#and even more about leonhart

[invisibletinkerer]

Some FF2 echoes

There are traces of and nods to Final Fantasy II all over the Final Fantasy games, but especially in Final Fantasy IV. FF2 was the first Final Fantasy that tried using a large and varied cast of individual characters, many of them playable (something that 1 and 3 didn't do), and it also tried making a story with some personal stakes for the heroes (also something 1 and 3 didn't do). On top of that, it introduced a lot of Final Fantasy staples, such as the Chocobo and a character named Cid.

Some particular character callbacks:

Yosef FF2 and Yang FF4. The middle-aged, bald martial artist. Has a family. Sacrifices himself to get the other heroes out of a trap.

Prince Gordon FF2 and prince Gilbert FF4. The cowardly prince who loses his castle during the war and needs to find his courage to fight back. Is inspired by a loved one who was killed in front of him (Gordon's brother Scott, Gilbert's girlfriend Anna).

Leila FF2 and Faris FF5. The kick-ass female pirate captain. (Although it's arguable if Faris is a woman. I think they're very easy to read as transmasc. Still a callback to Leila, though.)

Cid, of course. The very first Cid is - what else - an airship engineer. All the Cids are airship engineers throughout FF2-FF5, though not in FF6. And the only Cid that is playable in the Nintendo games is FF4's.

Baron Bogan is a minor villain in FF2, who has echoes both in Baigan FF4 and in Kefka FF6. Echoes in Baigan: High ranking official in the "good" country, and then turns around to the "evil" side. Gets turned into a monster by his new overlord. Echoes in Kefka: Dresses outrageously, is petty and cruel, and has a funny laughter sound effect that goes "ohohohohoho".

Some other minor similarities/callbacks:

Casting a spell so powerful that it kills the caster: Minwu FF2 does this to open the way to Ultima for the other heroes. Tellah FF4 does this to try to kill Golbez.

Saved by being eaten by Leviathan: In FF2 Richard is saved from the battle that kills all the other Dragoons on Dist because he was eaten by Leviathan. Your party finds him inside it there when you're eaten, too, and then you fight your way out together. In FF4, of course, Rydia is eaten by Leviathan and taken to a safe place to spend her childhood.

The ball dance: Both FF2 and FF5 have a ball dance celebration when people think the war is over (and then it turns out it's not). This dance is animated almost exactly the same.

[mousecracker]

Whenever I remember that all of Hitch’s friends are either dead or left her it leaves an aching hole in my chest dude, Hitch deserved so much more than what she got and if I think about it too hard it makes me so upset

[distortedclouds]

Apparently Mr Leonhart has an official birth date:

and it's also on the 22nd

What are the chances that this fucker decided to give infant Annie the same birth date as himself 🙃 since they probably didn't have knowledge of her exact date 🙃🙃🙃

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

cw. 18+, not sfw, headcanons, gn!reader + afab!reader

pairing. multifandom

notes. i had an unnecessarily medium discussion about this with a friend today and couldn't stop obsessing over it so i'm making the internet's problem. y'all don't have to agree with me, i just have my own little thoughts and hcs in my little corner of the internet. divider by @/cafekitsune

hands

prefers holding hands during sex. they enjoy the inherent intimacy the action brings. it is a tether that keeps them grounded to earth so they don't float too far from its orbit.

Portgas D. Ace, Vinsmoke Sanji, Nico Robin, Nanami Kento, Umemiya Hajime, Mikasa Ackerman, Makima, Hayakawa Aki, Jonathan Joestar, Bruno Bucciarati, Giorno Giovanna

prefers keeping your hands held above your head with their own. it's how they are able to get the best look at you, seeing all the expressions you make and that edge of control that makes it all the more satisfying

Getou Suguru, Fushiguro Toji, Sukuna, DIO, Kujo Jotaro, Gyro Zeppeli,

prefers keeping their hands on your waist and hips. they want your lower halves as close as humanly possible and even then, it's not close enough. they want you to fall into their skin

Gojou Satoru, Donquixote Doflamingo, Roronoa Zoro, Shanks, Jean-Pierre Polnareff, Guido Mista, Joseph Joestar

tears

tends to cry during sex (emotional) it is all in the culmination of the love you share. how much they love you, the fact that you love them. the happiness overflows and somehow everything feels a mixture of being enough and not quite having enough of you

Portgas D. Ace, Vinsmoke Sanji, Donquixote Rosinante, Mikasa Ackerman, Nirei Akihiko, Jean Kirstein, Hayakawa Aki, Makima (if she considers you her equal)

tends to cry during sex (overstimulated) easily overstimulated and prone to tears. you'd feel worse if they didn't look so good with the tears streaming down their face

Haruka Sakura, Nirei Akihiko, Iori Utahime, Nami, Mikasa Ackerman

enjoys making YOU cry. second verse, first same as the first. the way you look is downright sinful and they love it

DIO, Narciso Anasui, Donquixote Doflamingo, Eustass Kid, Shanks, Crocodile, Sukuna, Fushiguro Toji, Tsukumo Yuki

level of freak

absolute freak. down to try just about anything give or take a few exceptions. they enjoy the excitement of experimenting with you and learning what make you both tick

Gojou Satoru, Fushiguro Toji, Sukuna, Tsukumo Yuki, Togame Jo, Suo Hayato, Shanks, Donquixote Doflamingo, Eustass Kid, Roronoa Zoro

medium. doesn't lean too far in either realms of kinky and vanilla; they are simply a happy medium. you simply do your best to match each other's freak

Choso, Nanami Kento, Getou Suguru,Dracule Mihawk, Vinsmoke Sanji, Sabo, Buggy, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Crocodile, Jean Kirstein, Armin Arlert, Eren Jaeger, Porco Galliard, Josuke Higashikata, Hiiragi Touma

vanilla. sweet and romantic. they know what they like and it's a bit on the simpler side but that doesn't make them any less passionate in their performance

Mikasa Ackerman, Portgas D. Ace, Umemiya Hajime, Haruka Sakura, Nirei Akihiko

position preference

hard dom. you might be able to talk them into switching things up but they prefer being dominant in bed

