and perched there, fluffing itself up.

"See?" He turned to Greg, the insect was nearly as big as his thumb and a dapple brown color with silky wings, the breeze making its fuzzy body sway a bit while it held on.

Gregory: Gregory listened carefully, swapping his gaze between whatever Zero was looking at and his own shoes as he stepped closer - careful to avoid trudging on any blooming flowers, plants or little animals as he stopped beside Zero.

It made a bit more sense as the other began explaining - referring to the moths as Gregory felt himself give a fond little exasperated huff. Of course it was about the moths. Though believe me, this was not to say it was a complaint. Instead it was so incredibly endearing, and Greg was more than interested to hear what Zero had to say about his little winged friends. Especially as Gregory spotted them started to move around the bark in which Zero had been inspecting - noticing the little shuffles of emerging moths with a curious eye.

That was - until one slipped from the tree. Greg felt his entire body twitch like he was going to reach out and grasp it but Zero beat him to it, gently catching the little guy and hoisting him up for Greg to see as it settled upon Zero's hand. The first thing Gregory noticed, of course, was that it was adorable.

He adored fluffy moths. They were as cute as any kitten or puppy to him, and obviously this was no exception. Immediately he melted, leaning in softly as a soft coo slipped from his lips. "...oh my god." He breathed, a rare genuine smile catching at the corner of his lips. "It's beautiful. It's so cute! I don't think I've ever seen a moth that fluffy?"

Zero: "Enchantra has some species that are unique; these guys are pretty big." He pointed out, watching the moth flutter and dry its' wings in the crisp air. "Wood moths are usually smaller, same colors though, not usually as much fluff." And said fluff was rustling as the moth finally fluttered off his fingertips, circling around. By then a few others had dried their wings enough to start moving around, most moving around from tree to tree. "They won't go too far until it's actually warmer, just stay here, eat and get ready for spring when they'll start traveling around."

Since they were standing so close to the trees a few moths fluttered close, one landing on his head and sitting there, delicate, fuzzy antenna waving.

"Well, there is that," he pointed out, letting another of the moths land on his fingers. "Moths have no concept of personal space." Clearly, they were fine with landing anywhere, including on Greg.

He bit back an amused sound when one decided to attach itself to the arm of Greg's jacket and crawl around, inspecting him. "I think she likes you, or your jacket tastes good, maybe both."

Moths really were basically just winged fuzzy puppies anyway, and chattery little things, even if Greg couldn't hear that part, they definitely were.

"Hold your fingers out," he motioned towards the one clinging to Greg's jacket and when the other man did the insect waved two small legs his direction, testing the idea before grabbing hold of his fingers and climbing over onto them. "Just remember, fragile wings," Zero added, busy reaching up to scoop up the fuzzball in his hair.

Gregory: Of course Gregory had some idea of the life cycle of moths - or... well, bugs and insects more generally. He'd learned about them in school - looked them up and studied them himself, but he didn't know the specifics. Didn't know exactly how these moths worked or operated. Certainly didn't know that these big fluffy ones existed and started coming out in the early spring.

"...hmm. That almost sounds familiar." Gregory teased softly, letting his gaze leave the small fuzzy moth inspecting him for just a moment so that he could glance up at Zero with a warm, but clearly playful smirk. It wasn't as if he was upset by Zero being in his personal space most nights, after all. Especially since he invited him there. It was just too easy of a comment to make, was all. He listened easily to the man's instructions though, gently offering his hand as a bridge to the clambering little moth, and only moving his hand a little closer after it was securely perched on his fingers. His gaze inspected the adorable little creature as his smiled only seemed to grow.

There was no need for the reminder, if only because Gregory treated every single living creature with the utmost gentle careful behavior; light and respectful touches or just a harm free gaze. It was cute to see the fuzzy little thing so close though, tilting his hand slowly as the moth traversed over his skin and investigated her surroundings. She was truly a beautiful thing - unique markings and tiny fuzzy legs that tickled ever so slightly with every step she took. "...are they always this friendly?" Gregory asked softly, reaching out his opposite hand to let her bridge across and explore more, drying out her fluffy wings easier. "...I mean - not that I've ever met a mean moth. They're just so cute though."

Zero: "The adorable part? Yes, it does; I am." He countered with a smirk, "And who made their personal space free range anyway?" Not that Zero wasn't aware of how seldom that happened with Greg and people; it didn't exactly take much time around him to see that while Greg could be kind, and tried to be to people, he wasn't often very fond of them, or the things they did. Which was fair, Zero supposed; he tended to see things as people were just people, flaws and all. But Greg had a lot of scars, some that existed under the surface and Zero hadn't asked, but he knew it wasn't easy to forgive people when a person carried those things.

Nor did he concern himself with other people in that regard; Greg trusted him and he knew that was really all that mattered. Well, that and the fact that he did enjoy spending time with the other man.

"No; they're usually more cautious because people are huge, clumsy, dangerous things who think they're pests." Zero frowned, gathering the moth from his hair up into his palms and letting it settle there. "But they know I wouldn't let anyone around them that isn't safe; they can understand me and I can understand them." Even the smallest creatures knew caution and in turn knew trust; the latter had to be earned most of the time because people were fickle and to many of them a moth was just a moth and an insect was some terrible creature. But to the moths fluttering around, readying themselves for the change in season, the forest was safe and they were curious.

"Moths don't know how to be mean, they just know how to be moths; harmless, curious, and friendly if you're careful with them." Zero nodded, watching the one in his palms flex its wings to return to the air. His attention then turned to the few stragglers freeing themselves from their burrows, scooping up a small, nearly black toned younger moth from the tangle it had made of itself trying to get free.

Gregory: He managed to resist rolling his eyes - but for the record it was very close. It would have been fondly, regardless, but he supposed he deserved that answer for giving Zero an opening just as easy to follow up with. Again, it really wasn't like he was complaining. Nor... refuting the claim by any means. Zero was adorable. "..Don't think I ever made it free range." He did refute though, half heartedly as he shifting to peer a little closer at his new little friend, watching their path carefully.

"I suppose they're right about that..." Because most people were. Most people didn't care about or for moths. If they stepped on them, swatted them, hit them, ran them over. They were just bugs. But... bugs were precious too. Gregory treated them just like he would any cat or dog. Any rat or goat. They were living beings. There was a reason he'd come under harm for the sake of protecting animals.

Letting the original one settle against his palm, Gregory easily opened his opposite hand towards another moth attempting to dry themselves - a beautiful little fluffy white one, his thumb brushing over its side ever so softly as a small smile curled at his lips. Cute. Cute cute cute. "...I think they do a very good job at just knowing how to be moths. Dunno if I ever realized how bloody many there were." He mused, glancing over at Zero and spotting the most recent moth he'd just picked up with an amused huff.

