#i have seen so fucking many romantic partners who barely know each other

[aro-culture-is]

Aro culture is doing a project for a social communications class that involves how close you are with a person, with "romantic partners" being the highest. And being so deeply deeply pissed about it that you just put that romance is fundamentally different from platonic attraction and not completing the slide.

.

[choccyhearts]

A Collection of Steddie Thoughts For You

Note: Hello!! It's good to be back ^_^ While I was away, I've been daydreaming about Steddie x reader so much and I need to share

CW: 18+!!, NSFW headcanons at the bottom but aren't too detailed or graphic, g/n reader, r's genitals not mentioned, oral sex m and r receiving, penetrative sex, daddy kink, d/s dynamic mentioned, mentions of getting high, plz lemme know if I missed anything

Getting a new boyfriend is always so exciting and fun! But...what if you got another new boyfriend...who was also your boyfriend's new boyfriend?

That's how it started; you and Eddie Munson longtime friends slowly falling into each other as lovers, enjoying the honeymoon phase much to the envy of mutual friend (and secret crush) Steve Harrington, only for him to end up invited into your lives, relationship, and hearts.

Now, the three of you are inseparable (well, as much as you can be in a small town with an even smaller mind...)

Anyways, on to the fun....

Sfw:

The three of you piling onto a king-size mattress every night, separating from each other at some point but finding yourselves twisted together again by the morning.

Steve and Eddie like taking turns cooking breakfast, claiming you deserve your beauty rest and to be served like royalty

You and Steve sitting in the front of his car, parked at a drive-in movie and Eddie pops up dramatically from the backseat floor, gasping for air as if he wasn't begging to be the one snuck in.

Sitting on Eddie's lap and playing his guitar, his fingers guiding yours as Steve watches from across the room, heart melting.

Always having a dance partner wherever you go (usually Eddie). Eddie loves indulging in the joy or excitement you express through little dances and hyper movement and wants to encourage you so he joins in. Anything to keep the smile on his baby's sweet face.

Steve will join you if it's something he can either hold you close to sweetly, romantically and innocently...or not so innocently...*cough* man LOOOOVES grinding with you in dark bars and clubs *cough*.

On this topic, this isn't reallyyyy Steddie related...but I need it out, fuck does Steve love MJ. His albums have scored many a impromptu at home dance break or steamy makeout session. I just think it's the raw energy MJ has that entices Steve and he loves how effortlessly he can sweep a lady off her feet in the music videos and that's how he wants to make you and Eddie feel all the time. Steve may be an idiot, but he isn't dumb. He knows you and Eddie go ga ga over him and he knows he's attractive so he loves making the both of you flustered with his sensual energy and suave nature.

Steve having to witness yours and Eddie's weed fueled antics. Such as chasing trailer park kitties and begging Steve to take one home (he didn't enjoy having to be the bad guy).

But don't worry, he caves and you guys get a healthy kitty from a shelter...and return a few months later to get a labrador pup for Stevie cause his heart craves a little animal to love.

Eddie giving you and Steve massages that make you see God. Like actual massages, this isn't the NSFW part yet. He has such strong and skilled hands from all his little hobbies and having to fix his van so often. He loves getting to make his partners feel so good (😈)

Finding random hairs in random places....come on, ya'll are all gonna be shedding, if not just the two boys alone would. You haven't seen either boyfriend in hours but you just pulled a Stevie hair from your shirt and an Eddie hair from your own hair.

Eddie taking you all on a graveyard date. A sweet little picnic of Eddie Munson's famous mac n cheese (barely warm), sliced up fruits, cookies, your favorite drinks...all on a thick black blanket taken from the back of his van. It's beautiful under the stars and full moon, your boys holding on to you and basking in your warmth. Crickets chirp, little paws scamper over leaves and...is that...a growling sound under ground?....eh, oh well, you guys are too in love and in your own world to notice if there was a zombie outbreak

Steve goes for runs as a part of his morning routine, donning the same pair of navy short shorts and tennis shoes every day. Eventually, Eddie decides to join after he notices how much good it does for his boyfriend's thighs and ass (👀)

Soon, it becomes a regular occurrence to see a shirtless Eddie Munson jogging, wearing a similar pair of short shorts as Steve, just in black. The community at first thinks he's acting suspicious, a part of something they'd see on the news later...but it never happens. What does happen is the ladies, and some gentlemen, of Hawkins have taken to going outside more often...coincidentally at the same time Eddie or Steve are out for their usual run...

Jokingly squeezing Stevie's titties (🫠)

"You're so cute, I could just eat you up" Steve 🤝 "I love you so much, I wanna cut you open and live inside" Eddie

Eddie writes songs about both of you, kepeing them to himself until he's perfected them for you both to hear

You each feel like you've found your forever home. It may not be as conventional as you each probably envisioned for your future but it's so much better.

Nsfw:

Getting soft, slow, romantic, passionate, hot sex with Stevie and goofy, nasty, spicy, lustful, hungry sex with Eddie. The two of them getting a weird combo of them both when it's just them.

You adapt to whatever they throw at you and also keep them on their toes too. You love teasing them, showing your strength and that you can always handle what they give you. You act as their rock, comforting them when either of them gets emotional in any way. They both have slight issues with intimacy and having an added person can make things a bit overwhelming and each of you is understanding and caring.

Sometimes when you're too sleepy to get in the mood, you tell them to just do it next to you so you have something to fall asleep to. They do it of course, going even harder than usual to make a scene.

Sucking on Stevie's titties -- you occasionally make eye contact with Eddie whose latched on to his other one.....

They allow you to dominate them -- sometimes seriously and sometimes they keep you in subspace as they let you do what you please to them, being the sweetest, loviest softest dom daddies ever😵‍💫

S: "Aw, look at you, getting your daddies to do whatever you want them too...you're doing so well, keep going, Daddy still has a little fight to him...aren't you just the cutest dom to ever live..."

E: "Look at you, baby, so strong taking whatever you want from Daddy...good job, you're so strong, so dominant, baby...learned from the best, huh?..."

(This isn't totally NSFW really but idk, this is still daddy kink so...) Getting what the guys refer to as "daddy sandwiches", which is where they both smother your face in kisses at the same time. It's usually to cheer or rile you up, and they both love it. They just love loving on you.

Taking care of both of their morning woods, ducking under the sheets as they slowly wake up

Fucking in Eddie's van and someone at some point banging their head on the ceiling

While they both like to watch the other fuck you, it's usually Eddie that hides out of sight and watches as Steve brings you orgasm multiple times, touching himself slowly as to not give away his presence

But you also love being a little voyeur, watching your two boys love on each other, their muscles flexing and shining in the moonlight, their hands looking soooo pretty while wrapped around each other's cocks

Steve sloppily making out with you while Eddie goes down on you under the kitchen table

Licking at Steve's irresistible puckered hole as he slams in and out of Eddie🥲

2 boyfriends means 2 mouths and that just means more hickies

2 boyfriends also means lots of attention during aftercare, one going off to get you what you need as the other holds you against his chest, softly whispering words of encouragement and praise

sigh....🫠🩷

[blushinggray]

change of plans: part 12 [final]

sero hanta x fem!reader

part 12/12 (part 11 | part 1)

cw // fluff. sappy, sugary, cavity-inducing fluff. slight angst, self reflection, implied sexual content. and last warning: fluff

a/n: finally at the finish line, folks!! tysm for sticking with me to the end and being so patient for this last part. i hope you enjoy it so very much. also watch out, bc this last part is about 17k

—

Hanta believes in love. He always has.

He's seen it in his family, his friends, in the movies, TV shows, photographs, books, everywhere. He'd say he's even been in love himself before. It was a wild and exciting adolescence, and they eventually grew out of each other, but it was real.

And because Hanta knows that it can be real, he knows that it's perfectly fine to take his time. He's a romantic at heart, but there's nothing wrong with having a good time.

If he’s learned anything from his family’s and friends’ relationships, and all the telenovelas his cousins made him watch in the past, it’s that it’s perfectly natural to take time to build a connection. As well for a little drama to crop up in the process.

So that's why he spends the first half of his college years playing the field, seeing what kind of style of love or partner he likes, building skill and experience.

It's not that he's afraid of commitment, despite what his reputation or body count might imply. It's more like... he hasn't really found anyone he's truly interested in yet.

Yeah, he's connected with plenty of people, charmed his way into the graces of many a pretty face, and he's diligent about his partners' pleasure — he never lets them leave with just one orgasm, if he can help it. And there have been a few that he comes back to once or twice.

But still, he rarely comes across someone who makes him think, "they could be the one."

Someone who could make him feel that beautiful thing he's seen shared in a tender kiss, or a soft hug in the kitchen, or worn hands kneading tortilla dough together, or a conversation over morning coffee.

That's not to say he hasn't tried before, because he has. He has plenty of tricks he's learned over the years from his family and friends all over the world to woo someone and give them a few more butterflies.

But it's not just about that. He has to feel it; that connection, that desire, that passion. It has to be real, and mutual.

And he's sure that when the person comes, he'll just know.

When he meets you for the first time, he barely has a clue.

He's at a live karaoke bar with friends. Usually there are always some drunk college kids who are willing to step up to the mic and entertain or annoy the room, but it's actually pretty dead that night.

Hanta's mainly here because Denki brought him to hang out with his other friends in the psych department. He's met Monoma and Tokage before, but there were a few new faces he was getting to know tonight, namely Shinsou and Honenuki — both of whom resembled zombies in laughably different ways.

In Shinsou's case, it was the dark circles that would make you think he had already died once. Probably because he's already working his ass off to get into the school's graduate program.

For Honenuki though, he just had a really sharp facial structure, like his skin was thinner than most people's so it'd make every bone in his face stand out. Hanta's always had big teeth and a wide smile himself, but he swears he could practically see Honenuki's molars when the guy smiled.

They were all cool though, and they knew a bunch of people around, so Hanta's introduced to even more new faces throughout the night. Many of whom are very pretty, he might add.

When he's spoiled for choice, he tries to take his time to see who's interested in some conversation first. Not that he's opposed to a dirty fuck in the bathroom every once in a while, but the night is still young.

So far, his attention's been taken up by this cute brunette twink with a small waist and perky ass. He's got a bunch of piercings in his ears and one on his septum. And he had "let slip" that his nipples are done too, which Hanta is always a fan of.

They're all having a good time, taking shots, getting drinks, cheering on whoever's willing to get up to the slightly raised, circular stage in the middle of the bar and grab the mic.

Hanta's got his arm around the cute brunette's waist — whose name is Riki, he's learned — a while later, helping hold him up since he's apparently a lightweight and already had two drinks. And with the way Riki's clinging onto him, Hanta's fairly sure he'll get to see those nipple piercings for himself later tonight.

Some point in the night, Denki is complaining about how no one's given a decent performance on stage so far, "Like, how come none of the acapella girls are out tonight? They love this place!"

"There's an acapella group at our school?" Shinsou asks.

"Yeah, but they're like, not an official school club or anything." Denki waves his hand, "They just sing together out in the quad or something. There's no big competitions to try out for like in 'Pitch Perfect.'"

"Oh yeah, I've seen them singing together out in the grass sometimes, too." Riki says, "I heard they're actually just friends from one of the local church choirs."

"Yeah, they are." Honenuki confirms, "I'm friends with a few of them, and they're pretty good. They post videos of them singing online sometimes that do pretty well."

“Sero’s pretty friendly with a few of them too, aren’t you?” Denki shoots a look over at Hanta, like a little shit.

Does he not see this cute boy hanging off of him right now?

“You should call them up and invite ‘em out here!” Denki suggests.

“Shut up, dude.” Hanta shakes his head, rolling his eyes, “I’m not that close with them. I don’t even think I have their numbers saved.”

He does. But calling up girls that he’s only ever slept with before when he might be sleeping with someone else tonight would not be the move.

"Honenuki, you should call them to come out then!" Denki moves on quickly, "This place is so dead tonight, we needa liven it up a bit."

"I mean, I can ask, but there's no guarantee that they'll come." Honenuki shrugs, but takes out his phone anyway.

It was a long shot, but by some miracle, one of his friends responds and apparently she's already out on the town at another bar with some of her own friends. So she said she'd hop over here since they were figuring out their next stop anyway.

And when a new group of about five girls show up to the bar, Honenuki waves you over. Hanta doesn’t recognize you or any of the friends you’ve brought along, which is a relief to him.

You lead your group over and get everybody introduced, though you and Denki already seem to know each other.

"We had a communications class together in freshman year." Denki explains.

"Your presentations were always hilarious." You chuckle at him, "You were definitely high during most of them."

"Oh shit, that obvious?" Denki laughs with you for a bit until eventually, he says, "But I didn't know you were part of the acapella group!"

"I'm not part of the church choir that most of the girls are in, but I'm friends with most of them. So they just let me join in whenever they're doing a singing circle or whatever." You shrug. "I'm definitely not nearly as good as any of them though."

"Oh, come on. You're good." Honenuki says, nudging you with an elbow. "That's why they keep inviting you to join them."

You hum with a cheeky smile before you nudge him back, "Well, you said it, not me."

"You should sing something tonight." Honenuki suggests, offering you the weed pen he’s been smoking from, "It'd really liven up the place."

"Yeah? You need me to wave around my karaoke mic like a magic wand to save your night?" You joke, still smiling even as you take the vape.

Honenuki meets your smile halfway, suddenly creating something more electric in the room.

And he says, "What? You didn't come here to save my night?"

“Okay.” You break into a small snort as you shift your body towards him as you bring the vape pen up to your mouth, creating a soft tension that Hanta can't look away from. "And what do I get for singing a little song for you?"

At that, Honenuki gives you a small shrug before leaning in to whisper something into your ear while you're slowly inhaling from the mouthpiece. And when he pulls back, the two of you watch each other as you blow out the thin smoke.

There's a special kind of tension there that slows everything down around you, and Hanta can't help but watch and appreciate it, kind of wishing he had something like that for himself.

"You know ‘Fierce Wings’?" You eventually ask, breaking the long, sticky gaze with Honenuki.

"By Hawks? Yeah." Honenuki answers.

"You start, then. I'll sing backup." You say as you take another long puff before returning the pen to him, then beckoning for him to follow you up to the song selection tablet placed beside the stage.

That's how Honenuki gets wrangled into taking the stage as the main vocalist of the song you end up choosing. You really do just take up the supporting role of the song, harmonizing with him and singing the background lyrics in the chorus until you trick everyone into thinking Honenuki is the star of the performance.

Hanta really doesn't know what to make of the whole thing, but the bar and the stage do end up getting livelier after that. There are cheers and suddenly other people are queueing up songs, and Hanta vaguely recalls you taking the stage again with your friends at some point.

He ends up a little preoccupied with Riki's cute, heart-shaped nipple rings to remember much else about that night, but the effect of your presence doesn’t leave him or his memory.

—

He does remember you the next time he sees you at a party.

Denki's the one who greets you and reintroduces Hanta to you, though you only give him a polite smile and greeting before starting a conversation somewhere else. He doesn't think much of it until he sees you jamming out in the living room with a few of your friends, like something out of a coming-of-age movie.

And that’s probably the first time he lets himself take a good look at you, long enough to realize how pretty you are.

Maybe he was a little too preoccupied to realize it last time, but it’s pretty hard not to notice a smile like that. Especially when you put a little playfulness into it.

Hanta doesn’t get to see it for himself a lot. Every time he runs into you at a party after that, he only ever catches that pretty smile when you’re laughing at someone else’s jokes, or singing and dancing along to a song that’s playing, or cackling drunkly with your friends, or maybe even flirting with someone else.

And he can tell when you’re flirting with someone.

You’ll have that smile on your face, but suddenly the air around you will just thicken and fill up with that same tension he felt around you that first night at the karaoke bar. Tension that Hanta can sense even from across the room or through a window or from the balcony he’s (unintentionally) watching from.

You flirt in a way that makes him feel like he’s wading through honey just from watching you.

It’s not long before he starts to wonder if he can get a taste of it for himself. And to his credit, he gives it an honest try. Comes up to you and tries to start a longer conversation or make a flirty joke, but you never give him the opening for long.

After a while of assuming it’s just bad timing on his part, Hanta starts to realize that your excuses are very much intentional.

“Oh hey! That’s my friend over there, I’m gonna go catch up with them. Nice talking to you, Sero.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t planning on staying long tonight. Got an exam coming up.”

“I was actually on my way to the bathroom. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Ugh. You are too much.” You had just straight up rolled your eyes at him once and left (after an admittedly cheesy line), “Catch ya later.”

While you never fail to escape him, he doesn’t get the sense that you’re uninterested in him. He has a feeling that if you really wanted nothing to do with him, you’d let him know.

Because he’s seen it. Those short tickles of tension that fill the space between you when your eyes meet for a little too long. A short few seconds where you let your guard down and enjoy yourself in front of him.

Something’s there. If he could just extend those seconds for a little longer…

“Are you ever going to stop making those dumb, googly eyes and actually, you know, talk to her?” Mina breaks him out of his thoughts one night, when they’re all just kicking back at Denki’s place.

In all honesty, Hanta wasn’t even sure if he wanted to come tonight, but when his friend eventually dropped your name among the others that were coming, he couldn’t stop his own sudden change of heart.

Not that his chances with you will improve any more than he’s tried so far, but it doesn’t stop him from showing up and staring (apparently obviously) from his corner of the room anyway.

“I’ve talked to her,” Hanta defends himself, taking a gulp of the vodka and orange he mixed himself before he shrugs, “She just doesn’t wanna talk to me.”

“What? Why not?” Mina asks.

“Probably because he’s already slept with a few of her friends.” Denki snorts, finishing up his own drinks on the counter.

He hands one of them to Mina, who takes it with a hum, “That checks out.”

“Hey! How is that my fault?” Hanta defends again, “I met them all on different occasions. And it was always mutually casual.”

“Okay, whatever.” Mina rolls her eyes before taking a sip of the poison Denki mixed her before almost choking on it.

“Well, cut him some slack.” Denki shrugs, “He definitely hasn’t made those googly eyes at any of her friends so far. Honestly the first time I’ve seen Hanta simp like this since high school.”

“I am not simping.” Hanta groans, “I’m just interested in her. That’s all.”

He wants to feel how dense the air gets when you turn that playful smile at him. Maybe take a bath in it if you let him. He just has yet to convince you that it’d be worth your while.

But Denki might have a point. If Hanta’s reputation precedes him, then that would explain why you barely ever spare him more than a few minutes of your time.

"Well, I think you guys would be cute together, so I am totally onboard with this little crush." Mina smiles widely, clearly eager to start meddling. She’s already turning over to Denki to ask, “Do you still have that Jenga set that we wrote on?”

By some miracle of Mina’s making, about an hour later, he’s sitting in a circle with you and the others, looking down at your pretty eyes as he spits a shot of jaeger into your open, waiting mouth. He’s almost immediately at half mast as you look up at him while you take all of his alcohol and spit.

And not too long after that, he’s nursing his poor semi with the sound of your drunken giggles in the kitchen, taking up your space, absolutely relishing the feeling of you finally flirting back.

He savors every smile, returns every comment, and takes every opening that leads him to the taste of your lips.

Because once he finally does get to press his lips into yours, with a mouthful of orange juice no less, he gets it.

He finally gets what he was missing, what he’s been wanting to know this whole time.

What it feels like to be caught up in your eyes and honey web aura, and to enjoy capture.

When you sigh like that and wrap your arms and legs around him after he places you on the edge of the sink, Hanta thinks that maybe he enjoys being caged after all.

If you wanted to keep him anchored to you with this dense, hot-wired, yet giddy feeling you bring out of him, he can’t say that he’d mind.

Just when he starts to think he’s going to have the best night of his life, however, he’s interrupted.

Then pushed away.

Then stumped as you pull a move that Hanta did not expect.

You look like you just had to snap yourself out of a bad dream when you turn on the sink and splash the adorably dazed look you had right off your face.

He has no idea what’s going on, but suddenly you’re apologizing and leaving the kickback like you hadn’t just weaved bits of Hanta’s soul into some new, puzzling shape.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mina and Toru accidentally interrupted, as much as his dick wants to say otherwise. Hanta finds it dizzying to settle back into reality after that kiss. It’s like the two of you had built up your own little world around him before you suddenly broke it right back down.

Hanta can't seem to get the taste of you out of his mind even when he washes it out of his mouth with more drinks.

Mina keeps trying to convince him that there's still hope, but the way you broke out of his arms and ran for the door was as clear as rejection could be. As much fun as you seemed to be having with him tonight, there is clearly something holding you back.

Ironically, Hanta is more fired up than ever to try and close the distance now that he knows how you flirt and taste firsthand.

He’s finally in your peripheral. He just has to find a way to stay there.

—

He hadn't expected to see you again so soon, let alone have one of the nicest meals he's had with a new companion in a while.

According to Magne-san, he was just all smiles throughout lunch, which she made sure to tease him for while he paid the bill.

Which, fine, yeah he was playing up the humor and smooth talk a little more than usual, since he saw you react so well to that when you were flirting with other guys before.

But it didn't seem to have the same effect on you when he did it, which kind of sucks.

He thought he was doing pretty well with the banter, though he was caught off guard a few times when you genuinely made him laugh.

Even when you’ve got your guard up around him, you’re still rather pleasant to talk to. Or at least, you bounce off of Hanta’s playfulness pretty easily. He finds himself wishing for lunch to last just a while longer, so he can keep rallying with you, convince you to lower your walls just a little more.

But by the time he and you part ways at the station, it still doesn't feel like he's changed your impression of him. He didn't even get your number, or any kind of real promise to see you again.

He did manage to sneak a photo of you.

While he told you he deleted it, he sent it to Mina first to archive it. It was just so cute. When he gets home and settles down in his room, it's the first thing he pulls up to stare at for a while.

Your cute, concentrated face being stuffed with noodles as you genuinely enjoy the food at one of his favorite places. It's so casual and natural that he could probably convince himself that this is a date picture.

He saves it to his favorites and tries not to think about your pretty face and sarcastic humor for the rest of the week.

—

Running into you at Jirou's place is an actual coincidence. Mina and Toru hadn't mentioned anything about this hangout to him since it was probably a girls' thing in the first place, but Denki wanted to crash the party when Hanta mentioned he was going to drop by to give Jirou her edited photos.

It was coincidence, but... when you don't choose to sit away from him, he can't help but get close.

And then, when you start to run your fingers through his hair, he can't help but melt against you.

Once you start singing in perfect harmony with Yaomomo, casually revealing that you know French, he can't help but just stare up at you in awe.

And then, when you start talking about some French guy named Aoyama, telling stories about him that put a cheery laugh on your pretty face, Hanta can't help but feel a light pain in his chest. As well as the irritable burn of jealousy flaring up.

"Hey, c'mere." He brings your attention back to him when he receives the blunt again.

He doesn't know what possesses him to do it, to kiss you in front of everyone unprompted, but he does it.

The jealousy is one thing, but the nerve to bring you down to shotgun a breath of smoke into your mouth as an excuse to get your mind off of this super funny French dude you're talking about is... Well, it's certainly a surprise to him.

What's even more of a surprise, though, is that you give him that cheeky look of yours and return the favor, snatching the blunt out of his hand to blow a fresh breath of smoke right back into his mouth.

Hanta tries not to kiss back too eagerly, despite the fact that he's got his hand on the back of your neck to keep you down here with him. But he's predictably interrupted again when Mina demands to know what is happening.

Honestly, he’d like to know himself. But you play it off before he can flirt his way into a more promising answer.

He plays it cool for the next few hours as you try to get your space from him, but frankly, after you kissed him back like that, it's a lost cause trying to keep his mind off of you.

All he wants to do is kiss you again.

He has to kiss you again.

So he does.

When you leave for the night, he chases after you and gets a proper taste of your mouth again before you start hypnotizing him with that honey-thick tension you create with your eyes. Your body is so soft, and your voice so sweet as you make little whining noises against him.

So fucking cute.

He can't remember the last time he's felt like this from just kissing someone. His hands are cupping your face, but his body is going crazy. Just the satisfaction of you finally reciprocating his surprisingly profound desire for you has him bricked up.

Because you do want him.

Despite how you've been trying to keep your distance, you want him too. He can tell, from the way you just kiss him like you're planting seeds of your soul to root into his heart.

Which is why he's that much more thrown off when you push him away again.

How can you kiss him like that and still want to go home alone?

He won't lie. He's a little disheartened.

And confused.

You left him your number this time but if things are just going to keep going like this, then he isn’t sure what to think.

While he can handle the slight blueballing, he doesn’t know how to read all of your mixed signals.

You kiss him like you want him.

But then you insist that you don’t.

He calls you that same night in some desperate attempt to get some reassurance, only to be shut down. Though he was faded by that point, so he can’t remember if he had the best approach or not.

From the sound of your voice, you actually sound rather annoyed, so now he’s even more dejected.

So he figures maybe it’s a sign that he shouldn’t keep pushing.

—

He mutes your notifications on purpose, to keep himself from jumping to text you back the very moment you send him a message. To play it cool. To not push you further away than his reputation seems to have already done for him.

Hanta keeps busy as usual, preoccupying himself with school, his friends, work, photography, spontaneous outings, stupid behavior, all his usual things.

Well, maybe not all his usual things.

He's been turning down a lot of invitations to hang out with people he'd usually end up naked with.

All the flirty banter, the pretty faces, the killer bodies, and the casual fun Hanta would indulge in don't appeal to him as much as they did before.

Or, maybe it's more accurate to say that someone else appeals to him way more.

He still appreciates a cute face or a flirty interaction every here and there, but nothing hits the same as your pretty face after you come up from a kiss. Which is something he ends up replaying in his mind at some point every day.

Even when he keeps himself busy, or smokes his thoughts away, or keeps his phone out of reach for most of the day, or even tries to flirt around with someone else, his thoughts always go back to you when he’s in bed at night. There’s no way to stop them from taking over his mind once he’s alone, forced to sit with his own thoughts.

It’s pretty bad.

And sometimes, when he ends up dreaming about you, he'll wake up with an almost painful hard-on that he has no choice but to relieve himself from. It's not like he's getting any other action these days.

If whatever wet, humid dream he was having escapes him before he can finish, he just imagines you himself.

He'll start simple, with an easy stroke as he recalls actual memories of your dazed eyes and cute pout after he kissed you. The softness of your lips and body. The sweet scent that lingered off of your skin when he leaned in close enough.

Then by the time he’s full-on fantasizing about you naked in countless positions he’d never repeat aloud to anyone, he’ll make a fucking mess of himself. Sometimes his dick doesn’t even die down with the first one, so he’ll do it again.

Pathetic as it is, he kind of sees it as image training. Hopefully for when he does eventually get the chance to feel you against his body for real.

He can't be sure when that'll ever be, but it's just how he makes do for now.

When Hanta catches sight of you by chance in the student center, a good three weeks or so since he last saw you in person, he ditches whoever he’s with at the time and scurries over to you without a second thought. Like a moth to a flame.

And while he thinks all’s going well at first — your eyes won’t stop darting towards his new lip piercing that he got on the fly last week — you’re quick to pull away. And then even jump ship when you start jabbering away in French with a pretty blonde twink who appears out of nowhere. (He really is pretty, though his style’s a bit gaudy for Hanta’s taste.)

It really hits him then when your mood takes a complete 180 once this Aoyama guy shows up. All the muted caution and slight grumpiness you had given Hanta had all but melted away as you made contact with your friend.

And while Hanta is fairly sure that you’re not into Aoyama that way (now that he’s met the guy for himself), that doesn’t mean that his chance with you has improved at all.

That’s when he realizes maybe he fucked up a bit.

Because he likes you. He wants a chance with you.

And he’s spent the last couple of weeks flubbing his opportunities to talk to you, trying to play it cool when in actuality, he only wants to get to know you more.

He wants to have more meals and longer talks with you. He wants to know more about the things you do, know, and like. He wants you to have that cheerful, happy look on your face that you gave Aoyama when you look at him.

He wants that.

He realizes that now, stupid as he is. But it’s clear by the guarded, huffy way you talk to him that he is nowhere near your good graces right now.

But fuck, he’d do anything to find his way back. He tries, in a last desperate attempt, to see you again. In a group setting, just to be safe. But the way you say goodbye to him tells him that he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

—

Hanta can tell something has changed by the time he has sex with you for the first time.

He kind of just lets himself daydream about you without restriction now, which is honestly freeing.

Unfortunately, his texting relationship with you doesn’t seem like it can be salvaged anymore, but he still feels so much better now that he’s realized how he actually feels about you.

While he’s silently becoming more and more obsessed with you, he kind of just loses his sense of shame or embarrassment every time his friends try to tease him about you.

When Denki told him that you texted him about the kickback, Hanta didn’t even hide his wide-eyed shock or anticipation. Denki and the others who were there at the time laughed at him at first, but quickly switched gears when they realized he was being serious.

“Shut up, you guys. Don’t mess this up for me.” He had pleaded, “I really think I like her. But she seemed kinda pissed at me recently, so I really don’t need any more reasons for her to hate me.”

“What? Hanta, come on, she doesn’t hate you.” Mina insisted, “If anything, she probably hates that she likes you.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want her to hate that she likes me. I want her to want to like me.” Hanta said.

“Wait, what?” Eijirou blinked, not following, “If she likes him back, then why would she hate liking him? Or wait— did you mean that she hates and likes him? Or that she hates— Wait, what—”

“Thank you, sweetie. Shut up, now.” Mina patted their friend’s head before getting back to the matter at hand, “[Name]’s probably just being careful, okay? Last time she dated a guy like Hanta, it didn’t end well for her.”

“Who’d she go out with?” Denki asked.

“This guy named Kaibara, from the engineering department.” Mina answered, “Super pretty boy. Fuckboy Supreme, honestly.”

“Oh shit, Kaibara Sen?” Denki sat up in surprise, “Dude, he is hot. I mean, not within the engineering department, but you know their building is right next to humanities, right? So all the girls there are always lingering around engineering for him. Guy’s got bitches lined up.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Hanta interrupted, “Who gives a shit about him? I need to prove that I’m not him so that she’ll stop avoiding me.”

“Wow, you’re really serious about this, huh?” Eijirou awed, “You must really like her, bro.”

“And what about it?” He pouted back, hiding behind a blunt.

“Alright, everyone shut up!” Mina clapped her hands to demand everyone’s attention, “We all have to be on top of this if Hanta’s gonna get his proper one-on-one time to win [Name] over. So come Saturday, no one is allowed to hoard more than five minutes with her at a time!”

“What if Hanta’s with her in a communal area?” Shouto asked.

“Unless Hanta is with her in a communal area!” Mina revised, making Hanta groan in exasperation.

He loves his friends but they can be so damn dramatic.

Still, he appreciates their support. He probably wouldn’t have had the chance to get to know you better in the first place if it weren’t in part for their meddling.

And despite how he knows he’s going to have to endure a lot more teasing and jokes at his expense from them, he already knows that just a kiss from you is worth all of it.

Because he’s kissed you enough times to know that each one changes the chemical balance in his brain a little more. That he’s gonna develop an addiction to you soon enough.

When you show up that evening wearing the greatest hoodie he’s ever seen from the HR franchise, the nerves in his hands dance with the need to immortalize this sight. He just has to keep this image of you in Cellophane colors forever.

When you look up at him after he’s cornered you in the kitchen, he feels that chemical change snap inside of him, charging up for a strike as you ask, “So what do I get in return for being your pretty little subject?”

Just like that first night he watched you talk to Honenuki.

When you break away from his gluttonous, desperate kiss to say, “Take me to the roof,” he feels his blood crackle beneath his skin, about to flare up in a fire from the inside.

Your body feels like heaven, and your face when you come is just… meant to be captured in a painting or something. Everything about you has him sighing in bliss or staring in awe or kissing in desperation.

He can’t stop kissing you.

It just feels too good, tastes like his own personal nectar.

He feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t find out what your pussy tastes like, too.

It all feels like it passes far too quickly, despite his thorough intent to take his time with you. He would fuck you out here on this rooftop until the sun came up if you’d let him, and it still wouldn’t feel like enough time. There are just so many things — so many things — he still needs to learn about you.

Like if you sound like this every time you come close, or if you make different noises based on how long he’s had to tease you.

Or if you’re sensitive in any spots that he can’t reach while you’re both trapped in your pants around your thighs.

How do you look when you’re completely naked?

What other position do you like? What’s your favorite one?

Do you want to do it with him?

Because he wants to do it with you.

Everything.

He wants you in every which way you can possibly think of.

Until you can’t think anymore.

It’s one of the best nights of his life. Which is kind of bittersweet because Hanta isn’t sure if you’ll let it happen again. Despite how amicably you returned to the apartment together, you don’t show any signs that you’ve changed your mind about him.

He's flying so high that he almost resigns himself to making do with the (absolutely perfect) pictures of you in the Cellophane hoodie for the rest of his life, thinking that he's probably already gotten the most of what you’ll allow him.

But when the opportunity comes pouring down on him from the sky, he seizes it.

Next thing he knows, you’re dripping, screaming, and laughing with him under a rainstorm as he all but drags you into his room.

And when you follow him inside without protest, let him eat your pussy in the shower, and start singing and dancing around in his bedroom without a second thought about anything else, he knows he never would’ve made do with a few pictures.

His fantasies could never keep up with you.

—

When you start coming over more, Hanta can feel love in the air.

It surrounds him, envelops him in this warm, satisfying feeling whenever you smile at him, or laugh at a dumb joke he makes, or look at him after he kisses you.

God, he loves that look on your face after he kisses you. So cute, so dazed, a little flustered, a little shy, and so unfairly pretty. He really does have to fight himself from pulling out the camera every single time that you make such a cute face at him. 

It feels so natural to be with you, even if he has to fight for it a bit first.

You always act exasperated when you see him and he invites you over, but Hanta can always tell when you secretly want to say yes. All he has to do is wait around, maybe pester you a bit more until you agree to join him.

But he always tries to make it worth your while. 

Hanta usually likes to put an album on and share a joint with you before — or even while — he enjoys a little romp with you in the sheets, or the desk, or the hammock, or the floor.

He’s not picky, and neither are you.

He has to say though, you really are becoming quite the addiction for him.

Because he’s learned that nothing pairs better with a joint than the sight of you fucked out, or lazing around in his room wearing one of his shirts. Especially when you’re just a little bit loopy after a few hits and you let your defenses down a little more.

Sometimes you sing or dance along to the album playing, sometimes you pose a little more freely for his camera, sometimes you sit in his lap without prompt, just purring for him to give you attention like a cute, little kitten. 