DIO, Kujo Jotaro, Donquixote Doflamingo, Eustass Kid, Annie Leonhart, Ymir, Zeke Jaeger, Togame Jo, Kaji Ren, Tsukumo Yuki

dom-leaning switch. while they tend to take the lead in sex, they have no issue switching it up and letting you do your thing. just as much as they enjoy making your back arch and head tilt back, they enjoy being on the receiving end of such pleasure just as much

Shanks, Crocodile, Dracule Mihawk, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Sabo, Gojou Satoru, Getou Suguru, Ieiri Shoko, Nanami Kento, Porco Galliard, Roronoa Zoro, Guido Mista, Hiiragi Touma

sub-leaning switch. they have no problems leaving things in your capable hands and honestly prefer it more times than most, but they can take charge at your behest and find it just as fulfilling

Vinsmoke Sanji, Buggy, Nico Robin, Koala, Nefertari Vivi, Choso, Sakura Haruka, Nirei Akihiko, Jolyne Cujoh

true switch. as flexible as the ever constant ebb and flow of the tide. they are able to adapt to their partner's preferences and doesn't mind either role as long as you are enjoying yourself

Portgas D. Ace, Usopp, Nico Robin, Umemiya Hajime, Historia Reiss, Pieck Finger, Hange Zoe, Armin Arlert, Johnny Joestar, Josuke Higashikata, Ermes Costello, Narciso Anasui

pillow princess. they'd rather leave control in your hands. but don't get it twisted. this is the highest form of trust they can bestow upon you, their beloved. relinquishing control and trusting you'll take care of them

Nami, Perona, Mikasa Ackerman, Makima, Sakura Haruka (i apologize for nothing), Iori Utahime

most prevalent kink

body worship.

Portgas D. Ace, Shanks, Nico Robin, Nami, Makima, Mikasa Ackerman, Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun, Giorno Giovanna, Bruno Bucciarati, Jean-Pierre Polnareff

binding/tying up their partner or by their partner.

Donquixote Doflamingo, Roronoa Zoro, Nico Robin, Dracule Mihawk, Getou Suguru, Nanami Kento, Sukuna, DIO, Suo Hayato

praise (whether giving or receiving).

Vinsmoke Sanji, Sabo, Usopp, Buggy, Perona, Nirei Akihiko, Sakura Haruka, Umemiya Hajime, Jean-Pierre Polnareff, Getou Suguru, Ieiri Shoko, Iori Utahime

shotgunning.

Vinsmoke Sanji, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Hayakawa Aki, Narciso Anasui, Gyro Zeppeli, Zeke Jaeger

breeding.

DIO, Guido Mista, Narciso Anasui, Gojou Satoru, Choso, Tsukumo Yuki (she could get someone pregnant)

pegging.

Gojou Satoru, Choso, Tsukumo Yuki, Ieiri Shoko, Vinsmoke Sanji, Buggy, Sakura Haruka

face sitting.

Franky, Nami, Perona, Shanks, Fushiguro Toji, Togame Jo, Ymir, Porco Galliard, Reiner Braun, Guido Mista, Johnny Joestar

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. | masterlist

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re only a dial away from your wildest fantasies with the sexiest singles near your area.”

God, even the automated voice sounds porn-y.

A breathy feminine voice straight out of a 1975 VHS tape croons into the dead air of your small apartment bedroom, setting your nerves on edge.

God forbid the noise travels through the walls into your next-door neighbor's bedroom. Harriet and Miro do not need to hear what you’re up to this Friday evening.

Maybe, up to this Friday evening.

You haven’t decided yet, though one could argue that calling was half the battle.

Dressed head-to-toe in an emerald cocktail dress with a face full of tear-stricken makeup, you feel utterly ridiculous sitting at the foot of your bed — not even the edge of the mattress, but the goddamn floor.

Even your black heels, now scuffed from someone stepping on them on your way out to fetch a cab, remain dangling at your toes.

(As non-committal as your last relationship, ironically enough.)

The experts say don’t shit where you eat. Dating someone you work with typically goes up in flames as fast as a rogue wildfire — and you should have listened to all of the warning signs, but Porco Galliard had been so damn charming that you’d forgotten just about everything.

Including your dignity, apparently, since you seemed to conveniently forget the part where he has had an on-again, off-again relationship with Pieck Finger well before you got hired at this place.

Not exactly side chick behavior, since he technically didn’t cheat, but the sting of being second place before the race even started lingered deep.

(Didn’t you know? He always chooses Pieck. It’s just one of those things.)

Well, no missing that now.

Especially since the two of them were so cozy at the annual shareholder event — right in front of your fucking salad.

The event’s slated to end at eleven so you’ve been nursing a wild array of drinks since seven, with little breaks.

In retrospect, the napkin with scribbled chicken scratch that Annie Leonhart, your closest colleague, shoved into your hand in the midst of your brooding at the bar may have been a joke:

You need to loosen up. Call this stupid sex line and get that stick out of your ass.

She wasn’t kidding. 

Every muscle in your body is too taut, including your brain.

So you took a cab, stumbled into your apartment, and landed — here.

Your phone sits right in front of you next to one of your half-worn heels, on speaker at the lowest setting.

Maybe it’s best to let the pre-recording list the entire numerical menu.

Maybe it’ll deter you from pressing anything at all.

“If you already know your match’s extension, press one.”

Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

You tap the napkin carelessly against the stem of your glass of wine, contemplating exactly how Annie Leonhart managed to find the information for this service to begin with.

Did she already have a match?

Did she regularly call them to blow off some steam?

She's always so chill. It would make sense.

There’s a chance this is a nasty prank at your lowest moment, but you don’t think Annie cares enough about other people to plan such a masterful takedown. 

At the work event, she seemed pretty serious about the legitimacy of Scout Services Hotline, and honestly?

Even if you had been drinking all night at the event, you were going to need way more liquid courage to even consider trying your hand at calling a sex line to quell weekend loneliness.