Oh how opposites always attract.

Zero: "Uh-huh," he replied, more than a little amused over Greg's huffing, because that was entirely expected. Not that Greg was predictable, often, but sometimes he really was, if you paid attention. There were certain Greg-specific reactions that really came as no surprise anymore. But unsurprising didn't mean boring.

"Not everyone, but enough to make them careful." Zero sighed, because that was not a fact that was bound to change. "I have a feeling people wouldn't be so fond of butterflies either if they knew they're carrion feeders and not just pretty little bugs that sit on flowers. They've got better PR than moths." But a close connection because of that, yes, Zero was familiar with them as well.

"You know they're like most insects; they are usually around and people just don't notice. I can relate." He laughed softly, waiting for the moth in his hands to right itself before he held his palm out towards one of the tree trunks and let it flutter over to it. When he looked back to Greg he shook his head, amused. "Looks like you made another friend."

Gregory: "Alternatively -... people might be more fond of them if they knew that." Gregory commented with a soft smile, because.. well, people were weird like that. He knew that. Sometimes people became more fascinated with something the weirder it was. Most of the time though, he knew it was the opposite. People were afraid of things they didn't understand.

Even if there was nothing to be afraid of.

Man if he couldn't feel that comment though. He understood that feeling too moth-friends, believe him. "...I'd make lots of friends if they let me." Gregory laughed, though he gently turned his hands and let the two moths come together, fluffing up beside each other and flickering their little legs towards each other before he felt their wings move - and the pair of them fluttered off to the nearest tree.

"...much easier to befriend than people, you know?"

Zero:

"Maybe here." Zero trailed off with faint amusement, but his own experiences hadn't been nearly as warm. He had stopped letting that, among other things, bother him a long time ago, but he still knew the differences existed. In town though it did seem like people were just a little more receptive, but that wasn't always the rule. Some of the commentary online had proven that, reminding Zero the sort of person who weren't worth his attention.

"I'll keep that in mind; they can come bother you at work instead of fluttering around when I'm trying to do something around here." He countered, but honestly he figured Greg would have liked that.

"Hmm, depends on the people." Zero decided, after a moment; they were passively capable of getting along with most people, and had more friends now than before, but it did depend a lot on the type of person. Some were better left out of a person's life.

Greg though, well, for him that list was longer than most, they knew that. "Some people are, objectively, fine. Some are actually even interesting; but they'd probably argue it." He added, glancing from the moths back to the other man; some people were even surprising.

Gregory: "...I never mind." Gregory said confidently - because he was already used to the flock of other small winged bugs that would come and hang out around Ruff to Fluff for... some reason. Not mentioning any names, of course. It was nice though - to have frequent guests in moths or butterflies. Gregory would never turn that away.

He couldn't help but huff at Zero's words though - trying to pretend like he couldn't hear the underlying tone at all as he helped another moth gently onto his hand before he let his gaze shift back over towards Zero with a small raise of his brow.

Taking careful steps, Gregory made sure that his new little friend wouldn't be blown from his hand as he approached Zero - only lifting his hand once he was beside him and letting the moth crawl off the tip of his finger and onto the other man's nose as Gregory tried his best to hide his smirk. "...interesting, huh? You'll have to introduce me to these... interesting people." The taller man teased, smiling softly as he pressed a kiss to Zero's cheek and stepped away again to observe another moth that was fluttering around on the tree beside them.

Zero: "I wouldn't say that, these guys love having an invitation." Zero chuckled, it wasn't so much they understood the words said, but animals and even insects were excellent at picking up on the feel of a person, and when they found one that wasn't hostile towards them they tended to linger. Being around people was a good way to avoid other dangers, if the people themselves weren't a threat.

"I know some great people, then I've also known some terrible ones." Which, fair was fair, he supposed; there were no doubt people who didn't like him for reasons that made sense, but the ones who had reasons that were just narrow-minded he didn't really let affect his life if it could be avoided. It couldn't always though.

He was going to say something else but was left blinking at the insect and fighting the urge to sneeze because of the fuzzy little legs. "Hey," he started to protest, if only jokingly, but Greg had to go and make it basically impossible to complain. Zero liked that smirk, it was a step up from Greg's usual tired expression, the most he could manage was an indulgent roll of his eyes and a smile, a faint twinge of red across the bridge of his nose.

"Changed my mind, you're actually the worst." He was still trying not to sneeze, mind you, slight nose twitch and all, and managed to hold out until the moth fluttered up to his hair before he couldn't fight it, covering most of his face with his hands. "Terrible," he added, between sneezes until the sensation had passed.

"Using distraction against me? That's awful." Zero rubbed his nose with his palm and shot Greg an amused look. "Impressively sneaky, but awful." And he couldn't really complain anyway.

Gregory: "Still wouldn't mind." And truly rest assured - he would not. There would almost never be an issue when it came to Greg and animals. They were talking to the guy who'd tripped over grasshoppers, let raccoons raid his pantry, let his rats dictate his schedule. The world was the animal's - and he was just living in it.

"Bless you." Gregory said around a laugh, peeking over at Zero from where he'd been thoroughly 'investigating' a few moths with a very knowing smirk. It wasn't exactly the reaction he'd expected out of Zero, but it was a cute one nevertheless.

Still a win in his book.

And being added to the list of terrible people? Eh. Another win if you asked him, really. "...I don't think I was doing anything. The moth told me it wanted to be there." Obviously it did not. He was not the moth whisperer. "...or...maybe I misunderstood. I'm not fluent in moth, sorry. "

Zero: "Uh-huh, I definitely believe that." He replied, still a little cautious that the sneezing fit hadn't passed; when it didn't flare back up he fixed a properly annoyed look on Greg, even if he actually wasn't. Principle of the thing and all.

"See if I invite you next time something is going on in Enchantra." He continued, knowing the treat fell flat and even the moths didn't believe him since the one on his head just twitched its wings in amusement. "Great, you too?" He couldn't win, apparently.

"What were you doing anyway? You got out here really fast," he shifted the subject, waving a few of the insects off to low branches so he could sit down on an old, overturned chunk of tree half sank into the ground from years of lying there, running his fingers across the soft moss beginning to grow again. Edgar shuffled over to flop at his feet, stubby tail twitching in a wag once he was settled into the spot.

Gregory: Gregory admittedly glanced over at the threat, even if he knew it was empty (mostly because... well, he could just come to the forest and see something himself if he really wanted to). But at the sight of the little flicker of the moth's wings and Zero's immediately comment, Gregory covered his mouth with his hand to prevent the snort of a laugh from escaping.