Once — after smoking a new strain Hanta was trying — you had just… looked at him from your spot lying on his bed, beckoning him over from his desk with a finger and your irresistible eyes. And then you proceeded to ride him for, legit, ten minutes.

He was helpless underneath you, just watching you grind against him as he smoked away the rest of the joint — for both his and your own good. 

But another time, he's just lying with you side by side, listening to an earlier album by an artist you both like. Sometimes he would talk with you about the music you listened to together, but today, you're just singing along gently, in tune with every word and harmony. Or usually, melody, depending on your mood.

"You are so good at that." He says after a song fades out, "At harmonizing, I mean. I forget that you're an honorary acapella girl sometimes."

"It's not that hard once you get your ear used to it." You say, "I don't sing nearly as much as all of the other girls though, so they're at a completely different level than me."

"Still," he insists, tucking his arm beneath his head as he turns his body towards you, "It's beautiful. I feel like I'm listening to a whole new song."

"It does feel like that sometimes, doesn't it?" You smile as you reach over to take the lyric booklet out of the album cover. Turning over to a certain page, you scoot closer to him as you hold the booklet up between you to read, "Why don't you try it with me?"

Hanta lets out a snort of a chuckle, "I'm not much of a singer."

"Well, it's not really about singing. It's about hearing another rendition of the song." You encourage him lightly, "It's fine, I'll give you the easy part. You just sing along to the tune that you already know."

So he does.

For the first half of the next track in the album, he reads along the lyrics from the booklet and sings it as normal, with you doing some simple harmony at the ends of certain lyrics.

But by the second half, you start vocalizing to another layer of the singer's voice that he had never actually noticed before.

Then, when he's on the last chorus, you sing along to completely different background lyrics that he hadn't even realized were echoing behind the song before.

And yet, the lyrics are all there, in parentheses printed on the booklet alongside the lyrics he's been singing and hearing all this time.

And it sounds... totally different. Amplified, layered, dynamic. Even in his regular old voice.

You somehow open up new facets to a song he’s listened to for years, simply by mixing your voice with his own.

It resonates that much more with the vision of your pretty face just a head tilt away as you lie close beside him, briefly meeting his eyes as you sing the last part in harmony with him.

It actually throws him off a bit and he messes up a few of the lines before getting back on track with you to finish the song. At which point, he kind of just turns over to stare at you, wide-eyed and awestruck.

While he's fumbling for words to say, you just smile at him with a cute, cheeky "toldja!" kind of expression before rolling back towards your side of the bed. And you flip through the lyric booklet as if you didn't just shake up his soul like a can of soda.

That ease with which you switch between angel and siren mode gives him a bit of whiplash.

Sometimes he wonders how exactly you condense and transform the atmosphere around you to share such an ethereal moment with him. It’s just so beautiful, a moment that he wants to capture so badly because he just knows it can’t be replicated.

It reminds him of all those snapshots and glimpses of love he’s seen over the years, that gave him such faith in its existence in the first place.

But right now, here with you, he thinks maybe he’s found his own special rendition of it.

Something meant only for the two of you to see.

—

He starts calling you querida. Something he’s never called anyone before, despite his ample use of Spanish love talk in the past.

Other pet names are easy to throw out to anyone; bella, linda, mami. But somehow querida only fits you.

It’s something he would hear his uncles call his aunties. His really cheesy tíos who loved their wives a little too much in front of the family. But the affection was bold and true in the way they spoke to them, and Hanta can kind of understand the appeal of the term now.

Because it doesn't feel exaggerated when he uses it for you.

It feels right having you around, whether you’re pressed against his skin or covered in his clothes. He enjoys every minute of it; bantering over nothing, fucking without cause, laughing at something silly. Even having your scent soaked in his sheets puts him to sleep easier.

But you never stay for long, to his disappointment.

He usually offers to make you dinner or invite you to stay the night, but he only ever gets as far as watching a movie or a show with you before things get down and dirty.

He doesn't push it since he figures that's what you're comfortable with, but he can't say that it doesn't leave his room feeling lonelier at times. Because it's just so much easier to imagine you filling up his room with your presence now that you’ve been here.

Even though his room hasn't actually changed, it somehow feels more vibrant when you've left traces of yourself for him to find afterwards.

Your shampoo in his pillow.

A lip stain on an emptied mug.

A misplaced CD.

A few stray hairs.

A new song playing in his head.

Some new French phrase you taught him scribbled on a sticky note.

Polaroids in his desk.

Photos in in his memory card.

So many gorgeous photos.

Sometimes he takes a little extra time to "edit" the photos he took just to look at them for a while longer. He doesn't really realize how pathetic that is until maybe the third time Shouto walks into his room and sees your face on his computer monitor and asks, genuinely, "Wouldn't it just be easier to set it as your wallpaper or something?"

And he pitifully answers with, "But then I'd have to choose only one."

Completely serious.

If it were anyone other than Shouto, Hanta knows he would've been laughed out of his own room. But he's spared from the embarrassment when his blessedly indifferent roommate just responds with a calm, "I see." before leaving him be.

But Shouto being the secret little shit he is, waits until everyone's gathered together to watch a MMA fight to put him on blast.

"So how're things going with you and [Surname]?" Eijirou brings up during a commercial break.

"Good, I think." Hanta shrugs, "I mean, we're still kind of casual right now though."

"Seriously?" Denki asks, "Would've thought you'd have dropped to your knees and begged her to be your wife by now."

"Shut up, dude." Hanta scoffs, hiding his actual embarrassment behind a laugh.

"Bro, I can't. You make it too easy." Denki chortles, "You've literally had hearts in your eyes whenever you've talked to her for the past few months."

"The fuck I do!"

"You should see his face when he's staring at her pictures on his computer." Shouto chimes in, casually sipping from his drink.

"Wait, what? You have pictures of her on your computer?"

"That you stare at?"

"In your own free time?"

Hanta shakes his head in exasperation when the room breaks out into cackles and and horrid impressions of Hanta talking to and making out with hypothetical photos of you.

"Dude, what the fuck?" He directs at Shouto, who only shrugs and continues to sip at his drink.

Luckily, the match comes back on soon after that, so everyone's attention is mercifully diverted back to the TV for now.

But not Hanta's, because as the match is starting to heat up, his phone starts vibrating in his pocket somewhere, and he just about has a heart attack when he sees your name on the screen.

Without a word to the others, he jumps out of his chair to run out of the room to the balcony before anyone can sniff out what's going on.

Once he’s outside, he can’t pick up your call fast enough, but he realizes maybe he should’ve taken a breath before letting your voice swim directly into his ear.

"H-Hi..."

Fuck, you are cute as heck, even through one word on the phone.

He keeps his cool as he asks why you're calling, slipping out a flirty joke in the process, "What's up? You missing me already?"

"Shut up." You huff, which Hanta can't help but grin at, effortlessly picturing your rolling eyes. But you follow up with an unexpected, "So... So what if I am?"

Wait.

What the fuck?

Did you really just say that?

To him?

Did you really just admit that you missed him?

Is that why you're calling? Because you missed him and just wanted to talk to him?

Hanta brings his hand up to cover his own mouth and starts pacing along the balcony because holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck holyfuck—

He's a little out of his mind as he tries to keep up with the conversation and will down his giant grin, but when you drop in some French out of nowhere, he freezes for a moment, buffering.

Because wait, what did you just say?

Was this something you told him before in passing?

He can't remember.

Is this a test or something?

When he tries to ask you what it means, you retreat quickly, which makes him want to know even more.

So quickly tapping the record function on his phone for the call, he convinces you to say it again. And thankfully, you do. He'll just have to ask Yaomomo to translate it later.

He can hardly wait to find out what made you so shy that you couldn't tell him directly.

But that's not all you leave him with. Something you say catches his attention, and leaves him buffering again.

"Tough as it is trying to figure out what you're really thinking all the time, it's not as hard to guess when you're gonna point a camera at me anymore." you remark offhandedly.

He blinks out into the city scape, processing, "You can't tell what I'm thinking most of the time?"

"How could I? You're so unserious. I can never really tell if you're trying to have an actual conversation or if you're just setting me up for a line."

And that's... well, what can he say to that?

You eventually hang up, leaving him in a daze as he ponders over what you said.

Because playful as he is, he's still been real with you.

He has, hasn't he?

Like yeah, he lays it on a little thick sometimes, but he can't just fake all of those moments he's shared with you.

Plus, the longer he's spent with you, the more he wears his heart on his sleeve.

Surely, you can see some of that, can't you?

"Something going on?" Shouto's voice rings Hanta back into reality before his roommate appears on the balcony beside him.

“Er… well, [Name] just called me.” He admits, looking down at his phone.

“That’s good." Shouto nods, "Right?"

"Well, I thought so. But... It sounds like it wasn’t going exactly as I thought it was.”

“What do you mean?”

He gives Shouto a rundown of his conversation with you, sharing a few tidbits of how his relationship has been going with you lately. Or at least, how he thought it had been going.

“Sounds like your communication styles aren’t lining up.” Shouto says.

“Yeah, well I got that much.” Hanta sighs, leaning against the balcony railing, “But it was hard enough to get her to even talk to me at the beginning. I was trying not to push her too fast, you know?”

“I suppose that’s fair, but you guys have been sleeping together for a few weeks now, haven’t you?” He asks, which doesn’t really sound right to Hanta’s ears.

What he does with you… it’s so much more than just sleeping together (even though that does take up a big part of it).

“Yeah, like… almost two months or something.” He confirms anyway.

“Does she even know that you’re pretty much in love with her?”

“I am not—” Hanta interrupts himself to sigh, knowing that denial would be an outright lie at this point.

With how much he thinks about you, looks forward to seeing you, still wants to know more and more about you all the time, it’s pretty obvious what this is becoming.

“Fuck…" He drags a hand down his face, "How bad is it?”

“It’s not a bad thing. If anything, it’s the opposite. I haven’t seen you this happy before.” Shouto points out, reconfiguring Hanta’s perspective out of nowhere like the genius boy he is.

Hanta sits with the statement for a moment before admitting, rather easily, “She does make me pretty happy, doesn’t she?”

Shouto turns to give him a small smile, saying, “Yeah. It’s nice to see.”

And, well, if being with you is something wholesome enough to get an approving smile out of his reserved, unbothered, but super smart and trusted friend, then that’s probably all the proof that he needs.

You’re someone worth being around.

“Do you make her happy?”

Tires are suddenly scratching in Hanta’s head as Shouto turns the mood up on its head.

He lets out a groan before saying, “Honestly? I thought I was, but after this call… I dunno. It sounds more like I’ve been confusing her.”

“Is there something confusing about a guy who likes you enough to stare at your pictures alone in his room all the time?” Shouto asks, somehow unrhetorically.

“Dude! Come on. Stop making me sound like a creep.”

Shouto shrugs, “I’m just saying, the photos aren’t the ones who need to know how obsessed you are. And I don’t think they’re gonna pass on the message for you, either.”

“Fine! I got it, I got it. I’ll tell her how I feel and all that shit.” Hanta groans, standing up straight and waving off his friend’s calm, yet patronizing look, “Cut me some slack. She makes me kind of stupid.”

“I’m sure she does.”

—

"I miss you. Do you miss me?"

"I miss you. Do you miss me?"

"I miss you. Do you miss me?"

That's what you said, apparently. According to Yaomomo.

Tu me manques. Je te manque?

A gorgeous phrase.

Yaomomo had explained to him that in French, to say 'I miss you' you say it in a way that means, 'you are missing from me.'

"Tu me manques. Je te manque?"

The more Hanta listens to the recording of your call, the deeper he falls into the pit of his own feelings.

You sound so sweet and soft, and then genuinely exasperated with him, like you actually wish you knew how he felt about you. Like all your problems and doubts would be solved if you just knew.

The longer he listens and overanalyzes your voice cues, the more he hears your unspoken plea for reassurance.

But at the same time, Hanta can hear himself, and just how whipped he really is for you.

If this is how he sounds when he talks to you, then it’s no wonder all his friends have been making fun of him. It's almost cringey to listen to how soft and suave he tries to be when he's talking to you. So he also wonders how you somehow can't hear how crazy he is about you.

He ended up asking Yaomomo for suggestions on how to respond, and she was kind enough to even practice with him over video call.

It feels a little silly going this far to practice with a friend just to flirt with you in a language you know, but it's also kind of fun.

Hanta can think of countless things to say in Spanish to you, and they'd all be effortless. But having to work a little to get his message across feels like proof that he really does want to do this. For you.

He doesn't even know how you're going to respond, but he wants to show you that he put a little thought into this. That he did this because you likes you.

More than likes you.

And Shouto has a point. You might not know if he doesn't tell you himself.

So once he's confident that he can say the phrase seamlessly enough, he calls you back, like he's been waiting to do ever since you hung up the first time.

"Hello?" Your voice greets him like a warm hug.

"Hey, beautiful. This is a good time?"

—

The end of the semester is a fucking tornado.

On top of exams, projects, going back and forth with his boss at work to make sure all his shifts are covered while he's gone for the rest of the winter break, planning the trip back to South America, and entertaining all his visiting friends who finished their semesters earlier, Hanta is swamped from morning 'til night.

The only thing that really keeps him going through the days are his texts and calls with you.

To: [Name] 💗 honestly fuck this school shit all i can think about is seeing u again querida

From: [Name] 💗 lol i will not be blamed for your academic failures it's only a few more days

To: [Name] 💗 only???

From: [Name] 💗 you've made it this long, haven't you just a little longer then we can all party through the night

To: [Name] 💗 i only wanna party all night with u ❤️

From: [Name] 💗 i'm sure kaminari and the others would be heartbroken to hear that but i wanna see you soon too

To: [Name] 💗 😩😩😩💞 te adoro 😘 do u have time for a quick call tonight?

Hanta is no longer above embarrassing himself for you. In fact, he's probably lost a bit of control over all the mushy stuff he sends you. He's gotten plenty of eye roll emojis back from you.

But he doesn't care. He's so fucking excited to see you again and finally make his intentions clear.

"Dude, I think you need to take it down a notch. Your phone's gonna start feeling self-conscious."

"What?" Hanta looks up from the push notification (not you) that just appeared on his phone, then realizes that he's been in and out of it all day because he's been doing this the whole time.

So quickly, he pockets his phone and tries to return to attention to his friends, who had driven hours here to visit him.

"My bad, guys."

"Wow, you mentioned this girl a few times, but I didn't realize you were that into her." Koichi, his hometown childhood friend, raises his brows at Hanta. "She must be special."

"Yeah, right. As if someone could wrangle down Hanta's playboy ass." Kazuho, their other hometown friend, comments as she messes around with her suitcase, organizing the entire closet she decided she needed for this short trip. "He's probably just obsessed with her right now because she gives him a hard time. Once he gets bored of it, he'll be back to his usual prince charming/casanova mode."

"What the heck?" Hanta protests, "What did I do to deserve this kind of slander?"

"You literally have not had a single steady relationship since you were in high school." Kazuho accuses.

"So? It's not like that's not normal for a college student!" Hanta defends.

"Yeah, but the way you look like you're about to start panting with your tongue out every time you get a text makes me sick, knowing that you're probably just gonna move on by the next time we see you." She groans with her tongue out, rolling her eyes, "Just like you do with every person you're 'into' for a month."

"I resent that!"

"Uh huh, of course you do."

"Hey, hey, Kazuho, let him be." Koichi comes in to mediate, "I mean, you never know. Hanta might've found someone he really clicks with."

Hanta is about to thank Koichi for coming to his defense, until his friend continues with:

"Besides, even if he's got a bit of a high turnover rate, that doesn't mean he didn't genuinely like them. Honestly, a month is pretty good for Hanta."

Sometimes, he forgets about that dense and indirectly rude side of his friend.

This is probably why he only ever sees them a few times a year.

"Okay, whatever." Hanta dismisses, "I don't care what you guys think. But I'm being serious right now. And for your information, I've been seeing her for like, two months now."

"'Seeing her' as in dating her or sleeping with her?" Kazuho raises a skeptical brow at him.

"Well... yeah, we've mostly been just sleeping together but I'm planning on asking her out officially once we talk at the party tonight."

"Right. 'Cause that's definitely gonna go over smoothly." Kazuho drawls as she goes back to sorting her skirts and boots.

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" Hanta pinches his brows together at the comment.

"You really think some girl you've been treating like your favorite booty call is gonna believe you wanna be serious all of a sudden?" She rolls her eyes, "If she's smart, she'll probably laugh at you, at best."

As much as Hanta wants to puff his chest out and argue, he doesn't take the bait. Kazuho might be overly blunt sometimes, but she only calls it like she sees it.

All that means is that Hanta has to prove himself to her, too.

"She is smart," he acknowledges, "but it isn't sudden. I've... I started liking her a while ago. It's different this time, okay? At least, I want it to be."

"Uh huh. So have you even asked her on a date?"

"I've tried. But she would always brush me off. And even when we started seeing each other, she'd always leave before we could do anything else."

"Commitment issues?" Koichi guesses.

"No. I don't think that's it." Hanta sighs, "I mean, I'm pretty sure she likes me back... She just... doesn't know how to say it."

Kazuho is pinning him with a harsh, judging brow while Koichi is just blinking at him like he doesn't know how much of this to believe yet.

But Hanta takes another breath before saying, "Look. I know it must be hard to believe, coming from me. But I really like this girl, okay? Can't you just have a little faith in me?"

From the way Kazuho stares at him, he can tell she's trying to get him to break character or something. But after failing to gauge the reaction she expected, she sighs and stands with her hands on her hips.

"Fine, if you say so." she relents with a sigh, "But I can't let you go to your holiday party looking like that."

Hanta furrows his brows as he looks down at his loose t-shirt and cargo pants. It's simple, but it's clean. And it suits him.

"What's wrong with this?"

"I think it looks fine." Koichi shrugs, "I mean, even though your rich friend is hosting, it's still just a casual party, isn't it?"

"Casual party?! Do you think she's going to be showing up in fucking athleisure or something? If she likes Hanta back and is planning to see him tonight, then what the fuck do you think she's gonna wear?"

"Uhh..." Koichi trails off but Hanta is silent, thoughts suddenly running wild with all kinds of cute or sexy outfits you might show up in.

Santa Claus dress and hat?

Sweater and jeans?

Something Cellophane themed?

You'd probably look cute even with an ugly sweater on.

God, he can't wait to see you...

Kazuho lets out a loud groan, having mistook his silence for obliviousness, "This is why men are useless."

"Okay, now that's a little harsh, don't you thin—"

"Shut up, Koichi. And get the keys." Kazuho demands, "We're going to Hanta's place to fix him up."

"Wait, what? But Yaomomo's party is starting soon." Hanta protests, getting up from his own seat, "She might already be waiting for me."

"Well are you serious about her or not?" Kazuho demands, eyes almost venomous.

"I am, I am!"

"Then at least look the part." She rolls her eyes as she goes to grab her jacket, "If you really want to prove it to her, you've gotta put in effort, Hanta. None of your usual charming, playboy, smooth talk bullshit. That shit makes it so hard to take you seriously."

Hanta almost trips over his feet.

And it hits him all over again.

Because you had said that exact same thing.

He forgets how logical Kazuho is behind all the berating sometimes, but maybe he needs her help after all.

"Then what am I supposed to say to prove it to her?"

"Do you seriously not know the answer to that?" Kazuho only stops to give him a deadpan look before huffing at his blank expression and turning back to her shoes. "Just be fucking honest, Hanta. Say what you really mean."

"Maybe without all of the embellishments." Koichi adds, slipping on his own shoes.

"Right. Honest." Hanta gulps as he follows his friends out the door, "I can do that."

—

Turns out, honesty has duality. It can be transparent, or even reflective, like mirrored glass. Or it can be lethal, like gunpowder.

Because if he's honest right now, he'd like nothing more than to throw a few punches at every single dude in the engineering department.

It's one thing to see that pretty boy Kaibara using his eyes to lick you up and down, but it's another to try and fabricate a kiss between you two.

What the fuck is Tetsutetsu even doing? Walking around like a holiday matchmaker. He has to know that he's breeding awkwardness in all that chaos, right? Marching around with that dumb mistletoe fishing rod he's dangling around like a cat toy.

Hanta only got here thirty minutes ago and he was already attacked by Denki, who apparently had Mina on the line, who ended up yelling at him over the phone to get his ass over to karaoke room 3 or wherever.

And holy shit, did he walk in on a scene.

He had half a mind to walk up to Kaibara and yank that damn mic out of his hand. The sleazy way he was eye-fucking you under the guise of the song you were singing together, twirling you under his arm with a charming smile.

It made Hanta want to puke.

Never mind the fact that he would probably do the exact same thing if he were in that situation.

But then Mina gets a hold of him and starts yelling all sorts of shit at him.

"About fucking time! Where have you been all night?! I've been calling and texting you like crazy!" She demands, then proceeds to interrupt Hanta's attempt at an explanation anyway.

"Do you see this? Do you see what's happening right now? Kaibara has been trying to slide in for the past hour! Hello? Ring any bells? Her fuckboy-ex-Kaibara?"

"Yeah, I'm aware." Hanta deadpans as he glares over at the couch area where you and Kaibara are still singing together.

You look stunning. So cute in that skirt and beret. He wouldn't be surprised if you had been approached by more than just Kaibara tonight.

"So are you going to do something about this?!" Mina asks, "She still doesn't know how you feel about her after all this time! I can't believe you're showing up this late when you apparently promised that you were gonna talk to her."

"I know! I know. I just—" Hanta grunts out a sigh, "I am gonna talk to her, alright? My friends got me held up for a while, but I'm here now. I swear to god, this is practically the only thing I came for tonight."

"Well I hope you've got a good speech prepared or something, because that—" she points her chin towards the other side of the room, where Tetsutetsu has suddenly appeared, causing a ruckus, "—could very well be the least of your problems."

The new few minutes feel kind of like a fever dream. A really fucking painful one.

He literally starts sweating when he sees that mistletoe appear over your head.

His heart is beating in his ears as he's stuck watching you exchange gazes with Kaibara.

For a moment, he's offered reprieve when you turn your cheek over to him instead. But then it's shattered in the next when that pretty boy up and kisses you anyway.

There's pain in his chest. A sharp one.

An amalgamation of fear, shock, and realization. As much as it hurts, it also reinforces just how much he likes you.

It wouldn't hurt this much if he didn't really, truly like you.

And if anything, the pain is just a reminder that he's gonna have to fight for you. He's got to put in effort. He's got to prove his worth and his love for you.

Wait, did he just say—

A harsh smack onto both of his shoulders brings his attention back to Mina, who starts shaking him a bit, "Get your head in the game, Hanta. The only reason she's even giving that guy her time right now is because you still haven't made her think that you're serious about her. Which, honestly, I don't even know how that's possible. But it is."

He's about to reply when he sees you coming their way. And suddenly everything seems to freeze.

"Hey." He says first.

"Hey." You reply easily enough, "I was uh, I was looking for you."

"Yeah, me too." He says immediately, "Sorry I didn't text you. I was out all day and my phone died on me."

Which isn't untrue. His phone had died when Kazuho was ransacking his closet to put together an outfit for him, and he had forgotten to plug it in before he left.

"Oh." You nod, seeming to accept the excuse for now.

Mina gets you some water, which you accept, and Hanta impulsively comments, "That was a pretty eventful song."

It doesn't come out as funny as he thought it would.

"Yeah, I'll say." You sigh, at least sounding like you didn't enjoy it.

"Are you okay?" Mina asks you, her eyes quickly darting to Hanta as if to urge him to follow up or something.

"I'll be fine." You say, meeting Hanta's eyes a little more directly as you continue, "But I could use some air."

That's his cue. He offers to bring you outside, just hoping and praying that this whole honesty thing goes well.

—

Now that he has a moment, he can't stop looking at you.

Which is nothing new, really. But fuck, do you look cute tonight.

Kazuho was right. You did come dressed to kill him tonight. And despite how long it took, he's pretty glad she helped him out with this fit too. Because your eyes keep sweeping him just the same.

He could really just stare at you all night, showering you in compliments and hopefully kisses, but eventually, it comes out.

He can't stop himself from asking.

"So. You and Kaibara, huh?"

To his slight surprise — and delight — you react with a scoff and a shake of your head at the mention, as if you’re already sick of the memory.

“It was just mistletoe.” You say.

“Yeah, I know.”

He knows. He does, but it hurt to see anyway.

It’s something he never really wants to see again.

“I heard from Mina though,” he takes it one thing at a time, “that… you and he had a thing before.”

You face stiffens a bit as you worry at your lip, before admitting, “Yeah. I guess you could call it a ‘thing.’ Not totally dissimilar to the thing we have going on right now.”

Not dissimilar?

Fuck, that is the last thing he wants. To be compared to your lame fuckboy ex.

Hanta has wholly believed that what he has been sharing with you is special. He had assumed that you thought the same, but clearly that was lost somewhere in the haze. And if he doesn’t clear it up tonight, he might lose you.

So he asks, “Yeah? And what kind of ‘thing’ do we have going on, exactly?”

“I don’t know, actually.” You shrug, “That’s what we’re here to talk about tonight, isn’t it?”

“Right.” He agrees.

After a short pause, you speak up first, “I’ll tell you this though: I do not want another Kaibara situation. What happened between me and Sen… really fucking sucked.” You let out a short sigh as you look over the balcony into Yaomomo’s overly extravagant garden, “I really liked him, but he didn’t want anything serious. So he kind of just let me fade into the background and I was pretty messed up over it for a while.”

“What the hell? What an asshole!” Hanta reacts before he can stop himself.

His blood is boiling as all of the pieces start coming together.

You caught feelings for Kaibara, and that fucker didn’t even bother to let you down. To let you move on properly.

And now with that deep impression left in your heart, it’s no wonder you were wary of Hanta at the beginning.

But even after all of that, he still has the nerve to come crawling back to you under the good graces of winter holiday spirit and high-end booze. He could kill that shitface right now.

“He hasn’t changed, that much I know.” You stop Hanta with a hand up, so he exhales and beats down the urge to march back in there and start something. “Which is why I didn’t fall for it this time. I don’t like him anymore, so it wasn’t that hard.”

Hanta sucks in a deep breath, leaning on the railing to sigh it all back out as the relief starts to trickle into his body.

Okay. You don’t like him anymore.

You said it yourself.

Loud and clear.

He can only take your word for it.

But then you start to talk about how he and Kaibara are actually kind of similar, which leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Because the more things you list off, the more textbook fuckboy Hanta feels.

And yeah, he admits to a lot of it. The smooth talking, the height, the confidence, even the fucking photography hobby.

Even so, he at least knows this.

“Well if he was stupid enough to let you go only to come crawling back with an assist from Mistletoe Man, then I’d argue that we’re nothing alike.”

You give him a chuckle for that, that sweet smile gracing your face that makes his heart beat just a little faster, “I know that you and he aren’t the same. Like what you said over the phone that other night. I don’t think he would have ever told me something like that. And… I was actually really happy to hear it.”

Fuck, he wants to kiss you right now.

Something about your honesty is just… endearing. Sweet. It warms his heart and makes him feel light.

And if your honesty makes him feel like this, it just reinforces how much he needs to return the favor.

“But still. If there’s any chance that it’s gonna turn out like how it did with Sen, then I’d rather know all that now.” You say with clear, unwavering purpose, “Because even if you say you like me, if you’re just gonna keep me around when it’s convenient but still mess around with whoever you want, then I’d rather we just stop all of this. Here and now.”

“I don’t want that.” He says immediately.

Even the thought of stopping this with you grips at his heart harder than that kiss saw earlier.

He can’t. He doesn’t want to lose you.

And he’ll do anything to prove that to you.

“I don’t know what kind of shit was going through that jackass’s head, but I’m not stupid enough to treat you like a backup plan.”

He takes a step closer to you, slipping a hand into yours.

He’s going to put it all on the table. No more hiding behind all the smooth talk and physical chemistry. You’re gonna see everything.

“[Name], I meant what I said. I really do like you.”

And probably for the first time, he’s completely honest. He pours his heart out as best he can. Feeling like he might spill over any second.

Yeah, a line slips out here and there, but you take it with good grace, your usual eye roll and all.

But you take all of his honesty, and you give it right back. Until you finally open his eyes a little wider.

“I mean, all you’d ever do is take me straight back to your room. It’s not like you ever tried to ask me out on a date. And sometimes—" you pause to take a breath, as if wondering if you should even say whatever else you’re thinking, “Sometimes, I’d still see you around campus getting close to or flirty with other people. Only a few days after we were together, too. Can’t say that really inspires confidence that you were ‘serious’ about me…”

He what.

Other people?

That can’t be—

Shit. Okay.

He supposes he can think of an instance or two where he might have been around campus getting a little close with a pretty girl or a cute guy. But it was nothing outside of his usual behavior, so he didn’t think much of it.

But if you saw it and thought otherwise… Hanta can hardly blame you for thinking that.

Especially after finding out how it feels to see you with someone else.

The only thing he can do now is own up to it and hope you’ll still have him.

“You’re right.” He admits.

He admits everything to you.

How he started out treating you like one of his usual pursuits, then wondering why you left such a mark on him once you were gone.

How he thought his usual charm would eventually wear you down, when you were the one who was chipping away at him.

How somehow, you had struck right into his heart without him knowing, and turned him into some lovesick animal.

And how he was wrong not to do his due diligence and treat you like the treasure that you are.

Hell, he even admits to you the photo-staring thing — which is really fucking lame. Why did he think to do that? His mouth just kept running and now he’s just straight up embarrassing himself.

And most importantly, he tells you how much he likes you. Upfront and personal.

He likes it when you sing and harmonize out of nowhere.

He likes the way you eat your heart out.

He likes how you use French to run away from telling him something that makes you feel shy.

He likes all of those things.

“I—” you start to say before a shiver runs down your body, the night cold suddenly clicking into place in Hanta’s idiot head.

“You’re cold. My bad, I forgot you’re only wearing a sweater.”

He starts pulling at his zipper, even though you insist that he not give up his jacket. Which he’s obviously not going to do if you’re standing here, cold and shivering.

But your brilliant little brain brings you right into his arms as you cuddle into his chest, hiding away from the cold like his embrace is all you need to feel protected.

Something about that makes his chest bloom beneath your cheek. Because you’re bringing yourself closer to him. You’re still here after he laid his heart bare for you. You still… want him, even after all the weird miscommunication and missteps. You—

“I like you.” You say, striking an arrow right into his heart. “I really like you. I think— I think behind all the playboy, machismo stuff, you’re really one of the coolest, most interesting, and fun people I’ve gotten to know. So I… uhm… I wanna…”

FUUUUUUUUCCKKKKK.

Hanta wants to scream into the sky right now — because you are just so freaking CUTE.

But he can’t bear to look away from you now.

You’re facing him head-on, so he has to wait for you to say the rest.

But damn it if he doesn’t want to just lean in and kiss your forehead as you take a nervous breath in to say, “I just… wanna see where this goes. For us. For real.”

Well. He supposes that’s the best he can get out of you. And he doesn’t mind a bit.

There’s already a huge grin on his face, so he couldn’t hide his joy even if he tried.

“Yeah. I’m good with that.” He says, trying to play it cool as if he didn’t just spill his guts to you two minutes ago.

“With only you and me, right?” You pin him with a scolding, yet pouty look as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Only you and me.” He smiles.

“Okay. Good. Me, too.”

“Great.”

“Yeah.”

Fuck. You are the cutest.

He has to kiss you. There’s no possible way he can hold off any longer.

And when he does, he can tell something’s changed.

There’s no more holding back, from either of you. You’re kissing him like you have nothing to be afraid of anymore. And he kisses you as if swearing to protect you, to reassure you that you’re right — that you have nothing to be afraid of.

It tastes different. Heavily seasoned with sort of newfound trust and eagerness.

It’s saturated with new emotions like some colors have been corrected in a photo.

And god— it feels so, so good. Somehow better than before. It feels like… It feels like—

Love.

This is it.

It’s here, right in his very own arms.

That special connection he had always known was real in the back of his mind, that he had seen in all the movies and books and people around him.

It’s real. And it’s right here. In your voice when you sing, in your eyes when you look at him, in your witty retorts and jokes and banter. In the way you kiss him, and hold him like you just can’t get close enough. And it’s in the way your body just feels like heaven in his hands.

He’s had a feeling for a long time, but he’s fairly sure about it now.

Es amor.

Es todo lo que yo soñé.

It only gets better as you ask him dance, start singing along to the Spanish song playing like you know the exact dialect of his love language, and then leading him right to a hanging mistletoe to overwrite that kiss he saw earlier.

He doesn't think it could get any better than this, but then you lead him right over to Mina, and hand him the sweetest photo he has ever seen.

"Here. For you."

It takes a few seconds for the photo to develop properly but it gives Hanta the time to figure out just what you were up to in the past few minutes.

You ran off to Mina to get her to take the photo, distracted him with your super cute Spanish singing, and choreographed a kiss to get this... absolutely perfect shot.

And you did it all right under his nose.

"You're always taking photos of me, but we don't really have any of us together. So here's one to start," you say, gesturing at the polaroid, "Candid, honest subject and all. Like you like it, right?"

He's a goner.

How could he not fall in love with someone like you? You just make it way too easy.

And on the other hand, he's done the opposite for you. He's almost ashamed that you went on thinking that he didn't care for you for as long as you did.

Well, there'll be no more of that.

He's going to love you up and down until every single doubt is scrubbed clean from your pretty little head. And he's gonna be thorough about it.

Starting tonight.

"Ready to get out of here?" He asks you after ignoring a smug, but encouraging look from Mina.

You nod and take his hand with the prettiest smile he's ever seen, "Vamos."

— — —

Love is like learning another language. 

Exciting, intriguing, a challenge in communication, discovering new cues, slang, cultural contexts, not to mention extremely difficult to keep up with. Especially because it takes time to learn.

But Hanta loves every part of it. 

Learning to love you is different from everyone he's loved before. Sure, there's family and friends, and even some first loves and crushes, but something about loving you feels like he's really building character within himself.

By studying you, what you like, how to make you laugh, what makes you upset, how to read all your different expressions, how to speak to you appropriately, what turns you on or off, and how you like him to treat you, Hanta feels like he's becoming more fluent every day.

And he keeps wanting to learn more. He wants to become so fluent in loving you, that it just curls and slides off his tongue like another part of him. 

He wants it to be so apparent how much time and practice that he's put in, that you never second guess how he feels about you again.

And Hanta would say he's gotten pretty good at it.