So naturally, you opened a new bottle of wine.

At the first glass of wine, you still weren’t ready.

The second? The napkin sat adjacent to your laptop as you played compilations of sad break-up songs further aggravating your spiraling depression.

The third was the charm to get you to pick up the fucking phone to see what the fuss was all about.

“If you’re looking for someone specific — whether it’s the man, woman, or person of your dreams — press two.”

Tempting.

Your finger reaches out for the ‘2’ on your screen, but you wait it out.

“If you don’t have a preference for your delicious match, press three.”

“You could’ve done without the delicious part,” you mumble to yourself, picking up the glass of wine to take a generous sip. An involuntary grimace tugs at your cheeks.

“If you’re looking to speak with one of our representatives or need more assistance, press four for more options.”

For a solid five minutes you wait.

Contemplating.

Deciding.

You could press the red circle to hang up and go to bed.

It wouldn’t be the first time you rubbed one out and called it a night.

After all, what’s one more lonely weekend?

The spiel starts up again on a loop with the same seductive, breathy feminine voice.

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re only a dial away from your wildest fantasies with the sexiest—”

You smash a button, but you’re not sure which one you’ve clicked.

Before you can lean over to see on your screen, a different feminine voice comes over the speaker.

It’s a little higher pitched than the menu screen voice, but it’s still inviting. Warm.

“Thank you for choosing the Scout Services Hotline. You’re speaking to Petra. May I have the pleasure of knowing the name of the person I’m speaking to this evening?”

A name.

You should give a name that isn’t your real name.

But technically wouldn’t your name be on the credit card if you go through with this anyway?

“You can give a nickname, too, if that makes you feel better,” the woman named Petra adds as if she's a mind reader, breaking the running silence on your end of the line. “A lot of our clients like giving a fake name for security and anonymity.”

“Doesn’t that break once you put in your credit card information?” you blurt, not realizing the thought has spilled on your lips.

Petra laughs musically.

“Technically yes, but if you prefer to be called something, then we’ll be sure to add that to your profile. I take it it's your first time calling.”

Why are you doing this again?

“Painfully obvious, right?” you lament, staring down at the scribble on the napkin. 

Did Annie have a fake name with this service?

“Not painfully at all,” Petra promises. “It’s a learning curve. So what may I call you?”

Real or fake?

Committed or just testing the waters?

“Scarlet?” you suggest, wincing immediately at the on-the-nose literary reference.

Letters, passion, blah blah love — it’s about the only creative thing your wine-addled brain can muster.

“I like Scarlet,” she hums, and immediately your brain is set on fire.

Are you going to be seriously this easy?

“Are you female, male, non-binary, genderfluid, prefer not to say…?”

“Female.”

"Pronouns?"

"Um, she and her."

“And you’re over eighteen?”

“Definitely over eighteen.”

“Perfect. So, Scarlet — did you have a preference on who you wish to speak to today? If you have a fantasy you wish to fulfill, then I can select someone for you.”

You want to scream.

Neurons fire as you try to come up with a cool and collected answer, only to allow the elixir of truth on your tongue to spill the beans.

“Just someone who’s got their shit together, honestly.” You exhale an awkward laugh. “I don’t know. I’m just calling because — I mean, I know you don’t care, but I like… um, deep voices? Stronger voices. Honestly I have no idea what to—”

“I have just the person.”

You pause.

Blink.

But you didn’t even describe anyone, not really.

A voice, maybe, if they cater to kinks of that nature.

You can only imagine they do — it’s a sex hotline, for crying out loud.

“Wait, you do?”

“Mhm!” she perkily states. “Is a man alright for this evening?”

A man with a deep voice who allegedly has his pretend shit together.

Granted it isn’t the opposite of Porco, he’s fairly capable at his job and out living his life just fine, but maybe you were just looking for a copy.

(Or a clue.)

“A man is… fine,” you hesitate. “Wait, so when do I give you my credit card information? My friend hooked me up with this, um — I don’t know if you have her name or if I should even say it, I know there’s probably some confidentiality—”

“Hold that thought,” Petra interrupts cheerfully. “You get the first fifteen-minute session for free, actually — you called just in time before our first-timer coupon expires.”

You can’t hide your surprise.

“Really?”

“Really!”

Ha, your fucking luck.

“If you're enjoying the call, just tell your match and we can set up your card and keep it going. All we ask is that you take a survey after your session. Then you’ll be in our system with this phone number! We’ll never solicit you for calls, but it’ll make the process faster the next time should you call our hotline again.”

You drop your head back on your mattress, sighing heavily.

“...okay, yeah. That sounds great.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Give me one moment, Scarlet,” Petra giggles.

You hear something shift on her side. 

Maybe she’s swiveling her chair. Are they located in an actual office building?

God, an office where people just do this for a living sounds larger than life.

“I’ll connect you with your match in a moment.”

Then the line cuts out to the opening notes to Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On, and you’re pretty sure you’re this close to chugging the rest of this bottle in one gulp.

“Is this seriously what you do on weekends, Annie?” you mumble to yourself, enduring the brutality of the waiting music while Petra connects you to your alleged match.

A man with a deep voice who has his shit together.

Is that even a real kink?

Has the bar really gotten that low?

Should you have described someone’s appearance? It wasn’t like it mattered over the phone.

As soon as it gets to the high note of the song, the line cuts again — silence.

Immediately you scramble to sit up taller, your hands fumbling to grab the phone from the floor.

You bring it up to your face, cupping the device in both palms to muffle the noise if it becomes downright pornographic in seconds.

Moment of truth.

With bated breath you wait — the person on the other line sighs, heavy and deep, before answering with the most nonchalant tone.

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re speaking with Levi. May I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

Holy fuck.

Immediately you forget your own voice listening to the hum of the receiver.

While you’ve only joked in passing that you have a voice kink, it’s screaming in neon lights here and now: this man’s voice may be monotone, but there is a growl to it. 

A rumbling.

At this very moment, you completely forget that this man is on speaker phone and you’ve just returned home from the worst work event in the world.