Somehow he managed to stifle it as he focused back on cute fluffy wings in front of him, letting a handful more crawl up onto his fingers as he smiled at them softly.

"...nothin' important, obviously." Greg admitted, making sure the area was clear before he settled himself on the forest floor, tucking one leg up against himself as he let the moths settle against his jeans, fingers running ever so gently along their wings. "...I was just cleaning. Kinda would have taken any excuse to get out of it so... probably why."

Zero:

"Oh yeah? Convenience, huh?" Zero replied, listening to the shift in the air of tiny wings, sharp ears catching the feathery-soft sound around them. He liked those spots in the forest, at times he couldn't find them the same way as he used to be able to do before in the ancient forest where the very air was often undisturbed as something as intrusive as human voices and the trees were both wise and frightening in that wisdom. Enchantra was old, but in some ways still felt younger to him; it was green in a fresher way, it bloomed more brightly and it did not whisper nearly as much.

But it also allowed more, the Great Prince was a protector, the things that lurked in the darkness were not as wary or as scarred. Sometimes Zero wasn't sure he really belonged there, belonging anywhere was more than simply being welcomed.

"Well, I guess I can accept that." He turned his attention to Greg and the curious crowd of delicate creatures surrounding him. It was different, sometimes, when he actually saw Greg comfortable enough to laugh or smile in a way that was a little less hindered.

"I should start thinking up excuses more often."

Gregory: "...who says there needs to be an excuse." Gregory said after a moment, stilling his hand as a few moths used it as a platform to catch those few rays of sun peaking through the tree's canopy. He watched as they shook their little wings off and stretched their legs.

So small... and yet so cute.

"...I make exceptions for some people.. if.. certain people just say.. 'come here' there doesn't always have to be a reason. I'll still come."

It went unsaid, but.. obviously Zero was one of those 'certain people'. There didn't need to be a 'something' for Zero to show him for him to have come here. If Zero had simply said 'come to Enchantra' with no further explanation - Greg would still be here.

Zero: Exceptions were complicated little things, sometimes. Or they could be. People built assumptions on them, direction. Zero didn't care much for making things needlessly complicated. He liked being an exception, he liked that there were layers to Greg's personality that made things very often a guessing game. Sometimes he forgot thought, exceptions, because nothing was ever what anyone might have deemed very clear when it came to Greg.

Which, sure, was fine.

"What about not here?" He replied, watching with curiosity as Greg spoke; here was quiet and solitary and Zero knew there was a difference sometimes between all of that and elsewhere. They didn't like to be obscure when they could be direct though, "Enchantra is nice, but am I still an exception if I want to hang out somewhere in town?"

From there spot perched on the log, Zero could feel the forest around them sigh and shuffle with life, could sense the decay under their feet, in the plants, the quiet things, the creeping, crawling insects living within it. That background noise never left them, but for the moment it was dulled, a hum outside the conversation.

Gregory: Somewhere in town?

Gregory felt himself glance up at Zero at that with a small raise of his brow. Well... - that was slightly different, wasn't it? Mostly in the fact that it... completely depended.

"Uh-... well.. I suppose that...depends." He started, glancing back down at his hands as he bridged them together and let a moth clamber over him, softly blowing onto their wings to help them dry off a bit before he shrugged again. "...I mean - I'm not terribly fond of Pixie's or.. bars in general. But... I dunno. I'd still say it's like...a 99% chance I'll say yes as long as it's you." Since..it was Zero he liked spending time with.

"...Not promising 100% but... mostly."

Zero: Zero had a pretty good idea that was the case, yes, that Greg really only went to Pixie's to drink and escape the sense of self that confined inside the space built from all the weight he carried silently. Zero went there to be a part of things without being a part so directly. It had been the intersection where he had met Greg, a vaguely different situation and half a lifetime ago. It didn't surprise him to hear Greg didn't care much for the place.

"Mostly." He repeated, head canted slightly as he watched Greg focused on the tiny insects. Mostly was how life worked sometimes.

"Okay," he replied, the upended log offering a mild creak and shedding a few bits of mossy bark as he shifted some. "That doesn't tell me where you like in town, even mostly." Zero pointed out, fingers spread to catch the ivory moth when it landed on them again, feather light and soft edges. He couldn't play guessing games forever, after all.

Gregory: Gregory felt his brow raise slightly, his gaze once again shifting to meet Zero's as he adjusted his position and thumbed over a few loose leaves.

"...uh.." Where he liked in town? Did...he expect an expansive list or... "...Moon Market. Ruff to Fluff." Gregory said with a wrinkle of his nose, knowing that was not what Zero meant. "...I mean I-... go to Hatters. Or.. Chippa's. I stay away from the uh...the bars and nightclubs usually... I won't go to the Deer. Everything else is.. a maybe. Depending.."

Zero:

Honestly Zero was willing to entertain whatever idea because, really, leaving the confines of Ruff to Fluff was an accomplishment by Greg standards most days. So he just nodded, listening and filing away that information for later. "Okay."

Frankly Zero didn't go to that place either, the sheer amount of corpses nailed to the walls and deemed trophies by the people who frequented the Deer was practically hostile territory to even a faerie with his talent. The place reeked of misplaced death and was crawling with restless Geist. "That one is a graveyard," he mused, watching the moth reach across his fingertips.

Still, not the turn he wanted the conversation to take, so he left it at that. And speaking of later, there was that. "It's going to get colder when it gets darker," he reminded Greg, knowing that the other man would sit out in the woods all night. It was like the other reminders at times, when Greg overlooked small but generally important details that involved his own well-being.

"I don't think the moths want you to freeze," he chuckled, shifting to stand and cross the space between them, letting the pale insect flutter off to cling to Greg's shirt. "Obviously I don't either, but you'll probably listen to the moths more."

Gregory: Yes - yes it was. Which was exactly why Gregory avoided it. Though he also didn't like Gaston very much either, but the entire atmosphere of the Hunted Deer was just... awful. Why did he want to sit in a place surrounded by corpses of animals that had been killed for nothing other than bragging rights?

It was downright terrible.

Gregory glanced up as Zero shifted from his spot and approached him, letting a moth friend flutter down to him. HIs hand gently cupped around the creature, letting it shift off of his shirt and onto his fingers as he raised a brow gently. "...I spend a lot of the winter out here in a sweatshirt you know." Greg pointed out with a huff. Definitely not a comforting fact, he was sure, but a true one. "...but if you're worried.. maybe I just need a blanket." He suggested with a pointed smile, offering his hand out towards Zero - moth balancing against the back of his palm and all.