Honestly and humbly speaking, he’s a natural. He’s always enjoyed expressing himself, finding new ways to present his thoughts and personality in any medium. 

That’s how it is with photography. That's how it is with all the Spanish dialects his family speaks. And that's how it is with love.

Sometimes he likes to mix them all together.

He really can't resist that look you get when he starts talking to you in Spanish. The way your eyes become a little more hidden behind your lashes and your bottom lip slightly disappears behind the press of your teeth. The way you stare up at him, silently pleading for him to speak more because you're too shy to ask him outright.

He likes how your aura changes a little whenever he brings out the camera. Sometimes, it shrinks as you shy away from him, but then grows and gets reshaped after a little guidance. He learns how good you are with directions as he tells you how to pose or look at him, suddenly giving him the most gorgeous snapshots despite your tendency to curl back into yourself soon afterward.

He's learned to time it all perfectly to coax out that perfect, picturesque side of you when you're on top, riding him like an amateur pornstar while the camera's rolling on the nightstand. When you become a cockdrunk little showoff for his phone camera, Hanta knows that all the hours put into studying you are worth it.

However, he's still a long way from mastery. He's reminded of that every time you roll your eyes and groan at him. Which he usually doesn't mind.

But sometimes, he runs into problems that feel a lot like tackling a tricky grammar lesson. Things that he just can't wrap his head around.

"No."

"Aw, come on baby. Why not?" He pleads, "You don't think it'll be fun?"

"I already told you, Hanta, I don't want to be a model." You continue to resist.

"But you model for me all the time." He says.

"If it's for you, it's different. I can trust you. But I don't even know this guy. Can't you just ask him to find someone else?"

Okay, he kind of likes hearing that you'll make exceptions for him. But he wants to do this with you. And he already promised his friend to give it a try.

One of his buddies in his photography circle is working on a cool project for his final portfolio before graduation, and it involves capturing different expressions of love. So he's been reaching out to all the steady couples he knows to model for him.

Hanta was eager to join in on the project, and since you agreed to model for his own personal projects before — and even let him post the photos online — he figured you would be onboard with this.

So he really did not expect this vehement refusal.

"I mean, I can. But I wanted to do it with you." He tries pouting, "I thought it'd be cool to add a few more photos of us to the books."

You make a noise of disgruntled surprise at that, finally showing some hesitance in your expression. A good sign, so he should keep rolling with it.

"I've been friends with this guy for a couple years now, so you have my word that he won't do anything weird with the photos." He swears, stepping into your space to wind his arms around your waist and make it harder for you to avoid him, "If he ever tried anything though, you know I'd kick his culo right off the block, right?"

Instead of answering, you just glare up at him as you stay captured in his arms, not pulling away but not leaning into him just yet, either.

"Besides, don't you think it'd be cool to have a nice framed print of us just being sexy together? You know I'd hang it right above my bed." He teases, leaning down to nose at you before leaving a light, feathery kiss on your lips. Not coercing you, but enough to be a little persuasive.

You inhale deeply through your nose before slowly sighing, still glaring as you say, "I still get dm's from random people who found me from your photos. I don't need more."

That's still quite the mystery for him. Hanta has never tagged you in the photos he's posted of you (upon your request), and you're on private, so he has no idea how people still end up finding you to hound you for modeling jobs or just be thirsty in your dm's.

Though he also really can't blame them. You look incredible on camera even without Hanta's photo edits. It only makes him that much prouder that you chose to be with him.

"Well, it is a couples concept shoot. If you're with me, then they'll get the idea." He says, smiling into another kiss to your lips.

You scoff, but you don't push him away, "As if that'll stop them from trying."

"Let 'em." He accepts the challenge, "I'm not afraid of a few online fuckboys."

"Like you aren't one yourself."

"Not anymore. Those days are behind me." He leaves a kiss on your nose this time, noting that your glare has already softened into more of a reluctant pout, "I'm a changed and committed man. And I want everyone to know it. That's why I want to do this photo shoot."

He keeps you pressed close to his waist but lifts one hand up to lift your chin higher so he can look deeper into your eyes, mustering all his sincerity and charm into his next breath, "Come on, querida. Won't you let me show the world how much I love you?"

You close your eyes with a groan, but Hanta can tell by the slight tremor of your body that you're not writing him off for this one. In fact, it's clear that he's won when you press yourself closer to his chest and start kissing him as you cling to his shoulders.

He exchanges kisses and breaths with you for a generous while before you finally pull away and agree with a heady gaze, "Fine. Let's do it."

"Mm, thank you, baby." He hums as he lifts you up by the thighs to carry you into his bedroom to finish this conversation in private.

Though even if he convinces you to come, it doesn't put you at ease when the day comes to be photographed.

"So, the theme is kind of about how people express love for each other." Togaru explains the day of the shoot.

Hanta's friend had rented out the studio for a few days to work on his project, and it is decked out with all kinds of materials.

There's a bunch of photography and lighting equipment already provided by the studio, but the wardrobe, the makeup station, and the collection of lenses laid out on one of the tables are all Togaru.

He's really going all out with this portfolio, and Hanta can only respect it.

"I'm doing friends, family, and obviously, you guys are one of my couples." Togaru continues, "So is there some sort of motif or metaphor that you always fall back into when you think about your relationship?"

Hanta blows a raspberry through his lips, shuffling through all of the cheesy things he's thought of before, "How do I even pick?"

He throws out several ideas, just to get the ball rolling. He brings up the language metaphor, color concepts, smoke (as a metaphor and an activity), Spanish terms he's learned to like, his own photography that he uses to capture moments of you to keep forever.

Honestly, he could take any trope from a movie or show and apply it to how he feels for you. It's actually harder than he thought to nail it down to one motif.

So he's really curious to hear what your take is.

"Those are all great. We can work with a lot of them." Togaru says, "How about you, [Surname]?"

You hum thoughtfully before saying, "I don't know. I like a lot of those too. But for me... it'd have something to do with music, I guess." You quickly turn to look at Hanta as you elaborate, "I feel like a lot of special moments we shared usually had a song involved. Something that I can listen to again that will take me back to that very moment in time."

Hanta looks right back at you, reflecting back on the days he was still getting to know you.

And now that he thinks about it, you're right. There are tons of moments like that where a good song is playing and creating a core memory of you and him.

That time when he first heard you sing in person, crooning in French as he laid his head in your lap.

That Pink Martini album he played when you came to his room for the first time.

That song you taught him to harmonize to and practically rediscover.

All of the other albums he would listen to and discuss with you on late afternoons, half naked and sharing a joint.

That Spanish song you danced and sang along to at that holiday party the night he and you agreed to be official.

All of the CDs you would gift him, adding your own favorites to his collection. Making an entirely new library for the two of you to share.

Of course. That makes so much sense.

It all feels so obvious now, the music theme. He's spent so much time studying you and falling in love with you just by listening to music with you in his room, or listening to you sing, or dancing with you at a party. Sometimes, it feels so obvious that he forgets about it.

Maybe that's a sign of fluency. It's so embedded into his brain and his relationship with you that it just comes naturally enough for him not to think about it anymore.

It's already a part of him. You're a part of him.

Just like he had hoped you'd be.

"And... I dunno." You continue, turning back to Togaru, "Sometimes I feel like getting to know him is like listening to a new album. I may have some sort of expectation from the artist, but he ends up surprising me every now and again." You tilt your head as you slip Hanta a small, but slightly cheeky smile, subtly sliding your hand into his, "And it's not like I always love every song, but I'll always listen to it again. And sing along to my favorite parts."

And there it is again.

Your aura that seems to just slow down time.

The way you change the taste of the air around him with your thick honey gaze and quiet flirting expression. That subtle tension that makes it impossible to look away from you, since the first time he watched you cast your spell on someone else.

He'll get caught in it as many times as you'll set the trap for him.

If only he could get away with staying in these moments with you forever.

"Okay! I'm liking this idea." Togaru claps his hands together as he rolls with it, "If we're talking music, are we talking dancing? Big bachata man Sero, here and all."

"Oh dude, no. If it's music, then that is so [Name]." Hanta jumps on the concept immediately, "She can sing."

"No kidding?" Togaru gives you an impressed smile.

"Hanta, no." You huff, letting go of his hand to smack him in the arm, "Why are you telling him that?"

"Because it's true?" Hanta raises an eyebrow at you, "Come on, dude. Let's go put on a playlist. I know just how to get this going now."

About ten minutes later, Hanta's got you spinning around by the hand to loosen you up for the camera, a mix of his and your favorite songs echoing through the room from the studio's speakers.

You're resistant and shy at first, but after some coaxing, you warm up to his silly demeanor and start dancing with him. The initial awkwardness starts chipping away step by step, until you eventually give yourself away to a bright laugh and your favorite chorus.

Neither of you stop as Togaru starts snapping away with his DSLR, the music making this foreign studio environment feel as natural as his bedroom.

"Okay, yes. That's beautiful." He praises, giving you or Hanta a placement direction every so often.

Then, as a softer ballad starts playing, you pause and look up at him as you focus on harmonizing with the singer, holding a finger up as if to keep yourself concentrated while you casually just start singing like an angel.

Togaru introduces a cube stool for the two of you to sit on, and he starts giving you directions on how to pose. Then he allows you free rein to keep singing like you usually do as he does his thing.

The rest of the shoot is just so much fun, and even better when he sees you enjoying yourself along with him. The raw preview photos are just stunning, even at a glance.

Every single one of them is gorgeous. Not only with the composition, but the lighting, the color correction, the atmosphere. He can feel something coming through in these photos.

Man, Togaru is good at this. Hanta always learns something new from his art.

It only takes about a week for Togaru to send him the final edited versions. And damn, he can't even choose a favorite. There are so many good ones.

A couple of the dancing shots, but with different compositions. Some that are full of motion in the waves of your twirling skirt. Some where you're looking at Hanta with an expression full of whimsy, joy, and trust. Hanta looks lovestruck as usual, but with a warm, settling comfort that he doesn't think he had before.

There are also a few more casual shots, like where you're both caught mid-laugh, his arms around you as he lifts you by the waist from behind. Or another fitting shot of you just looking at him with deadpan sarcasm while he looks almost like a con artist type of flirt.

However, there is one in particular that stands out to Hanta.

One where, somehow, Togaru managed to capture and recreate that thick, pretty aura that you always seamlessly emulate.

It's one of the shots of you sitting back to back with Hanta on that cube stool. He's got his legs spread long and wide across a corner of the cube, looking relaxed but reasonably hypnotized as he tries to sneak a peek at the siren behind him.

But you. You're simply leaning back against him, eyes closed and head resting back against his shoulder as you sing out a gorgeous note that he can hear even through this still photo. You've got a knee hugged to your torso, but you look relaxed and in the zone as you smile into your note.

Absolutely beautiful.

He posts them online as soon as he gets the okay from you, eager to show you off. To flaunt you as his.

Querida 🖤 thanks @kamakiri.togaru for letting us be part of your final portfolio. you really took no prisoners with this one! it was cool getting to model for a change

The comments come in hot, burning him with affection, embarrassment, and laughter.

kaminari.bolt brooooo these are so 🔥🔥🔥 who knew ur simp ass could work the camera too 😎

redriot yo these look so good!! u guys look awesome :,)

acid.pinky AHHHHHH!!!!! MY BABIES!!!! i love you both so much istg i need these printed and framed in MY house 😩😩😩💞

kamakiri.togaru thanks for letting me shoot you guys! honestly some of my best models ever

deepdope you two look so good together!

toru_16 💗💗💗 [name] is so gorgeous 🥺 work it sero! 😉

o.mashirao 👍👍👍

popstep.kzh we get it. you're in love 🙄

crawler_koichi nice to see you in front of the camera for once! it suits you :)

shoto.tdrk 👍

yaomomo What a beautiful set of photos! Très magnifique! ❤️

He puts his phone down when the random thirsty commenters start coming in. Most of them predictably asking about you, as usual. Dumbasses who don't realize that all the photos of you on his page are still hard launches, despite them being photography projects.

But it doesn't matter. He has better things to do than worry about dudes who are (understandably) thirsty for his girlfriend.

Like stare at more pictures of his girlfriend.

He was only able to post a few of them, but this file is full of great shots that he could spend hours staring at for his own enjoyment.

So many precious captured moments for him to pour over. To admire and study. To tattoo into his mind to keep forever.

The only thing that could possibly make this any better is—

"Hey, babe. Shouto let me in." A knock and your voice emerge from his opening door, and the angel that's been crossing his mind all day appears like a blessing in his own room.

"Hey, beautiful." He greets you, spinning to face you in his desk chair.

He's about to stand up and walk over to give you a proper hello kiss, but you immediately paddle over to him once you catch sight of his computer screen.

"Oh! Are those all of the other photos that Kamakiri sent you? I wanna see!"

And then you plop yourself right onto his lap and spin the chair back towards the desktop to start clicking around.

Hanta can only smile as you start cooing at all the different photos you didn't get to see yet. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he brings your back right into his chest so he can tuck his chin onto your shoulder — leaving a quick kiss on your temple — before he settles his hand over yours on his wireless mouse.

"Lemme show you this one."

As he spends the next hour looking through all of the photos with you, discussing photography concepts and praising how good you both look, Hanta feels incredible satisfaction settle into his heart.

He really can't think of anything else that's made him feel this way. So full of joy and pride and affection and just— love.

This is love.

Es amor.

Just having you sit here on his lap as he sifts through photos with you. Or listening to an album together. Or sharing a meal you prepared together. Or arguing over some small misstep before talking it out and making up. Or learning something new about you today that he can use to make you happy tomorrow.

All of that's love.

Es amor.

And he's glad he found it with you.

— END —

a/n: if you don't recognize them, koichi and kazuho are characters from bnha: vigilantes (a spinoff story in the bnha universe) btw! i thought their personalities/dynamic were super funny and perfect for the role i wrote them into.

a youtube playlist for this fic, or my own personal spotify playlist for those of you who might be interested. lots of songs that inspired me and got me in my feels for this story. and link to the master post if you wanna keep it bookmarked in the case you'd like to find this fic again!

ty so so much for reading, interacting, and sharing your love for sero with me! pls feel free to share with me all of your final thoughts as well! bisous and besos to all of you 🥰💋

[dreamescapeswriting]

The View ~ LMH [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT:3.5K

PAIRING: Minho x Fem!Reader

GENRE: SMUT, fluffy with smut, blow job in a car, teasing, against the window fuck, creampie, begging to cum, unprotected sex, loving Minho, spanking,

A/N: Since you wanted this to be smut I went with a Charity Gala setting 🥰💕 Hope that you enjoy this sweetie     

Giant crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceilings of the huge property you were walking through. A live pianist playing in the corner of the room that you were standing in. The whole thing gave you "Mafia Ball" vibes as you stood with your boyfriend. Tonight was supposed to be a huge charity benefit where people would auction off items for charity. Everything felt and looked as though it was expensive, as though you could never afford anything happening inside of the room. 

"You look breathtaking tonight." Chan, one of the leading benefactors said as he took your hand in his and placed a soft kiss on the top. Minho's grasp on your arm tightening just a little as he felt someone else next to you. He wasn't exactly the jealous type but tonight you looked exceptionally good and he would be dammed if anyone but himself told you that. 

"Minho," Chan smirked knowing just what he was doing, getting under Minho's skin like a splinter made of Iron.

"Easy," You whispered when you felt Minho's hands on your arm tight ever so slightly. 

"I'm all yours, remember." You smirked placing a soft kiss on Minho's cheek, leaving a faint mark of your lipstick across his skin. Minho did not want to be here under any circumstances. The moment he had seen you he wanted to stay home and never go anywhere else with you. 

It was the dress you were wearing, something he hadn't seen until tonight. A long black gown with a slit up the left leg. The velvet fabric clung to your body perfect and helped show each and every part Minho loved most about you. 

Including the lace bodice that seemed to be driving Minho wild at the sight of it. You knew he wouldn't be able to resist you in it but it wasn't for him. Tonight you were being auctioned off, only to dance with of course. 

Most of the females at the benefit were doing it in order to help raise money. It was a dance or they would be doing a carwash. You figured dancing would be far more beneficial to everyone and time savingly.

"Can we go yet?" Minho's voice was muffled as he put his head in your neck. Arms wrapping around your waist as he clung onto you, wanting nothing more than to go home and take the dress off you. It wasn't completely one-sided of course. The suit he was wearing was making your heart flutter and your legs shake just a little.

All black suit with a waistcoat and tie, it was something simple and yet on Minho, it looked gorgeous. Though to you Minho always looked gorgeous but tonight was something different. There was always something about a man wearing a suit that drove your mind wild.

"We can't go yet, you know I have to be bid on soon." You laughed, running your hand through his brown hair and ruffling it just a little. A low growl escaped his lips at the mention of the auction, it wasn't as though it was something he was best pleased about. The mere thought of you dancing with somebody else was going to drive him into a jealously spin and he didn't know if he would control himself. 

"You promised to be good," You smirked as he pulled you tighter, holding you from behind as he looked around at everyone in the room. There were so many other men in the room that would be willing to dance with you, barely taking their eyes off you from the moment you joined. 

"I am. I will." He muttered looking at you and sighing a little. It wasn't as though he was possessive just protective over you. 

"Ladies if you would like to come up onto the stage," A voice called out through a microphone. You smiled trying to leave Minho's arms but he locked them tightly around you. 

"Don't." He whined before you finally freed yourself. Kissing his cheek before heading up to the stage to join the rest of the girls up there. All of them dressed to impress.

"Finally we have Miss Y/l/n, shall we start the bidding at 

₩160000?" The female running the auction asked as she looked out at the crowd. A hand began raising toward the front and you smiled seeing Chan standing there. A lift was somehow lifted from you knowing that someone other than Minho would be willing to bid on you. 

"Do I hear, 170?" The woman answered, laughing as Minho's hand at the back shot right into the air. A smirk plastered across Chan's face as he winked up at you, raising the offer higher and higher each time the woman asked. Always trying to outbid Minho. Until finally, 

"1,000,000 going once...Twice...Congratulations Minho you won a dance with your own girlfriend," The announcer chuckled as you headed down from the stage, smirking at Chan as you passed him. 

"Well played Christopher," You whispered as he kissed your hand softly. 

"Anything for the charity, tell Minho we'll take it in cash or cheque," Shaking your head at him you began to walk toward Minho who looked jealous. It was clear to you what Chan had been doing from the start, just a little game in order to raise enough money but not to Minho.

To Minho it was a sign of Chan making a move for you, trying to take the person that Minho cared most about in this world. 

"We can't leave, you have to dance first." You whispered to Minho, taking your arm in your hand and squeezing just a little. Giving him a look to let him know that there was nothing going on between Chan and you. 

"You've got me," You whispered to him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and smiling.

Swaying together on the dance floor all Minho could focus on was the way you moved your hips. Watching your every movement as you danced together with him. Normally he would be an avid dance partner but not tonight, tonight he was worried about what everyone else was doing. If they were watching you and he wanted to show who you were, that you were his and his alone.

"Y/n," He breathed out as you turned your back on him, his arms linked around your waist as you rolled your hips back to meet his crotch.

"What?" A smirk hit your lips as you began to feel him grow from one small touch. Barely even a full touch from you and he was already needy and ready to take you home. Not even home, there was one thing Minho hadn't told you about tonight and that was that he had organised something. 

Nothing large but an overnight stay in a fancy hotel for the two of you. Something to get you out of the house and experience this luxury a little while longer.

"We're going," He ordered in your ear as he took your arm into his grasp and headed toward the exit. 

"Minho, we haven't even paid yet." You laughed a little as he continued to pull you out. Ignoring the looks he was gaining from other people at the function.

"Hmm my boy is so needy," You breathed out as you sat in the front passenger seat of his car. Hands resting on his thigh rubbing softly as his whole body seemed to tense up. Mind trying to focus on driving while you inched your hand higher and higher up his thigh until it was at his crotch. Palming him gently through the fabric of his smart pants. 

"Fuck," He whined out rolling his hips a little at a red light, glancing to you as he felt himself growing harder beneath your touch. Almost getting to the point where it was unbearable to feel you so close and yet so far away from him at the same time. The light changed and he drove again, your hand palming him a little harder as your other hand worked on undoing his buttons. 

"You missed our turning," You laughed as you saw Minho staring straight ahead. Eyes darkened as he shook his head at you, the feeling of taking you to a nice hotel for a romantic evening gone. Now all he wanted to do was get you there and fuck you so hard you would regret touching him in the car.

"Speak to me Minho," You whined as you took him out of his pants, pumping him in your hand as he let out a groan. Still not uttering a word in your direction so you continued to pump him, running your thumb along the slit of his cock and smirking. If he wasn't going to talk to you, you would have other ways of making him.

"Hmm, I guess you don't want to..." You whispered leaning down a little to spit onto his cock, kitten licking the head of his penis before smirking to yourself. There was one thing Minho hated most in the world and that was you teasing him. Glaring up at him you took him to the back of your throat, wasting no time in bobbing your head up and down. Swallowing around the head of his cock to make it tighter for him and enjoying the noises he let out. 

The whimpers and moans of your name as he continued to drive, in the completely wrong direction of your home together. 

"S-Shit!" He grunted parking in the parking lot as you continued to take him in your mouth. Playing with his balls until he let go into your mouth, slamming his hands onto the wheel and moaning out. 

"Shit! Y/n, fuck." He watched you as you raised from his crotch and wiped the corner of your lips. Slowly parting your mouth to show him all of his cum inside of your mouth. 

"You swallow it right now," He ordered as he took your face in his hands, tilting it back so that you couldn't drop any. Smirking at him you stared him in the eyes, not moving or swallowing anything. 

"I suggest you swallow it or you will spend the night clenching your thighs together at the thought of my cock being stuffed inside of you." The moment he threatened you with that you swallowed, parting your lips to show him that every last drop was gone and he smirked. A smug look plastered across his face as he got out of the car and pulled you out with him. 

"What are we doing here?" You questioned as you began to walk in the direction of the hotel. Minho simply smiled, tilting your head up to the fourth floor and showing you the large floor to ceiling windows. 

"You're going to get stuffed up against that window," He whispered right before wandering off on his own to go and check into the room. Leaving your legs rubbing together at the thought of him doing that with you. Something you had both wanted to do for the longest time.

"Whoa!" You breathed out rushing over to the window and staring out at the city. Everything looked beautiful, you weren't that high up and yet you could still see everything. 

"The city lights look like stars," You whispered gazing out at everything as Minho dropped his bag onto the bed. Some spare clothes for the two of you to go home in tomorrow, that was if you could still walk by the time he was done with you. 

You opened your mouth about to say something else when your hands were pinned to the window above your head. Minho took in a deep breath and smirked at you,

"We should make this the best night of your life," He whispered as he bit down on your ear lobe, grinding his already hard cock against your ass with a smirk.

"T-The bed," You whispered but Minho shook his head, running one hand down the side of your dress to find the zip. 

"The bed looks, great baby...I would just throw you down, put you on your stomach and make you beg for my cock but..." He smirked taking in a deep breath and looking at the way you rubbed your thighs together at his words. How could you not? The thought of Minho doing anything to you sent a pool to your panties and made your stomach do flips.

"Against the window?" You questioned as you turned around to face him, holding your dress by the bodice since Minho had already unzipped your gown. 

"Take it off baby...Nice and slow." He whispered watching as you slowly let the dress fall to the ground. Exposing the black lace underwear set you had worn that night. 

"Now your bra," He smirked licking his lips as he watched you yet again. Unclasping your bra and watching him as you threw it to the side, 

"So hot," He moaned out as you began to rub your breasts in your hands.

"Shit princess, look at you...Squeeze and pinch your nipples like a good girl." He praised as you followed his orders, letting out a soft whimper. Nothing would feel as when he would do this to you, but you knew this was punishment for making him cum in your mouth in the car.

"Now your panties," He stood back a little, stripping himself down to nothing but his shirt and pants, watching as you kicked off your panties. Licking your lips as his eyes went straight to your core. 

"Tease your little pussy for me," He whispered watching as you began to slowly rub yourself with your fingers. Eyes fluttering shut as you imagined his fingers on you instead of your own. 

"Yes, just like that...Good girl." He praised once more watching as you continued to slowly and gently rub your clit. Letting out small whines when you couldn't touch yourself quite how he could.

"Look at that, all dripping wet and ready to be fucked." He whispered in satisfaction, rubbing himself through his pants as he moved closer to you. 

"Turn around and bent down in front of the window baby." He smirked slapping and grabbing your ass as you turned away from him. 

"Right against the glass baby, like a beautiful piece of art for people to see," He stood behind you, cock brushing between your folds as he made you look out at the city. 

"You think anyone can see? Maybe they can see the way your tits press up against the glass." He sniggered rubbing your clit with the head of his cock making you whine. 

"Minho please, fuck me." You begged him, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder but he looked at you. 

"I'll take my time with you, baby," He placed a soft kiss on your neck making your eyes flutter shut. You always loved feeling his lips on your neck, they made you feel so safe around him.

Rubbing himself at your entrance he made you face forward, cock ready to push into you as you whined. 

"F-Fuck, I'm just going to push into you baby," He smirked sliding into you and moaning out as you clenched around him,

"Mhmm, always so tight around my cock." He grunted as you moaned out. Hands stretched on the window as you looked out at the city, 

"Look at that, you're already starting to fog up the window baby." He chuckled as he began to slowly ease out of you only to slam right back into you and moan out. 

"Up against the glass, good girl." He moaned out as you pushed yourself against the glass, ignoring how cold it was against your tits and enjoying the way it felt to have him inside of you. Every inch of his cock stretching you out as he eased in and out of you. 

"Fuck, you're so much tighter...You like this huh?" He smirked slapping your ass and rubbing it softly in his hands, 

"You like being fucked up against a window when anybody could see you?" You knew this was either going to make or break tonight so you smirked, 

"Anyone? Like Chan?" Minho's hips froze as he held himself deep inside of your cunt. Hand gripping onto your ass as he asked you to repeat it. 

"What was that angel?" The roughness in his voice made you clench around him and he chuckled. 

"C-Chan could be watching," You repeated as you moaned out, rolling your hips back but he pushed you against the glass.

"You want that? You want Chan to see the way I fuck this pussy?" He began to roughly fuck in and out of you. Moaning out as you continued to try and grip onto the window. 

"Fuck! Just like that!" You screamed as he continued to get rougher with you, biting down on your skin. 

"You want Chan to see who makes you scream? Who you cum for ?" He smirked at you. 

"Acting like the little slut you are for me?" You could barely form words as you whimpered and nodded at him.

"Getting fucked from behind in front of the window, you're fucking mine." He grunted his thrusts getting harsher with each word that he spoke. Hands gripping onto your hips as you cried out nothing but his name. Getting lost in the feeling of his cock hitting that one spot over and over again. 

"You're fucking mine, say it." He ordered as he froze inside of you, holding himself at that one spot that made your toes curl into the carpeted floor. 

"No one can fuck you like that, can they?" He growled at you, hand slapping against your ass,

"No! No one can!" You screamed as he began to thrust once again, tits hitting the window as you cried out his name. 

"Take my dick baby, like the good little girl you are," He moaned out as you clenched around him, feeling your high fast approaching as you nodded 

"F-Fuck me Minho, fuck." You cried out as he continued to pound in and out of you harder against the glass. Moaning out your name as he kissed down your neck. 

"I like the view right now," He smirked as he continued to fuck into, rolling your hips against his as you cried out his name. Head getting lost at the feeling of him inside of you.

"You feel so good Minho," You moaned out as you looked over at him, moaning out as he slapped your ass again.

"Hmm, if Chab could see you like this right now, bent over for me getting fucked right against the window." He slapped your ass again and you moaned out, feeling your stomach tightening. The orgasm building up inside of you as your eyes began to shut,

"Minho!" You cried out as your legs began to shake a little, hands reaching into the window to grip onto anything you could.

"You want to cum?" You nodded desperately and he smirked, grabbing your shoulders as he began to pound into our harder, 

"Pound into that tight fucking pussy harder," He chuckled deeply as he began to get rougher with you.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, hands slamming against the glass as he looked at you in pleasure.

"That's the spot isn't it?" He chuckled as he moaned out, hitting that one spot that caused your legs to shake and your pussy to clench around him. Holding your shoulders to slam into that one point over and over again without fail. Your eyes widening as you felt yourself beginning to tip over the edge.

"Shit, shit! F-Fill me up! Fuck me full with your cum." You begged him looking over at him as he continued to fuck into you. Eyes darkening as he nodded his head 

"Make it drip out of me," You begged as he moaned out. Enjoying the way you begged for him as he fucked you like this.

"Yeah?" He questioned as you nodded over and over again. 

"YES!" You practically demanded as you looked over at him.

"So fucking beautiful, so sexy." He whimpered as he nodded at you, 

"Cum on my cock angel, cum around me." He moaned out as you cried out his name. Hands slamming against the glass as you finally let go of the release inside of you. Letting your orgasm wash over you like a wave and cum around him. Clenching and shaking uncontrollably as he fucked his load into you.

The moment you dropped down onto the bed Minho switched demeanor, holding your waist in his and smiling. Making sure to hold you close to his body and rub your back softly. 

"I love you, baby," He whispered as he placed his lips on your skin softly and lovingly. Never wanting to let you go all night long if he could manage it, 

"We can order room service if you want?" He offers, realising that neither of you had eaten much at the charity event and how hungry you must have been. 

"Sure, with chocolate cake?" You hummed turning around in his arms so you were face to face with him, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Perfect, I'll order it all soon." He whispers before kissing you once again.

Tagline: @minholuvs @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​

[zainclaw]

Hello. I am a new symbrock shipper and i really appreciate your posts of the excerpts from the comics. But i was wondering which part of the comic people said the writer (the cates one) erased some kind of part about the eddie & venom? It gets me curious somehow and was wondering if you knew about this.

...I’ve actually been expecting someone to ask me about this, sooner or later. Kinda been dreading it, tbh XD But here goes.

(This is quite a long and serious answer, and I totally get if not everyone wanna read this, but as more and more people are becoming interested in the Venom comics, I do think this is an important thing to address.)

This is also a conversation about fandom.

*deep breath*

First of all. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and just like some people might be upset with the writers of a tv-show when things take a turn they don't agree with, some people are upset with the changes Donny Cates did when he took over the Venom comics after Mike Costa. Yes.

But here’s the thing:

The Venom comics have had many writers (and artists) over the years. I mean, jesus christ, the Venom symbiote’s very first appearance was back in 1988. That’s over 30 fucking years ago, people. At this point, I don’t think it’s realistic to expect the feel of the story to be the same under every single writer that comes on. I just don’t.

In 1996 Len Kaminski gave us Eddie and his symbiote holding hands and giving each other chocolate gifts with love hearts and the line “it’s not human, but it’s given me things no girlfriend ever could” in The Hunger. Then, 20 years later, in 2017-2018, we had Mike Costa give us Eddie calling the symbiote ‘my love’ and ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ and refer to their partnership as a relationship and finally made them have a baby together in First Host.

(I strongly recommend using my masterlist of comics excerpts as a timeline here to understand what the hell I’m talking about.)

Sure, Cates hasn’t had Eddie calling the symbiote ‘my love’ or ‘darling’ since he took over. I guess you could say he “removed” that. Do I miss that part? Yeah. Of course. But as far as I know, no one had Eddie and the symbiote hold hands again in the 20 years following The Hunger, either. Different writers have told different stories, chose to focus on different things.

Cates chose to go down a very angsty route. To, for example, bring back the topic of the Venom symbiote having a past with Flash Thompson, of sometimes wanting to be with him more than Eddie, and feeling torn about who to choose, and Eddie’s pain and jealousy over that. This is something Mike Costa barely touched on during his run. Costa wanted domestic bliss, so that’s what he did. But that doesn’t remove past canon. Not for him, or anyone else.

I’ve said this before - have basically warned people who’ve come to me saying they wanna start reading the comics because of my excerpts - but the comics are fucking angsty. There’s a reason I’ve made a point of posting Symbrock highlights from the comics, rather than just say “read the comics, they’re just never-ending domestic Symbrock bliss” because they’re not.

Eddie Brock is not a happy man, and his relationship with the Venom symbiote has been obsessive, possessive and unhealthy at times. They have grown a lot and come a long way over the years, but this has always been a part of their canon. Eddie’s fear of being alone, of being the symbiote’s second choice.

This side of them is part of why I, personally, find their relationship so intriguing. How they can’t stay away from each other, even though they're both so flawed and not always good “people”, and don’t really know how to keep their relationship healthy.

And I think Cates must have felt the same way, because he’s chose to dive into Eddie as his own person. He’s made Eddie face his demons, his past, deal with his fear of being alone and do a lot of growing in ways I haven’t seen him do in any previous comics. He wanted to tell the story of Eddie Brock, to perhaps let him become a better person than he was, in order to make the relationship between him and the Venom symbiote better. And in my personal opinion, he’s doing a great job of that.

I’m very much against the “fandom hive mind” thing, and the thought of new people entering the Venom/Symbrock fandom and simply adopting the “we hate Donny Cates, he ruined the comics” mentality because they see so many other shippers feel that way, is so upsetting to me. I don’t like how entitled fans can become at times.

(I don’t know how many people who still follow me from my Teen Wolf days, but, damn, I’m embarrassed about a lot of stuff that went down between that fandom and the show runners/actors. It was a silly teenage show on MTV, and yet so many adults (myself included) thought they should have a say in where the story went, and not. It took me a long time to realize that, but there it is.)

Donny Cates did NOT deserve the hate he got from so many Symbrock shippers back in 2018. He’s NOT unfaithful to the story of Venom as a whole, and has NOT ignored previous canon. He openly spoke to and supported the Symbrock shippers on Twitter, before they tore him to pieces for not being Mike Costa. For, in their opinion, completely ignoring the loving nature of their relationship.

But like?

Cates is the one who gave us the Venom symbiote’s first “I love you, Eddie”. Cates is the one who gave us Eddie getting phantom limb syndrome from being apart from the symbiote. Cates is the only one, in my opinion, who’s given us SO many beautifully heartbreaking inner dialogues from Eddie like that about love and loss and longing, all referring to the Venom symbiote. Cates is the one who gave us the exchange “You found me” / “Always” that I’m still crying about.

My point being: I don’t think it’s fair at all to say that Cates has ignored the intimate relationship between Eddie and the symbiote. Because he hasn’t.

And it wouldn’t surprise me if, one day, when the Venom comics get a writer who actually doesn’t treat Eddie and the symbiote like romantic partners, people will look back on previous runs and say “wow I miss what Cates did.”