You don’t have an ex-boyfriend.

You don’t even know your home address.

You’re simply… existing, lips parted, taking in the sheer tingle rolling through your torso.

“You there?”

Right, you’re meant to talk back.

“Huh? Oh — yes! Yeah,” you recover poorly. “Hi. It’s, um, it’s Scarlet.”

“Mm, Scarlet… Scarlet, Scarlet, Scarlet…”

The way the name drags along his tongue nearly makes your mouth water. 

His voice — Levi — is smooth, like the velvet on your dress you’ve yet to take off.

“A pretty name for a pretty thing like you.” Something ruffles and Levi makes a small noise on the other end, likened to a cut-off hum. “Tell me what you look like, Scarlet.”

All you can do is stare at a chip in your wooden dresser directly across from you, listening to him speak.

“I’m…” 

What do you even say? 

How come you have to say anything at all? 

Can’t he just read a takeout menu to you and call it a night?

Before you can answer, there’s an amused huff. “Someone’s nervous.”

Your face turns — well, a certain shade of scarlet.

“Ha. Sorry, I’ve—”

“Never done this before?” he finishes for you.

How mortifying. 

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s cute,” he relents, and you feel your face turn a degree hotter. “Don’t worry — I’ve been told I’m a great teacher, so you’re in good hands.”

“You’ll have your work cut out of you, trust me,” you breathe, feeling like you’ve been injected with an overdose of a truth serum. “Because I just got home from this stupid work event. My ex-boyfriend brought his new girlfriend — who also works with us — as his date — yay, me — except I feel like I was the side-piece-in-waiting for them. So he’s off getting laid and I’m calling a complete stranger on a random Friday because my work colleague recommended this phone sex hotline for a quick solution.”

Silence.

You blink twice as dread settles in your cut. You tap the phone off of speaker and push the device close to your ear, balancing it with your shoulder.

Did you scare him away? 

Was that too much of a depressive dump? 

You suddenly want to crawl under your bed frame and hide there forever.

But then — a gentle chuckle sounds from the other end of the line, and arousal shoots straight to your lower belly.

“Good thing all of the dirty talk is my job, then,” he muses. “You’re supposed to lay back and listen.”

“Listen?”

“Yeah, unless you weren’t looking to get bossed around.”

It isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever heard, that’s for sure.

“If I’m honest with you, Levi, I don’t know what I’m looking for,” you confess, running a hand down your face.

“Then let me figure it out for you. We have time.”

The man calling himself Levi pauses on the other end.

“Did you want to get fucked, Scarlet?”

Well, shit, he didn’t have to say it like that.

“Yes,” you blurt without thinking, then fumbling to recover. “I mean— Sorry, clearly I called thinking about sex, and your voice is extremely lovely and actually very hot—”

“Oh, you think so?” Levi interrupts, honey-smooth voice humming with amusement with that same hum that’s going to make you scream.

“Absolutely. Completely. Are you serious?” you sputter. “You’re like an ASMR wet dream.”

“A what?”

“A wet dream?”

“No, the other thing — ASMR?”

“Um, like when people make really niche quiet noises to a microphone with their mouths, and it gives you the tingly sensation in the back of your head.”

“Interesting,” Levi says. “So are you saying that’s what I do to you?”

For the umpteenth time, your brain blanks.

God, you could scream into your pillow.

If you weren’t so afraid you’d forget to mute your microphone first, then you already would be.

“Yes! — I mean, yes, but — wait, can we just pause this for a second?”

For a moment he doesn’t answer, but the tone of his voice shifts: still just as sultry, but with a hint of confusion and a dash of concern. 

“Of course. Is everything alright?”

No, this entire night is weird.

If you don’t say something, then this is going to just keep looping and wasting his time.

“Okay,” you start, mustering the courage to get through your speech, “I know I’m spoiling the first-caller coupon for a free call and I’m sorry, I’ll totally pay for the session since you’re great and sound insanely hot and I’m sure you’re amazing at your job, but I just…” 

You trail off, collecting your swimming thoughts.

“...I’m something like six or seven drinks in, I am craving potato chips, and I’d really like to just talk to someone for a few minutes.”

There.

It’s out in the open, your confession to the liminal altar.

You half-expect him to hang up rather than wasting his time with someone like you, but to your surprise, there is no click. No call ended. No new automated message.

“Six or seven is a lot,” he comments, and you can picture a brow furrow even if he doesn’t have a face. “Does this mean you handle your liquor, or is this a one-off rager?”

“I think I’m only still functioning because I ate my weight in dinner rolls at the party.”

“Do you have a glass or bottle of water near you?”

The switch up lessens the tension in your shoulder blades in an instant.

His voice is just as crooning, deep and inviting, but it’s nice to simply be asked.

“Nope.”

His voice sharply changes, authoritative and firm. “Then go get one.”

The demand does something to you. 

Without thinking twice you begin to rock up on your heels, standing at full height.

“Okay, Mr. Bossy.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asks with a sprinkle of sarcasm. “Someone who has their shit together, if I read the notes right.”

“They write that stuff down?” you ask genuinely, minding your step as you pad barefoot across your apartment to your fridge.

“It’s your session,” he reminds softly. “We do whatever it is you want to do.”

“Even if it’s just to talk?”

“You’d be amazed at how many people call just to talk. Though I can’t say it’s my specialty.”

“No?”

“No. I’m not much of a small talker.”

The refrigerator door swings wide. “What’s your specialty, then?”

“Kink play, mostly. Dom and Sub. Guided masturbation. Edging. Making decisions for people who want to forget about making them for a while.”

One second the bottle of water is in your hand.

Next it’s on the floor.

“That’s, uh… a wide array of specialties,” you say. “And your rate, it’s…?”

“Not cheap.”

“Got it. So I’m really flubbing this free call.”

It’s small, but you hear a chuckle on the other end. “You said you wanted to talk, Scarlet, so we’re talking.”

Bending to grab your water bottle, you untwist the cap.

“Does this bother you, wasting your time talking?”