Zero: "All that proves is you have very little self-preservation instincts." Zero trailed off, it was fine as a joke, he also knew it was mostly true though, given Greg's moods. Which were really the most complicated part to maneuver around much of the time, it just took a degree of patience that many people were short of. And a faint degree of acceptance that people were, generally, a bit self-destructive.

"Really?" He countered, the amusement didn't reach his expression but it was there in his gaze as he rolled his eyes; he wasn't going to admit to finding Greg's stubborness entertaining, even attractive in some offskew way. "Should just let you freeze," he pointed out, grabbed Greg's hand.

Gregory: "...You already know that though." Gregory pointed out with a small shrug, eyeing Zero carefully as he gave the other man's hand a soft squeeze as soon as he slipped it into his own. "...that would be very mean though.. - You said the moths might not like that..." He teased softly, giving Zero's hand a gentle tug towards him.

He was careful to avoid jostling the little moth though. Waiting until the little friend spread his wings and fluttered off to another perch before Gregory pressed a kiss to Zero's knuckles, looking up at the other with a smile that was both guilty and sly at the same time.

Zero: "Then I'd never hear the end of it, chatty little guys." Zero shook his head, stifling a chuckle, and he did give Greg's hand a tug, but half-hearted at most. "Well, no way I'm dragging your heavy self up." He grumbled, but it definitely lacked any real annoyance. "Ridiculously tall people." Which, by Zero standards equated to a lot of people, but Greg especially.

See, there in was the problem; stubborn and looks like that. Zero was far more inclined to believe the sly than guilty. "Oh, that look, really? Highly suspicious." He mused, a smile catching at the side of his own lips before he let Greg pull him closer, it wasn't much of a protest, or one at all, since he settled there with him, quite purposely stealing as much of Greg's space as possible as he got comfortable sitting with him.

"Hey, elbow," he warned, because he did not want that smacking him in that back of his head as he lazed, shoulder flush to Greg's chest and, yes, of course the second he stopped moving one of the moths had already fluttered over to perch on his hair.

Gregory: "Hey." Gregory pouted, looking up at Zero. It wasn't his fault he'd shot up like a bean stalk in the past few years! He'd thought he'd been done growing when he'd reached 5'11. Evidently not....

The pout didn't last long though - not when the other man allowed his request and pulled closer. He easily brought his arm up and around Zero's back at the warning, letting his fingers rest easily on the man's thigh as he settled back against the tree with a soft sigh. How easy it was to settle there with Zero's weight against his chest, the fluttering of moths back and forth, darting on and off their persons.

Incredibly peaceful, really.

He stirred again after a moment, resting his chin softly on Zero's shoulder as he peeked sideways at him with a soft smile. "...thank you."

Zero: He didn't actually mind Greg being tall, or more to the point himself being short, it was entertaining to complain about but, ultimately, he had no idea how tall people functioned. After seeing on more than one occasion the other man smack his head on anything, doorframes included at times, Zero felt a little sympathy for those who had to stumble around height. But he did like to tease Greg about it, reminding him to duck now and then.

It was very often the case when Zero got comfortable he got lazy, and when he got lazy he tended to follow the natural course and just sleep. But he didn't usually sleep after dark, usually; Greg was a challenge to his nocturnal instincts at times because comfortable often turned into silence and the combination was too relaxing. He shifted, movements a bit fluttery himself, another hazard of being very relaxed, those little twitchy habits, even without his wings to situate. It was at least more subtle as a human.

He had just begun to let his thoughts wander, listening because for him the forest was never quiet, between the murmur of the insects and the changes creeping through the soil and life around them, when Greg moved.

"Hmn," he offered in reply, tipping his head back and returning that smile, tucking his shoulder in against Greg's chest and pressing a quick, slightly off-centered kiss to the other man's jaw before resting his head back against his shoulder.

Peaceful, yes; something he was pretty sure Greg could stand to let himself indulge, at least every now and then.

The moths agreed.

Gregory: Gregory couldn't help but laugh at that response (or lack thereof), an amused roll of his eyes following even if a light shade of pink dusted his cheeks at the kiss.

It didn't really matter how many times Zero had kissed him before. How many times they'd held hands. Cuddled up. Strayed closer... - that churn in his stomach still always felt like a first kiss. That flutter of nerves ever present, like the beating wings of their moth friends, still clambering around on their bodies.

Shifting against the tree to get a bit more comfortable, Gregory pulled Zero a little closer, fingers idly tracing against the fabric of his pants as he let his head rest softly against Zero's. His eyes closed then - listening intently to the forest's chorus of song. The chattering of chickadees. The soft symphony of the crickets, beginning to stir for the day. The soft flutter and patter of the moths. Somewhere in the distance was the deep echo of a woodpecker looking for lunch. Edgar shuffling around looking for a place to squeeze in.

He knew he shouldn't fall asleep. Zero had been right. It would get colder when the sun set. But for now... he was comfortable. Content. And Zero wasn't exactly giving him any motivation to move any time soon either. So what was the harm in just soaking in the environment?

[galacticgraffiti]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Veman'alor (23) ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Rating: Mature (Allusions to heavy themes, some explicit language) Wordcount: 5.3k CW: very vague verbal allusions to non-con, heartache and heartbreak all over, the good kind and the bad, explicitly revoking consent, so much softness you are all going to melt into puddles of tears (and I will have done my job right)

A/N: Deepest thanks from the bottom of my heart to my wonderful friends and betas @book-of-baba-fett and @rowansparrow. Although your comments broke my heart all over again, you were incredibly helpful and I am so so grateful to you! ❥ And to my most wonderful readers: you make my heart full. I am so grateful that you all waited so patiently and put no pressure on me. I love this story but I was just not in the right space to function and connect the pieces. Thank you for sticking with me!

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Chapter 23 - Reunions, Goodbyes

Din wakes you only minutes before you have to start the landing cycle – he says he wanted to let you rest for as long as he could. He is not wearing his helmet when he wakes you, and he kisses your forehead and tells you he already commed Boba so that he will be waiting for you when you land. Din’s gentle words break your heart, because he always seems to know exactly what you need, and he gives it to you no matter the cost. The thought of Boba being right there after you land is the only thing that gets you to focus enough to carefully land the ship in the open atrium of the palace. As soon as the thrusters start to power down, you run to open the ramp – luggage is not important, not right now, you can get it later – and then, there he stands. 

He is here. Finally, Boba is here. He wraps himself around you until all you can breathe is him, and it is everything you have ever needed. You inhale him, pressing your face into his sturdy chest while his hands stroke your back. His lips are in your hair, murmuring words you can’t hear in a wild mix of Mando’a and Basic. It doesn’t matter what he says, all that matters is that he is here and that you can hear him, feel him, touch him. Boba. Strong and just as powerful as ever, but an odd sheen to his brown eyes when he spread his arms.