But,

I’m not here to convince anyone that Cates’ run is better than, or even as good as, Costa’s. I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to love every Venom comic that’s come out in the past 30 years written by several different writers. That’s unrealistic. You’re allowed to have a favorite Venom writer. You’re allowed to think that where Mike Costa’s comics ended, Eddie and the Venom symbiote’s story ended, for you. You’re also allowed to, like me, enjoy the angsty and slow burn story currently being told by Donny Cates.

You don’t have to hate Cates just because you’re a Symbrock shipper.

That’s all I wanted to say, more or less.

[tuiccim]

Terrigenisis (Part 20)

Pairing: Stucky x Inhuman!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (NSFW 18+)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics��

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist

The following afternoon, the entire team is back at the compound and doing a team training session. You, Steve, and Bucky use the opportunity to announce your engagement. Your teammates are excited and hugs and well wishes surround you. 

“Can I be the flower girl?” Wanda jokes as she hugs you. 

“Dizzy’s already claimed that honor,” you laugh.

“Alright, alright! Let’s get to work. We need to be in perfect sync for the mission.” Steve redirects everyone’s attention. 

“You got it, Cap!” you salute him as you get into position. Two hours later, you break from the drills and begin to disburse when you pull up your phone. “What the hell?” you say as you see your social media had blown up with comments and messages. You pull up your feed and begin reading. You can feel the color drain from your face. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Bucky is the first to notice you frozen in shock. 

“I… the… I don’t understand.” You feel like throwing up reading the words whore, slut, and many other disgusting slurs left on your account. Bucky pulls your phone from your hand and looks at it. 

“What the fuck?” He yells.

Steve speeds over and looks at the phone that Bucky holds out to him. 

“I don’t understand,” you say again, trembling. Bucky puts his arms around you. 

“Uhhh, guys,” Tony says as he pulls up a video.

The spokesman for one of the biggest celebrity tabloids flashes a picture of Steve and Bucky on the screen and says, “Speculation has always run wild on the love life of Captain America, Steve Rogers, and The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, but they’ve always kept it hush-hush. Now, a source close to the Avengers has come forward to give us the down and dirty details. Allegedly, our shield throwing hero doesn’t have just a girlfriend, but a boyfriend as well. Way to play both sides, Captain. We’ve been told that Captain America is dating none other than his two teammates, The Winter Soldier and Artemis, the newest member of the Avengers.”

“Artemis! The fuck?” you exclaim as a picture of the three of you is displayed on the screen. 

“Seen here at one of Tony Stark’s exclusive parties, the three have allegedly been dating for several months. But, according to our source, two men aren’t enough for the voracious Artemis, she’s also in a relationship with none other than the villainous Loki of Asgard,” the spokesman continues. Another picture from the party flashes up of you and Loki laughing together. Your stomach is rolling as this apparently isn’t the end of the slanderous story, “Artemis, an Inhuman with the skills of a linguist and animal trainer, joined the team a year ago and has apparently had her hooks in every man she’s come across since then. Our source claims she had affairs with Tony Stark, Clint Barton, and Sam Wilson before settling on the three she dates now. There is also some speculation surrounding the death of her first husband. Is she the real black widow of the Avengers?”

The video ends and you clutch your stomach, “I’m gonna be sick.” Running to the bathroom, you barely make it to the toilet before you lose your lunch. Bucky and Steve are right behind you. 

“Doll, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Bucky soothes as he rubs your back. 

You sit back against the wall and begin to sob. Steve pulls you into his lap and Bucky’s arms surround you both. 

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. We’ll fix this.” Steve says as he rubs your back. 

“We’ll get through it, doll. Whatever we have to do. We won’t let this stand.” Bucky reassures you. 

When the sobs begin to subside, you look at the two of them and nod. They help you stand and you wash out your mouth. When you return, the team is still standing around together. 

“Okay, kids. Artie is on his way and formulating a plan as we speak to work this out. We’ll demand a retraction of the slander. The PR team is going through your social media and deleting and blocking any negative comments. There are several groups who are rallying behind you all and your relationship. We’ve got your back, kid.” Tony puts a hand on your shoulder and you nod weakly. 

Wanda hugs you and you nearly break down again. Natasha looks as if she’s plotting murder with Clint. You notice Sam is missing. 

“Let’s go to our room and rest until Artie gets here. It’ll probably be a long meeting.” Bucky suggests. 

“Yeah, okay,” you follow his lead out. Shortly after the three of you get to your room there’s a knock on the door. Steve opens it and lets Sam into the room. 

“I, uh… I’m so sorry.” Sam stutters uncharacteristically and can’t quite meet your eyes. 

“Kaziah,” you state.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure. I’m so sorry. I swear I never said anything like that to her. I would never disrespect you like that.” Sam explains. 

“It’s not your fault, Sam,” you reassure him. 

“But I did tell her about you guys. And how you lost Charlie and became an Inhuman. I’m so sorry.” 

“You trusted her. I’m so sorry she betrayed you like that,” you hug Sam’s neck. “I know you must be so hurt that she did that. Maybe she was jealous about our torrid love affair.”

Sam breaks a smile, “I do have a way with the ladies.” 

“Your spirit is unbreakable. Already cracking jokes,” Steve puts his arms around you. 

“I think it’s laugh or cry at this point. I’d rather laugh. I’m sure there will be more tears later,” you say. “I need a shower.”

“That’s my cue to leave.” Sam quips. 

“Sam,” you call. 

“Can you tell Tony, please? He can probably find out for sure.” 

“Yeah. Of course.” Sam exits. 

“Alright, doll. Let’s get that shower.” Bucky pulls you into the bathroom. You stand under the spray minutes later with Bucky and Steve on each side of you. You wash each other gently, sharing soft touches and loving caresses. No matter what anyone ever says about your relationship and your love, you will never give up these two men. The loves of your life. 

Your stomach twists for a moment. Loving Steve and Bucky does not negate your love of Charlie. The accusation of killing him was what hurt more than anything else. If it hadn’t been for Terrigenisis you would still most likely be happily married to Charlie. It reaffirms to you that perhaps there really is a reason that everything happens. Which means there is a reason for this happening. You just couldn’t figure out what it was quite yet. 

“Team meeting in the conference room, immediately.” Friday chimes into your thoughts. 

Ten minutes later, the team is sitting around the conference table facing Artemus "Artie" Pithins, Director of Public Relations, and Tony. 

“We apparently have another Artemis now.” Artie chuckles as he greets you. 

“Wasn’t my decision but if it means I am as formidable as you I’m honored,” you smile as you shake Artie’s hand. 

“Charming under pressure. I love it. We’ll get through this.” Artie reassures you. When everyone is seated Artie addresses the team, “I’d like to begin by telling you all, we have confirmed the source of the leak and that person is being dealt with accordingly. Next, I give this story no credence, but I do need to go through it piece by piece to confirm what is truth and what is lies.”

“We understand.” Steve affirms.

“Are you in a polyamorous relationship as described?” Artie addresses Steve. 

“Yes,” Steve replies. 

“I see. Sgt. Barnes and our newly dubbed Artemis are your boyfriend and girlfriend?” Artie asks. 

“No, they’re my fiancees.” Steve counters. 

“Oh, Congratulations.” Artie’s wheels are turning as he continues down his list of questions. He turns to you next, “Are you in any type of relationship with Prince Loki Odinson?”

“He’s a close friend and my training partner,” you say calmly. 

“But no romantic relationship now or previously?” Artie confirms.

“No,” you reply. 

“Mr. Stark, are you now or have you ever been in a sexual relationship-”

“No, never.” Tony interrupts rolling his eyes. 

“Mr. Bar-”

“No,” Clint says curtly.

“Also, no.” Sam pipes in before the question can be asked. 

“And the last claim I won’t even dignify. That will be retracted with an apology if I have anything to say about it. I know this is not the most couth question but I need to ask. Have any of the three of you had a sexual relationship with another teammate?” Artie states.

“No,” the three of you say practically in unison. 

“Well, then I think we have the perfect solution already in the works. We’ll need the two of you to do a couple of interviews to dispel the rumors and we’ll use that time to also announce the wedding of Captain America and Artemis.” Artie smiles at you. 

“You mean the three of us, Captain America, The Winter Soldier, and Artemis,” you say. 

“The polyamorous relationship is not going to play well, but if we can shift the story from that relationship to the romance that grew out of you joining the team and throw a spectacular wedding, we’ll have nothing to worry about it,” Artie explains.

“No,” you say, looking between Steve and Bucky. 

“Let’s reconvene in two hours. Take the time to discuss it. You have a lot to consider.” Artie closes the meeting. 

Back in your room, you sit on the couch with your head in your hands. 

“Doll?” Steve sits beside you and puts a hand on your back. 

You look up at him, “Do you want to go through with this charade? Leave Bucky out of the ceremony? Everything this entails?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d be best man in Stevie’s wedding no matter what,” Bucky tries to lighten the mood. 

“You should be a groom in it, baby,” you counter.

“I know, I know, doll,” Bucky sits on the other side of you, “But it’d just be a show for the public. We can have a ceremony with just our friends after. Or before. However you want.”

“Is that what you think, Stevie?” you ask.

“Here’s what I’m thinking…”

Part 21

Tuiccim’s Masterlist

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series are made weekly. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​​ and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

Strictly Professional

Sam “Ace” Rothstein x Call Girl! Reader

Enjoy Sam’s rocky relationship with his favorite call girl!

TW: smut, dirty talk, rough sex, prostitution, heartbreak, being involved with two women but its not cheating?

Word Count: 9.3k

As you finish placing the last few snacks down on your little marble tray, you hear the doorbell ring. You have a new client tonight! "Coming!" you yell from the kitchen before rushing to the front door. You take a moment to straighten out your silk robe, checking your reflection in the foyer mirror before opening the door. "Cumming already? I didn't know I was that good," the man says smugly. "Oh, you naughty boy," you say, greeting him with a hug and rubbing your body against his, "Come in, honey." He steps over the threshold, and you close the door behind him. As you slip his sport coat from his shoulders, he starts, "It's nice to meet you, I'm-" "Ace Rothstein. You run The Tangiers." "Ah, so you've seen my place before?" he asks, impressed. "A few times with friends or clients. Plus, you're practically a household name here in the desert." He looks down for a moment, clearly flattered. "Well, I'd like to leave the celebrity outside; you can call me Sam." "Sam, huh?" you saunter up to him, playing with his tie, "It's nice to meet you, Sam. I'm (Y/N)." You pull him close, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you do with many of the men you meet up with. "(Y/N)... I like that." Whether he was referring to your name or the kiss on the cheek you aren't sure, but you can tell he's into you. So you start walking away from him, further into your house: your way of being a tease and letting him see your... "assets." "You can sit here on the couch if you'd like," you throw over your shoulder, "Would you like a glass of wine, Sam?" "Hmm," he hums, looking up as if he's thinking. "Champagne?" you suggest. He gives you a look and raises his eyebrows, "Perfect." "Yes, sir," you say, slipping into the kitchen. You pull a bottle of champagne from your wine fridge, plop it in a bucket of ice, and return to the living room with it. Setting the alcohol on the table, you say, "I'll be right back!" Before trotting off to the kitchen again and returning with your little marble snack tray. "Oh," Sam remarks, looking over the crackers, cheese, meats, petit fours, and chocolate-covered strawberries, "Wow, I've never been treated quite like this before." "Well, the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach," you sit on your knees right next to him on the couch, "and I like to keep my men coming back for more." You pop the cork off the champagne, pouring two glasses and handing one to Sam. You spend some time enjoying your drinks as you get to know one another. You find him very charming, and it's no wonder his casino is such a success. As you feed him a bite of chocolate-covered strawberry, you ponder, "What's a sweet man like you doing with a call girl?" After chewing up the strawberry and taking a sip of champagne, he explains, "I guess I haven't had much luck in love." You hum near his ear, rubbing his chest with your hand, "The man who knows all the odds isn't willing to take a chance with his heart." You start placing sensual kisses along his cheek and shirt collar. He turns his head slightly towards you, looking down at your pretty face, before catching your lips with his. You give him a series of feather soft kisses, waiting for him to want more. He wraps his arms around you, pressing your chest into him. Your hand snakes down from his chest towards the waistline of his pants, where you scratch at the fabric there. The man lets out a grunt and spreads his legs a bit wider. He tries to deepen your kisses, but you tease him by keeping them light and oh-so-gently tracing your fingertips over his groin. When Sam shifts his hips trying to get more friction, you pull your lips away from his and give him a mischievous smile. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes already lust-blown, then he grabs your head roughly and kisses you, hard. You let out a whiny little moan as his tongue presses at your lips. When you allow him access to your mouth, he pulls you across his lap and tightly holds you with his arms around your waist. Straddling him, you feel him holding your hips down so he can press his sex against yours. You'd never seen a man become so needy so quickly. You pull away from his kiss again, but this time, it's to give him a little treat. He makes a disappointed noise at the loss of your lips, but he's pleasantly surprised when he sees you untying your robe and dropping the silky material from your shoulders. You're left in nothing but a white, sheer, lace teddy, and Sam is left breathless. "Beautiful... You're absolutely beautiful, and such a pretty face," he strokes your cheek. There was a sincerity in his compliment that you hadn't experienced much in this line of work. You can tell Sam is a real gentleman. His large hands rub your sides, appreciating the warmth of your skin, and his eyes roam your body, specifically your breasts. He also thinks they're pretty. "May I?" he asks you, glancing at your chest. "Of course, Sam." He gently cups your breasts, softly squeezing and playing with them through the thin fabric of your lingerie. Your fingers cling to the skin of his neck which helps you lean in to kiss him on the forehead. His hands sneak up and untie the lace at the back of your neck; the top of your teddy slides off of you, and Sam's mouth softly surrounds one of your nipples. He suckles at it while his fingers tickle and squeeze your other nipple. You wrap your arms around his head, holding him to your chest while you grind your hips down on his lap again. When you get a needy moan from the man, you ask him, "You wanna go upstairs?" He pops off of your nipple and looks up at you, "That where your bedroom is?" "Yes, sweetheart," another kiss on the forehead. "Can I carry you?" "Sweeping me off my feet already? You make me feel like a princess or something," you giggle! "Well, some of the girls at the casino do call me the King of Hearts," he returns cutely, also with a little chuckle. And with that, he stands up, planting a kiss on you then leading you to the staircase. Your legs are wrapped firmly around his waist as he makes it to the upstairs hallway, asking which door leads to your room. Inside, he sees your large soft bed with freshly washed sheets. "Mm, looks cozy," he points out before he throws you onto the bed, enjoying the way you bounce and laugh. He walks over to a chair at the corner of the room and kicks his shoes off. When you make a move to stand up, he stops you, "No, you just lay there and let me look at ya; I'll undress myself." He gives you a warm smile as he loosens his tie. You get comfy on the bed, grabbing a pillow and cuddling it against your chest, as if spooning it. Then you turn away from Sam, showing off your bare back and cute butt, still adorned with white lace. "Ooh, you're sexy from the backside, too," he tells you. When you peak over your shoulder and see him hanging his pants on the back of the chair, he gives you a wink. Wearing just an unbuttoned shirt and boxer briefs, he walks over to the nightstand beside your bed, "I brought these in case you want to use them," as he sits down a strip of condoms. You simply hug your pillow tightly; every little thing he does makes you feel so special. He comes back over to the bed, this time wearing nothing but his birthday suit. You feel him crawl on the bed behind you, and he lays down to spoon you. "You're making me very jealous of that pillow, you know that?" his voice grumbles in your ear as his palm rubs circles into your butt cheek. You twist around and give the man another passionate kiss, "Thank you for bringing protection, that was very considerate of you. I do like to use condoms, and I keep some here so you don't have to buy them each time... If you choose to come back to see me." He gets right next to your ear to whisper, "If the sex is half as good as your hospitality, I think you'll be seeing me again." The next few moments are a whirlwind of making out, getting the last of your lingerie on the floor, and rushing to get a condom as you could barely keep your hands off of one another. Sam is normally a man that likes to take his time and be meticulous with things, but you treat him in a way that just hits all the right buttons. He can hardly wait to bury himself in you to the hilt. And for good reason, too. He is simply 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 with the way your body feels: your baby soft skin in his hands, your nails in his back, your plush thighs against his hips, even the sound of your moans in his ears, and of course your tight wet warmth squeezing his throbbing member as he fucks you into the mattress. As for you, Sam is one of the best partners you've ever had--scratch that--𝘵𝘩𝘦 best. He's incredibly romantic, involved, attentive to what you like; he'd already brought you two orgasms! You can't wrap your head around how this man is single. "Baby," he gruffly warns you, "baby, I'm gonna cum." His eyebrows furrow and his hips move in a more shallow motion, sinking himself into you a few more times. He revels in this feeling, hanging on the edge of his climax, when a little tear rolls down his cheek. His breath hitches as he inhales sharply, spilling into the condom. He drags out his orgasm by thrusting into you until he just can't anymore. When he collapses on top of you, you simply hold him close, giving him some love and affection. He lies there on your chest listening to the sound of your heartbeat, exhausted from his flood of emotions. Your hand strokes the side of his face, stopping on his cheek and thumbing that tear stain away, "You alright, honey?" He looks up at you with his eyes, the gives you a small smile, "Yeah... It was just 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 good." "Mmmm, so I'll see you again?" "Yes, ma'am... if I can move. Right now, I really just wanna sleep right here." "Well, you're more than welcome to, baby boy. Maybe I'll make you breakfast in the morning," you give him a kiss on top of his hair that had been neatly gelled, but now it's a kinky mess. "Or I'll have you for breakfast," he jokes smugly before giving you a kiss on the neck. • • • It's almost unnecessary to say, but Sam becomes a very regular client of yours. You quickly grow to be his favorite call girl, and as a customer and as a person, he treats you right. In fact, he treats you well enough that you make an effort to open your schedule for him, and he pays you well enough that you can drop some lower paying clients. But perhaps that isn't the only reason you've made yourself so available... "Sam, honey?" you start. You're at his place; since you've seen him a few times now, you've started meeting at his place as well. And boy, is it so nice there! "Yeah, gorgeous?" his voice comes out in a whisper while you laying in bed wrapped in his arms and a post-coital glow. "Want me to run you a bath?" "A bath, hmm?" he gives you that twinkling side eye, the one that tells you he's incredibly happy, even if his lips only wear a tiny smile. "Yeah, so we can wash off. Ya know, I could bathe you... lather you up with a little soap and a sponge... rinse it all off... and repeat," you giggle the last part. "Mmmm, does that cost extra, mama?" "Not for you, sugar." And it's true; he pays you more than enough for you to go above and beyond for him, not to mention how incredibly sweet he is. Sometimes he pulls at your heartstrings with his little pet names for you and the way he appreciates every inch of your body, even if you're just cuddling. Moments later Sam is relaxed back in the bathtub, arms stretched wide, looking absolutely inviting, so you climb right in and sit in front of him, facing him. He leans forward and gives you a smooch before leaning back against the wall of the bathtub. You scoot over to him, tucking himself under his arm, so you can both stretch out your legs. "Sam?" you ask, sliding a hand across his thigh under the water and the suds. "Hm?" he wraps an arm around you, massaging your scalp with his fingertips. You wrap your hand around his length, stroking it easily with the bath water acting as a lubricant. "Ooh, baby," he nearly jumps, legs tensing up a bit, "I'm still a bit- ssss-sensitive from- from earlier." He groans and his thighs twitch from your ministrations. "I know, but I have something to ask you, and I want your undivided attention," you explain, whispering the last part in his ear. "B-but..." is all he can get out as your hand bobs up and down, making him hard again so soon after his orgasm. "Do I have your attention, honey buns?" you chastise him, knowing full well that he can't think of anything but you and the way your thumb is swirling around that over-sensitive tip. "Uh-huh," he nods his head in small movements, his eyes drifting close, giving into that half-uncomfortable, half-pleasant feeling. His hands grab onto you, bracing himself, and you reward him with a few soft kisses before prompting him with your question. It was something you'd never asked a client before. Something you'd been asked by a client and even agreed to a number of times, but it felt inappropriate for you to be the one asking this, especially with such a high profile client as Sam Rothstein. It was funny how quickly you'd fallen into calling him Sam, and it felt special being one of the few people that called him that. "Take me to dinner." It's a simple enough request, but you know the complications involved. "Huh?" Sam's face looks at you hazily, eyebrows arched up almost as if he's drunk. "Take me to dinner, Sam," you repeat, and you realize that you aren't very good at asking a question; those typically end in question marks. His face becomes serious, and your hand comes to a halt and moves away from his member. He sits there, staring off into space and chewing on his lip as he thinks, but when he turns to face you, his eyes immediately soften. "Sweetheart..." he starts and trails off. His large hand softly cups your cheek, dampening your face with water, and he urges you closer to him until your foreheads touch. You both stay quiet like that for a moment, eyes closed before his head tilts back, and he searches for your lips. After a tender kiss, he gathers his thoughts and explains, "You know how much I'd love to take you out. You have such a great personality and you always make me feel so good, in more ways than one. But the fact is: it would do something to my reputation if I were to be seen taking you to dinner." He grabs a wash cloth from the edge of the bathtub and starts to gently wash your features that he finds so statuesque: your shoulders, clavicles, neck, and decolletage. "I know, sugar. Everyone knows that rich men sleep with call girls, prostitutes, hookers, whatever you wanna call us... but they don't wanna see us in public. It's not your fault; I just thought I would ask," you lean forward and give him another series of kisses. You have to admit you're a little sad about it, but you knew what the answer was going to be. "C'mere," Sam says in his seductive voice. "C'mere? I'm right here," you giggle. "Mm, not close enough," he remarks and then wraps his arms around you and pulls you under the water for an onslaught of kisses--seriously this man's tub is gigantic. • • • Just like any usual night with Sam, he shows up to your house pretty late at night after getting off at the casino, but this night, he shows up dressed a little nicer than usual (how he could dress any nicer you don't know) and with a beautiful bouquet of lilies, carnations, chrysanthemums, you name it and it was probably in that bouquet. "Sam! What's this for?!" your voice is so giddy as you hold the huge bundle of flowers in your arms. "Go upstairs and put on one of those nice dresses I bought you, we've got somewhere to be," he wraps an arm around your waist and greets you with a kiss. "Huh?" the confusion comes through in your tone. "Did I stutter? Get that pretty little ass upstairs and change out of that robe..." He softly spins your around and gives your backside a smack, "Leave the lingerie though," he whispers before sending you upstairs. You'd only ever seen Sam's Cadillac before, whether it was parked at your house or outside The Tangiers; you'd never been in it before, but you have to say: it's a very luxurious car. Sam casually cruises down the road, left hand on the wheel, cigarette in the right. Damn, he just looks so good. Once he's done smoking and puts out his cigarette, his fingers lace with yours. "Sam, where are we going?!" you badger him for about the hundredth time. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?" he chuckles calmly. Always calm, cool, and collected. But you have your answer only a few minutes later when you pull into a tiny restaurant on the outskirts of town. "I know how bad you wanted me to take you out, and I know this maybe isn't what you imagined, but I promise I tried my best to make it special," he places a kiss on your knuckles before hopping out the car and quickly walking around to open your door for you. As you're walking towards the door of the quaint mom-and-pop style eatery, Sam's arm wrapped firmly around your waist, you see a sign by the door. "Sam, honey, it says they close at 10 o'clock! It's way past 10!" "Shush, it's okay, I know the owners," he holds the door open for you, "Does this place look closed to you?" Inside the place is adorned with twinkling lights strung across the banisters, and little vines of ivy decorate the room. The host leads you to your table which is draped in a white table cloth and is already set with wine glasses and a few candles: a set up a little nicer than usual for a place like this. There are a few other patrons seated around the dining room, but it's far from packed. You almost had to wonder if Sam paid the other guests to have dinner here. As Sam stands before you, pulling out your chair for you to have a seat, you feel like you're in a dream, and suddenly you can't really move. He notices the overwhelmed look on your face, and he steps over, pulling you softly into him. "Hey, you okay?" It's barely above a whisper. You look around him, avoiding his eye contact and once again taking in the simple but elegant decor. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before," your voice sounds raspy and tears threaten to drip from your waterline. "What, this? Certainly you've been to fancier places before," he chuckles, trying to lighten to mood. A small huff of air comes out your nose and your lips can't help but form a smile, "You know what I mean, sweet boy, it's the gesture." "Well, you deserve this gesture and many more," he places a kiss on your cheek then leads you to the table to take your seat. Sam being as charismatic as he is and a bit of a bachelor, the night goes by so well! As much as you enjoy cuddling and having sex with the man, it's nice to see him in a different setting. You are also happy that you are getting to have dinner in a more private place, because it feels like you get to see Sam for who he really is, without any airs he may put on around big spenders at the casino. You really have a good time with your client; he knows how to make a girl feel special, and it maybe even feels a little romantic. It's easy for the lines to get blurred in your line of work, but you've always been good at recognizing boundaries, and what you and Sam have... It's more than strictly professional. No man in his position would go out of his way like this for some broad; he'd have to really care about her to risk his reputation. • • • After that, Sam became more comfortable and started to take you to more dinners, less private dinners. One night before heading home after dinner, Sam's using the restroom when he runs into a manager from a competing casino. "Ace, how are ya?" he says in a rather country accent. Sam simply gives him a nod, trying to be polite but blow the guy off. "You still parading that girl around? Whats her name?" he then mispronounces your name, likely on purpose; it's easy to tell he's being condescending. "(Y/N)." That's all Sam says, glaring at the guy, before moving to the sink to wash his hands. "Yeah, well, word on the street is that Ace Rothstein is dating a whore. Just thought you should know." Sam's jaw clenches tightly as he dries his hands. He discards the towel and stalks over to the man, still at the urinal. One of Sam's hands grips the back of the other man's neck and pushes him forward roughly, so his cheek is pressed against the cold bathroom wall. "I got half a mind to make your skull a part of this bathroom tile. Keep her name out your filthy mouth... You won't get a second chance," Sam practically growls. He roughly releases the other man, then walks out of the restroom wiping his hands and smoothing down the front of his jacket. That night, the sex was unlike anything you'd ever had with Sam. "Oh! Oh!! Sam!" you yell out as he pounds into you. He has you in a mating press, effectively trapping you beneath him with his lips attacking you all across your face and mouth. He sits up, allowing your knees off of your chest a little, and he props himself up with one hand next to your head, the other using his thumb to work circles on your clit momentarily. "God, baby, you're so pretty, so pretty taking my cock," his hips slap loudly and quickly against yours, "You like taking me, more than those other guys, huh? I know you like my cock." He moves his hand away from your clit and pops that same thumb in your mouth. "You like it when I fill all your holes. Such a pretty little slut for me. You take whatever I'll give you," he moves his hand to your throat, fingers roughly rubbing the skin there. You're excited just thinking about what he's gonna do to you. Once one hand gets a grip on your airway, the other joins it, putting a good amount of his weight on your throat as his hip movements quicken. "You're mine, (Y/N), all mine. You hear me?" The lack of bloodflow to your head causes a huge increase in the sensation of his length slamming into you. It's like the only things that exist to you are his dick and his voice. "Mine. You belong to me." He releases you for just a moment to make sure you aren't under too long, but you thank God when he puts the pressure back on, because you'd been close to cumming. "Fuck, baby, my baby feels so good," he furrows his eyebrows to concentrate on fucking into you. Again that feeling of lightheadedness sets in and all you can think about is his member making your walls quake, and just as you slip over the edge of your orgasm- SMACK! The sound vibrates in your ears as you realize Sam slapped your face. You can hardly process what your body is feeling; you just know you're on cloud nine.   Another slap, and an "Answer me, answer me! Are you mine? Are you my princess?" makes you come back to reality a bit. Eyes glossed over and mouth hanging open, you slowly look to Sam and nod your head. "Good," is all he says before kissing you roughly. "Now turn over." His hands release your throat and he pulls out before grabbing your hips and helping you flip your body. Seconds later, he's comfortably inside you again, snapping his hips, desperately searching for his release. Your ass presses against his pelvis, causing him to groan loudly. He slides an arm under your hips to keep that pressure on as his whole body rocks into you. However, he doesn't stay like that long; he's feeling much needier tonight. With his hands on your spine, he shoves you face down into the bed, so he can lift up and fall back down into your hot, tight pussy. Upon hearing your moans muffled by your pillow, Sam taunts you again, "You like it when I break your back, baby?" He speeds up his pace, knowing this is the last push to his climax. His hips slap audibly against your ass cheeks in a very even rhythm as he grunts out his orgasm. He walks his hands off of your back, still holding himself above you, rocking his hips lightly as he rides out the length of his orgasm. You twist your upper body, looking up at the man behind you who bends down and gives you a sloppy kiss before pulling out and going to the bathroom to clean up. You aren't sure what had gotten into him; you've never seen him like that before--so possessive of you. But you certainly aren't complaining if he really meant it about you belonging to him. Besides... there isn't a better guy in Las Vegas to belong to. • • • In the weeks after that, Sam fills all of his free time with you. He comes over regularly even if it's just a visit for a little while before work, or he would insist on having you spend the night at his place, even if you didn't perform your regular services. You can't deny the fondness you have for another's company... This particular afternoon, Sam has taken the day off. You never get to see him when the sun is out, so it's a real treasure, seeing his naked form splayed across your mattress, the sunlight that peaks through the blinds dancing across his skin. The stark lines of light and dark really accentuating his toned arms, well-groomed chest, thighs that are more muscular than one would expect (but you know why they're muscular), and that hefty erection standing upright for you. On most men, their genitals aren't much to write home about, but on Sam... it's almost elegant seeing that long shaft, stiff as a board, resting on his belly with its bright pink tip reaching his navel, not to mention the drops of pre-cum oozing out of him just from the thought of being with you. And since you have all day, you'll take all day to make him feel good. You spend most of the afternoon cuddling in the nude with Sam cupping your breasts and kissing your neck. Everything is slow and gentle but that doesn't make it less of a tease. Several times, Sam presses his body to yours, rutting that pretty cock against your thigh or your butt. Oh, but he doesn't make the afternoon easy on you either. Those devilish fingers of his work all of those sweet spots across your body, toying with that honeypot he loves so much until it's simply dripping for him. And that's when you find yourself on top of your lover, grinding your clit against his hard length, looking for the friction you both desire. Sam is propped up on the mountain of pillows lying at your headboard, gently scraping his hands across your body. "You look beautiful, baby. It's nice seein' you in the sunlight like this," he pulls you forward by the waist to meet your lips with those kisses you love so much, and his hips buck up into yours a few times. You'd been chitchatting off and on all day while teasing each other, so as you continue to dry hump him, his face so close to yours, you open with, "Hey, Sam?" "Yeah, (Y/N)?" he cups on of your cheeks. "Can I tell you something?" " 'Course you can, baby," his hands move to your bare back, tracing his fingertips across the lines made by your muscles and bones. "Well, uh..." Your nerves immediately make you come to a halt. You hang your head, and your eyes peak up at him. "What is it, angel?" "I- I-" you grab his hand and start to fidget with it. "Goodness, baby, I never seen you so nervous. Why don't we lie down, and we'll talk about it, yeah?" "Yeah, okay," you whisper, and he takes you in his hands, gently laying your body beside his; you lie on your sides facing one another. He gently strokes your cheeks with his knuckles before pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Now, what is it?" His voice comes out in a whisper, and he has a silly grin on his lips. Your fingers trace shapes into his chest hair, and you decide to just come right out with it, "I like you, Sam, a lot." "Well, I like you, too, honey." "No, I mean-" you take a moment to gather your thoughts, "We've grown really close the past few months, and I think we both have to admit that this isn't a conventional client/call girl relationship. You have me over to your place almost every night," you cast your eyes down, looking away from him, "I guess when you spend that kind of time with someone, it'd be hard not to... What I'm trying to say is that I have feelings for you, Sam. I like all the dates and going out on the town with you, more than I should! It's not like when other guys take me out; it's- it's- it makes me feel special, and I want more. I wanna be more than just some hooker to you!" You end your rant there, your words still hanging in the air. You look at Sam, who's deep in thought. When his eyes pan back to you, he inhales sharply and his facial expression stiffens into that unreadable poker face he's spent years perfecting. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression," he starts, clearly hiding something behind those eyes, "but this was never meant to be more than sex." "But... It 𝘪𝘴 more than sex." He sits up, turning to get off the bed. "Sam, wait. Where are you going?" "I should leave," he says, stepping into his boxers. "Sam, no, why can't we just talk about it?" "Talk about it? What is there to talk about?! I can't be with a girl like you. And this, what we got here, this isn't gonna work if one of us has feelings!" "But what about all those times we went out? I really thought we had something special," you bargain. "(Y/N), I-" In his rush to get dressed, he pauses for a moment, "I only took you out 'cause you begged me to! And it's already done a number on my reputation! Do you know what it would do to 𝘮𝘦? To my 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘰? If I was to start dating you? If I was to start dating a whore?!" His words land as harshly as they were meant to. It's as if you can feel the fracture forming on that little piece of your heart that belongs to him. That's when your face turns cold, revealing a poker face of your own. "Get out," it comes out as a whisper, then your voice gets much louder, "If that's how you feel, then get OUT!" You put up with a lot in your line of work, but being called a whore by a client crossed the line. It meant they didn't respect you, and you won't give your body to a man who won't respect you. So, finally hearing your front door close and Sam starting the engine in his Cadillac, you finally allow yourself to sob into your pillow. You never expected that to go over so poorly, and you've never cared for anyone the way you care for Sam, the way you crave him in every way: his conversation, his humor, his cuddles, and the way he made you feel needed, even if it was just to spend the night with him. Over the next week, you moved your appointments with your other clients back, not wanting to get upset in front of any of them, plus you deserve some time off. And over that next week, you didn't hear from Sam at all. You guess that he really is done with you... • • • Your week-long vacation turned into a few weeks; you wanted to make sure you were ready to see your regulars again. In that time, you'd been receiving cards and flowers from these guys wishing you well and just being incredibly patient with you. Unfortunately at that same time, you'd heard from the other girls in the business that Sam had fallen head over heels for Ginger McKenna. They didn't know what had gone down between you and him, and everything happened so fast; the assumption is that Sam stopped seeing you because Ginger likes her men to be exclusive with her. But that isn't what happened, and you can't tell anyone otherwise. Perhaps if you were more vengeful, but you aren't, at least not towards him. "(Y/N), honey, I missed you!" you're greeted by one of your loyal customers as he steps over the threshold of your home before picking you up and spinning you around like an old friend. "Damien!!" you squeal as he sets you down, kissing your cheek a few times. He's one of your oldest clients, and it's always a pleasure seeing him. "How are you? You took a few weeks off, is everything okay? You got my flowers, right?" He looks you over, as if checking to make sure nothing is out of place on you. "I'm okay, and yes, I got your flowers. Thank you, that was really sweet of you." Placing a kiss on his cheek, you ask in a teasing voice, "How about you? How did you manage to go nearly a month without me?" "Ah, well," you feel your back meet the wall and Damien places a kiss on your lips, holding your chin in his hand, "I barely scraped by. I even had to resort to using my hand..." "You didn't wanna see another girl?" you ask in between making out with him. "Mmmm, once," he wraps his arms around your waist, "but you know how picky I am." Damien is more than happy to let you take it easy while he does most of the work. He can tell you're still trying to get back into the swing of things, and it had been a while since he'd had a good lay. "(Y/N)," he breathes out, "God, baby, you're so good..." He lays his head on your shoulder, while he tries to catch his breath. This earns a chuckle from you, "I didn't really do anything; you were the one who was so eager. Really, I should be paying you!" You both laugh, and the man rolls off of you. The mood shifts when he asks, "What's going through that pretty head is yours? I've known you long enough, I can tell you're about a million miles away from here." "Damien, you know I don't like to talk about my personal drama; it's unprofessional." "I know, but do you have anyone that you can vent to?" You look away from him, and it gives him his answer. "(Y/N)... Talk to me, tell me what's going on." "Damien..." you mimic his little whine, "I don't wanna get upset and ruin our time together." "You won't ruin our time together. How long have I known you? And I've never once had a bad experience with you. Not to mention all the ways that you take care of me, it's time for you to let someone take care of you, even if it's just listening to you talk." A bit of redness forms under your eyes and on the tip of your nose as you continue to avoid eye contact with Damien. "I've never seen you get upset over anything, honey, what's wrong?" "I, uh... got feelings for a client, a high profile client, and it didn't end well," you murmur into his chest. "He must really be someone special for you to like him so much. In all the years we've been seeing each other, you've never dated anyone, especially not a client. God knows I tried," he chuckles and lifts your chin, happy to see the little smile you have as you reminisce on when he tried to get with you. You divulge all the details of what had happened with Sam, but you kept his identity a secret. You didn't want Damien to form an opinion on Sam or his casino because of you. "He called you a whore?!" Damien exclaims. You're more or less at the end of your story. "Yeah, but I just don't understand. It wasn't like him to be so cold like that... Or to call me names. He's the kind of guy that will retaliate if someone takes a shot at him, but I don't know what I did to him." You search Damien's face for an answer, and luckily, he may have one. "Sounds to me like he's scared." "Hm?" you question. "Scared to let himself be loved. Maybe scared he's gonna get hurt by someone who has been a place of comfort. You said he's with a hustler now? Well, no one expects it to work with a hustler, but he's probably got the money to keep her around, right?" "Yeah, he does," you confirm through a whisper. You turn over, letting Damien spoon you. He was right on the money. His arm snakes around your waist, a hand cupping your breast, and his voice rumbles right in your ear, "I know you're not the type of gal that begs, but I do think you should go talk to this guy, if you really feel that way about him." • • • And that's just what you're doing. You make your way across the floor of The Tangiers, all of the lights and decor dizzy making, in search of the man who runs it all. You've been in Las Vegas long enough to know where the guys who watch the floor would be, and in fact, there's a rather tough looking group of these guys standing in a group, watching the pits, but no Sam. You catch the attention of a few of them, so you shoot them a smile, and the cowboy in the group tips his hat at you before you slip away to the bar to survey the place and find where their boss could've gone. As you slip past the entrance to what looks like a little lounge, you catch a glimpse of him. When you double back, your stomach drops. Lip-locked with Ginger McKenna, he squeezes her so close to him you thought they might become one person. Despite your visceral reaction to seeing him like this, you can't take your eyes off of them. They make a beautiful couple: him in his shiny suit and her tall blonde figure displayed well by her body-con dress. With your spirits thoroughly crushed, your mind starts to race, questioning if you should even bother talking to the man you care so much for. But when you see him handing Ginger some money and her slipping away, you have no choice but to swallow your feelings and say what you came here to say. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you just have to be confident for a few minutes, then you take your first steps towards him. He leans back casually lighting a cigarette, and he sees you just as you're about to sit next to him, right where Ginger had been. He raises his eyebrows and quickly exhales a puff of smoke, "(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" "Talking some sense into you." There's a pause for a moment before you lay into him, "You told me we couldn't be together because it would hurt your reputation. Tell me how being with a hustler is any better. What? Because she's made a name for herself with the millionaires in this town? Because they like her?? What is it, Sam?" The man before you is left practically speechless, "I... I just like her." "Don't give me that line of bullshit. You liked me too. You're just scared! What did I say that first night we were together? Do you remember? I said you weren't willing to take a chance with your heart. You wanna make the safe bet, but you're being blind. Look at the odds, Sam! She hustles men for money; if you wanna put all your chips on her, it'll be the stupidest bet you ever make in your life..." You finish your tirade in a quiet but serious tone. Almost impulsively, you take his hand in yours and give it a squeeze. You aren't entirely sure what you mean by it. You and Sam sit in silence, your eyes saying everything and nothing to one another. He leans forward, gently places a hand on the back of your head and presses a long kiss to your temple. By that time, you feel the uncertainty of your emotions settling in, so when he pulls back, you take one last lingering look at him before heading out of the room and then practically jogging to your car. As you sit in the car, a frustrated tear staining your cheek, you reflect on what you'd said to him. You didn't grovel, and you hadn't begged him to be with you instead of her; you just told it like it is, and you can only hope he won't make a big mistake... • • •