“You’re not wasting my time, Scarlet,” he says with such a promise that you almost believe it’s genuine. “You have a pretty voice, and you’re funny.”

“Shut up.”

“You do, and you are.”

“Uh-huh. And do you talk to a lot of people during your shifts?”

“That’s confidential.”

“So a lot.”

“Confidential.”

“And the length of calls,” you test, “are they hypothetically confidential, too?”

“It’s per minute, so.”

“Per minute?” you gawk. “Jesus, I’d go bankrupt talking to you.”

“Well, premium members receive bills per half hour,” he explains. “More bang for your buck.”

“Quite literally," you mumble. "And what’s a premium subscription get you?”

“Didn’t you check out the website before calling?”

“I told you I stumbled out of my cab and called the number on my napkin, Levi,” you chide. “I didn’t exactly do my research in my sexually frustrated state.”

“Fair, can’t blame you there.”

There’s something of a grunt on the other end, like he’s stretching his arms over his head.

Maybe he’s sitting in an office chair, too, going through the motions of his profession the same way the Petra lady had been.

You keep wanting to imagine what he’s doing on the other line, but you realize you haven’t asked the titular question yet.

“Hey, Levi?”

“Yeah, baby?”

It’s breathy, a roll of thunder in his tongue.

Instead of an office chair, you imagine a man lying on his bed.

Maybe his tie is half-done, hanging loosely around his neck.

Button-down open, exposing the planes of his chest; dress trousers unbuttoned and loose around his hips, so he can easily slide a hand—

Whoa.

You stop walking back to your bedroom and blink twice. “Oh, so you like pet names.”

Your face, in miraculous humiliation, grows another degree hotter at how amused he sounds with himself. “I never said that.”

“Sure,” Levi replies with a smirk to the concession. “What is it, Scarlet?”

(Maybe you’ll permanently change your name to Scarlet after tonight if it sounds this good on a man’s lips.)

You finally unzip the side of your dress and wiggle out, before finding a cozy spot in the middle of your mattress.

“How much time do I have left on this freebie?”

“Approximately three minutes.”

Time flies when you’re too busy gawking over someone’s voice, apparently.

“Can I ask what you look like?” you finally decide, playing along.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask,” Levi responds, returning to that same seductive tone he’d used when he first picked up the line. “Black hair, guess it’s a little shaggier than usual. Undercut.”

You squint to your ceiling. “I’m thinking of Dimitri from Anastasia right now but with black hair.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“You’ve seriously never seen Anastasia?”

“It’s a movie?”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry for your childhood.”

“It’s an animated movie?” he scoffs. “Even worse.”

“You wound me,” you joke, pressing a hand over the cup of your beige bra. “What color are your eyes?”

“A gray-ish blue,” he tells you. “Sharp nose. High cheekbones. I’m a daily gym go-er, so I’m mostly lean muscle. I can probably pick you up, easily.”

So a fit man with an undercut hairstyle with gray-blue eyes and a relatively sharp face. 

Now you have a face to the image of a man lying on his bed, still in that button-down shirt and dress trousers.

His happy trail is probably dark, too, disappearing just under the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Or boxers?

Maybe nothing.

Your hand moves on its own accord to the waistband of your panties, toying with the fabric.

Contemplating.

Wondering if it’s wrong — when it really shouldn’t be wrong at all.

“You sound handsome,” you murmur. “I wouldn’t mind being picked up.”

“Wouldn’t be the only thing I’d do to you,” he flippantly states, and your brain blanks to pure putty. “You sound a little more winded than before. Doing alright over there, party animal?”

“It’s late,” you lie even when you damn well know you don’t have to lie. “Lots of drinking, first water of the night, lying down…”

“Better make it two waters before you fall asleep,” Levi states. “That’s an order, Scarlet.”

“Uh-huh.”

Your hand dips under your underwear, testing the waters.

But—

“Final sixty seconds,” he adds. “Any last words you want to get in before the line disconnects?”

“Only one minute left?” you protest, ripping your hand out of your underwear to pull the phone away from your ear.

14:02

So it really had been a fifteen-minute call.

God damnit.

Tapping the speaker icon once more, you stare at your phone and press your tongue against the inside of your cheek.

“What’s your extension?”

Because you have to know.

Even if you don’t call again, it’s a comfort to have it on hand.

Levi waits a moment before responding.

“Two-five-one-two.”

2512.

You swipe away from the call to quickly pull up your notes app, tapping the number down with a noted reminder: the guy with the hot voice!

“Are you going to call me again, Scarlet?”

You open your mouth, but you struggle with an answer.

(You only have a few seconds! Think, idiot, think!)

“I’m not sure if—”

Click.

“Hello? Levi?”

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. Please stay on the line for a quick two-minute survey so we can better serve your fantasies in the future.”

Out of time.

You drop your phone to your stomach and groan.

Instead of calling back, you close your eyes — and, not before long, fall asleep to a dream of only one voice.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Saturday is a wash.

You wake late, missing an invitation to brunch.

For the better half of the day, you wonder about him.

Levi.

Your arbitrary match that doesn't feel so arbitrary anymore.

(It's placebo effect, you tell yourself. They're supposed to make you feel wanted.)

Punishing yourself for your excessive liquor and stupid plans, you trudge to your local gym and do your best to stay focused on your workout.

Every nameless person with dark hair that walks past you on the sidewalk from your apartment; anyone could be him.

The man waiting in line at the coffee shop.

The man who accidentally walked into you while you were switching the song on your playlist at the crosswalk.

The man weight training in the corner of the room, fringe cascading down his face as he drips sweat.

You keep the napkin in your gym bag, then transfer it to your purse as you run errands.

You could call.

It isn’t like you’re strapped for cash at the moment.

Granted it’s very wish fulfillment and it isn’t like he’s actually into you, but the attention is nice.

Besides — you haven’t thought of your ex once since you woke up.

Annie texts you twice within ten minutes of each message, which is unheard for her.

 [A. LEONHART]: So? Did you call?

[A. LEONHART]: Hello, earth to moron. At least like my message to tell me you’re alive. I’m not being interviewed by Dateline for you.