“Alor’ika.”

And you fly. Nothing in the galaxy has ever felt as good as being held by Boba in this moment. You whisper his name, over and over again until it feels like you can’t breathe. The world spins, but Boba is there to catch you, to hold you and take deep breaths with you as silent tears run down your cheeks. Only now do you let yourself realise that you almost did not get to have this again. It was close, way too close, and all would have been lost had it not been for Din. The thought of Kuat pushes its way into your brain, dripping with acid-coloured hatred. You can see him in your mind even now, still sealed in carbonite on the ship behind you, looking way too peaceful for the atrocities he planned to commit, and you shudder in Boba’s arms.

“Shh, I’m right here,” Boba mumbles. You nod, but the tears just won’t stop, and so he just holds you until everything else fades away. Forever is not long enough to make up for lost time. You let yourself sink into this feeling of warmth and security, a love so deep it could bury you if you let it – and for now, you will happily let it. You can feel Boba relax into you too, his strong hands rubbing soothing circles across your back until you have calmed down long enough to make out some of what he is saying, his sweet, raspy voice mumbling words of affirmation and love, your name, over and over again. I love you, alor’ika.

So easily you fall into him, gently enveloped by his presence. All you have worried about in the last few days melts away for a moment as Boba’s strong arms wrap around you. He holds you as tight as humanly possible – maybe even tighter, and you let him. You hug him back, though your arms do not quite reach around his broad body. You bury your fingers in the soft material of his shirt. He is real.

His mouth moves in your hair as you bury your face against his chest.

“Ni tayli gar, ad’ika,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, little one. I’m right here.”

You don’t have the words to answer as you cling to Boba’s broad frame like he will vanish if you cease touching him. He gently takes your hand in his, and like so often, it feels like he is reading your mind; his words are exactly what you need.

“I’m not going anywhere, princess, I’m staying right here with you, for as long as you need me, for as long as you’ll let me. I’m yours as long as you will have me. My brave girl. I’m so glad you’re back with me, you’re safe. You’re safe now, cyar’ika. I’ve got you.”

Boba hugs you even tighter for a second, clinging to you as desperately as you cling to him. His movements have the same urgency and care that yours do, that same need to make sure it’s all real, that you are here, and together, and that you are both alright. You loop your arms around his neck without looking up, the motion so familiar when he lifts you up without hesitation. He calls something over his shoulder, something in Mando’a your tired brain cannot quite make sense of. You vaguely catch Kuat’s name and try your best to tune out the rest of the conversation as best as you can. You do not want to know or think about what they will do with him… what Boba will do with him. Aside from all you are trying to forget though, the words in Boba’s mother tongue remind you that Din is still here. That he must be watching your reunion quietly, keeping the pain in his heart all to himself. And while you can not offer him a place in your bed, not tonight, the least he deserves is a proper goodbye. You nudge your head against Boba’s jaw as he is turning around.

“Let me say goodnight to Din?” It sounds like a question coming out of your mouth though it is not. Boba nods immediately, but makes no move to release you. Finally, you lift your head to look at him. Your eyes are swollen and your face is puffy from the tears of relief you have cried. You can’t find it in you to care, and neither, it seems, can Boba.

“You have to set me down, my love.”

Boba’s fingers dig harder into your skin.

“I can’t.” His voice breaks a little, and tears fill your eyes all over at the pain that shimmers in every syllable he utters. “I can’t- I can’t stop touching you. Don’t make me lose you again.”

“You never lost me, Bob’ika.” The nickname slips out before you can stop yourself. For a moment, Boba stares at you, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Just as you are about to apologise, he shakes his head as if to wake himself from a dream.

“It was too close, though,” he mumbles. “Way too fucking close.”

“I know.” Your voice shakes. “I know. But I’m here. I’m here, with you. Just let me say goodnight to Din, let me thank him- let me hold him before we go to bed, my love. He deserves that, at least. It’s only because of him that I’m safely back here with you.”

“Djarin deserves so much better than us,” Boba mutters. Reluctantly, he sets you down on the sandy ground of the atrium. You make a little noise of agreement – you know that. Din deserves much better than what you can give him, so much better than the heartbreak and heartache you have caused.

And still, despite everything, when you turn around, he is right there, waiting for you with open arms. You do not run to him, exactly – it is no more than a few measured steps until you find yourself wrapped in a shell of beskar when Din embraces you tightly. A cold helmet presses to your forehead. Din does not speak, but you feel like you must.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Inadequate words for all that he has done. Then again, you are not sure there would be words to describe what he means to you, but right now, words are the only thing you have, the only thing you can give him.

“Any time.” Din’s voice is rough and sad, as it seems to be way too often. You wonder absently what it must have felt like, to bring you back to the man you are going to marry after having saved your life. You wonder if he is bitter about it – but you quickly reject the thought. Din does not seem capable of quiet hatred. Not against his friends, at least.

His hands leave your body all too soon, and you are about to protest when the hiss of his helmet being unsealed stops you in your tracks.

Your heart beats in your throat when you look up at him, taking in his face that has so long been hidden from you but seems so familiar already. Messy curls, flattened from the helmet falling into dark eyes. Crinkles line his face, but only the good kind – laughter, joy. All these years, all these expressions of love and affection hidden behind a wall of beskar. And you get to see him, touch him… It seems more like a dream. Long lashes blink down at you when you raise your face, then soft lips press to your forehead.

“I mean it,” Din repeats gently. His voice sounds so different, so strangely unfamiliar without the tinny vocoder separating you. “Any time. Even when I’m not here – call me if you need me, alor’ika. I’ll always be here for you.”

His eyes leave you for a second when he looks at Boba who is standing a few feet behind you.

“That goes for both of you, Boba Jango’ad. Vode o’r besbe’trayce, vode par amy’kyrbej.”

Boba’s voice sounds strange when he speaks. You have never heard him like this, so vulnerable and genuine, not to anyone else but you.

“Vor entye, Din Mand’alor. Vode darasuum.“

An odd sound escapes you, something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“You are too good for this world, Din.” Your voice breaks when you say his name, but Din shrugs it off.

“Maybe. And maybe I’m making up for unspeakable sin. It’s all worth it just to look at you with my own eyes.”

Your knees nearly give out at his words. After all you have put him through, how can he still say that? After all that violence and death, all those betrayals, after the life he has led, how can he still be a good man? You don’t understand it, and it only makes you more grateful.