Sam sits back on the little lounge, puffing on his cigarette, practically frozen with your words still bouncing around in his mind. Truthfully, he was baffled even seeing you; he assumed he had hurt your feelings bad enough that you wouldn't wanna see him again. At least, that was the point... He thought it'd be easier if you didn't want to see each other anymore. He's snapped out of his thoughts by his girlfriend returning to the little sofa and sitting down in the spot you'd just been in. He blinks his eyes a few times and opens the conversation the only way he knows how in his befuddled state, "Any change?" "I hit a few games on the way back," she quickly fabricates. • • • Sam tries his best to put the encounter behind him, but he couldn't help but hear your words in the back of his head every time Ginger showed him some small indicator that she may not be the right choice. Still, he found his feet had carried him right into a jewelry store, and he scanned the glass counters for engagement rings. Once the clerk working that day gets a free moment, he pulls Sam into one of the consultation rooms for high-end customers. Sam's eyes gloss over rows and rows, racks and racks of rings, until he lands on one. The massive rectangle cut emerald stares back at him; it's elegant, but it's unconventional, it's colored, it's unique. Ginger would hate it. But as the little meeting kept on, Sam keeps coming back to the emerald one; he couldn't explain his draw to it, but he hoped Ginger would grow to like it, because that's what he came home with. "We're not getting any younger. Don't you think it's time? Aren't you gettin' tired of all this shit? Bangin' around, hustlin' around?" Sam asks, suddenly changing the subject in their conversation. "What, are you trying to handicap me?" she tries to shrug off what she knows he's about to ask. "I'm gonna do you one better: I'm trying to marry you. You want to marry me?" Sam takes Ginger's hand in his. Ginger looks away doubtfully. "I'm serious. I mean, I want to settle down; I want a family," he pleads. Ginger sighs, laughing, "You got the wrong girl, Sam." "I know I'd be a good father; I know you'd be a good mother." "You don't know me. What, you've known me for two, three months. What do you know?" Her reply is cold, clearly trying to shut him down. "I'm forty-three years old, and I can't think of anybody better to be with, and I don't feel like waiting anymore." "You know a lot of happily married people, Sam? 'Cause I don't." "Yeah, I know all that," he looks down at his hands for a moment, half frustrated and half defeated. "I care about you, but I just don't have those kind of feelings for you. I'm sorry. I'm not in love with you." It was the final blow Sam needed. Just as he's about to open his mouth to beg, to find a way to convince her, to gamble his life away on a real longshot, he realizes he's made a huge mistake. He knew the safest bet had been right there in front of him, but he was so worried about himself that he walked away from a sure thing. He's normally so level headed and clear thinking... He quickly checks his watch, seeing that it isn't too late, "I got somewhere to be." He stands and heads to his bedroom for a change of shoes and to lose the robe he's wearing. "Where are you going? It's kinda late, isn't it?" Ginger gripes. "Business meeting, don't wait up," he throws out, quickly shutting the door behind him. • • • Your client for the night had just called to cancel; it's unusual for a man to cancel on sex, so you wished him well and decided to settle in for the night. Upstairs, you slip out of your lingerie and into something cozy for a lazy night in, maybe you'll watch a movie. Just as you're about to head downstairs, your doorbell rings. "Is Damien pulling one over on me?" The thought crosses your mind that perhaps your client "cancelled" so he can come over and participate in a little kink play. "Damien, is that you?" You call out as you make your way downstairs to open the door. Across the theshold, the picture standing before you stops you in your tracks. "Sam?" it comes out in a whisper. It feels like a dream seeing him here. He's quite dressed down, considering his normal wardrobe: he just had on slacks and a button up shirt, no tie, no jacket, and his hair looks as if he'd quickly smoothed it back. This rough appearance looks.... good on him. He holds out the flowers he'd brought for you. He's the only man in Las Vegas that could get flowers this late at night. "Sam, you can't just waltz back in here like this! I have a client coming over." It was a lie, but you just wanted him gone. You had put your feelings out there for him, and you even tried talking to him one more time, which is more than you would've done for anyone else, and what did he do? He crushed your feelings, and then he didn't listen to you. "(Y/N)..." he reaches out for your hand. You pull it away, and grab the door. "No, Sam, I don't want you here." You swing the door shut, but his hand quickly grabs it, pushing it back open. "(Y/N), listen. Please." He steps into your home, and you immediately turn away from him and start walking towards the staircase. He quickly sets the flowers aside and follows after you, grabbing your hand. "(Y/N)!" "Is your ego so big that you think you can just come into someone's home uninvited?!" you bark at him. "Will you listen to me?!" It was the first time he'd ever raised his voice at you, even when you'd gotten into that argument all those months ago, he'd never raised his voice. "No!" you try to get away from him again, but he grabs you by your shoulders and turns you to face him. His hands slide down to your elbows and hold you to your spot, then he drops down on one knee in front of you. He's locks eyes with you, begging you to stay right there. His hand searches his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box, setting it on his thigh. "Now will you listen to me?" his voice is much quieter this time. He takes your hands in his and looks up at the stunned expression on your face. "I know I fucked up. I fucked up with you big time, but I'm trying to make it right before it's too late. I know I treated you bad: I walked out on you and I said things- I called you things you didn't deserve. For that... I'll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you, if you'll choose to have me. What we had, it was only supposed to be about sex, but at some point, I really started to care about you. I even loved you, and there were days where it took everything in me not to say it to you. You were braver than me for admitting your feelings. And you were right about me: I was scared. I know I can't turn back time, but I'd give anything to have you in my life again. So," he looks down for a moment, picking up the ring box, "I guess that's what I'm trying to do here." He opens the box, showing off probably the biggest ring you'd ever seen in your life. You can't take your eyes off the deep green emerald before you; you can't imagine how much it cost. "Sam..." you breathe out, misty-eyed; it's the only word you could even think of. "(Y/N)," he returns softly before taking your hand again and kissing it, "I love you," he squeezes your hand as if reassuring you that this is real and not a dream, "Will you marry me?" Sam feels guilty about asking for your hand so quickly after trying to convince Ginger to be with him, but it was the thing that made him realize you're the one. He shouldn't have to persuade and bargain with someone to be with him, and in fact, you made him feel wanted, cared for, and even loved. "Can I ask you something?" Even with your head in the clouds, you still know how to reason. "Of course." "This isn't about sex, is it?" It seemed like a silly question, but sex makes people so crazy things. "No, not at all. It's about... It's about me having you on my arm at the casino, taking you out shopping for anything you want, buying a house for us to live in, taking you out for dinner because I know you like that, and um, maybe having a family one day." You can't help but smile and let out a small giggle, "A baby?" you ask, cupping his cheek. "Yeah..." he bites his lips and looks down, realizing what he'd just asked of you, but, God, he can't help but picture you with that big pregnant belly. "Promise me something." He looks back up at you, "Anything." "Don't ever break my heart again, I don't think I could take it..." "Never," he says, pulling you towards him, he wraps an arm around your thigh and presses his head into your belly in a sort of hug. "I caused us a lot of pain. That won't ever happen again, because, well, I just can't stand being away from you," he looks up and gives you a hopeful look, a small bittersweet smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. There's a small pause, a brief moment where he nuzzles his head against your tummy and your hands gently hold the sides of his face. "Okay," you let out. "Hm?" Sam looks up at you again, "Okay?" "Okay. Ask me again," you smile down at him. "Oh, okay!" he answers, happily pulling you down to sit on his knee. With one arm wrapped around your hips and the other holding the ring in front of you. "(Y/N), honey, will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?" You look up at him, a bit nervous and hesitant, but this is the man you'd always dreamed of. Sure, he'd messed up, but you're willing to give him a second chance, and you can only hope that you'll both be all in on your new relationship. You reach up, cupping his face one again and taking in his features, "Yes," you whisper, nodding your head lightly, "Yes!" you repeat, looking as if you might cry. You quickly pull him in for a kiss, needing his lips on yours. "Alright, alright," Sam chuckles, breaking up your excited kissing, "Are you gonna let me put this ring on your finger?" "I guess," you giggle. "You guess, huh?" he smiles smuggly at you, rests your left hand in one of his before slipping that big green rock on your digit. "There, now you're all mine." "Ya know, that goes both ways, Mr. Sam Rothstein. You belong to me, and I don't like sharing," you put a finger on his chest to make your point. "Good," he says lowly, as his lips meet with your again.

[sitp-recs]

(Perfect artwork for Modern Love, by @cambiodipolvere)

Today is the day of one of my favorite people! And I totally resent @tackytigerfic and Starry for almost sharing the same birthday, god the STRESS 😂 Tacky is my first and closest fandom friend. We clicked together so fast and easy that sometimes it feels like I’ve known her all my life, like we’re two dog moms living in the same neighborhood who happen to read fic in their free time. Despite our conflicting time zones and crazy schedules we manage to chat every other day, tagging and sending each other all kinds of stuff, coming together to cry scream about a brilliant fic we’ve just read or shaking our heads in embarrassment at every other unnecessary bullshit post. Tacky’s bright and wise energy uplifts my spirit even on my moody days, and makes me grateful for her friendship and for this fandom life. Okay so this got long and I had to put the rest under the cut:

It’s such a lovely and precious thing, to have someone with whom you can share every single thought that crosses your mind, your scariest, most embarrassing, petty or disturbing idea, without fear of being shamed or judged by it. I trust Tacky with all my heart to hear me out, share a joke or a piece of advice, even on the (rare) occasions when we don’t get the same perspective - that doesn’t happen often when it comes to Drarry, as we are taste twins!

Tacky my darling, you’re such a good person, and such an incredible friend. Thank you for introducing me to this lovely community, for being my safe haven and your unique self, with so many qualities I admire and feel inspired by: kind, witty, earnest, wise, and so very human. I love your humour and empathy, and your chill yet no-nonsense personality; I love your talent and how articulated you are; I love your passion for Drarry, and how you let this emotion inform the way you navigate the fandom and create for it. And god, but you’ve been creating some of the most beautiful content I’ve seen in these recent years! I’m permanently in awe of your ability to write Drarry in any shape, format or length, transforming even the most ordinary moment into an extraordinary and meaningful piece of character or relationship development. You know how you mentioned yesterday that some authors change the way you feel about a ship in a deep, definitive way? Well, you are that author for me. Your works made me fall in love with M-rated contemplative romance, and also allowed me to fall in love with Harry in a way I never thought it was possible before.

Some people - myself included - got to know you through the fun and intriguing A Lick and a Promise, others through the atmospheric and sensitive Modern Love, others through your contemplative and heartbreaking short form. Each story has its merits and purpose, and all of them share a Tacky trademark: the heartkick factor! Your talent has no limits and goes across different genres and tropes, that you explore with a bold twist full of personality and heart. And even more impressive is your consistency at always raising the bar - every new fic of yours becomes an instant fave and makes me think “wow I thought Tacky couldn’t get better yet here we are”. Seeing how your writing evolves as you find your narrative voice is a beautiful and humbling experience, I feel so lucky!

I’m really grateful for being active in the fandom at this moment in time, because that allows me to read and engage with your brilliant work, and to have you as a dear friend. I can’t wait to see what comes out of your beautiful brain next. It was an impossible job choosing a single fic to rec today, so I decided to do a belated Tacky reclist! Naturally these are my personal and biased must-reads, and I urge everyone to go check these beauties right now. Feel free to include your own favorites too, and don’t forget to leave them some appreciation.

Happy happy birthday my darling Tacky! This fandom life wouldn’t be the same without you. I hope you have the amazing day you deserve!

Between the Power Lines (2020, M, 3.2k)

The road trip fic you didn’t know you needed. I got utterly immersed in the heartbreaking quietness of this, feeling like a witness to an ordinary yet poignant love story. Such tender intimacy, such character development, such lovely American aesthetics with barely any dialogue. This is, IMO, the fic that reveals Tacky’s triumph in storytelling.

Even the Night (2020, M, 3.4k)

This fic has a surreal atmosphere, those Midsummer vibes unbelievably sexy and intoxicating linked to the sensorial experience of fumbling together in the night. Masterclass in tension building, a silky and languid dream-like affair.

Aim for my Heart (2021, M, 3.4k) - Harry/Draco/Ron

One of the most sensitive and stunning portraits I’ve ever seen of a poly/triad relationship, this fic packs so much character and longing! It’s a privilege to watch Ron and Draco’s tentative dynamics through the smitten eyes of the one person that loves them like no one else: Harry.

The Long Fall (2021, M, 3.6k)

I can’t even write about this tender domesticity without getting a lump in my throat. Best opening scene I’ve read in years, and a refreshing way to approach both mpreg and parenthood, painfully honest and lovely. This became an immediate comfort read for me, and it’s probably one of the fics I revisit the most.

Mortal Frame (2021, M, 6.6k)

This thrilling, fast-paced spy story left me breathless since the first paragraph, gods what an immersive ride! I’m so here for Drarry on the run, sharp and urgent with danger but mellowed by the silent trust and tender intimacy only Tacky can master. Major bonus points for the brilliant take on the Horcrux hunt plot line!

Last Offices (2020, M, 6.7k)

Oh, this fic 💔 I tend to avoid MCD but there’s something so deeply fascinating about body washing rituals that I caught myself mesmerized by this. I just couldn’t put it down, so emotionally compromised I felt. There’s a sort of strange comfort in the heartbreak of doing one last act of service out of devotion to someone. This fic inspired so many difficult but lovely feelings in me, and one of them was hope. Only Tacky could possibly achieve that!

Our Little Life (2020, M, 7.2k)

Inventive and singular, this story hit me straight on the solar plexus and left me speechless as I saw the (clever, magical and bittersweet) plot unravel. Such a fabulous take on alternate universes and all the angst potential behind it. Come and bask in the yearning melancholia of a short yet intricate and perfectly executed plot.

And One to Play (2019, E, 21k)

What a fun and delightful fic, I can’t have enough of pining Harry losing all sense of propriety when faced with a hot, competent and pragmatic Draco. This has fab dynamics, unhinged protectiveness, even more unhinged attraction between two idiots who can’t keep their hands off each other. A must-read for any Auror partners fan!

A Lick and a Promise (2019, E, 55k)

Hot, BAMF Professors carefully balancing a fuck buddies situation while solving a Hogwarts mystery, do we need anything else? I certainly do not. This fic is so fun and intriguing and immersive, with amazing supportive cast and a delicious get together feat secret shagging and oblivious pining. Love it!

Modern Love (2020, E, 61k)

My favorite read of 2020, this fic is a love letter to Drarry and will always hold a piece of my soul. Sensitive, wistful, tenderly aching and so very romantic, this is a Muggle Draco triumph with a superb Harry, exquisite slow burn and a side of suds comfort. I promise it will be impossible to listen to Bowie again without thinking of this love story.

Bonus: five stunning drabbles!

Something in the Way (2021, T, 119 words)

“Up,” he said, and Draco, sick with love, raised his arms above his head and allowed Potter to slide the jumper on him, big hands stroking it flat over Draco’s stomach until they both shivered.

Stir-Up Sunday (2020, M, 300 words)

“I want you always,” he said, tugging again on the fine curling length of it. “Is it okay to say that?”

Whalebone Arch (2021, M, 722 words)

“Are you still not talking to me?” Draco steered Harry towards the crisps. “Do I have to suck you off in the loo to cheer you up?”

Semiplume (2021, T, 923 words)

“Did you know,” Harry murmured, and he put his arms around Draco, fearless. “I’d be your mate. If you needed a mate, I mean.”

Relic Radiation (2021, M, 927 words)

“You’ll kill me,” Harry said, and Draco turned his face towards the darkened sky, lunar pale, his profile some stupid unearthly thing—a flaring blazar, a supernova—in the light from the kitchen window.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 7

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: This is incredibly dialogue heavy, and I actually don't feel as confident about this chapter as some of the past ones? Hopefully y'all like it, I mean at least the ending is cute (or cheesy, depending on who you ask). PS: Not sure how many chapters there will be in total, other than at least 3 more (one of which ill, in fact, get a little h*rny again. actually, h*rnier). Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy

Chapter 7: Harmony

“We need to talk, yeah?” Daniela asked, nearly stuttering, a sort of nervous that you had never seen her exhibit before. The first thing you think is that she’s really, really cute when she doesn’t know what to do. After that you actually process what she said. Relief floods your chest, followed by warmth, and you make a mental note to thank Bela the next time you see her. In the meantime, you were unable to contain your happiness. Out of instinct you move closer to Daniela, smiling softly, quietly reaching one of your hands towards hers. There’s no hesitance in her response. Instead of taking your hand she pulls you in for a hug, opting to rest her chin against your shoulder. Admittedly you’re a little surprised, but you return the motion nonetheless. “Oh, little songbird…”

Heart racing, you softly press against Daniela, turning your head so that you could place a single, brief kiss against her exposed collarbone. For a moment the two of you just stay like that, holding each other close. When you pull away, remembering that you still hadn’t said anything, you find that Daniela is blushing from the neck up. In turn, the sight makes you blush. You can’t help but reach out and run your fingers through her hair. Though you can’t see yourself, you know your eyes are filled with affection.

“I love when you look at me like this,” Daniela whispered, not entirely meaning to voice her thoughts. Then you’re blushing harder, smile small but sweet. “Mmm, you’re just darling, aren’t you?”

“Not nearly as much as yourself, my Lady. To be in your company is to be the luckiest soul in the world. I cannot even begin to describe the feelings of which you inspire in me,” you replied, trying not to stumble over your words, barely able to process any thoughts other than ‘pretty lady likes me ahh’. Thankfully, you still remembered a few tricks from language arts class. Who knew studying the classics could make you more romantic? At least one English teacher, probably. “I’ll have plenty of time to try, though… after we talk about things, that is. Is there somewhere private we can talk? I’m not terribly eager for your mother to overhear.”

“Are you sure we can’t talk about how much you like me for a while longer?” Daniela asked, faking a pout. When you perk a brow at her antics, she shifts a little, forcing herself to be a little more serious (at least for the time being). “If you insist, my sweet thing. I’d suggest my room-” she winks at you- “but I doubt we’d stay talking for long, would we? Maybe the library? Neither of my sisters tend to go there around this time of day, and I can hardly remember the last time mother went there.”

“Well, no one from the day shift is scheduled to organize things until later this week, so… sounds like a date to me,” you chimed, enjoying the way that Daniela’s face lit up in response. “There’s just one thing I have to take care of first. Wouldn’t want my roommates to think something has happened to me, now would we?” With that said you linked your arm with your partner’s, setting off towards the servants quarters.

—————————————–

“Oh thank goodness, we were starting to get worried!” Daphne exclaimed as you quietly ducked into your room. For a second you freeze in place, hoping to whatever higher powers may be that she hadn’t seen Daniela behind you. Certainly the vampire would have moved out of sight?... Despite your assumption, you do see Daphne hesitate for a moment, gazing at the now closed door. Thinking quickly, you give a little wave to draw her attention elsewhere. Seemingly it works like a charm, with her attention returning to you, and so you release an internal sigh of relief. Now you just had to think of an excuse for why you’d be staying up late.

“It’s fine- I’m fine, really. Just had to carry something for one of the Ladies,” you lied, trying not to be specific enough to possibly contradict facts you weren’t aware of. “I, uh, kinda have to go back out, though? There are some piano books I need to find before tomorrow morning. I’ve already found a few, but apparently there’s at least one that goes over some technical practice songs, and I think D-” you almost wince, but lean into it, stuttering instead- “th-think that Lady Daniela would enjoy the variety. Not sure how long it’ll take me to find the books, so don’t stay up waiting for me. I promise I’ll still get enough sleep to function tomorrow.”

“So the lessons haven’t been canceled? That’s good to hear,” Daphne said, nodding slowly. The words catch you off guard, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion. Noticing your expression, your roommate is quick to explain. “After whatever happened yesterday… we weren’t sure if we’d ever hear you play again. Not that we know what happened, just that Lady Daniela was, well, upset, and you stopped playing sooner than usual. But I suppose if the lessons were canceled completely… I doubt Lady Dimitrescu would let you go that easily, huh?”

Again, you shift awkwardly, wondering how Daniela must feel hearing all of this. But just like that Daphne shakes her head, clearing her thoughts, and gives a little shrug.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay? I know you already promised, but we both know you’ll lose track of time if you aren’t careful. If you aren’t in bed by the time the sun reaches its peak, I swear we are gonna have words!” Both of you laugh before Daphne waves you off with a smile. Still, you wait to open the door until she (and the other maidens) has her back to you. Better safe than sorry, right?

—————————————–

Somehow the room felt different in a million ways, now that you were here with Daniela. There was something about the way she moved, freely, eyes and fingers running down the spines of familiar books. Even if you had not seen it before, it felt like the library was overflowing with magic. What I would give, you think, to see the whole world tinted in shades of her. Again you find yourself blushing as you followed Daniela towards a small sitting area. One of the chairs is practically a recliner, with plenty of space, and you realize what she has planned mere moments before she acts.

Next thing you know, you’re being pulled closer to her, practically lifted into the air. Then you’re falling back, right on top of a giggling Daniela. By the time you’ve regained your senses, you’re in her lap, held just tight enough to keep you from getting up. She’s watching your face closely, smirking with pure satisfaction.

“Are we going to be able to talk like this?” You asked, a little unsure yourself, already distracted by the soft curve of her jawline. Even as you speak you’re eying her, imagining what it would feel like to trail kisses along her skin until she was restless… Thankfully she responds before your mind gets too carried away.

“Of course we are, little songbird. Probably. If you behave,” Daniela teased, gently playing with your hair as she did. You can’t help but laugh when she suggests that you are the one who needs to control yourself. “Alright, alright, I get your point. I just… I think that it’s easier for me to, fuck, I don’t know. Relax? It’s easier for me to relax like this, holding you, getting to kiss that lovely neck of yours-” she pauses to demonstrate- “and that means I won’t freak out like last time. Or so goes my thought process, anyway.”

“In that case…” You’re sitting perpendicular to her now, still holding on tight. One hand cups her cheek, gently caressing the skin, before you lean in for a kiss. The two of you enjoy yourselves for a minute, glad to have this time together, more glad to be reassured of each other’s affection. To think that you wouldn’t even be able to meet her gaze if not for Bela’s intervention… Eventually you pull back, knowing that you did need to talk. “I care about you, firefly, and I want things between us to be real, and healthy, but I…”

The words died in your throat, a lump you couldn’t quite swallow, when memories sprung up like weeds in your brain. Communication mattered to you for a thousand reasons, and you weren’t blind to the irony of one of those reasons making you freeze up.

“I haven’t… done this before, not for real,” Daniela replied, mistaking your paues for uncertainty. “Apparently being an immortal, blood-drinking princess is only attractive in the realm of fiction. Maidens only ever seemed interested in a fleeting rush, or a fraction of a chance at an escape. They didn’t care for romance.” Now her tone gets bitter, and her eyebrows furrow. You can see her shoulders tense up, raising a little, making you try to snap out of your own thoughts for a few moments. By the time she speaks again, you’ve started to gently rub her back. “Maybe I should have paid more attention to my novels. How often does the monster actually get a happy ending?” She says the words with a hollow laugh. Still, she’s relaxed a little under your touch, even leaning into it.

“You’ve… done some bad things. Hurt a lot of people, and I can’t pretend that doesn’t scare me,” you started to say, ignoring the heartache you feel when you see Daniela’s hurt expression. “But you’re more than that. You’re soft, cute, and mischievous. More than that… I can tell that you want something beautiful. We can have that, we can make that, for ourselves, with our own hands and our own desires. But we can’t use stories as a blueprint. We can’t rely on what we’ve read, not when everything the two of us do is brand new. Not when-” you close your eyes, fighting back tears, glimpsing fragments of your last relationship- “not when I’ve already been hurt by my own misconceptions. The things we read aren’t always real, or right, or anything like what we need. What we deserve.”

“Something tells me you’re holding back a little,” Daniela murmured, barely able to get the words out. It almost looks like she’s close to crying, but her cheeks are dry, and her voice is steady. “But you’re right. What we have is better than anyone could write, anyway. You’re my little songbird, and I’m not letting you go anytime soon. Even if I have to figure out this whole ‘communication’ thing. I suppose that means I should… come clean. About a few things.” There’s a clear hesitance to her voice, like she’s embarrassed, and she’s speaking slower than usual. A blush rises to her cheeks before she takes a deep breath.

“We don’t have to talk about everything right now, if you aren’t ready. We’ve already made good progress, I think, even if half of it might be because of your sisters. Well, sister, singular. Cassandra throwing me into that wall really didn’t help anyone. Except maybe the chiropractor I will inevitably need to see,” you joked, remembering your earlier conversation with Bela.

“Hold up for a fucking second, Cassandra did what? I’m going to replace all her paint brushes with stained carpet strips, and that’s if she apologizes. Nobody fucks with my baby,” Daniela snapped, expression as serious as can be. Normally you found her anger to be terrifying. Now that she was directing it at someone else? And on your behalf?... Maybe it was a tiny bit cute. Which you tried to show, by gently bringing her in for another kiss. Of course, Daniela isn’t quite as gentle, instead kissing you hard, holding you as closely as she can. There’s a bit of possessiveness in her grip, and it makes you tense up. But as soon as you do she’s pulling back, breathing hard, eyes weighed down with concern.

“Y’know, I think she was just mad that I made you cry. And if I found out someone made you cry, I would be pretty angry. Not that I’d throw someone, partially because I don’t think I could, but still. It’s… almost cute how much your sisters care about you. Almost, just not quite,” you said, eager to draw the attention away from your reaction. Like you had told Daniela, it was okay if you weren’t ready to talk about everything. “Speaking of that, I can’t believe I haven’t apologized yet. I panicked so much, I didn’t even realize I was yelling until you picked me up. No matter how frustrated I was, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t, please,” Daniela interrupted, eyes closing for a moment. “I can’t believe you’re apologizing. I pinned you to the wall, and not for the usual reason!” There’s a bit of panic in her expression, and you get the feeling that she’s beating herself up inside about it. Which, based on what you had thought about what you had done, was understandable.

“Consider this: We both fucked up, and we’ve both acknowledged it now, so we could just… not talk about our regrets? At least for now,” you countered, glad to see Daniela relax and nod in response. Leaning in, you shift to rest your head against her shoulder, wanting to enjoy her proximity more. “Hey… if I’m your songbird, and you’re my firefly… are we, I don’t know… officially a couple now?”

“I was under the impression that we already were,” Daniela said, clearly a little confused. While you technically agreed with her… there was another part of you that wanted to have a little fun.

“You never asked, and I know I never did either, so…” Now you’re looking up at her, smile wide, heart beating faster than normal. “Lady Daniela, firefly of house Dimitrescu, lover of romance novels, player of pianos, keeper of my heart… Will you do me the honor of allowing me to court you? To be yours, officially, in the pursuit of affection and happiness like the village- nay, the world- has never before seen? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“How’s this for an answer, songbird?” Daniela cooed. Then she was lifting your chin from her shoulder, turning her head and bringing you closer. Your lips touch, as gentle as can be. It’s a short kiss, but one radiating with love, that ends with your foreheads pressed against each other. In this moment, you feel like you could stay in her arms for the rest of eternity. “Yes. Absolutely yes, obviously, a thousand times. I could never say no to you, especially not now, with your eyes so desperate for the sight of me, and your lips so begging to be kissed. Now, how about we celebrate, hmm?”

Just as Daphne had predicted, you end up staying awake far too late, but you were all the happier for it.

[sanzoumon]

FREE RICKORTY+ PROMPTS!:

Seriously, if you wanna write any of these just go for it and then let me know. Spoilers for S5E10. Some are more gen but could also be shippy, smut encouraged but optional. All of these are definitely bottom!Morty btw. Others are straight up smut.

Non-rickorty prompts (really just Morty x Summer) are are the bottom.

PROMPTS:

Trapped on what remains of the Citadel, Rick confesses that he recently realized he’s in love with Morty and that he wants to be by Morty’s side forever - in whatever way Morty wants (as in be it romantic, familial, platonic, whatever, it’s Morty’s choice). How does Morty feel and what will he decide?

After the whole Planetina thing Morty gets much needed comfort from Beth. Tho he feels better after that, Morty feels the overwhelming need to be with Rick. As it happens, after that whole ordeal with Daphne, Rick feels an overwhelming need to be with Morty. Bedsharing and comfort ensue.

Morty notices that ever since the Citadel was destroyed, Rick’s been way more physically affectionate. Little touches, petting his hair, hugging, casually rubbing soothing circles on him when they relax, wanting to cuddle, affectionate kisses, handholding, even nuzzling him. Morty likes it. A LOT.

In a rare moment of relaxation, Rick and Morty snuggling up together, they share a kiss. Both are shocked but then immediately begin an intense make-out session.

Rick wants to make up for his prior mistreatment of Morty. Morty asks for something be never expected: A kiss. And Morty means a full on kiss - tongue included. Who is Rick to deny him?

Rick and Morty have a rather intense incest kink. Lots of dirty talk.