(Ah, there she is. Classic Annie.)

 [YOU]: Yeah, I called. Not sure if it’s my thing.

[A. LEONHART]: Sometimes they match you with a dud. 2nd time’s the charm ;)

[YOU]: Do you ever use someone’s extension?

[A. LEONHART]: Duh. I’m a regular of one guy.

Okay, so she talks to a guy. Something grips your stomach as you type your reply.

 [YOU]: Can I ask his name?

[A. LEONHART]: Why, so we don’t eiffel tower this?

[YOU]: jfc annie

[A. LEONHART]: lmao his name is Bert

    So not Levi.

For some odd reason, you breathe a sigh of relief as you close out of your messages.

Maybe you're one of a million, but at least you're not sharing with Annie.

Once you return home from your errands, it's close to dinnertime.

You cook something simple for yourself, occasionally glancing over at your purse like you can x-ray vision through the fabric to see the napkin.

Then again, it isn’t like you actually need the napkin.

The number is already in your phone.

Pulling out your device, you set it on the kitchen counter and draw a slow, calculative inhale.

One more call can’t hurt.

Levi may not even be working.

Hell, he could be talking to someone else. 

A regular.

Several regulars.

For over five minutes you stare down at your most recent calls list, willing yourself to just get brave for one second to press the button.

(It isn’t like Porco’s going to call you.)

The soured thought propels your hand without thinking, fingertip pressing the green phone icon faster than you can think. 

You brace for the ringtone, fists balled tight on the cool kitchen surface.

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re only a dial away from your wildest fantasies with the sexiest singles near your area. If you already know your match’s extension, press one.”

You continue staring.

Are you really doing this?

It isn’t like it means anything, which is exactly what you need with the upcoming work week.

A distraction.

A very expensive distraction, but hey — you’ll avoid takeout for a few weeks.

How bad can it get?

“If you’re looking for someone specific —”

You press one.

.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading part one of my zany little 'Sleepless in Seattle' modern au! This has been a bluesky idea for a while now, and I needed a little reprieve from my other angsty Levi longfic silver underground, so I hope you enjoyed the ride.

There will be actual smut in part two, but as a Reader!Writer I had the thought of 'would I be suave enough to do the first phone call flawlessly or totally waste my free coupon'? and this chapter was born, lol. I promise this is not Porco slander.

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this new series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[chigirisprincess]

When and Where, Baby ࿐

— Various Attack on Titan Characters

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn!reader, kissing, semi public car sex, shower sex, quickies, established relationships, general allusions to and discussion of sex and intimacy, needy!reader and equally as needy!characters. ⊹ Run time. 0.7k ⊹ Note. Cheeky edited reupload from my old blog since I am deep in the Aot brainrot and am in dire need to talk about them lol. Enjoy <3

Where they fuck you outside of the bedroom —

꒰ On the Couch ꒱

Movie nights with you always turn into something more. Neither of you could help the way your hands drifted, his gliding further and further up your thigh until it’s practically between your legs, and your fingers idly stroking his navel, playing with the bit of hair poking out of his waistband. It’s a silent challenge, who’s willing to make the first real move. It certainly wasn’t going to be you, no matter how badly you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck or to toss your legs over his lap, you just couldn’t. But like magnets the two of you were pulled together, a certain desperation forcing you to toss away whatever little pride you had. You never could resist, not really. Eager kisses nearly knock the wind out of you as you clamber onto his lap, just a little bit too rough as you try to strip him of all the pesky layers between the two of you.

⊱ Porco Galliard, Eren Jaeger, Colt Grice, Miche Zacharius, Zeke Jaeger, and Connie Springer.

꒰ In the Kitchen ꒱

Dinner was something that they wish to disappear from your mind for just the slightest moment, it’s been a long day without you and if you’re not pinned beneath them in the next ten minutes they might just go crazy. It’s a good thing you’ve only just put that pot to boil because that gives them a bit more room for something other than heavy petting. Cupboard knobs dig into the small of your back and hips uncomfortably but the feel of their lips on your neck is enough to distract you from the pinpricks of pain. And for just a moment the task at hand slips away from your mind because god, they make your head spin and you miss them just as much as they missed you. You need them just as badly as they need you and it isn’t until the pot boils over that you’re pulled out of your rapture and even then you hold them ever closer because you’re so close to falling apart from their fingers, you’re almost there and you couldn’t care less about dinner because you’re much more interested in getting a taste of them.

⊱ Pieck Finger, Bertholdt Hoover, Niccolo, Hange Zoë, and Sasha Braus.

꒰ In the Shower ꒱

Early mornings were always made better when they slipped into the shower with you. It was never their intent to take things further but that tiny moan you let slip began to stoke a fire deep within them. They just wanted another one more honeyed sound so they innocently let the hand that was supposed to be washing your body slip between your legs. This was how it always played out no matter how many times you swore that it would because the two of you were still half asleep. One way or another, one of you is going to end up pinned against the tile wall, head thrown back as you relished in your partner's touch. If the water hadn’t run cold the two of you could have stayed in there for hours, but a morning quickie had to be just that; quick. No matter how badly you wished to stay in there with them forever, but you had things to do and frigid water wasn’t all that enjoyable even if you just ached to be with them for a moment longer.

⊱ Levi Ackerman, Annie Leonhart, Historia Reiss, Armin Arlert, Petra Rall, and Mikasa Ackerman.

꒰ In the Car ꒱

Sometimes you just couldn’t wait until you got home. They always drove with their hand locked on your thigh, their gaze trained on the road ahead; they just looked so good, it wasn't your fault it turned you on so much. So maybe it was you who couldn’t wait, you who begged them to pull over because you needed them so badly that if they didn’t you’d have no choice but to shimmy out of your pants and give them a little show if they weren’t willing to help you out. But you never did have to resort to that, they love their needy baby and if their baby needs it bad, well then who were they to deny you. It wasn’t like you two had anywhere to be, a detour wouldn’t be so bad, not if they got to hear those pretty sounds of yours. Just try not to make it too obvious, the spot was secluded but you still didn’t want to get caught because you just couldn’t wait to get your hands on one another.