Boba clears his throat behind you, and you automatically pull away from Din only for him to grab you tighter. To your surprise, Boba does not sound the least bit jealous or angry or even impatient when he speaks.

“Murcyu kaysh, di’kut.”

His words make you laugh through your tears. Only Boba could manage to wrap the kindest act in rough words and an insult. You love him so much it hurts.

Din bends down, his face hovering only inches away from you. His thumb ghosts over your lower lip as you stare up at him, wide-eyed.

“May I?”

“Of course.” Even before the words have fully left your lips, his mouth is on yours. It does not last long, this desperate, impossible kiss. Just long enough to make the part of your heart that loves Din shatter into a million beskar-coloured shards.

Din lets you go. The sharp pieces inside your chest want to cut you open. Boba’s hands sneaking around your waist don’t let them. You are wrapped in warm care and soft affection, the pain dulled by Boba’s presence right beside you as Din turns back to you.

“Say goodbye to me.” Din’s plea is rough, full of a desperation you do not understand.

“Good night, Din.”

There is a beat where no one moves, Boba’s fingers soothing across your skin, then Din shakes his head.

“Not goodnight, sweet girl. Goodbye.”

It takes you way too long, the world slows to nothing as you stare at Din and the tears that shine in his eyes. Brown eyes. Always so sad, always so lonely. In this moment more than ever, you understand what it means to lose someone and be helpless.

“I- what? No! No, you can’t leave, you’re not leaving. You can’t leave, Din. I won’t- you can’t mean it, not now, not so soon, don’t- You have to stay. You can’t leave m- us.”

“And if not now, when would I go?” He blinks at you, way too calm in the face of the devastation his words bring.

“We can talk-”

“And what would that change?” Din shakes his head. Boba’s hands hold you tighter. “You are getting married. I am Mand’alor, and I have left my people alone for far too long already. I have shied away from the responsibility to stay here, with you. I can’t do that any longer. You knew that, you knew I had to go. Don’t you see, sarad’ika? If I don’t go now, I never will.”

“You don’t have a ship,” you protest weakly. “You can’t leave, you don’t have a ship.”

“Boba is lending me one. Fennec is coming with me, helping me settle things. She’ll bring the ship back.”

You turn around in Boba’s arms to stare at him accusingly.

“You planned this!”

“Alor’ika, this has been in the works… this has been coming from the moment Djarin stepped foot into the palace. You knew that. Of course we made plans for when he would be leaving, who could go with him, what we would do if he could not find a ship he liked. Din never meant to stay this long in the first place. Don’t be mad, not at him, not at me. You knew this. You just… didn’t want to think about it.” Boba bends down to whisper into your ear. “Don’t make this harder for him than it already is.”

And there they are, the only words that could make you stop pleading. A reminder of Din’s pain, of how much he must be struggling to go already without you so selfishly rambling at him. Boba knows you so well – too well.

Your exhaustion creeps up on you, rising from where you had banished it deep within your bones as you stare at both of them with tired eyes.

“Well then,” you finally say, and you sound so defeated that it nearly breaks you. “If there is no more to say… goodbye, Din. Please- please call us. Holo us. Comm us, whatever, I don’t care. Just don’t fall out of touch. We- I need to know you are alright.”

Din smiles sadly.

“I will, sweet girl. I promise.”

You want to ask if he will come to the wedding, you want to ask when you will see him again, but you cannot. It seems so unbearably cruel.

“Can you stand on your own for a moment, princess?” Boba’s voice is soft in your ear. You nod, though you stagger a bit when he lets you go. You are so tired.

You stumble over to the archway to sit down, just where Din used to sit. The shards in your chest rattle when you remember the first time you caught him sleeping there. Hey there, Mando. You knew so little of him then.

You lean your head back against the stone column behind you as you watch Boba step closer to Din. He places his hand on Din’s pauldron, the one with the signet on it. The gesture is oddly intimate. It feels like you are witnessing something you can’t understand. Your breath stutters when Boba leans forward to press his forehead against Din’s, just as Din’s hand comes to rest on Boba’s shoulder where his pauldron would be. Boba’s lips barely move, but the words are carried over to you nonetheless.

“Ni reta’vore gar lo cuun aliit, Din Naas’ad. Gar tom be’mhi.”

The soft words sear themselves into your memory though you can not make sense of them. It is the way Boba says them – so gentle and nearly apologetic. Like he missed a chance and is trying to make up for it now.

Your eyelids feel so heavy. But you don’t want to miss a moment of this, even if you can barely keep your eyes open, so you blink awake again to watch Din close his eyes and softly shake his head against Boba’s. Their faces are so close their noses touch with the movement. You don’t know why that tugs on your heart the way it does. Maybe it is seeing them together, united, so affectionate in the face of goodbye. Din’s sharp profile is such a contrast to Boba’s round jaw. Two men like day and night, and yet so alike. You think you will never forget this moment for as long as you live.

“She loves you,” Boba mumbles. You tremble when his quiet words reach you and recoil into the shadows. Din pulls back from the kov’nyn to look at you, though his hand remains on Boba’s shoulder.

“I know,” Din mutters. “Just- not enough.”

You bury your face in your arms. He is right, of course, and that is what hurts the most. No matter how much you want it to be enough, it just isn’t.

“Hmh.” Boba pauses for a second, considering his words. “I- you are dear to me, Djarin. I hope you find the happiness you deserve. I’m sorry for-”

Din steps back, his hand slipping from Boba’s shoulder just as Boba’s does from his.

“No apologies. This is the way.” He settles his helmet back where it belongs, his face once again hidden by silver beskar and an unreadable visor, his voice once again tinny and familiar.

“Ret’urcye mhi, Boba. Dar’tome nu’darasuum.”

“Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaj’la,” Boba says quietly, staring into empty space.

Din chuckles in response, the sudden sound breaking through the gloomy mood for a second. You stare at him and wish you could see his face when he laughs. He is the sun.

“Ni nu’kyrayc su, Fett.”

“Su.” Boba’s voice is dry, his smile small but you can hear it when he speaks. He never waivers, but you can feel the dull pain that emanates from underneath his indifferent façade. You desperately want to run to him and hold him just as tight as he did you when you arrived back here, but it feels wrong to disturb their moment. Boba is standing straight and tall as always, a broad-backed figure cast in shadows from the setting suns, but he seems less… grand. Tonight, he is just a man. Whatever you are losing, Boba is losing as well. A friend- inexplicably more than that. You are certain he loves Din in his own way.

Din’s helmet turns towards you and you hastily wipe your tears.

“I loved you, alor’ika. I don’t regret it.”