Morty finds out that Rick has feelings for him. Rick freaks out, feels like a piece of shit, and tries to run away. Morty stops him, clings to him, begs Rick to calm down and to not leave him. Rick is practically hysterical, Morty gets him to shut up and calm down the only way he can - a kiss.

Morty preys on Rick’s guilt for having mistreated Morty in the past by guilting him into having sex. Morty knows Rick doesn’t want it, but he’ll do anything Morty wants. Morty feels like shit doing this but he can’t get about of how good Rick feels inside him.

Morty royally screws up on an adventure, almost getting himself killed, and Rick opts for a good ol fashioned punishment - a bare bottom spanking. Aftercare happens because Rick was terrified for Morty and needs him to understand this is why he spanked him.

Rick suffers from Domdrop after a really emotionally intense session with Morty. Morty provides Rick with the aftercare he needs.

The family finds out about Rick and Morty’s relationship. Shocking everyone, it’s Beth who attacks Rick square in a blind rage. The whole time Morty is begging her to stop hurting Rick, who doesn’t even try to defend himself, and it’s Jerry and Summer who have to hold her back so she’ll actually listen to Morty.

Rick and Morty get married at the alien equivalent of Las Vegas. Summer was a witness and recorded the whole thing.

In another dimension it’s considered a rite of passage for a boy to have sex with the household patriarch when he turns 14. Morty never felt the need to do that but then Rick comes along and says that’s because Jerry wasn’t man enough to do it, so Rick takes it upon himself to do so.

Morty is attracted to Rick specifically because Rick is a dirty old man.

On the Citadel, some Morty’s are bred purely to be sex slaves for Rick’s. Bred to be more compliant, submissive, and who love Rick’s unconditionally no matter how badly they mistreat them.

Rick and Morty have an emotionally incestuous relationship. Basically: “when a parent or caregiver relies on a child for the support that an adult partner would usually provide. They may also treat the child like a romantic partner.”

Morty deliberately gets himself into trouble on adventures because Rick will, out of worry and adrenaline pumping through him, fuck Morty afterward like an animal. Like a twisted version of “glad to be alive sex”.

Rick and Morty have to hide in a tight fitting enclosed space while facing each other. Awkward boners and grinding / dry humping ensue.

Omegavese. Morty goes into heat and Rick knocks him up. It wouldn’t be so bad if Rick wasn’t seriously turned on by Morty being pregnant with his baby.

Omegaverse. Unclaimed Omega’s have it rough and are constant targets for harassment. One day Morty gets assaulted by some Alpha’s at school and before they’re able to violate and claim him, Rick shows up and makes them wish they were never born. Morty knew right then that Rick was his Alpha and begs for Rick to claim him.

Rookie Cop Rick x Cop Morty. Rick likes how chubby Morty is.

Toxic Rick x Toxic Morty. They’re both made up of the irrational attachments they have for each other. Without their healthier selves to reign them in they can’t keep their hands off each other. Basically, in between all the science, Toxic Rick fucks Toxic Morty and Toxic Morty can’t get enough of just how much Rick loves him.

Evil Rick x Evil Morty. Sometimes Morty lets Rick have control of himself again just so Rick will rape him like he used to before Morty took control.

Morty’s fantasy is for Rick to fuck him against his will while Morty cries and begs Rick to stop. Rick can’t deny Morty his perverted fantasy.

Rick goes on a rampage to save Morty and, by the time all is said and done, Rick is mildly wounded and is practically drenched in the blood of his enemy. And it’s the hottest thing Morty has ever seen in his life. Morty wants Rick to fuck him right then and there, raw and primal, using the blood as lube.

Morty’s just so small and cute. Rick loves it a little too much.

Rick loves to degrade and humiliate Morty in bed. Morty loves it too.

Breeding kink. They like to pretend Morty can actually get pregnant when they have sex.

OTHER:

Summer asks Rick to shrink her giant space incest baby down to normal baby size. Everyone tries to talk her out of it because she’s young and not ready to raise a baby, but she knows she can’t live without him and that she wants this.

Morty x Summer. It may have been under very weird circumstances but fact is they have a baby together. Summer says she doesn’t expect anything from Morty and is cool with it, but Morty wants to be involved. Raising a kid together can make you feel things you never expected to feel.

Morty x Summer. Morty liked attractive redheads and Summer is no exception.

Morty x Summer. After everything they’ve seen and done, sex with each other to relieve stress isn’t that noteworthy.

Morty x Summer. Summer is humiliated that she actually enjoys being fucked by her little brother. Worse yet, Morty knows it and taunts her with it while fucking her. Worst of all, him doing that makes it even better for her.

Morty x Summer. Set during the time Rick was in prison. They’re always fighting lately, sometimes to the point of physical aggression. One thing leads to another.

Morty & Summer. After the whole Morty Jr. thing, Morty isn’t sure he wants to be a dad again. But Summer is worn ragged with school, taking care of their recently-shrunk-to-normal-size space baby, and their family giving her crap for raising him instead of leaving him in space. And, well, he is responsible for the kid existing in the first place. Basically they raise their baby together.

Summer sees Morty getting picked on at school and she ends up beating up his bully half to death.

Morty x Summer. Something happens and they end up bound together face to face with Morty’s head buried in Summer’s boobs. They’re so big and soft that he gets aroused in spite of himself. Summer feels it, insults him like expected, but tells him just to hurry up and get rid of it by grinding against her thigh so they can start pretending this whole thing never happened sooner.

————

And that’s all I got for now, folks! I know it’s a long list and it’s all over the place but I have so many ideas in my head and the S5 finale just sent my imagination into overdrive.

So please, if you’re a writer, I hope these prompts inspire you. Let me know if you write anything, please!

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

Okay so yknow the adele song 'rolling in the deep'

but these lyrics here;

"We could have had it all,

(You're gonna wish you never had met me)

Rolling in the deep

(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)

You had my heart inside of your hands

(You're gonna wish you never had met me)

And you played it to the beat

(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)"

As shigadabi (or any other ship) angst

(Sorry if this doesnt make sense my mind is running in circle rn and had to get this off of my mind)

KEHEBEKHRBDKFIFJFO I MEAN YES

Consider:

The general situation is that Tomura refuses to go with the heroes and he thinks Dabi is a traitor for going back to his family.

At the same time, Dabi is very confused and angry because he thinks Tomura manipulated him into being a villain.

(Both idiots are wrong but when they are angry and sad, there's not stopping them. You know how it is.)

Tomura is the one singing in between lines and Dabi is singing the main lyrics.

Consider as a bonus the heroes finally getting to know what the hell was the type of relationship the League had with each other. gossip time.

Endeavor getting offended by Dabi having something not only with any guy, not only with a villain, but also with the biggest villain out there, WHO WAS HIS BOSS.

On the other hand, the League is like WE KNEW IT. YOU TWO GOT SOMETHING FOR THE OTHER.

It's like that one revelation during a dinner where the thing is said, there's a minute of silence and then everyone starts screaming at the same time and there's people standing, forks pointing, food flying.

Tomura and Dabi promising to ruin the other's life is sooooo funny to me because they're going from rivals / to boss and worker / to friends / to almost lovers / to enemies / to that one person that is not your ex but is kinda your ex / to bickering redemption partners / to bitter lovers with a bunch of regrets / to boyfriends.

No one have a clue of what's happening expect Izuku, who keeps track in one of his notebooks. He gives updates every Friday on the class 1-A dorms using PowerPoint presentations.

You know how Mamma Mia is just ABBA songs? This is the same but it's Shigadabi with Adele songs. Such drama queens.

Somehow Hawks keeps getting trapped in the middle of the situation because 1) he enjoys gossiping, 2) he goes to buy chicken wings at the worst times, several times a week, 3) both Tomura and Dabi hate him a lot so either they are using him against the other, or they are joining forces to hate him.

Class 1-B and class 1-A have bets about when are they going to kiss, who's gonna give up first, if it's gonna be romantic or kinda bloody, etc.

The entire Japan population agrees this is way better than having them around killing people. At least now they are more like a reality show or something.

IT'S ACTUALLY REALLY ANGSTY, OKAY? DON'T BE FOOLED BY THE COMEDY.

Why? Because trust is a big deal for both Dabi and Tomura. Everything is laughter until Dabi starts screaming about how Tomura was the first person he trusted after what happened to him when he was still Touya, but he took him down a corrupting road and never cared to push him away, never care to help him, he never care about him at all. And Tomura starts screaming about how he knows he ruins everything he touches and gets killed all the people he had ever loved, but he's tired of people running away from him, specially if he likes that person. Growing up he could only think about how he was a monster and he never cared about anything as much as he cared about the League, but Dabi is making it sound like Tomura is like AFO, and it hurts more than any fight he has lived through. He's not like AFO. HE'S NOT LIKE HIM.

At some point Dabi goes back to his villainous ways right at the same time as Tomura starts redeeming himself. And it's a mess of a situation.

Tomura almost gets killed by AFO at some point, and they can barely save him. They take him to a hospital and the Todosiblings really need to restrain Dabi from burning down his way to Tomura's room because no visits are allowed.

You can imagine how guilty they both feel about the things they've implied about the other.

The Todosiblings stay with Dabi the whole night because they know Dabi is in a dark place and he can't be alone with his sadness. But after three nights, Dabi runs away to find the members of the League. He only feels sane with them around, even if it's because they have seen the worst of him and they have never judged.

When Tomura finally wakes up, Dabi is the one visit he gets, courtesy of Deku and Shoto influence.

Tomura refuses to look at the traitor walking into his room. Dabi is so angry and so sad and so worried, but he just stands there, feeling like he's burning again, the disappointment on Tomura all over his skin.

But they almost lost each other. Dabi will never forget how helpless he felt when he saw Tomura on TV fighting AFO, his body falling apart, his stupid red eyes dark and empty.

Tomura swallows how he could only think about the League while almost dying. He could only think I failed them I failed them I failed them.

It's Dabi who moves first, taking Tomura's hand. He's careful to not end up decayed.

Tomura almost yells and tries to push away, but Dabi takes it, rest his forehead on it, trembling.

And he sings quietly that stupid song.

“ I can't help feeling

We could've had it all ”

And Tomura sobs a little. He is being careful, but he asks in a tiny voice for Dabi to let go. He doesn't want to... He doesn't want to accidentally kill him.

Dabi refuses: “Your hand. It's cold.”

It's in that white room with dark curtains and a closed door that Dabi tells Tomura that he regrets meting him.

And Tomura's heart stops. Until he feels the drop of blood over his hand and hears the words that come after.

Dabi regrets meting him too late when he's already fucked up, when all he has is the same rage that is drowning his siblings, the same rage ...

... That had them both running around, Tomura finishes before Dabi could.

They talk. No one's knows what they talk about. No one knows what happens in that room that night.

They are still very angry, very sad, very many things, but they also know they are madly in love with the other and they don't want to crash and burn alone.

They made a pretty good team, in fact.

The end.

I need to stop getting carried away and giving you guys so much nonsense. Sorry.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 5: Dana's Work Friend

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Friday, April 3rd, 1998. Scully comes into the office in a flurry of coat and red hair. She doesn’t greet him, just drops her briefcase on the desk and sinks into her seat across from him.

“Mulder, I have a favor to ask of you, and you’re probably going to hate it, so just bear in mind that I have exhausted all my other options,” she says, somewhat breathless.

“You’re really selling it,” he deadpans. “What is it?” he asks, settling into his chair and leaning his elbows on the desk.

“You remember Mark,” she prompts, and he nods. Ugh. If only he could forget.

“Well, it turns out that Mark is extremely - almost agonizingly - social, despite having a demanding job and a young child to raise.”

“Sounds awful,” Mulder comments.

“Hence my current predicament. He’s invited me and my friends out for drinks tonight, so his friends can meet me and I can meet his and he can meet mine… “ she rambles before refocusing herself. “He’s not aware that I’ve lost contact with most of my friends. You’re kind of the only one left.”

Mulder had suspected as much, but confirmation of her increasing social isolation is like a punch in the throat. “Are you sure there’s no one else?” he asks softly, not wanting to rub salt into any wounds.

She shakes her head, lips pressed together. “Unless the Lone Gunmen count as my friends,” she replies. “Which in this case is somehow worse than having none at all,” she muses, some humor in her voice.

“Good point,” he chuckles. “Sure, count me in.”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he melts all over again. He’d do anything for her. Even if it means meeting Mark. Ugh.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Mulder says after a moment, “If you don’t want to go, you can always just not go.”

“Shockingly, I have thought of that,” she says dryly, opening her briefcase and pulling out a folder. “But I think it would be good for me to meet people and hold conversations that aren’t related to criminal or paranormal activity. Might be good for you, too,” she adds, glancing up at him.

He pulls a stack of files out of his inbox on the desk. “I’ll stick to ‘ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night’,” he says.

“‘Good Lord, deliver us',” Scully replies, finishing the old prayer.

Mulder looks up at her and finds her smiling at him, and his whole body flushes with heat and adoration.

“Let’s elope,” he says, and she rolls her eyes fondly before burying her nose in her work.

I’m not kidding, he yells inside the prison of his own thick skull.

After work he and Scully drive straight to the bar together, a yuppie place in Foggy Bottom near George Washington University Hospital.

“Have you ever been through their ER?” Scully asks, scanning the street for parking. “I imagine you’ve been through enough hospitals to warrant a map on the wall with little pins stuck in it.”

“I can’t possibly remember them all at this point,” he says absently, tugging at his seatbelt uncomfortably. Why is he nervous? He’s just here to show Scully’s man friend that she’s not entirely a basement-dwelling hermit.

And Mulder’s the best she could do? God, maybe she really does need to get out more.

She parks, and he feeds the meter while she touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror. She looks sweet and and rosy, flushed with nerves and traffic, and he could so easily scoop her up and kiss her-

“Alright,” she says, climbing out of the car and closing the driver’s side door a little harder than necessary. She smooths her hair down. “I’m ready for battle.”

“I’m prepared to fall on my sword,” he assures her, guiding her onto the sidewalk with a hand on her lower back before realizing he probably shouldn’t touch her so familiarly when her… friend might see.

“It’ll be fine,” she says over her shoulder as she grasps the bar door’s handle. “Just behave,” she hisses, and they enter.

The onslaught is immediate.

“Dana!” a voice calls out through the bustling bar, and Mulder sees a man waving them over. He’s got neatly styled dishwater blond hair, broad shoulders, and dimples at the corners of his mouth as he smiles at them. Not bad, Mulder thinks, unsure of how to feel about this new information.

He barely has time to process it before they’re enveloped in a tight swarm of strangers. The blond man, presumably Mark, loops an arm around Scully’s shoulders and gives her a side-hug.

“So glad you could make it, Dana,” he says, and proceeds to go around the circle of people and rattle off names Mulder has no reason to remember. Instead, he watches Scully, the way she greets each person as they’re introduced. She’s cool and calm, smiling politely, shaking hands and saying ‘nice to meet you’ to each of the five - no, six - people in the group.

“I’ll grab you two some drinks,” Mark says, glancing at Mulder. “What’s your poison?”

“Shiner,” Mulder says.

“Same for me,” Scully says. “I’m going to freshen up-”

“Sure,” Mark says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Two Shiner Bocks coming up.”

That’s how Mulder and this exuberant, Golden Retriever of a man end up sitting at the bar together, nursing sweaty beers and waiting for Scully to return from the bathroom.

“So you’re a work friend of Dana’s?” Mark asks over the noise of the bar.

Mulder was about to set his drink down, but he reconsiders and takes another swig. “In a manner of speaking,” he replies.

Dr. Mark Whatever-the-fuck seems confused. “I don’t follow,” he says.

“I’m her partner,” Mulder says flatly. Since 1993. I’ve seen her naked, cradled her injured body my arms, saved her goddamn life. Have you?

“Oh!” Mark says, clearly making mental connections. “Oh. Sorry, I just- it’s nice to meet you… Fox?”

“Just Mulder’s fine,” he corrects him.

Mark laughs. “Sorry for the confusion on my end; I think Dana only said your name once and I went and assumed Fox Mulder was a woman. And you know what they say about assuming,” he adds with a nudge.

Once. Only once? Maybe that shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. Whenever he meets someone new in Scully’s life they always throw out the usual ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ line, so he knows she talks about him to others. But not to this guy. Why not to this guy?

Mercifully, Scully returns from the restroom. Mark hands her her beer. “Thanks,” she says softly, giving him a small smile with her lips closed tightly, which strikes Mulder as odd. He knows she’s somewhat self-conscious about smiling with her teeth, but something he sees in her face doesn’t feel quite right.

Of course it doesn’t feel right to you, he thinks. She’s smiling at some other guy.

They’re swept along in a current of conversation, scrambled introductions, and drink orders. He’s introduced to a handful of people he’ll selectively erase from his eidetic memory, standing across from Scully in their little circle instead of by her side. He doesn’t like it. Another man has his hand on her back, although respectfully keeping it between her shoulder blades. Any lower and Mulder would have to excuse himself to have a panic attack in the alley behind the bar. Or throw up.

He’s glad Mark’s friends aren’t particularly interested in making conversation with him; he’s tired and ready to go home. Luckily, the Doctor himself calls the night early, at half-past eight.

“I promised the little one I’d be home to tuck her in,” he explains, and Mulder’s stomach turns from the purity and sweetness of it. “She gets to stay up a little later on Fridays.” He gives Scully another half of a hug and says his goodbyes.

The group disperses pretty quickly after Mark leaves, and Mulder and Scully are left alone outside the bar.

“So, you met Mark,” Scully says simply.

“I did, yeah.” He can sense that she wants him to say something more. “He seems... nice,” Mulder adds.

Scully nods. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

Mulder’s beginning to think ‘nice’ is the only word anyone’s capable of using to describe this guy.

“I’ll bet Bill’s gonna love him,” he comments, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Scully shakes her head, smiling. “I knew there had to be a flaw in him somewhere,” she jokes.

Mulder surprises himself with a huffed laugh. This moment with her is strangely precious, despite the circumstances. He doesn’t know how many moments like this he has left, if he’s being honest.

“I’m happy for you,” he says tenderly, and maybe if he says it enough it’ll be true. She deserves this, he reminds himself. It’s become almost a mantra, a lead weight that keeps him from drifting away.

“Are you?” she asks, catching him off guard. “I caught you staring holes into him more than once.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder says defensively. “This is just my face.”

She gives him a look that clearly says ‘I call bullshit’, and he folds. “He didn’t know who I was,” he says, and it sounds monumentally stupid out loud. “He though Fox Mulder was a woman.”

“I-I don’t know why he would have thought that,” Scully says, pensive. “I never implied-”

“Fox is an unusual name,” Mulder interrupts. “It’s an honest mistake if you just hear it without any context.”

Scully looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that,” she says softly. “About all of this. I owe you one.”

Mulder reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, and it seems to have a grounding effect on both of them. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says.

“Do you want me to drive you back to work?” she asks. They’d left his car in the garage at the Hoover building.

Mulder shakes his head. “You’re almost home,” he says. “I’ll get a cab.”

He ends up walking instead.

The night air cleanses his senses as he makes the half-hour trek back to the Bureau. Their time in the bar had felt sluggish and hazy, despite the fact that he only had a beer and a half. He spend the entire evening focused on Scully, the only sharp image amidst the blur of patrons.

Mark hadn’t kissed Scully goodbye, and Mulder’s relief at not having to witness it was overshadowed by a morbid curiosity. She and Mark had been dating for three weeks; he’s not sure how often they’ve actually gone out, due to the doctor’s shift schedule, but he assumes they’ve seen each other a few times at mass in addition to whatever outings they’ve gone on in the evenings. That was ample time to get to know each other physically on some level, wasn’t it? A peck on the cheek at least.

Mulder’s biased; he’s touch-starved and in love with her. He spends most of his nights on his couch in the dark, touching himself and thinking about Scully. Kissing her, taking her clothes off, tasting her; his mental catalogue of scenarios is robust and well-used. If given half the chance to love her…

Maybe that’s it, he thinks somberly, stepping over sidewalk cracks. Maybe chances are taken, not given.

That’s not how he wants to love her. He wants her to choose him all on her own, and yet he never let her know he was a choice. And now there’s Mark.

But Mark doesn’t kiss her.

[pride-moth]

You got everything that I want

Ao3 Link

Stolas can’t recall a time where “love” wasn’t synonymous with “pain” for him. 

He had loved Stella at some point, in his own weird way. Yes, it was an arranged marriage, but he had been willing to make it work like so many royal couples had made it work before them. He admired her beauty, her strength, her force of personality. He wanted to love her and so he did. He loved her as his wife, his princess, the mother to their daughter. He really… He had tried, at one point.

But after years and years of trying and compromising and acquiescing to your partner’s every wish without ever feeling them try in turn. Getting up every night to care for the child that both of you put into the world but that only one of you really cares to pay any meaningful attention to… It gets tiring and slowly, surely, all the love you once had for your partner slips through your fingers until there’s nothing left. Nothing but regret and screaming and pain.

He loves Octavia so, so fiercely. He would do anything for her, and yet he can hardly seem to be able to make her smile. And that’s the greatest pain. When you want nothing more than to see your child happy and you would do anything to make it happen, but it’s not in your hands anymore. Octavia is still a teenager but she’s growing up, wanting to do her own thing, starting to live her own life and Stolas feels like the only thing that he could do to make her happy would be to stop fighting with Stella, and that is just not within his powers. Stella will always find something to blame him for and he will always find something new to do wrong. 

When Blitzo enters the picture, he and Stella already haven’t been sleeping in the same bed longer than he cares to remember. It’s a night of weakness, that first one, one where all he wants is to not live his own life anymore and Blitzo, that handsome little imp, catches him off guard, pokes right into his vulnerabilities and Stolas can’t help but take him home, sneak him in and let himself be taken apart in a way he has never experienced.  

It’s a magical night, not romantic, but raw and rough and brutal in the best way. Blitzo makes him hurt exactly how he likes to hurt, gives him the kind of pleasure he could never quite convince Stella into giving him. They don’t even know each other at that point, but there is the kind blind understanding between them that Stolas always wanted to happen between him and Stella, but it never did.

Stolas is almost grateful when he realizes Blitzo has taken his grimoire with him. It’s an easy reason to stay in contact, an easy excuse to call him, set meetings, work out an exchange and get more of what Blitzo gave him that first night. 

With Blitzo, it’s not love. So, there’s no pain. Stolas doesn’t let there be pain, at least not emotionally, the physical pain is something he quite enjoys. When Blitzo leaves after their monthly night together, he doesn’t allow himself to feel pain, only anticipation of the next time. He likes that there’s always a next time, even though that’s because of his active incentive more than anything else. But that’s alright, he doesn’t want Blitzo to come see him without an incentive. He deserves favors in turn for what he’s giving Stolas. 

He enjoys Blitzo’s company in general. He’s funny, quick-witted, intelligent and he handles him with an ease that in any other situation would be seen as lèse-majesté for an imp. And maybe that’s what appeals to Stolas about spending time with Blitzo. That he can be himself, doesn’t have to adhere to the vague behavioral standards of royal life. He can be vulgar around him, and a blubbering mess sometimes, Blitzo doesn’t mind him being angry or frustrated or stupid, he can just… Be. 

So, sometimes he’ll find an excuse to spend time with Blitzo outside of the bedroom. To just be. Because it doesn’t affect their normal arrangement and it’s better than spending time alone in that grand, beautiful, empty palace with a wife who wants his head chopped off and a daughter who makes him responsible for it. Maybe he is responsible for it, he thinks, but that doesn’t change anything, does it?

When he takes Octavia to Loo Loo Land, he wants Blitzo there as his bodyguard, not because he necessarily needs protection, but just because… He wants him there. Around. As company. Because Blitzo is good like that. And he likes watching him fully in his element because Blitzo handles his rifle with the same deft touch and confidence as he handles Stolas and that’s beautiful in a way. 

When Octavia tells them to get a room, it throws him off a little because he didn’t mean to get carried away like that. He truly wanted it to be a father-daughter day, Blitzo and his employees and incidental part of the equation, but he can’t really take his eyes off Blitzo when he’s being all professional and handsome and, God, maybe this was a bad idea to begin with. 

That day ends with him finding Octavia crying and she asks if he wants to run off with Blitzo and that’s… Well, he can’t fault her for getting the wrong idea. Obviously she doesn’t know that it’s just sex between them. She’s just met a man who Stolas is very clearly flirting with constantly, so obviously that would look romantic. But he would never run off with him, it’s not like that. There’s no love between them, only a deal, good sex and good company. 

There’s a little thought spinning around in his head after the whole Loo Loo Land incident that he doesn’t dare act upon for a good while, but it persists. All he needed to do to convince Blitzo to come with him was offer him money. So, maybe, just maybe, if he found himself desiring his company outside of their arrangement, he could just… 

“I’m not a hooker,” Blitzo says sharply when he tries it one day during a phone call. 

“But I usually pay you by letting you use the book,” Stolas tries, not entirely sure why he tries breaking through the metaphorical door that has just been quite clearly slammed shut right in front of face. 

“That’s different! That’s-” Blitzo lets out a frustrated sigh at the end of the line. “Just don’t try that.” 

“But-” 

“Shut it, Stolas, I said no. Just because you’re a Prince or whatever doesn’t mean you can get everything you want by waving some money around.” 

It stings a little, that comment. He didn’t mean to… He didn’t attempt to… Maybe he did. Blitzo said no, so that’s that. No reason to get hung up about it. So, he won’t see him before the full moon. That’s okay. No pain, not about Blitzo. And if he needs to exert some force to make a smile appear on his face, that’s just because he can hear Stella throwing utensils in the kitchen again. 

“No trouble at all, I didn’t mean to offend, my dear Blitzy. See you next full moon,” he says then in his usual blib tone. 

Blitzo hangs up on him after mumbling something about offending his asshole. 

Sometime after that, Blitzo starts sharing cigarettes with him. It’s a little thing that he doesn’t think much of the first time it happens. Blitzo just kind of offers it to him one time, wordlessly and Stolas takes it and that’s that. It’s a little gesture of familiarity that neither of them comment on, but they keep doing it from then on. He starts buying the good expensive cigarettes and keeping them in the nightstand just for that little ritual.

Stolas would never admit to himself that he has a little cruel streak. “Friendly” is his default mode of presentation even if that sometimes gets him weird looks, it being hell and all. But he still grew up here, he still knows how the game is played and he still knows how to hit people where it hurts. 

So, when Stella keeps yelling at him not just about how he cheated on her, though that certainly seems to be some part of her grievance with him, not about how he’s brought the false harmony of their home into jeopardy, not about how their daughter feels about the whole thing, but about how it looks bad that he’s having sex with an imp, how that’s undignified. 

“Should I have used one of your fancy dinner party friends instead?!” he yells back at her one day and she just throws another saucer at him.

“At least that would have been a proper magazine scandal instead of the semi-public embarrassment I got!” 

And that’s where he can’t handle it anymore. He leaves her alone in the kitchen to scream at the walls because frankly, what left is there to say? She wants a magazine scandal, huh? Sure. She can have a magazine scandal. 

Stolas feels nervous when he has to ask Blitzo to come over early, but to his surprise, it’s no problem at all. 

“Is that in addition to our regularly scheduled fucking or a substitute?” is the only question he asks and when Stolas answers, “Substitute” he’s happy with it. 

It’s one of their best nights yet, Blitzo ties him up so good he can’t move an inch and he fucks him and he teases him with a passion that feels entirely new. Blitzo usually isn’t one to tease, he likes getting to the point, but tonight is different, tonight he takes his time and Stolas is pudding in his fingers. 

There’s warmth afterwards, just everywhere. His entire body feels warm and muted and content. And for just a moment, there is pain. And normally he can just wish it away, replace it with excitement for the next time they meet, but this time, he feels the distinct pain of not being able to experience this kind of pleasure whenever he wants. He wants to feel exactly like this, warm and exhausted and content, all the time. But he can’t.

It takes real force this time, but he shoves the thought away. He can focus on getting Stella the big scandal she so craves, and he can kill two birds with one stone here. Not literally.

He invites Blitzo to the Harvest Moon Festival. That’s easy enough, get them out together, have him and Blitzo be in one place together in public. That’s both step one of his barely thought out plan and also another way to spend time with Blitzo which is something he needs desperately. Anything to get him out of this palace, out of the endless screaming matches with his wife. 

And then, he makes it his personal goal to be as obnoxious as possible. Blitzo calls him obnoxious all the time, that’s nothing new, but he can do one better, make sure everyone knows what they’re doing, knows exactly that the great Prince of Hell is consorting with an imp. He wants Stella to look at media coverage of the Harvest Moon Festival and be absolutely furious about it. She wanted this. 

And it’s genuinely exciting, too, watching Blitzo compete in the Games, dominating the competition except for that weird snake man who he eventually shares a title with. Truth is, Stolas doesn’t really need to try very hard to cheer Blitzo on, part of him wants to just shout from the mountaintops how cool and powerful and handsome he is and how well he’s doing. 

To his disappointment, he can’t catch Blitzo after the festival. He’s suddenly gone after the trophy ceremony and is nowhere to be seen for the rest of the day. He leaves him a suggestive voicemail, saying he would love to see Blitzo as soon as possible, but if Blitzo doesn’t feel like it, he’s simply looking forward to the next full moon. 

He learns only via Stella’s highly unsubtle phone calls at the dinner table that there was an attempt on life that day. He doesn’t know for sure, Blitzo hasn’t told him, but he suspects that his little imp probably had something to do with it not succeeding and that’s just delicious, isn’t it? That the reason for Stella’s wrath would be the one to thwart her plans? He smiles at himself.  

It’s a week later that Blitzo appears on his balcony without a warning one night, sweating and nervous and completely unlike himself. Stolas practically jumps up from his bed and rushes over to him, pulling him into a hug almost automatically. To his surprise, Blitzo allows it. 

“What’s going on, Blitzy?” he asks softly. 

Blitzo takes a shaky breath and Stolas notices several bruises on his arms. “I just… I needed to… You’re okay.” It comes out shaky and incoherent but Stolas only hugs him tighter. “You’re kind of squeezing me to death,” Blitzo croaks then and lets out a small groan that makes him sound a bit more like himself. 

Stolas lets a bit looser. “Come in, tell me what happened, I’ll call for some tea,” he says as he leads Blitzo inside. 

Blitzo chuckles joylessly. “It’s insane how different shit is for you, you know that? You can just ask for tea and someone will bring it to you. Anything you lift your own finger for, you do of your own volition. Nobody makes you do anything. Unimaginable.” 

Stolas doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s true, kind of self-evidently so. He hasn’t even taken up the house phone yet and a servant is already knocking at the door to offer tea. He takes with a curt “thank you” and hands Blitzo his cup. Slowly they sit down on the bed, arms resting against each other comfortably. 

“You know they’re just like me, right? The servants you order around here all day?” Blitzo’s voice sounds hollow, distant. It’s disconcerting to say the least. 

“Well, I suppose you’re all imps, but you… you’re special.” 

“What if I don’t want to be? What if I want to be just like everyone else and just be… left alone with all the bullshit that comes with being ‘special’? What if I don’t want other assassins to come and try to talk me out of my job and how I do it, what if I don’t want to be the ‘only good one’ for people who’d just trample all over me if they hadn’t randomly decided that I was special, what if…” 

“Blitzy, what’s going on? Do you not want to come here anymore? We can… We can stop if you want to. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to, I can just leave you the book and you give it back when I need it and-” 

“Goddammit, Stolas, that’s not it, I just… Striker just came to my office and he just doesn’t leave me alone and we fought and he… Stolas, he won’t stop before he has your head and I can’t… I can’t guarantee that I can always be there to stop him.” Blitzo doesn’t look up at him, he just keeps staring directly into his tea cup. 

“Oh, Blitzy, it’ll all work itself out, everything will be okay,” Stolas says softly, tenderly caressing Blitzo’s back, but his hand quickly slapped away. 

“Are you actually serious right now?!” Blitzo looks at him now, angry, yes, but also very obviously hurt. “This guy is after you. And he’s good. I’ve stopped him once, I’ll do it again, but what if he comes here while I’m in the living world? What if I’m caught in some argument with Moxxie?”

“You don’t have to look after me, Blitzy, I’ll be okay, I promise.” Stolas takes a deep breath then, unsure of his next words. “Plus, if I wasn’t here anymore, you could just take my grimoire and run, isn’t that what you want?” 

Blitzo just stares at him, one, two, three seconds. “It sure would be easier,” he says then, pensively, “But I- Well. It’s just that… You know how it is, I don’t want to be responsible for the whole power vacuum that would come with your death and it’s not my style… I don’t know, I just don’t want you dead.” 

Stolas can’t help but smile at him. “Oh, Blitzy, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

And finally Bitzo laughs again. Stolas so loves seeing him laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’ve also told you that you’re my pretty little bitch and you have a nice dick and beautiful tight little asshole and you’re probably the only really good sub I’ve ever had.” 

Stolas pulls him into his arms, letting Blitzo lean against him and rests his chin on one of his horns. “I’m not going to die, Blitzy, not as long as you’re here. I would never forgive myself if I left you alone. I promise you, I… I can look after myself.” 

Blitzo sighs. He opens his mouth to speak a few times, but ultimately stays silent. 

They just sit there for minutes, silently embracing and Stolas doesn’t know what to do with that. It hurts. It hurts to hold Blitzo like that, to see him vulnerable and worried for him. It feels good to be with him, to have him be here. It’s warm and familiar and it feels natural, but it’s so, so painful. 

“Blitzy?” Stolas breaks the silence finally. 

“Yeah?” 

“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.” 

Blitzo doesn’t look up at him, but he nods. “I know where this is going,” he says, half-ironically but there’s no bite to it tonight. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Stolas whispers, “I’m sorry.” 

“Please, you’ve been head over heels in love with me since we first met,” Blitzo retorts but there’s no bite to it. It’s less a brag or a dig than a simple observation. 

“I didn’t mean to, I just… I don’t want it to be like this, we have a good thing here and I don’t… I don’t want to make it all complicated and painful.” 

Blitzo sighs again, but it’s a soft little sound, punctuated with a little laugh. “Stolas, you’re Goetic royalty doing completely shameless BDSM shit with an imp, it’s already complicated and painful.” 

“No, I mean-” he looks at one of the paintings of him and Stella and Octavia, Blitzo follows his gaze, “I don’t want it to hurt like this again. Love always… It always hurts.” 

 Blitzo shrugs. “I don’t think it does. Fights and drifting apart and break ups hurt. Love itself can be fun. It’s just… hard sometimes.” 