⊱ Erwin Smith, Jean Kirstein, Ymir, Hitch Dreyse, Kenny Ackerman, and Yelena.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

[hanjisungslag]

attack on titan headcanons #11

synopsis: when aot characters get drunk🍺

characters involved: eren, mikasa, armin, jean, connie, sasha reiner, bertolt, annie, levi, erwin and hange

notes: exams are finally over and its SUMMAA so i switched up my theme, rip coquette hanjisungslag u will b missed x

☆ eren jaeger

loves a strong bow and a corona on a warm summers day x

is a lightweight

one beer and he is off his rocker

gets hyper in several different ways, happy, giggly, angry etc.

passed out by 22:00

☆ mikasa ackerman

she’s a cider girlie!!

loves a rekorderlig & kopparberg (strawberry & lime and mixed fruits specifically)

tries some people’s gins and vodkas and it ain’t for her

she’s a lightweight too

she’s so shocked how hard it hits her

she’s a lot more chatty and giggly

goes red in the cheeks > <

☆ armin arlert

he tries beer. doesn’t like san miguel. hates stella.

will take a corona on a sunny day though…

but he likes a cider!

he looovveesss any fruity drinks

he’s not a lightweight or heavyweight, good middle ground

gets sooo chatty

the type of drunk to info dump on you / talk about their special interests

☆ jean kirsten

drinks mostly everything. strongbow, cider, maybe be cheeky and have a rum!

also tequila tbh

he’s a bit of a lightweight tbh

but he refuses to admit it 😭

he’s a chill drunk, he’ll sit and chat and drink

but bro is RAVENOUS like he will eat a fuckin buffet and a half afterwards.

spends more money on food than actual drink

☆ sasha braus

AH SHE LOVES A PITCHER FROM SPOONS X

her, ymir and historia deffo get some refreshing, fruity pitchers between em all.

they’re literally just girls… 😖

she’s a lightweight duhhh!!

she’s 100% busting a move on the dance floor

there’s also a liability.

and she is that liability. she is constantly running off

☆ connie springer

 MY GUY IS A VODKA MAN I SAID IT

he gets sooo drunk

like i’m talking running away with sasha, doing karaoke, dancing, chatting to EVERYONEE

THE no 1. yapper when drunk

by the end of the night he was 10 new best friends, invited to three weddings and several after parties.

he’s deffo the one who ends up being sick but he’s so ready to drink afterwards😭(don’t let him)

☆ reiner braun

heavyweighhhhttt

he starts off with ‘man’ drinks like san miguel, stella etc.

HOWEVAA i know this man loves a voddy and coke and gin.

i just know when this man is pissed and wants another one he is getting his bloody pink gin

he’s rizzing people up sooo hard like reiner stawp 😜

he’s so sweet and pookie when drunk like he’s just chatting and hugging all his friends

☆ bertolt hoover

actually loves a san miguel

everyone’s so surprised by this?

he’s also a heavyweight

he’s tall ok, more of him to get drunk

when he’s drunk HES A TALKERR

it’s like it’s all been built up and now he’s exploding with words and conversations

deffo says way too much for his liking and regrets it deeply in the morning.

expect an apology message in the morning (even tho he has nothing to apologise for, bless)

☆ annie leonhart

heavy weight

this girl is on vodkas with lemonade hmk x

when she’s drunk she’s soo red

she’ll find someone to just sit and chill with

doesn’t want to embarrass herself or bring attention to herself.

she’s so funny when she’s drunk

pulls out ALL the stops when it comes to jokes

she’s always giggling at everyone doing some dumb shit

☆ levi ackerman

heavy weight!

he doesn’t drink much anyways

but if he is, its whiskey or tia maria in some coffee

he’s usually the one watching everyone, not getting too drunk

making sure no one is dead x

but he always ends up tipsy at the least

although he’s supposed to be baby sitting

he cant help but slightly smirking at anything anyone says.

☆ erwin smith

heavy weight once again

doesn’t like to get too drunk

he’s an old man now cmon

my man is drinking wine like merlot, pino, etc

he’s so elegant when drinking

but by the end of the night his hair is messed up baddd

he says loads of stuff and regrets it.

obviously it’s nothing too extreme but just him being silly

gets super sleepy though. wine drunk 🙁

☆ hange zoë

SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS

literally adores shots

just goes crazy on them tbh

after an hour, they’re buying shots for EVERYOONNNEEE

definitely broke by the end of the night.

has to start giving themselves a limit every time they go out

ANYWAYS an absolute party animal

hitting up the clubs

hitting the DANCE FLOOR DUH!

[goldessia]

MULTI!headcannons . . . how they fuck you, kinks

— - ft. levi, eren, mikasa, annie, armin, jean

warnings: p in v, smut!! overstim, edging, claiming, deepthroat, voyeurism, cum consumption, mentions of a strap on , oral (m&f receiving), risky, quickies, degrading, bdsm, pain!kinks

levi ackerman

. . he may be tiny (i say this with love), but boy does he make up for it. usually pretty rough; it’s just his personality, but sometimes he will go slow and make love to you.

their kinks. . .

over stimulation/post-orgasm torture

i am a firm believer he would enjoy overstimulation, but not really for the thing you think. he enjoys hearing your moans, your loud pleas for it to be the last one, yes, but he doesn’t do it necessarily to torture you, but he just can’t get enough—his endurance is the problem of that.