Your heart stumbles, and your mouth opens to respond though you do not know how. Before you can scrape together the courage to tell Din that, Oh Din, I love you too, I’m sorry it is not enough, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry you have to go, and I’m sorry I so selfishly want you to stay, Din turns around, away from you.

An arm sneaks around your shoulder, slender and familiar fingers squeezing your shoulder. Fennec. You stumble to your feet to hug her, and she lets you, pressing a hasty kiss to your cheek.

“I gotta go, tinker girl. I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to him, I promise.” She pauses for a second, her eyes flicking between you and Boba. “You take good care of him, you hear? He was insufferable while you were gone. You take him and you hold him, Stars know he needs it just as much as you.”

She gently nudges you in Boba’s direction and you let her go. Boba scoops you up into his arms as she climbs the ramp, throwing you a kiss and a wink. You feel like a sleepy child being carried home after a long journey when you wrap your legs around Boba’s waist and your arms around his neck. He hugs you back so tightly that you gasp for air and turns so you can both watch as Din climbs up the ramp. You stare at his broad back, the gleaming beskar covered by his ratty cape. Din does not turn back, and you find yourself shifting between wishing desperately that he would and being afraid that he might. You don’t know if you could bear it.

Boba holds you tighter when the doors seal after Din vanishes inside the ship. The thrusters fire up, and you quietly watch together as the ship ascends into orbit. And just like that, Din is gone.

****

Boba does not press you. He does not ask, does not talk, he just quietly holds you. And you are glad, so glad that he seems to understand exactly what you need. You know you will have to talk to him, you will have to tell him exactly what happened. But you don’t know if you could summon the strength right now.

You are exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Maybe if Din had stayed at least another day or two… Saying goodbye to him after all that has happened in the past few days… A small part of you wonders if it would have changed everything had he decided to stay. Would you still have married Boba?

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you know the answer – of course you would have. You love Din, there is no denying that, not without atrociously lying to yourself. But that love… you know, deep inside, that it will pass. Oh, you will always love Din, but the romance will fade with time, and you will be glad you let him go. You think it might pass for him too, this infatuation. He chose his duty over staying with you. You think maybe he would have even if you were not about to get married to another. Din is a good man, an honourable one. Denying his duty, even if it had been for love… eventually, it would have made him bitter. Unsettled. At least that is what you tell yourself.

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind while you wait for the elevator, wrapped safely in Boba’s arms. You cannot allow yourself to get lost in the would haves and could haves and should haves. What happened, happened. Kuat happened. Din left. But, most importantly of all, you are back home safe.

The hole in your heart aches with every step you and Boba take, with every mile that starfighter puts between you and Din. The pain is terrible, but Boba’s presence makes it bearable at least. He is here, finally right here. All those days spent travelling just to end up right back where you started, having achieved nothing except pain and hurt and loss. But at least you are back with Boba.

The elevator doors slide open to reveal your apartment, bathed in the soft glow of the setting suns.

“Thought you might like familiar surroundings tonight, princess.” Boba’s voice is rough and husky, and yet so gentle. Has it always been like this? So soothing, so grounding. It ghosts over your skin and lingers in the air; it settles deep in your chest until you finally feel at home.

“I don’t care where we sleep as long as you are there,” you mumble. Then, you amend, because it sounded much harsher than you intended. “But thank you, my love. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Boba grumbles softly in response and sets you down next to your bed. You look at him. He blinks, his head tilting as if he is waiting for you to say something.

“What?” You sound tired. You are tired.

“Do you..” he pauses, then takes a deep breath. “Do you want to talk about what happened? At the yards?”

Unpleasant images flash through your mind – Tovris’s rifle, hard and cold between your shoulder blades, Kuat’s poison-sweet voice. Unwelcome hands touching you without your permission, the threat of worse hanging heavy in the air. A deep rage burns inside you at the memory, all-encompassing; a fury so hot it can barely be contained.

But you just calmly shake your head. If you tell Boba now, he will kill Kuat. Simple as that. If you tell Boba what Kuat did, what he had planned, what he threatened to do to you… if Boba hears it from your lips, assuming Din has not already told him everything, Kuat won’t live to see the morning. You ponder for a second whether Din could possibly even know all that transpired. When did he step in? You can’t remember, your memory hazy and clouded by exhaustion.

So no, you cannot tell Boba. In spite of everything Kuat has done, of all he has put you through, the only thing that soothes the burning rage inside you wins: Reason. If Kuat is dead, that will only make it that much harder to find out who knows what, if there was anyone else behind all of this, who is after you… who planned to betray Boba. You will wait. You will go to sleep and rest, and wait until you have gathered yourself. Looking at Boba, who is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer, you shake your head.

“Not tonight.” You step closer to him to wrap your arms around his waist. Your belly presses against his, and you bury your face against his chest. “Tonight, I just want to hold you and be held by you. To be glad I am back here with you. To be thankful that I am safe, and I get to touch you and talk to you and be with you. I missed you more than I could bear.”

Boba hums, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“I missed you more.”

You look up at him, with only the smallest smile on your lips. You don’t have the strength for more.

“I missed you most.”

Boba’s fingers stroke across your cheek, tracing your nose, your lips, your jaw, travelling down towards your neck- you shudder, closing your eyes. Not there, you want to scream. Every touch there hurts, dark bruises in the shapes of long fingers wrapping around your throat. You are glad your neckline is high enough that Boba won’t see.

“Are you sure you are alright?” The worry in Boba’s voice is audible.

“I… I will be,” you say honestly.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.” Your answer is too quick. You take a breath – in… and out. “No. Being with you- I dreamed of it every second I was away.”

“That doesn’t mean it is what you need now.” Boba detaches himself from you. “Don’t-”

“I said I don’t want you to go.” Your voice is sharp, cutting through the room like ice. You hate it, hate that Kuat has destroyed this for you, hate that you cannot let Boba touch you whichever way he wants, hate your body’s response to it. Getting home and being with Boba is the only thing you thought about while you were away. And now Kuat’s ugly actions have tainted even that. Boba looks at you, his doubt clearly written on his features. You try to soften your voice.

“Don’t go. Please. Being alone… I don’t think I could stand it. The thought of being apart from you is- it’s unbearable. Stay. Please. Just… don’t move too fast, alright? Just hold me for now. No more.”

When Boba touches you again, it is with infinite care and tenderness.

“Of course, alor’ika. Whatever you need.”

You will yourself to relax into his touch. The overwhelming relief of reunion pushed everything else to the back of your mind, but now that you are alone, everything comes rushing back. You focus on the feeling of Boba’s fingers against your skin. They are rough, just as they always were. They are not soft like Kuat’s. Boba’s touches worship you, they carry a reverence, a love inside them. They don’t try to own you. You focus on that feeling, and tension starts to seep out of you. A thought crosses your mind, something from long ago, a permission you gave that you have to retract now. Even just for a while.