Stolas supposes that’s true. But still, is it really worth starting something when you know the end is inevitably going to be painful? And how would that even work, between them? Sure, teasing the press with an affair is one thing, but he can’t make it official. That would go beyond the realms of gossip and annoying his wife. That could potentially jeopardize his entire position and- 

“Christ, you’re overthinking like crazy right now, I can practically hear you,” Blitzo breaks his train of thought. “Nothing has to change here. We have sex, we hang out sometimes, we do movie nights, I know your daughter, we’re already in more of a relationship than you and your wife.” 

And that strikes Stolas like lightning. “You-? You feel the same?” he asks in utter disbelief. 

“You stupid fucking bird, of course I do: You think I would have passed up and opportunity to get the book without fucking you otherwise?” 

“I mean, yes, you could have just saved my life as a friend, I suppose.”

Blitzo shakes his head and grins at him. “I usually don’t fuck my friends. Nine times out of ten, I would like to, sure, but I still usually don’t. And, I sure as fuck didn’t want that either, but here we are and I literally gunned it from Imp City to here just to make sure you were still alive after I beat up Striker again and I… I think this,” he gestures between them, “is good. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever tolerated anyone that long, so… Count yourself lucky.”

Stolas smiles, as wide as he can and then he kisses him, tenderly, softly, chastely, like they never do and that seals it in a way. And for the first time in centuries, he doesn’t think about the pain that love can bring, he just thinks that holding Blitzo in his arms and kissing him feels good and he wants to keep feeling that good, so all the pain along the way, all the shit they might get into for it, might be worth it, in the end. So he pulls Blitzo a bit closer and deepens their kiss, losing himself completely in the warmth between them. 

[jonkentt]

This is a video, Bucky. You’re recording.”

What? I opened the camera.”

Yeah and it’s a video.”

Oh whatever! C’mere we’re getting a picture.”

Back to my original point—”

Shut up and smile, Sam”

The sunlight is a warm yellow glow on their smiling faces. Bucky’s arm is draped over Sam’s shoulders and he leans in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Sam can almost feel the warm press of Bucky’s lips as he replays the memory on his phone. The glow of the screen dully illuminating the dark hotel room.

Sam’s smile slips and his eyes widen with surprise. Bucky’s laughter rings out till it’s abruptly cut off when Sam grabs his face and kisses him. The image blurs, followed by a loud crack and muffled curse.

Sam smiles but his chest aches a little. His finger hovers over the screen to press play on the video again. Then the phone starts buzzing in his hand and a familiar face appears.

“You asshole, are you a mind reader now? I miss you.”

“Aw, Sam, babe you’re pinning already? Even after I called you this morning?”

“I’m not pinning!”

“I miss you, too. Why the fuck did you have to go away on your birthday? The boys and I ate a cake but they looked sad about it.”

“You ate a cake without me? Wow just rub it in that I couldn’t get out of this hooty tooty conference.”

“I guess world peace is sorta important. Don’t feel too bad though, they weren’t actually sad about it. They ate the whole cake and I promised them another when you got back.”

Sam tries to protest through his laughter. “Hey now, don’t get any ideas about points towards favorite uncle. That’s my title.”

“I’ve been favorite uncle, Sam, and you know it.”

“Why you gotta hurt me like this? I’ll have you know that Cass wrote ‘best uncle ever’ in his text to me this morning.”

“Traitor.”

Sam snickers. Their familiar chatter drains all the pent up tension of the day. Sam can feel the tightness of his shoulders ease, but that little ache in his heart is still too sharp. “Ah dammit, I still miss you.”

“Stop moping, Sam. Go enjoy your birthday!”

“Man, it’s not like there’s anything to do around here! Unless I wanna go to a shitty dive bar and order something in a language I don’t speak. End up having to choke down god knows what.”

“I’ve seen you drink a snake. I’m surprised anything still intimidates you.”

Sam makes a gagging sound. “Don’t remind me.”

“Well I know for a fact that there’s something you’ll love close by. C’mon get up, I’ll give you directions.”

“What?”

“C’mon Sam!”

Which is how Sam ended up walking through an unfamiliar city in the middle of the night, convinced Bucky was steering him in circles.

“You’re almost there.”

“You said that four blocks ago!”

“Relax, Sam. This way you get to stretch your legs and enjoy the sound of my voice at the same time.”

“Bucky—”

“On your left.”

“That’s my line!”

“What? Turn left, Sam.”

Sam rounded the corner of a yet another looming building and the space opened into a massive garden contained by an elaborate iron fence. A cobbled path stretched down it’s center through a tunnel of arches covered in roses. Lights were threaded through the branches, illuminating everything in hazy yellows. A slight breeze filled Sam’s nose with sweetness.

“Woah.”

“I woulda picked flowers for ya but given our situation, I had to bring you to the flowers.”

“This place is beautiful, Buck.” Sam’s voice is soft with awe as he walks down the path, admiring the curving vines of roses all around him. The flowers have bloomed in every color of the rainbow. “How’d you find it?” Sam reaches out to rub delicate blue petals between his finger and thumb.

“A brilliant invention I’ve been informed is called the internet.”

Sam snorts. “Course you would scrounge up the most absurdly romantic spot in the city from halfway across the world.”

“For you, Sam? Nothing less.”

Sam makes his way towards the center of the gardens. The path opens suddenly to a wide circle with a bubbling fountain at its center. Sam looks into its basin and the glint of copper coins wink back at him. He cranes his head to admire the night sky. The twinkle of stars just visible beyond the urban light.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Wow. You’d love this place.” The other end of the line stays quiet. “Bucky?” Sam glances at his phone to see the call has ended. He frowns, wondering if he lost signal.

“I can promise, Sam, that the whole scene is much prettier with you in it.”

Sam’s head snaps up at that familiar sound. Bucky steps out from behind a wall of roses. His eyes are crinkled in a bright smile.

“Hey, Angel.”

Sam breaks into a stupidly huge grin then launches himself into Bucky’s arms. His partner laughs and hugs him close.

“You’ve been gone, what, not even a week? Already miss me that much?”

Sam smirks and shrugs.

“I’d consider being embarrassed about it except that you literally researched where to find a fucking rose garden and then traversed an ocean just to tell me how pretty I am.”

Bucky strokes Sam’s cheek with his thumb and looks at him with near unbearable fondness.

“Can’t let you go forgetting it.”

Bucky leans in till their noses touch. Sam closes his eyes and breaths him in, relaxing into Bucky’s embrace.

“Can’t let you doubt for a second how loved you are.”

Bucky presses their foreheads together.

“You’re incredible, Sam. God, just—” Bucky huffs a laugh that sounds a little overwhelmed. “You’re always blowing my mind. When your eyes open in the morning, all warm and soft and already smiling. When you laugh so easily and it’s the best sound in the world. When you look at your nephews so proud like your heart’s gonna burst.” Bucky barely hears the fountain behind them or notices the sweetness in the air. All he can think of is Sam.

“You always stop and talk to the kids who recognize you, doesn’t make a difference if you’re exhausted, you always care about putting smiles on their little faces.” Bucky swallows against the emotion welling in his throat. “You always look out for your team. Even when shit hits the fan and we’re all scared, donno what’s coming. You hold it together and keep us safe, me ‘n Torres ‘n everyone.” He pauses to listen to Sam’s breathing and feel the warmth of it on his lips. “And when you’re sad, Sam, god you hate showing it. But still you let people in. Just crack your heart right open. You’re more honest than any of us deserve. But the way you see the world, the way you put hope in people, it’s such a fucking amazing gift you don’t even realize you’re giving.”

Sam moves just slightly and for once Bucky doesn’t want to be stopped with a kiss. He needs Sam to hear this, needs Sam to believe it. Bucky leans back and locks his gaze with Sam’s. Desperately, he tries to find the words.

“I try— I try to show you. How much you matter. How everything you do matters. I try to show you but I can’t keep up. I’ll never be able to keep up with you, Sam.” Bucky smiles even as he struggles to keep his voice steady.

“I try to tell you how much I love you but words fall short every time. I try to tell you how important you are and sometimes you still look surprised and that breaks my heart cause you gotta know, Sam. You gotta know.” Light catches the teardrops on Sam’s eyelashes and Bucky finally notices the emotion in his eyes. It knocks the air from his chest.

“You are so loved. And ‘course it’s not just me. So many folks look up to you! I always recognize the look in their eyes cause I know it.” Bucky cups Sam’s face and pauses just to admire him. “I know what it feels like to have a whole heart-full of Sam Wilson.”

They look at each other in silence for a breathless moment. Bucky looking at Sam like he hung every star in the sky, and Sam trying not to drown in that gaze. Then Sam smiles and wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. Bucky melts at the sight of that tooth gap.

“Jesus, Bucky.” Sam sniffs. “You rehearse that?”

“Every day.”

Sam laughs a little and leans in to nuzzle Bucky’s cheek. “Well, I love it,” he whispers. “Means a lot, Bucky. And I love you.”

Bucky grins ear-to-ear. The press of Sam’s nose on his cheek makes his stupid stomach flip.

“Birthday kiss?”

Sam answers by pressing their lips together.

[pickalilywrites]

for @certainbonksaladranch, whose kind words always give me a reason to continue writing. thank you for always being a beautiful soul in the rivetra fandom 💖

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

If You Have Some Time, Would You Like to Marry Me?

Rivetra. My Girl + My Strange Hero AU.

A Love More Than Diamonds Series: Chapter 1

10175 words.

Read on Ao3!

The first time Levi encounters her is at a wedding.

Levi does not know the bride nor the groom. He actually doesn’t know anyone at the wedding. The only reason he’s attending at all is because the bride is the daughter of a businessman who has been a close associate of his grandfather’s for years. Because Levi’s grandfather was unable to attend due to his poor health, Levi had come in his place. He should be used to it by now, attending all these business meetings and social events with people whose names he can’t ever remember, but Levi still finds them tedious. This wedding is no exception.

After being greeted at the front of the garden and handing off his wedding gift to a staff member, Levi wanders aimlessly around the garden trying his best to be sociable even though so many unnecessary conversations leave him exhausted. He has to remind himself several times not to glance at his watch lest he appear rude. He does one round around the garden, making sure he doesn't miss anyone, before giving up on socializing completely and spending the rest of his time standing beside the fountain and remarking to everyone that passes by that he had never seen such a beautiful wedding before even though it’s a lie. He’s probably been to half a dozen ceremonies that were just as good if not better than this one.

When it’s time for the wedding ceremony to begin, everyone falls into place easily. It seems Levi is the only one stumbling about searching for a free seat. There isn’t anyone he wants to sit next to nor anyone that seems to want to sit next to him, so he sits in the very last row in the corner where nobody will take too much notice of him. He fidgets in his seat, frowning when the orchestral quartet begins to play Pachelbel’s Canon.

It shouldn’t be too long now before Levi can leave. He just needs to wait until the bride walks down the aisle and says her vows alongside the groom and then he’ll wait for the appropriate amount of time before leaving. He just needs to be patient.

Levi turns his head, expecting to see the bride making her way down the aisle. He doesn’t expect to see another woman hurriedly running towards the area where Levi and all the other guests are seated. Other staff members in their monochrome suits chase after her, hissing at her about trespassing because they’re too afraid to raise their voices and ruin the bride’s moment even more. It’s only when the woman pulls out an invitation from her purse and flashes it at the staff that they stop chasing her, although it might be in confusion over how a guest could possibly be so rude as to show up this late. The woman finally reaches the seating area and Levi glances at the bride at the end of the aisle, but it’s difficult to tell her expression under the covering of her veil.

When Levi turns around to check where the late guest has decided to seat herself, he’s almost horrified to find her sliding into the seat next to him. The woman doesn’t seem to notice his horror because she settles in easily next to him, brushing her ginger hair out of her face and flashing a smile at him.

“Ah, my ride was late,” she tells him as if he had asked. At least she has the decency to keep her voice low. Leaning her head towards Levi, the woman asks, “Do you think the bride hates me?”

“I don’t know,” Levi answers. He doesn’t know why he replies at all. He should have ignored her. The woman already made a small scene by arriving late to the wedding, and nothing good will come out of associating with her. He’ll probably have to apologize to the bride’s father for being seated next to the woman even though she was the one who sat next to him. He knows all this and yet he still finds himself saying (quite unnecessarily) to the woman, “I don’t know her at all.”

The woman doesn’t look surprised, only curious. “You’re a friend of the groom’s then?” she asks as they begin to untwist their necks and sit properly in their seats now that the bride is walking down the aisle through the rows and rows of seats.

“No,” Levi replies. “Not really.” He should have lied and said it was true or even made up some kind of distant relation between him and the groom. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t. Maybe he’s so surprised that he’s even having this conversation that he doesn’t think to tell any lies.

To Levi’s confusion, the woman looks absolutely delighted. She leans in even closer, her smile dazzling as she grows ever near. “Me neither. I don’t know anyone here at all,” she confesses, which only confuses Levi all the more.

She had clearly shown an invitation to the staff earlier or she would have been dragged out of the garden when she had first waltzed in late. Why, then, is she claiming not to know the groom or the bride? It might be the case that she is like Levi, only there to maintain a business relationship with either the bride or the groom’s family, but the more he studies the woman, the more unlikely Levi finds this theory.

The woman isn’t dressed in the same black-tie attire that everyone else is wearing, Levi realizes. While all the other women wear gowns with skirts that trail on the grass, the woman’s skirt barely ends at her knees, revealing smooth legs and open-toed shoes. Her hair hangs in a simple bob, ginger locks framing her heart-shaped face, instead of done up in an intricate hairstyle or set in elegant curls. It makes Levi wonder if she had perhaps missed the dress code on the RSVP, but he thinks it’s more likely that she doesn’t belong here at all.

He’s about to ask her how she was invited to this wedding when she suddenly lets out the tiniest squeal and whispers to him, “This is my favorite part!” She sighs with the most wistful smile on her face. “This whole thing is awfully romantic, don’t you think?”

Levi forces himself to look up front where the bride is standing with her groom. The groom’s back is turned to Levi as the bride’s veil is lifted, the bride’s smile blinding as she looks up at her husband. Levi assumes the groom is equally elated to have his soon-to-be-wife by his side. As the bride and groom recite their vows to each other, Levi watches the woman beside him from the corner of his eye.

She sighs almost wistfully as the bride and groom share their vows, chest heaving with a longing sigh and eyes sparkling. Levi doesn’t know how someone can look so enamored with the matrimony of two people they don’t even know, but maybe she’s a hopeless romantic who watched too many romcoms. He expects her to get teary-eyed when the minister asks if anyone would like to “speak now or forever hold their peace,” but she doesn’t. Instead, the woman does something much worse.

At the minister’s words, the woman stands up and Levi has no choice but to watch her even though he wants nothing more than to drag her down by the arm and ask her in a hushed whisper what the fuck she’s doing disrupting the wedding of a perfect stranger. He watches helplessly as the woman stands, her face cold and steely as if she hadn’t told Levi a few minutes before in an awestruck voice that she found the whole wedding awfully romantic, and says the absolute worst thing that can come out of her mouth:

“She can’t marry him.”

And then somehow even more unexpected and horrible:

“I love him.”

She’s staring directly at the groom, Levi realizes, the same groom she had claimed not to know when she had first met Levi. At first, Levi thinks this is just some terrible joke or that he had heard wrong, but everyone around him looks equally horrified and it’s clear that they’re all in the same state of disbelief as Levi.

Tears are welling in her amber eyes, an elegant tear even dripping down her cheek as she looks at the stunned couple. All eyes are on her, but it’s as if she doesn’t notice. Her gaze is fixed on the groom whose hands have fallen from the bride’s. As if entranced, she walks to him, stopping only a few paces away. With tear-filled eyes, she looks to the groom and stretches a hand towards him.

“Darling,” she says. Her voice is hardly a whisper but it seems to ring in the stunned silence. “Darling, run away with me. I love you.”

Everyone’s gaze turns to the groom now. The man looks just as confused as the other wedding guests, but he takes a tentative step towards the woman, then another. He takes another step and then one more until he’s finally reached the mysterious wedding crasher. His hand reaches out to meet the woman’s and she smiles as she intertwines her fingers with his. The woman’s face breaks into a dazzling smile and, without another word, she pulls the man after her and the two run down the aisle while the bride begins to shriek for the wedding staff not to let the runaway groom get away.

Levi watches as the poor maids and butlers try to chase after the groom and the woman who has just spirited him away, but the escapees manage to slip right through everyone’s fingers. The groom and woman make it to the entrance of the garden where an idle van awaits them. As soon as the woman slips inside after the groom, the door slams shut in the sweaty faces of their pursuers and the van takes off. Everyone watches as the van grows smaller and smaller until it finally vanishes and all the while the bride sobs like her heart is being torn out.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

The second time Levi sees her is at a bar that he had initially no intention of going to.

He usually didn’t have the time to attend social outings aside from the ones necessary to appease the business partners that Levi’s grandfather had long been associated with. It doesn’t bother Levi most of the time. He’s not a fan of crowded places, but Hanji always has a way of dragging him to places he doesn’t want to be. They had insisted that this particular bar was worth going to at least once, and Levi had reluctantly agreed because Hanji assured him that it was a hole-in-the-wall establishment where he wouldn’t be bothered even if people did recognize him.

“The atmosphere is very relaxed there. You might be able to take your mind off work for once,” Hanji told him. “The drinks aren’t half-bad either for their price. Oh, but the singer is absolutely divine. She comes out every week and she’s really amazing. Doesn’t a talented singer add to the ambience of a place?”

Upon arriving at the bar, Levi does have to admit that the atmosphere of the restaurant is indeed as relaxing as Hanji had assured him it would be. At the back of the restaurant is a small stage where a jazz band is playing. The place where the singer should be is empty, but Hanji assures him the singer is probably just going on a break and will be back soon. The bar is dimly lit, which gives Levi a slight feeling of anonymity that he typically doesn’t have under bright lights and flashing cameras. Nobody stares at or turns their head as Levi and Hanji make their way to a table in the corner of the bar, and Levi finds himself breathing more easily than he usually does.

“So, tell me about the runaway groom and the mysterious woman who whisked him away,” Hanji asks. In their hands, they cradle a glass filled with an electric blue beverage that smells vaguely of peaches with a wedge of lemon stuck to the top of the glass.

“You’ve heard this story already,” Levi replies. He knows it’s his own fault that he’s about to talk about this scandalous story over a gin and tonic. He doesn’t care for gossip, but he had off-handedly mentioned that he had sat next to the mysterious ginger-haired woman after Hanji had shown him an article in the news about a famous businessman’s daughter being left at the altar. Hanji, always interested in stories about anything strange or scandalous, has asked him to retell the tale at least a dozen times since then.

Hanji leans forward, elbows on the table and face in their hands. “Did you know when she walked in that she’d be running away with the groom? Did it look like the groom was having an affair behind the bride’s back the whole time? Was their getaway dramatic enough to be in a movie?”

Levi rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his gin and tonic. The sharp taste of alcohol burns quickly down his throat and he’s left with a lemony aftertaste on his tongue. “It’s not like I got to talk to her very much. The woman came late to the wedding. She sat down just as the bride was walking down the aisle,” Levi tells Hanji.

Hanji whistles. “Wow, she ran away with the bride’s man and didn’t even have the audacity to come on time. You’d think she’d have some manners.”

Levi believes the tardiness is negligible given the woman’s more offensive crime of running away with the groom, but he doesn’t say that out loud. “It’s strange though,” he says instead. “The woman mentioned that she didn’t know anyone there — neither the bride nor the groom. It might have been my imagination, but it didn’t look as if he recognized her either, at least not at first. He didn’t seem to expect her at all.”

“Well, it’s not every day that someone crashes your wedding and proposes that you run away with them,” Hanji points out. They’re not wrong, but that doesn’t explain everything either.

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Levi grumbles as he settles with his back against the seat, his arms folded across his chest.

“Maybe she was his first love or something and their parents wouldn’t let them marry because of their difference in social status,” Hanji says, chewing on their straw thoughtfully.

“This isn’t a soap opera,” Levi snorts.

“No,” Hanji agrees, “but it could be.”

Levi shakes his head, trying to rid his mind of the strange woman. He doesn’t have the time to think about a wedding crasher he’ll probably never meet again. It’s already too much drama that he doesn’t care for.

“Was she pretty though?” Hanji asks. They reach across the table and munch on a crispy potato chip from the appetizer bowl that was set for them when they had first arrived. It’s clear that even if Levi is done talking about the woman, Hanji certainly isn’t.

Levi wrinkles his nose. “I don’t see why that’s important.”

“It’s important to me,” Hanji says. They sigh and nibble at the end of their straw. “I was just curious if you had an opinion of her. I probably shouldn’t have asked though. You never have an opinion on these things.”

He rolls his eyes and is about to open his mouth when the lights on the stage begin to change color from a soft white to a warm violet.

Hanji sits up and twists in their seat. “Ah, it looks like the singer is about to start,” Hanji says eagerly. They settle down against their seat, hands folded in front of them. “You’ll see what I was talking about, Levi. Even if you aren’t a music aficionado, you can’t deny her talent.”

Levi merely grunts and lets his eyes flicker to the stage. As the band readies their instruments, a woman walks on the stage and the sight of her nearly makes Levi fall out of his seat. The flash of the woman’s ginger hair makes Levi blink — once, twice — and he leans forward in his seat to get a closer look.

The more he stares, the more he’s certain that the woman is the very same that he had met at the wedding. It’s the same woman he had seen running away with the groom, the woman Levi was certain he would never see again.

The woman sits on a stool at the center of the stage while the soft violet lights settle on her. Her eyes are cast downward as the band begins to play, a slick jazzy tune that drifts through the bar, and raises the mic to her lips. When she opens her mouth, the most angelic voice comes out, a voice that was made for singing.

Levi leans over the table, tapping on the surface to catch Hanji’s attention. “That’s her,” he says, not taking his eyes off the woman for a second. “That’s the woman who was at the wedding.”

“She’s the woman from the wedding?” Hanji repeats, confused for a second before they realize what Levi is saying. They do a double-take and then turn back to Levi, eyes wide. “She’s the woman from the wedding you’ve been talking about? Why didn’t you mention she was an amazing singer? We could have found her earlier!”

“It’s not like she sang at the wedding,” Levi scowls. “And even if I did find out she was a singer, how would you be able to connect those two dots?”

“I would have,” Hanji says confidently before taking a sip of their cocktail. They turn back to where the woman is singing. “Should we ask if we can talk to her backstage after the set? She seems so interesting. You don’t meet a wedding crasher with a phenomenal singing voice every day, you know.”

“Please don’t stick your nose into things that aren’t any of our business,” Levi says, although he knows Hanji isn’t listening. They always do what they want anyway.

Levi raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip of gin. He’s so fixated on the woman on the stage that he hardly feels the burn of the alcohol as it slips down his throat.

The woman looks comfortable on stage. Dressed in a loose white peasant blouse and dark trousers, she looks like she belongs under the spotlight and isn’t at all out of place like she was at the wedding. Her voice is melodious and sweet like a songbird, which Levi finds strange. He doesn’t recall her speaking voice as being musical, but he supposes there are people who have singing voices that don’t match their speaking voices.

He ignores Hanji as they flag down a server. The server leans over to hear Hanji’s request better — they’re most likely asking the server for a chance to speak with the singer after her set is over. Levi has half a mind to swat the server away. They’re blocking his view of the stage.

He wonders what a nameless singer is doing in a hole-in-the-wall jazz bar after crashing the wedding of two of the most powerful families in the city. Why isn’t the woman with the runaway groom somewhere overseas where nobody could find them? Why is she here singing at a bar like she hadn’t ruined someone’s wedding the week before? Who exactly is this woman?

“Is she really that pretty?” Hanji asks and snaps Levi out of his thoughts. When Levi looks at his friend, they gesture towards the stage. “You’ve been staring at her. If you’re enraptured by her, just remember: she already ran away with the groom at the wedding.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Levi frowns. He sits up and turns his head, pretending to stare at the wall as he sips his drink but he takes a peek at the woman from the corner of his eye.

Hanji rolls their eyes. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not staring,” they tell him. Levi is about to open his mouth and protest that that isn’t what he’s doing, but Hanji waves their hand about to silence him. “The set is almost over and the waiter I talked to earlier said we could meet with her backstage if you’re so curious about her.”

“I’m not,” Levi says, but Hanji clucks their tongue at him and gestures for him to follow. He doesn’t want to be left alone in an unfamiliar place, so he reluctantly follows Hanji. At the very least, he can apologize to the woman about his nosy friend.

The two follow one of the bar staff towards the stage where they’re taken to a backdoor. The staff holds open the door for Hanji and Levi. The staff member informs the two that the woman has been told of their request to see her and is expecting them backstage.

“She’s very flattered that you want to see her,” the staff member says as they lead Hanji and Levi through a dark hallway. “She’s very shy, though, so don’t do anything to startle her.”

“We won’t,” Hanji assures.

“If she’s so shy, how is she able to perform on stage every night?” Levi asks. He yelps when Hanji jabs him in the side with their elbow, but his friend only smiles sweetly at the staff member who turns around curiously.

The staff member leads them to the back of the stage where some of the musicians are resting. Hanji and Levi follow them to a woman standing nervously in the corner staring at her phone. She looks up quickly at them before looking back at her phone. It confuses Levi when the staff member stops them right in front of the woman. The ginger woman who had sung on stage only moments ago is nowhere to be seen.

“Ruth, here are the people who were so eager to meet you,” the staff member says to the woman, who smiles timidly at Hanji and Levi. To the two, the staff member says, “I’ll leave you two here for a bit. I’ll come collect you before the jazz band starts their set.”

Levi and Hanji don’t say anything for a moment. The three awkwardly watch as the staff member leaves before turning towards each other. It’s clear that the woman in front of them is too shy to say anything and both Levi and Hanji are too confused to introduce themselves properly.

After a moment, Levi asks, “Where’s the woman who was singing just a moment ago?”

“She’s ... I’m the one who was singing,” the woman — Ruth, the staff member called her — says. She plays with her hair, wrapping her finger around a dark lock and spinning it around and around. Levi notices that she doesn’t look up as she speaks. “The woman who was on stage … she just lip-syncs.”

Hanji is much faster at putting the pieces together than Levi. “So you’re the one who sings, and she lip-syncs,” they say, rubbing their chin thoughtfully. They tilt their head as they give Ruth a once-over. “Why, though? Do you two have some sort of deal? Is she forcing you to sing for her so she can claim all the glory?”

“N-no, it’s nothing like that,” Ruth says with a shake of her head. She bites her bottom lip as she finds the words to explain. “I’m just … so shy. Painfully shy. It’s just easier for me to sing backstage and have someone lip-sync on stage. She goes on stage and I sing, and then she gets a small cut of the money every night I work.”

Hanji hums. They’re no longer curious about the singer, but about the woman that had been on stage earlier. “Are you two friends?” Realizing that their questions might be frightening the woman, Hanji straightens up and gives Ruth a friendly smile. “Sorry, I’m just curious about how you came about this arrangement.”

Ruth looks down as she purses her lips. She kicks at some imaginary dust on the floor. “There’s a … company. They fulfill odd requests like mine,” Ruth replies. “I asked them if I could have someone stand on stage for me while I sang and they sent that woman.”

“That woman,” Levi repeats. He doesn’t say it in a particularly harsh tone, but Ruth still flinches. He should probably apologize for startling her, but he has a question he’d rather ask. “Does she have a name?”

Ruth nods reluctantly. “Yes … but she said it was a need-to-know basis,” the singer says. She rubs her arm awkwardly, her expression almost apologetic. “She told me when we were introduced, but she also requested that I not give out her name.”

And so the mysterious woman grows even more mysterious, Levi thinks with a frown. No longer interested in making conversation with Ruth, Levi withdraws behind Hanji as his friend bombards the singer with more questions: Where else does she sing? How long has she been singing? Would she be comfortable doing shows where she wouldn’t have to show her face? At a certain point, Levi thinks Hanji is overdoing the polite conversation and he’s thankful when the staff member finally comes back to collect them.

“So she’s a bar singer in the evenings and a wedding crasher on her free days?” Levi asks when they settle down in their booth. He slumps against his seat, frowning with his arms crossed against his chest. “This just makes less and less sense.”

“I think she’s just a woman of many trades,” Hanji says. They pull something out of their pocket: a little business card. They push it across the table towards Levi.

Levi picks up the card and inspects it. In the very center in simple typescript are the words “As You Wish.” In smaller font underneath are the words “A Wish-Fulfillment Company.” On the very bottom is a number and a website address. Levi looks back up at Hanji, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s really like Ruth said,” Hanji says with a smile. “The woman you’re so curious about works for a wish-fulfillment company. Apparently, they do odd jobs at strangers’ requests. For a price, of course.”

Pretending not to be interested, he pushes the card back towards Hanji. “Are you going to call them up?” Levi asks.

“Nope,” Hanji replies. They look at him with a grin. “I don’t have any wishes for them right now. You can keep that card though. If you really want to know more about that woman, you could call them.”

Levi snorts. He knows he’s never going to call that number, but he tucks the card into his wallet anyway.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

The third time Levi sees the woman is when he finally learns her name.

He’s just finished dining at a restaurant with a few businessmen, who had (of course) left him with the tab. While everyone else has left, Hanji remains at the table, eating an enormous ice cream sundae that’s large enough for two people.

“We could just take it to-go,” Levi tells Hanji, who shakes their head.

“You’re just going to complain when I get ice cream on the car seats,” Hanji says, and they’re absolutely right. They’re a terribly messy eater and them dropping ice cream on the seats is inevitable. They gesture towards their ice cream. “I’m almost done anyway, so just give me a second.”

They aren’t almost done. They have over half the sundae left, but Levi just rolls his eyes and settles in his seat. He lets his eyes roam about the room. He looks over people who are eating and chatting about trivial things: the celebrity they ran into at the hair salon, the dress someone was wearing at the charity dinner, the yacht party someone else held the other night, or something equally unimportant. He’s about to turn and tell Hanji to hurry up when his eyes rest on a familiar head of ginger hair. He sits up in his seat and narrows his eyes, wondering if he’s imagining things.

The woman a few tables away from him has hair the same shade of ginger as the woman who had sung at the bar the other night, the same woman who had sat next to him at the wedding before running away with the groom. She’s the same height and build too, from what Levi can remember. She’s dressed just as oddly as she had been at the wedding, not inappropriately, but it’s clear that she doesn’t belong here. While most guests at the restaurant are wearing suits and elegant cocktail dresses, she wears a short frock that ends inches above the knee. Although he’s sitting from a distance, Levi can tell that even her jewelry is out of place: cheap cubic zirconia instead of the flashy pearls and gemstones that other women are wearing here.

He leans over towards Hanji and asks, “That woman over there … doesn’t she look familiar?”

“Mmm?” Hanji hums with a mouth full of ice cream. They follow Levi’s gaze to where the woman is sitting and their eyes widen. Nodding excitedly, Hanji hastily swallows their ice cream and says, “Oh my god, it’s her! The-the-” They gesture wildly as they try to collect their thoughts. “The woman from the bar! The one who wasn’t really singing! The one you said was at the wedding!”

Levi hurriedly shushes Hanji, not wanting to draw the woman’s attention. She, like many other guests, looks over in Hanji and Levi’s direction, but her eyes just gloss over him before returning to the man she’s seated with.

He’s not the groom from the wedding, Levi notices. He’s a completely different person. Unlike the woman, his attire is suited for the restaurant they’re dining in: a slick suit of midnight blue with a powder blue tie and a matching handkerchief tucked in his pocket. The man looks like he’s apologizing to the woman for whatever reason, bowing his head as he does so, but the woman simply smiles and waves her hand. Levi wonders for what occasion they’re dining together, but he finds out soon enough.

Another woman, an older one with a heavy fur coat and dangling pearl earrings, bursts into the restaurant.

“Where is he? Where is he?” the woman screams as staff members try to hold her back. They say something about having to make a reservation beforehand, but the woman ignores their words and shakes them off before bellowing, “Where is my son?”

Levi watches as the man seated beside the ginger-haired woman shrinks. He looks as if he’s about to hide behind the woman, but the ginger woman puts a comforting hand on his back and says something in his ear.

The woman in the fur coat scans the restaurant and sees where the ginger-haired woman and her companion are seated. She’s absolutely seething as she crosses the floor to where the couple is seated. Her face is flushed red and she’s breathing hard when she finally reaches the two.

“You stupid brat!” the woman hisses, reaching out to pinch the young man’s ear.

Alarmed, the ginger-haired woman reaches out and tries to pry the mother’s fingers off. “God, what are you doing? We’re in public!” she says.

“Oh, don’t pretend to be so innocent, you tramp!” the mother screeches. She lets go of her son’s ear to point a menacing finger in the woman’s face. “It’s your fault he’s like this! Maxed out his credit cards because you goaded him into buying luxury cars and flying you two to Cancún on spontaneous vacations! You’re responsible for this too!”

“Mom, can we talk about this somewhere else?” the man says. He looks nervously around the room. “Everyone’s staring at us …”

“Oh, now you’re concerned about people staring? You didn’t care when people talked about you having a cheap floozy on your arm,” the mother hisses. She looks at the ginger-haired woman disdainfully. “She’s not even pretty, and you’ve clearly bought those earrings at the dollar store. How dare you corrupt my son?”

“Ma’am,” the ginger-haired woman says, not even flinching at any of the insults. She gestures towards the guests. “If you could just sit down, maybe we could talk this through like civilized people. I’m sure we could work things out. You’ll see I’m not as bad as you might believe me to be and -”

The ginger woman doesn’t get to finish her sentence before the woman in the fur coat picks up a glass of wine from the table and spills it over the younger woman’s head.

“Don’t you try to talk to me about being civilized,” the mother sneers. “I’ve seen dogs more civilized than you.”

Levi doesn’t know when he had stood up or crossed the room. He doesn’t know when he grabbed the wrist of the woman with the fur coat. He doesn’t know why he’s getting involved when he normally wouldn’t. He’s almost as shocked as everyone else when he says to the woman, “Don’t speak to her that way. You’re the only one here being less than human.”

The woman is speechless — everyone is speechless, holding their breaths as they guess what’s about to happen next — and Levi turns to the restaurant staff.

“Please escort this mother and her son out of this establishment. She’s disturbing everyone here,” Levi tells them.

The woman is sputtering something incomprehensible as the wait staff ushers her out of the restaurant. The son leaves rather reluctantly, apologizing profusely to the ginger-haired woman. The ginger-haired woman is oddly unbothered by everything, calmly dabbing the wine out of her dress with a cloth napkin from the table.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think she’d be that bad,” the son says as his mother is dragged kicking and screaming out of the restaurant. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll … you can send me the tab for the dry cleaning.”

“Oh, I could just throw this in the wash,” the woman says, wringing out her hair. Wine drips on the floor and she frowns. “Don’t worry about it, really. Just wait for your mom to cool down and I’m sure everything will be fine. If she hates me this much, it’ll make your real girlfriend look so much better in comparison. Just … budget yourself more when you take her out on dates and stuff.”

“I will,” sighs the man. He looks reluctant to leave, but some waiters are already asking him to leave. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

“That’s fine,” the woman says with a smile. She gives him a small wave as he leaves before turning to Levi. The ginger woman raises an eyebrow. “Thanks for stepping in, but I had it handled.”

“That woman dumped wine all over you,” Levi points out, but the woman just waves him away.

“It’s fine. It’s just part of the job,” she tells him.

“And what,” asks Hanji popping up from out of nowhere, “is your job, exactly?”

The woman pauses for a moment before pointing from Levi to Hanji. “A friend of yours?” she asks him.

“Yep,” Hanji answers happily. They extend a hand towards the woman, who takes it after a beat. Hanji shakes the woman’s hand enthusiastically, pumping it up and down. “I’m Hanji Zoe, and this is Levi Ackerman.”

“Petra Ral,” the woman says.

“Ooh, cute name,” Hanji says. They look slyly over at Levi and give him a wink. He knows Hanji is going to brag about finding out the mysterious woman’s name once they get back in the car. To Petra, Hanji asks, “I see your companion has abandoned you. Would you perhaps like to dine with us?”

“We just finished eating,” Levi begins to protest but Hanji hushes him.

“Sure,” Petra says with a shrug. She doesn’t seem at all embarrassed to be dining in a wine-stained dress.

With a sigh, Levi gestures for the wait staff to clear out the table and waves over another waiter to take the woman’s order. The woman hardly glances at the menu before ordering, not shirking at the expensive prices.

“The crab cakes, please,” Petra says as she hands the waiter the menu. “And the Caesar salad as well.”

“Oh, and the dark chocolate crème brûlée,” Hanji adds quickly. To Petra, they say, “It’s amazing. You have to have it.”

“Don’t,” Petra says, eyeing Levi as he begins to pull out his wallet. “I’ll get the tab for my food, thank you very much.”

“You make a lot of money, then? Doing all this?” Hanji gestures at Petra vaguely. Hanji’s question makes the ginger raise an eyebrow, wondering if she should be offended, but Hanji quickly elaborates. “I’m just curious. Levi took notice of you at the wedding the other weekend, where you ran away with the groom.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Petra says. She nods at the waiter pouring her a glass of water and mouths a quick thanks before taking a small sip. She purses her lips and looks at Levi, tilting her head as she tries to recall him. He’s a bit uncomfortable under her cool gaze but he tries not to look away. After a moment, she smiles and sets her glass on the table. “Ah, did we sit next to each other? I think I remember you.”

“Well, he definitely remembers you,” Hanji says unnecessarily. It doesn’t surprise Levi when they begin to tell Petra exactly how they came about learning about her and her rather strange occupation. “He was so intrigued by you — I mean, who wouldn’t be? A mysterious woman running away with a groom at such a glamorous wedding — and then he recognized you at the bar you sing at sometimes.”

“She wasn’t singing,” Levi mumbles.

Petra glances at him but doesn’t react, her eyes quickly flitting back to Hanji who’s still talking.

“And then we found out, as Levi pointed out, you weren’t the one who was singing. We spoke to the real singer and she talked about you and the interesting work you provide,” Hanji gushes. They tap their cheek thoughtfully. “What was it again? ‘As You Wish,’ I think was on the card. A wish-fulfillment company. I didn’t know people had wishes about having people ruining their weddings, lip-syncing for them onstage, and getting drenched in wine by their mothers.”

Petra doesn’t flinch at any of these descriptions, although Levi would personally find them distasteful. She only shrugs. “Rich people have an odd assortment of problems and I help them through it,” she says. She pauses to allow a waiter to place a plate of Caesar salad and another dish of crab cakes in front of her, turning for a moment to thank the waiter before taking a fork and knife to cut off a chunk of juicy crab cake. “Although, I’ve had drinks thrown at me more times than I’d have liked.”

“Why do you do it then?” Levi asks.

Petra looks surprised at the question. She doesn’t answer right away, instead cutting another piece of the crab cake. It’s thick and juicy and the outer layer is crisp as she cuts through it. She lifts her fork to her mouth and takes a delicate bite of crab cake, chewing thoughtfully before she replies. “I like money,” she finally says. It’s not the answer Levi expects, but it makes Hanji roar with laughter.

“Gosh, you’re so interesting,” Hanji says. Levi’s certain that Hanji is giving Petra an admiring look. “I bet you have some stories to tell.”

“Probably as many stories as anyone else,” Petra says with a half-hearted shrug of her shoulder. She eats well, Levi notices, making sure to get every crumb and bit of sauce off her plate.

“But do you like your work?” Levi asks, and he watches as Petra stiffens at the question. He probably should prod and normally he wouldn’t poke and pry into stranger’s affairs but he’s been curious about her for quite some time. He was hardly thinking when the question just slipped from his lips.

“Why wouldn’t I?” The ginger woman doesn’t look at him when she replies. She keeps her amber eyes steady on her plate, cutting the last bit of her crab cake into tinier and tinier pieces but never picking up another bite to eat.

“Well, because it’s all a lie, isn’t it?” Levi says. He can feel Hanji look at him in alarm and he knows he can stop, but the words continue to spill from his mouth. “You posed as someone’s long-lost lover to get him out of an unwanted marriage. You posed as a singer to mask someone’s stage fright. You posed as someone’s gold-digging girlfriend to divert a boy’s mother from the truth about her financially irresponsible son.”

Petra continues to look down at her plate, pushing her food across the porcelain dish. “People have problems and I simply help them in whatever way I see fit, Mr. Ackerman,” she replies.

“If they think poorly of you because of it, if they’re throwing things at you and insulting you, I can’t see how it’s worth it,” Levi says. “Don’t you value yourself?”

It’s only then that Petra looks up at him, but her expression is unreadable. “I value myself enough to not let the opinion of others hurt me,” she replies easily. There’s a flicker in her eyes, a spark that makes it seem like she’s challenging him. “Some people hire me because they need a shield to hide behind, someone to lie for them. I don’t mind being a liar, especially if they pay me well enough.”

Hanji looks at their watch in an obvious attempt to end the conversation. “Ah, Levi, it’s getting a bit late now,” they say. They reach out to tug at Levi’s sleeve, but he snatches his arm away.

“That sounds terrible,” he tells Petra.

“Then you’re lucky. I guess you have enough money to solve all your problems. Since that’s the case, I don’t expect you to understand why I do this since it seems you neither care for nor have a need for my services,” she says rather coldly. She turns her gaze away from Levi once more and goes back to her meal, finishing the last bites of her crab cake. Lazily, she flicks her fork in Hanji’s direction. “Are you going to leave, Hanji? I think it’s best to do so now. I’d hate for us to leave on bad footing.”

“Bad footing? Oh no, the footing is great. It was a pleasure meeting you. I just have to apologize for Levi. He’s rather … rigid in many ways,” Hanji says with a nervous laugh as Levi scowls. They’re already getting up on their feet, tugging Levi by the sleeve and forcing him to follow. “It was … fascinating meeting you, although it would have been nice to meet you under nicer circumstances.” They gesture from their head to their person, alluding to the wine stains on Petra’s dress.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. It was interesting bumping into you two at this time,” Petra assures. She pauses for a moment, choosing her next words, and finally says, “And thank you for earlier, Mr. Ackerman.”

“... Sure,” Levi replies stiffly, but he still wants to know more even as Hanji is about to drag him out the door. He wants to know if she’s going to continue her work even if she’s left humiliated half the time, if she really only cares about the money, and if she really doesn’t care what other people think about her that she’d let them hurl drinks and insults at her without even batting an eyelash. He doesn’t, though, because Petra’s right. He doesn’t care for her work, so it isn’t any of his business. He turns around to follow Hanji only for his friend to stop abruptly.

“Ah, Petra!” they say, hurriedly returning to the table. They twiddle their fingers while their eyes wander towards the ceiling. “I was wondering if I could have your card or maybe your number?”

Petra looks confused for a moment and then amused. “Do you have something you need help with?” she asks. Her face breaks into a smile and Levi’s hypnotized for a moment, remembering how dazzling it was when he saw her smile the first time at the wedding.

“Well, not at the moment,” Hanji says sheepishly, “and maybe not even in the future. If you don’t mind having a chat every now and then, we could go out and grab a coffee. You just seem so … fascinating.” They say the word ‘fascinating’ as if Petra is a rare butterfly or a never-before-seen dinosaur fossil. It makes Petra laugh.

“You’re peculiar,” she says, “but that might be fun. Call me whenever you feel like it and maybe we can chat.” She reaches into her little clutch purse, a beaded bag with some loose threads here and there, and pulls out a card. It’s the same business card that Ruth had given to them at the bar the other night. “Just ask for me,” Petra instructs.

“Great, will do!” Hanji beams, cradling the card in their hands like it’s precious gold. They hook their arm around Levi’s, giving Petra a little wave as they practically skip out of the restaurant.

When the two settle into the car, Hanji is still holding the card in their hands, turning it from front to back several times. They look completely enthralled even though it’s just a tiny piece of cardstock.

“Are you really going to call her?” Levi asks.

“Why are you curious?” Hanji says. There’s something of a smirk curled on their lips. Levi wants to smack it off. “Do you want to call her, too?”

“Not at all.” Levi pretends to be disinterested, leaning against the armrest with his chin in his hand as he stares at his reflection in the car window.

“Well, let me know if you ever change your mind,” Hanji says in a sing-song voice. They waggle the card under Levi’s nose. They pause for a moment. “Do you still have the card that Ruth gave us?”

“No, not at all,” Levi lies. The card is still sitting in his wallet. He hasn’t taken it out since then. He had said he’d throw it out, but he never had. He just never had the time to and he had forgotten it after how busy he was, although he can’t say for certain that he would have tossed it even if he had remembered. “I threw it out a long time ago.”

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Levi sits beside the hospital bed where his feeble grandfather lies, holding the old man’s hand. It’s so bony and withered compared to his own. His grandfather is sleeping as he normally does. He’s usually asleep whenever Levi comes to visit. Although he’d much rather his grandfather were awake, he understands. It takes so much energy for his grandfather to even open his eyes some days.

It’s quiet in the room save for the gentle beep of the heart rate monitor in the background. It’s more feeble than it was the last time Levi was here. It always surprises Levi whenever he visits his grandfather. Although his grandfather’s health has been deteriorating for quite some time, it's so strange seeing someone who was once a powerful businessman waste away in a hospital bed. He had a weak heart, the doctor had said a few years ago, probably from stress and overwork. It would be a miracle if he lived more than a year. Levi’s grandfather exceeded those expectations, still living years after the diagnosis, but it has taken a toll on his health. The doctors have warned Levi’s family that the man could pass away at any time.

Levi’s grandfather stirs in his sleep and Levi grasps the man a little tighter. He can see the old man’s eyelids flutter until they open weakly. His grandfather looks around bleary-eyed, eyes resting on Levi but not quite able to fully focus on his grandson.

“Grandfather?” Levi asks, his voice soft. His grandfather looks so fragile that Levi’s afraid even the slightest noise will be able to shatter him. “How are you? How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

“Levi,” his grandfather rasps. His voice is barely audible over the heart monitor.

“You don’t have to answer if it’s too much. Just rest,” Levi says. He gets up to fetch his grandfather water, pouring some into a glass on the nearby nightstand. Gently, he brings the glass to his grandfather’s lips and tips it for the old man to drink. It saddens him that his grandfather can’t even drink without help. With a careful hand, he wipes at his grandfather’s mouth with a handkerchief.

“Thank … you …,” Levi’s grandfather manages to say before closing his eyes once more. His breathing slows, his breaths so shallow that Levi can hardly tell his grandfather is breathing at all. If it weren’t for the heart monitor beeping in the background, it would look like his grandfather had already passed on. Levi thinks his grandfather has fallen asleep, but the old man’s eyes flutter open again and he looks at his grandson with a displeased frown. “Levi …”

“Yes?” Levi says, quickly sitting up and grasping his grandfather’s hand with both hands. He glances at the button on the side of the hospital bed, wondering if he should press it and alert the nurse. “What’s wrong? Should I call the nurse?”

His grandfather shakes his head, the movement so slight that Levi would have missed it had he blinked. “I want to … apologize,” his grandfather says. His breathing deepens, chest heaving like it’s taking everything he has just to speak these few words.

“Apologize? What for?” Levi asks with a furrowed brow. He shakes his head and on the edge of his seat if only to be a little closer to his grandfather. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Once more, Levi’s grandfather shakes his head. “I’ve been … so hard on you … all your life,” the old man pants. His hand trembles even as Levi holds it. “Sometimes I wonder … if you’re ever truly happy.”

Levi isn’t sure how to react. He’s not sure what brought about this line of thought from his grandfather.

“All your life … I’ve made you do everything I wanted,” his grandfather continues, his voice growing weaker and weaker. He no longer looks at Levi as he rambles on, his eyes wandering all about the hospital room as if he’s speaking to the air. “To make you into the perfect heir … you’ve had to sacrifice so much, haven’t you?”

Again, Levi doesn’t answer. Nothing his grandfather is saying is false. At first, Levi had thought it a burden following every one of his grandfather’s desires for him. As he grew older, he came to not mind them. He just went through with his tasks mindlessly and didn’t complain. Perhaps he hasn’t been able to do everything he wanted, but he has learned not to want things for himself as the years have gone by. Maybe he isn’t happy, but he can’t say he’s unhappy either. He is ... comfortable with his position in life and wouldn’t complain about it, especially not to his grandfather.

“I don’t … mind it,” Levi says reluctantly.

His grandfather gives him a pitying smile. He reaches out to touch his grandson with a withered hand. “I was so hard on you … because I wanted you to be happy. Reflecting on it now … I know that I have been selfish, never asking you what you wanted,” his grandfather murmurs. He’s lying back again, his eyes closed as if he’s about to fall asleep. “Before I pass … I want to see you truly happy …”

I am happy, Levi is about to insist, but his grandfather opens his mouth once more.

“Oh, to see you wed, happy with someone by your side,” his grandfather breathes. His eyes are open again. They sparkle with tears that are beginning to spill over and run down his cheeks. “Then, I think, I can truly die without any regrets.”

Levi is silent for a moment. Then he speaks. “You mean marry?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” his grandfather says with a sad smile. “I’m afraid … that by pushing you to inherit the family business … you’ll be too busy to find love and happiness with another. If I were to see you marry before I passed … I think I could rest well.”

“I see …” Levi’s voice trails. He doesn’t say anything more, just gives his grandfather’s hand a few comforting pats. In a few moments, he hears his grandfather’s breathing slow again and gentle snoring. It makes him feel slightly better.

With a sigh, Levi gets up from where he’s seated and steps out of the room. He sends a small update about his grandfather’s condition to his mother before tucking his phone in his pocket. For a while, he wanders around the hospital and eventually finds his way to the lobby where he slumps down tiredly in one of the benches with his face in his hands.

Levi knows he should just accept the fact that his grandfather will die without having his last wish fulfilled. After all, not all grandparents live to see their grandchildren marry, but he can’t shake the sense of guilt that rests so heavily on his shoulders after hearing his grandfather’s last wish. The more he thinks about it, the worse it makes him feel. Compared to everything else he’s done for his grandfather — graduating at the top of his class, getting a Master’s degree in business, inheriting the family business — getting married seems so much easier. Isn’t it just meeting someone you’re compatible with and signing a document saying that you’re legally bound together? It’s so simple that Levi feels pathetic for not reaching that milestone, especially now that his grandfather is lying on his deathbed.

But what if …?

The color ginger flashes through his mind for a brief second. Levi quickly shakes his head before the rest of the woman can conjure up his mind, but it’s too late. It reminds him of the card that still sits in his wallet.

He shouldn’t think about fishing the card out of his wallet, shouldn’t wonder about calling the number on the card, shouldn’t imagine asking for a Miss Petra Ral when the person on the other side of the phone picks up, but he finds himself sitting on the hospital bench with the card in his hands. It’s a little less crisp after sitting in his wallet for a few days and the printed words are already a little faded, but he can still read the number on the card.

Levi has to wonder if this is his last option. Is he really this desperate? Surely, there’s a friend he can recruit to get engaged to. He tries to think of one friend or even an acquaintance that would agree to such an arrangement. Unfortunately, Levi realizes, his list of friends is quite short. The only people he can think of that might even entertain the thought of getting engaged to him are Hanji and Isabel, but both are impossible options. Nobody would ever believe it. Everyone knows he shares a strictly platonic relationship with Hanji and that he and Isabel are like siblings.

Then maybe, he thinks, he could hire an escort. The problem with this is that quite a few people in his distant social circle use escort services and they usually hire people as more than just companions for social events. It would be a problem if, by some slim chance, word came out about his engagement and he knows that it won’t be long before people stick their noses where they shouldn’t be and find out how he met his contract-fiancée.

No, Levi grimaces, if he’s getting engaged, he needs to get engaged to someone that nobody knows, someone that can slip in and out of a wedding without anybody knowing their name even after running away with the groom.

Levi looks at the card again, holding it between his two fingers. He stares at it for another second, two, and then pulls out his phone and dials the number on the card. Holding his phone up, he listens as it rings. It takes a few seconds for someone to pick up.

“Hello?” It’s a woman’s voice but not one Levi recognizes.

“Is this … As You Wish?” Levi asks hesitantly. He feels a little nervous now, although he doesn’t know why. After all, this is exactly the kind of business this company deals with.

“Yes,” the woman replies. “How can I help you?”

“I was wondering if I could speak with one of your employees,” Levi says. He can’t believe he’s really doing this. A part of him wants to hang up and forget he ever called, but he’s already made it this far. He might as well just go through with it. “Would it be possible for me to speak with a Miss Petra Ral?”

“Petra?” the woman repeats. There’s a pause on the other end and he can hear muffled voices on the other end. After a moment, the woman returns. “Yes, she’s available. Please wait right one second.”

“Thank you,” Levi says.

As he waits for Petra to pick up the phone, he realizes that this might not be a good idea. They hadn’t left on the best of terms the other day. He had looked down on her job, calling it degrading and humiliating, while she made it clear that she thought him a privileged and spoiled brat. He’s almost certain that she’ll turn him down as soon as he says his name. Levi is about to hang up when he hears Petra’s voice on the other end.

“Hello?” Petra pauses for a moment, waiting for him to answer. When he doesn’t, she says, “This is Petra from As You Wish. I was told you asked specifically for me.”

“I … did,” Levi admits reluctantly. He clears his throat awkwardly, swallows, and then proceeds. If he’s going to get rejected, he should get it done as soon as possible. “It’s Levi. Levi Ackerman.”

“Levi …?” The name doesn’t seem to ring a bell because Petra’s voice trails off until it finally disappears. She doesn’t say anything else and Levi wonders if it’s because she truly doesn’t remember him or if it’s because she’s pretending just to spite him.

“From the restaurant when …” He stops himself there. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, and he’s not sure she’d want to be reminded about any of it — the woman with the fur coat screaming at her and creating a scene in the middle of the restaurant, getting a glass of wine thrown at her, and having Levi speak so disdainfully about her lifestyle. He purses his lips and tries again. “The wedding. I sat next to you.”

“Levi Ackerman … restaurant … wedding,” Petra murmurs. There’s a few sharp sounds on the other end, the sounds of someone snapping their fingers, and Petra says, “Ah, from the wedding. We saw each other at the restaurant the other day, didn’t we?”

He’s about to answer but Petra speaks again.

“But why are you calling me? I thought you made it clear that you thought my line of work was revolting.”

Levi sighs. He shouldn’t have said any of it. Even if he had thought it at the time, it’s not his place to tell her how to live her life. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he says. He’s not sure if he should spit out an apology. He doesn’t know how to give one without sounding like a sniveling idiot. “I’m actually … calling because I need your help.”

There’s silence at the other end and then a snicker. “Hypocrite,” Petra says, and the tips of Levi’s ears sting. He thinks she’s about to tell him to get lost or that she has no interest in helping him but to his surprise Petra asks, “What do you need help with?”

Levi blinks. Once. Twice. He didn’t think he would get this far. Now that he’s here, he’s not quite sure what to do. “I need …” He stops. It’s not a real engagement, so it doesn’t need a real proposal. Still, he should at least ask her for her hand civilly. After thinking for a moment, Levi asks, “I was wondering … if you have the time, would you like to marry me?”

[grabthemhorns-old]

Leviathan’s NSFW alphabet - Obey Me!

Had a little inspiration for him today, and a few requests, so here y’all go. Lets Lewd the Otaku uwu

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

- Levi has always been one to seek validation, comfort and reassurance afterwards from his partner, no matter the role he took - and with you, it’s no different. Little questions of ‘was that okay?’, ‘are you okay?’ whisper against your ears. ‘Did it feel good?’ touches your neck and you laugh, only to see him duck his head, embarrassed. But you quickly vanquish his doubts with a kiss and touch, smothering his insecurities until all he feels is your body wrapped around him again.  He’s clingy, needy, and talks a lot, sometimes to himself as you drift off to sleep, curling to sleep how you like. He’s very much one to work around you. How you want to sleep, to move, to relax - or not - after sex. Once, he’s been reassured. 

He also enjoys playing some lazy games on his phone with you, or just next to you afterwards for a wind down. He likes to draw out your afterwards as long as possible, and sometimes into some aftersex too. A gentle finger, a stroke of his tail, wrapped around your cock. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-There’s little about his body that Levi actually likes, especially when in human form. He feels there’s nothing special there. Why would you even look twice when you have six brothers who are a thousand times more attractive than him? But...when in demon form, his confidence grows. He feels more himself, relaxed, intimidating, and dare he even think it - sexy? He likes all his demonic features; from the jagged horns, to the patches of scales, more intense on his hands, stomach and legs; to his reptilian eyes and tongue; and his most favourite part - his tail. It’s long - almost nine foot - with opalescent scales, so smooth beneath your touch, that please oh please run your hand along. There are days he feels like nothing still, when in his demon visage. But when you come along, you try and make those days quieter. -Levi is a chest man - no matter the gender. He loves all of them no matter the size. He’ll smother them in affection, attention, being stimulated himself by touching them and seeing what his touch does to you. If they’re big enough to give a titty wank - do it.  -Also, Levi loves feet. This has trickled down in keeping his own feet in good and healthy condition to match what he desires in others. He loves to wash your feet, to later them in cream, longingly rolling his thumb over the skin as he pulls soft moans from you. Eventually, he’ll kiss them if you want. Suck your toes. Beg you for a foot job. Ask to come over your feet, covering them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-When Levi cums, there’s a lot. More so than anyone else you’ve been with, or seen. Also, with his demon form being what it is, it’s bioluminescent. He loves to see it paint your skin and really, really has a thing for finishing on your body. Anywhere. But especially your chest, face and in special occasions, feet.  

-Levi can come a lot during a session. More than you probably expect.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- This boy has a lot of dirty secrets. But one, is that he likes to quietly jack off while on the phone. He’s good at keeping quiet, because he sometimes does it too when on voice chat.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- Levi is no virgin, he knows what to do. But he maybe hasn’t had as many partners as some of his brothers, and it gets to him sometimes. He feels like he’s making up for that with watching and reading enough porn and hentai, though. It’s not all about learn as you do, right?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

- Levi likes to see you. To look into your eyes when you or him are getting fucked. Part of it is he’s always wanted to see someones face to read their expressions, to know they’re being honest with their body language, and part of that insecurity bleeds into his sex life. Reassure the boy everything is fucking great.  -You on top - if he’s being sub or dom - is one of his favourites. It’s versatile, hot af, and he can rub his hands all over your chest and watch his cum spill out of you and all over him. -But on the flip side, fucking/pegging him in the ass, with his face down onto the pillow, biting it to shreds with his fangs, tail up, wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady, sometimes encouraging - or even pulling you into rhythm - is an absolute favourite of his.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

- Levi can be awkward a lot of the time and it can turn into goofy and humorous, more than serious. Especially the longer you’re together and he becomes more relaxed, being able to laugh more at himself when he’s awkward and fumbly.  - Also, a lot of your sexual activities with him lend themselves to the more goofy side. Cosplay, roleplay, your dynamic with his foot and tit fetish - you both end up having a lot of fun. You laugh a lot with Levi during sex. And one morning when he’s eating you out and you knock his horns with your leg and he slips off the bed and you try and catch him but then you both end up on the floor in a tumble of limbs, laughing together, so relaxed, you can barely believe it’s the same demon you first met who could barely look at you without blushing.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

- It varies with Levi. He’s often smooth, taking inspiration from the porn and hentai he watches. But Levi is also lazy, so he lets it grow out a lot too. When you both get together, he’s smooth, wanting to appear his best for you. He’ll ask you what you want, and you’ll ask him what he wants. And after that, he lets it grow out, a soft, trimmed, blue bush sitting above his cock.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- You can feel Levi’s intensity, you can see his intimacy, but he tries to shy away. To pull it back. To lock it away because he doesn’t deserve it; or if he shows too much, you’ll run away. Levi doesn’t know where the middle ground is or where to stand. You both give him time to figure it out, and encourage him to show - to pull away that hand that covers his face a little bit more; to let you hear the muffled mumbles that he speaks into the pillow instead of your ears. He whispers them against your shoulder one time instead, and you catch a few of his strained, gentle, romantic words.  Levi slowly opens up, and he’s an expressive lover. Hands and touches and looks - especially looks - and smiles and laughter and lip bites and tail twitches. When his words are lost against your skin, his body speaks for him instead.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

- Levi masturbates a lot. And it doesn’t really change when he’s with you. He likes to do it with you too. He’s also into the thrill of you catching him masturbating, so he’ll do it close to when you’re to come home, or in the next room to you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

- Roleplay. Well, of course. What weeb isn’t gonna wanna dress up as favourite characters with their partner and then fuck each other. You’re surprised at first how good Levi is at the roleplay. But he’s really good at playing a character - someone that isn’t him? He can do that - and do it well. He has a lot of fun with roleplay, dipping into his cosplay collection and also helping you make/buy outfits and cosplay if you want, or simply get into character if you don’t want to dress up. He has the imagination.  With roleplay comes master/mistress play. Levi really enjoys this, especially being in the submissive role. He doesn’t have a preference of what outfits or toys or restraints - if any - to wear. He likes the master/mistress to decide that for him. He wants to take it outside the bedroom one day and let you have complete control over the entire day and his actions. But he’s not quite got the courage for that yet.  Levi also enjoys playing out some rather niche scenarios in roleplay. The darker the better. This guy reads darkfic and has problematic fantasies that he loves to consensually act out with his loving and supportive partner. -Degradation and humiliation. I mean, this one is canon.  But Levi, naked, on your floor, as you enact your seal so you refuse to let him go into demon form even though you feel so much how he wants to. You refuse him. Making sure he sees you use his seal - and feel it. You kneel down before him, fully clothed. Close enough to touch. But he can’t, because he’s pinned in place by the pins of the pact. But your gaze is enough to hold him.  Slowly, you begin to unfasten your shirt, making sure he watches. Every movement, listening to you breathe, watching as you lick a lip.  “You’re disgusting,” you whisper, so close he can taste the sugar on your lips. “Look at you, in that human flesh, begging to show the scales you don’t deserve.” You spit on his face. He flinches, wide eyed, wondrous. Closer, you lean closer, until you lick his cheek, letting your spit fall down the other.  -Feet - I touched on this above. But yeah. Levi’s into feet. Especially beautifully manicured. He’ll do it for you. And take his time. Make him do it for you in master/mistress play. -Smothering - sit on his fucking face until he can’t breathe. He wants to feel like he’s going to pass out while pleasuring you - while giving you all he can. He particularly enjoys doing this while waiting to see how long he can last until his demon form comes out to help him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

- Anywhere that you both have complete privacy. Levi is almost up for anything as long as he is away from prying eyes that might mock him or see his ugly body.  He loves to do it on your bed. To cover your bed with you both; to smell your scent while you spit humiliation into his ear; to see you claw your sheets while he fucks you raw.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- There isn’t much Levi needs to get him going. A brush against his leg; pushing aside his bangs, your fingers lingering; your laugh too close and your breath tickles his neck; you bend over. He’s just a simple man.  But, he’s also very stimulated auditorily. The shifts in your voice; the way it changes tone or depth depending on where you are, or how close you are; your laugh; the pitch of your voice when you’re angry; the drawl when you’re sleepy on the phone; the roll of your rs; that soft little hmm you do without realising.  Also, he attaches songs to you - and also moments.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- Being made to do most of the work from a closed off partner. Levi needs that give and take, back and forth. Please tell him what is working, if he’s doing good, what you like. Feedback, feedback. Silence is a turn off to Levi. He wants noise; he wants words; he wants to know how you feel!!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

- Levi prefers to receive, only mostly because he’s insecure about his skill in giving. He gives his all when he does though, looking up to catch your eyes, his own watering as he takes as much of you in as he can, again, again; drawing a tongue slowly against your wet flesh as he listens carefully for your moans - the right moans.  Also - Levi has nothing to worry about when he’s giving you oral in demon form. He has an extra long, flexible tongue that can split at the tip. You’ve never felt anything like it. -You’d think he might have shame about how much cum he spills when he orgasms, but it’s one of the things that he loves, seeing so much of it fill your mouth - too much - it won’t fit. It spills out over your lips, marring your chin and cheeks. You try not to cough. You swallow and he watches the bob of your throat - several - as you drink him in.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

- Levi has a pretty even mix of everything - maybe leaning toward fast and rough a bit more.  He would be faster and rougher more often if he wasn’t afraid of losing control too much or hurting you in his demon form - especially more at the start. But he learns to trust himself and you more, and gives you both what you want. There are times when his jealousy takes over and he is rough as all hell, dominating you, making sure he marks you and claims you. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- Levi, getting flustered really easily, doesn’t always do so well with quickies. He can get distracted by getting caught by his brothers, other students. It can affect him in that he’ll either cum really quickly, or unable to at all.  His quickies usually amount to fingering or a hand job at the most. Something that can be stopped/hidden easily. If neither of you can satiate yourselves or give in to your quickie desire, later on when you both get together, Levi is just about ready to explode. At times like that, he finds it much easier to take control. And sometimes, you will purposely nudge and push him toward wanting a quickie at RAD or in public or somewhere you know he’ll say no, just so that later when you’re both alone, he’ll be just like this. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

- Levi is well up for experimenting. There is so much he wants to try and do and honestly, there is little he won’t do - but you are mostly the one to initiate. He will gently try and nudge his desires through memes and texts or sending silly links eg, look at this weird normie shit, no-one would do this lmaoaslaskdal ...........unless?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-Levi is initially a bit nervous to unleash his full demon stamina. And it hinders him at first as every time you’re both sexual initially, he can’t control unleashing his demon self, no matter how much he tries to push it down and hold it back. He’s nervous to hurt you and worried you’ll be afraid of him - or find it disgusting - when seeing how different he is to you. He’ll also worry that you might worry about not being able to keep up with him. It takes a long time for you to coax these worries out of him. It happens over a very late night texting session, and ends in some very tender, long and sensual morning sex. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- Oh yes. Levi has a fun collection of themed fleshlights and some stimulation toys that he’s experimented with. It took him a while to bring up the topic of using toys together - he especially wants you to use toys on him.  uwu please peg him oh hell peg the fuck out of him.  You both end up having a lot of fun shopping for toys for your collection as he’d only had some that he could really use on himself - not couples/shared/ones you could use on him, so it’s been fun expanding the toys for you both. Especially finding some themed ones that you can both enjoy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

- Levi has a love/hate relationship with being teased, purely because of how easily flustered he gets. But he does enjoy teasing a lot - especially with sexting. He won’t really do a lot of physical teasing in public. Maybe a hand drawing up and down your spine; sitting extra close to you, legs crossed, his foot brushing against yours; the tip of his tail rubbing lightly against your waist at breakfast - really small stuff.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

- Levi isn’t consistently loud, but he has loud bursts. Yells, yelps, growls, gasps. Otherwise, he tries to muffle himself with a hand, your hand, or his own tail. That’s probably one of his fav things. Stuffing his own mouth with his tail. Especially if you do it to him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

- Levi is really good at sexting. Like, really good. He does a lot of ERP (erotic role play), and eventually he opens up about it to you and shows you some of his OCs from his favourite animes/games that he RPs with. You realise he’s really creative and actually damn good at writing smut.  It’s also because he can detach himself from it. He’s playing a role - in both the RP and sexting - but also be able to get extremely horny from it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-I’m going to give you two monster cock options for Mr Otaku. One a bit more tame than the other. Enjoy.

a:There’s a concentration of dark, opalescent scales at Levi’s stomach, and they extend down to his cock. But they’re smooth - unlike Satan’s. It makes his cock a bit harder than most human cocks you’re used to though. It’s like an hourglass shape, but not as pronounced - and quite long. Between the scales, the veins glow with bio-luminescence - more so the closer he is to climax. 

b:He’s shy at first. Really shy every time you reach to his crotch, every time your hand slips behind his waist band, scratching against his skin, the patches of scales luring you in. You expected as such - this is Levi. But before he lets you touch his hard cock, he pauses, and it moves.  The bulge against his trousers shifts to the side away from your hand. But you just want to know more.  As his clothes unravel, you see why. A cock, hard, bluey, purple, echoing the sheen of his scales, twitches against his stomach - but it’s twisted together from three. Three tentacles wound tightly together that you run your fingers along, feeling their heat.  They’re solid in this form, the veins of his bio-luminescence twisting around the shape. You ask to see all three and with a touch, they unravel, caressing your hand - warm and wanting and softer - exploring you, as much as you explore them.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

- His sex drive is fairly high, but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it all the time. Levi is just happy to be next to you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- Levi is often pretty wired after sex so it takes him a while to fall asleep usually after. He’ll happily hold you in his arms until you fall asleep, and sometimes he will fall asleep too, or casually play on his phone/handheld to unwind.  Or sometimes, he’ll just lie there and watch you sleep, trying not to think of the seconds, the minutes that tick away of your human life. He doesn’t want to sleep ever again, while you breathe.