“Don’t- don’t touch me tonight while I sleep, okay?” Your voice is hesitant. “I couldn’t- I can’t wake up to that, I can’t-”

“I don’t… do you want me to sleep in your bed tonight or not, princess? Either way is fine, I just- can’t promise what I’ll do what I’m asleep, even if I don’t mean to touch you-”

“No, no. Not like that. I want you to hold me- I want to hold you. I need the comfort of you, my love. I meant… don’t touch me. Don’t wake me up with your fingers inside me, or your mouth on me.” You take a deep breath. “Just… don’t touch me like that. Not tonight.”

“Okay. I won’t, I promise. I wasn’t planning to- I want you to be awake, want you to look at me and kiss me… I’m glad you told me. Whatever makes you feel safe, little love.” Boba looks as if he wants to say more, to ask about this decision. He doesn’t, and you are relieved. You could not explain it now without getting into the details of everything you are allowing yourself to put off until tomorrow.

“You are sure everything else is okay?” Boba asks again. You try not to be annoyed – he cares so much. Everything he does is only to make sure you are comfortable, every question he asks to reassure you of his love.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

You strip off your clothes quickly, with your back turned to Boba, picking out a high-necked pyjama set from your closet that has never been touched before. Boba watches you with raised eyebrows, but he does not say anything. Your necklace catches on your top when you tug it down, and you are reminded of all the things you have to talk to Boba about. Everything that was left unsaid in the chaos of the last few days. Tomorrow, you promise yourself. Tomorrow. For now, you just need sleep. And Boba wrapped around you.

“Come to bed, my love,” you say quietly and stretch out your hand. “Come to bed and hold me. Make me feel at home.”

Boba’s movements are slow and deliberate as he undresses and crawls into bed to settle behind you. One arm wraps around your waist to pull you close, and his nose nudges the back of your neck. Your shiver this time is the good kind. You have missed him so, and to be held by him again… Gods. It feels like you can finally really relax.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum, alor’ika,“ Boba whispers. “I know you, even if you don’t tell me everything. I’m here for you whatever you need. I am not going anywhere.”

Your heart aches. You know how much these words cost him, these verbal affirmations of love. Boba is a man of action, and you know he only says these things because he knows that you need to hear them. You love him more than your heart can hold.

“I love you too, Boba.” You twist around in his arms to kiss him. “I’ll tell you everything, I promise. Just not tonight.”

Boba hums in agreement. You push one of your legs between his and rest your cheek on his warm chest. Big hands settle on your back, and Boba presses soft kisses into your hair. You are asleep before his lips ever leave you.

Previous Chapter ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Next Chapter

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Mando'a translations Ni tayli gar - I’ve got you. Boba Jango’ad. Vode o’r besbe’trayce, vode par amy’kyrbej. – Boba, Son of Jango. Brothers in arms, brothers for life (lit. “through changing battlefields”) Vor entye, Din Mand’alor. Vode darasuum. - Thank you, Din, Ruler of Mandalore. Brothers forever. Murcyu kaysh, di’kut. - Kiss her, you idiot. Ni reta’vore gar lo cuun aliit, Din Naas’ad. Gar tom be’mhi. - I could accept you into our clan, Din, Son of Nobody. You are a part of us. Ret’urcye mhi, Boba. Dar’tome nu’darasuum. - Goodbye (“We’ll see each other”.) Apart, but not forever. Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaj’la. - Not gone, merely marching far away (The Mando’a dictionary lists ‘Tribute to a fallen comrade’ as the use of the phrase, so that is the cultural context I am imagining for this – just to make sense of Din’s response) Ni nu’kyrayc su, Fett. - I’m not dead yet, Fett. Su – Yet Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum - I love you (“I know you forever”)

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[watiamdoingwithmylife666]

Can you do Levi’s love language pleaseee!

I'm going to write it in the most canon-able way, so Levi never really had a romance and you are his first-ever partner.

Hope you will like it!

Giving: Act of service - quality time - Word of affirmation

receiving: Quality time - Word of affirmation - Physical touch

Levi's love language is tricky at first. You need to get to know him to fully understand his action and recognize his act. His primary love language is act of service. Mostly because at first he wouldn't know how to deal with his feeling and would want to make you happy, so his first instinct would tell him to be useful. It can be just bringing you a cup of tea, cleaning your room or laundry if you are too busy, helping you to put the ODM. This one is closely related to his other big love language, quality time.

At first, Levi would be torn between, spend most of his time with you, or ignoring you. This poor boy bottled up his emotion since his born, and now he's dealing with an emotion that he barely knows, no to mention that he barely knows how to handle it. A part of him is euphoric, he wants to spend his whole time with you, get to know all of you, it the beginning, he's discovering the effect of being important for someone (in a romantic way). But the other part of him is afraid of everything that could go wrong, plus he doesn't want people to know you are together so he can't really spend his whole time with you. That's why quality time is important in your relationship. It can be just you two doing your paperwork together in silence or a moment when both of you can just be a couple, without talking about your work but just you. It's important for him to have a quiet space just the both of you to be out of his crazy life in the survey.

As much as people know Levi, they all know how rare compliments can be. His training are known to be rough and hard, and even if he does give some compliments they are only work-related. But with you, he always finds something nice to say, in his own Levi's style. Like if he like your hairstyle of the day he would casually say something like "Likes the stuff you did to your hair" with pink dust on his cheek. It's also caring for you, a mix like act of service and praise, he would run you a bath and tell you to get some rest in it because you did really great this week at work.

I know you're probably thinking that Levi already gets plenty of words of affirmation by being called "the strongest" by everybody. But you will get a puddle if you tell him how pretty he is. Again, he wasn't used to being praised (except in his work but does it really count? not it's not you.) And having his partner say sweet things to him makes him blush. Tell him how you love it when he makes you tea, or when you just spend time with him like cooking or going for a walk. Praise him for something he's not used to be praised and his heart will be flustered

And finally, Levi is touch-starved. I will probably fight everyone who says otherwise because I could bet that (if you are in couple he trust you with his whole heart) you just have to run your hand in his hair and he melts to your touch. At the beginning of your relationship, he would be hesitant and probably never initiate, but he loved holding your hand, love cuddling before sleeping. But what he prefers the most are your kiss on his cheek. Obviously, it's in his Levi's way, nothing outside the closed doors because he doesn't want people to know. And they are times for love and cuddles and time for work. Levi like thing well organized and so does with his schedule.