“just one more baby, i promise.. one more.”

three orgasms later

claiming

giving: will ALWAYS leave marks on you: your neck, collarbone, thighs, hips, waist—anywhere. he loves showing everyone that not only do you belong to him, but so everyone knows how fuckin good he is in bed.

receiving: adores when you leave marks on him. if you leave claw marks on his back, he’ll show them off by wearing a less covering shirt. you give him love-bites? you best believe he’ll be showing them off. when they fade, he asks for more.

eren yeager

. . an absolute menace in bed. rough, and merciless. anytime he fucks you, you know to cover yourself up the next day, because this man is absolutely feral. every morning, you have to struggle to get up because he’d practically left you bedridden the next day.

their kinks . .

edging/orgasm-denial

giving: loves seeing you squirming, and begging for your release. he’s relentless—he’ll deny you for hours, sometimes even leaving you without an orgasm, just to add some spice on top of the fire.

receiving: don’t get him wrong, he loves denying you your orgasm, but the second you get your revenge? he is a crying, begging, squirming mess, rutting his hips into your hand/mouth. he is a fuckin’ munch.

“fuh- fuck! please, baby, i’m sorry- i’m sorry, not again-“

deepthroat

loves seeing you choke and gag on his cock. a hand on the back of your head, clutching your skull so you can’t move. he’ll smirk, proud of himself when he sees tears stream down your face, making you a teary-eyed, messy haired whore with spit running down your chin. (he’ll let up, tho, and let you breathe if it’s too much. may be a bastard but he still cares for u)

“yeaahh, fuck. choke on it. you like my dick down your throat, huh?”

mikasa ackerman . .

. . super into degrading. loves calling you her whore, her slut, her prize jewel whenever you fuck. has a strap she uses occasionally (don’t ask how she got it), but she prefers to use her fingers or her mouth.

their kinks . .

voyeurism

absolutely adores watching you try to get yourself off. taunts you, watching from afar as you struggle to please yourself after you’ve gotten used to mikasa’s help.

“aww.. can’t even please yourself anymore, hm? you need my help, don’t you?”

consumption

loves licking her fingers off clean after she makes you come. or, she makes you lick your own cum off of her fingers. smiles, and praises you afterwards.

annie leonhart . .

. . super mean when it comes to your bedroom-life. degrading, rough, and sometimes into pain kinks. taunts you a lot.

their kinks . .

bdsm/restraints

loves typing you up so she can do whatever she pleases. after all, you belong to her. will be super mean about it too—tying the ropes up a little too tight, not only so you can’t move as much but to have that little bit of pain against your wrists that never fails to leave marks the next morning.

“aw, does it hurt, baby? too bad. you can take it, i know you can.”

oral/eating you out

this girl can’t get enough of you. drunk on your taste, your smell. she finds herself craving you all day. the best part of her day is when you’re finally home together and she has you all to herself.

jean kirstein . .

overall pretty vanilla. but don’t play w this boy.. if you really anger him, he won’t fail to make you bedridden the next morning. very handsy—while you fuck, his hands will go from your face, your breast, your waist, your hips, thighs, everywhere. he adores every inch of your body, and never fails to show it.

their kinks . .

risky/quickies

jean was never much of a horny person, but after he met you, his sex drive sky rocketed. he found himself horny at random times during the day, and sook you out nearly everyday. he loves the thrill of fucking in random, barely secure places—the idea of someone walking in on your obscene show excites him in the best way possible.

“you like when i fuck you like this? i bet— nggh, i bet you’d want someone to walk in on us. see how much of a slut you are.”

“you’re— you’re one to talk, kirstein—!”

oral

giving: loves seeing your expression as he tongue-fucks you. hands roaming up your body, soft mutters and hums against your core that sends vibrations through your body, making your pleasure infinitely better.

receiving: adores seeing your doe-eyes expression as you look up at him. usually, he lets you lead it when you suck him off, occasionally rutting his hips up when you tease him. but if he figures out your just messing with him, and teasing him, he’ll for sure take the lead and make you take his cock.

armin arlert . .

definitely a sub, even when he’s on-top. he’s such a munch for you, only you. definitely whimpers and moans rather than groaning, and is very vocal about it. multiple times, you two were caught because armin was moaning too loud.

their kinks . .

orgasm denial

receiving: something about it just ticks that spot in his brain. loves seeing you take the lead, and loves hearing your voice, your taunted and your teasing as you deny him of his orgasm.

“pluh- please! i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’ll be better— no more, please let me come!”

giving: he would never, tbh. everything he does when he’s not subbing is revolved around you, and your pleasure. if he’s on top, he’s making sure he makes it worthwhile and wants to make it a good experience for you.

spit play

absolutely adores when you spit on his cock. he loves when you make a mess, using your spit or his as lube as you fuck him or tongue fuck him.

copr. goldessia. do not steal, plagiarize, translate or share on other platforms without credit/permission.

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Thigh Fucking~

this was a bit hard for me. i didn't want to go into too much detail on here, so i did what i always did. started a new au which leads up to it. i hope you like this. i think it might be one of my top five!

@adamsappleweek

Adam sighed, feeling the weight of the day in every bone and muscle. His body ached from hours spent hunched over his desk, fingers stiff from holding his pencil, eyes burning from the endless focus. Yet, he couldn’t stop. No matter how his body screamed for rest, he pushed forward. He had to. His future depended on it. This project was his golden ticket—if he could nail it, so many doors could open. This company, after all, was a titan in the industry, its designs coveted across the globe. Their releases caused a frenzy; people craved their issues like forbidden fruit.

There was a quiet pride in Adam’s heart, knowing they had chosen him, a humble dreamer with passion, not some polished, high-end designer with an inflated ego. He still remembered that moment like a first kiss—wide-eyed, fresh out of university, hardly daring to believe his luck when they offered him an internship. His hands had trembled as he signed the paperwork, tears of gratitude brimming in his eyes. He was the youngest, the least experienced, the intern who fetched coffee and sat in on meetings like a fly on the wall, but none of that mattered. He had one thing that couldn’t be taught: passion. And he poured every bit of it into his work, vowing he’d prove himself worthy. Design wasn’t just a job; it was his lifeblood, a legacy left by his mother.

Adam could still see her clearly in his mind—elegant and bold, a force of creativity, designing clothes that danced between classical beauty and daring adventure. She had been the leading lady of her fashion house, captivating the world until her tragic passing. Adam grew up idolizing her, dreaming of one day standing where she once stood, weaving his own designs into the tapestry of fashion. He had inherited her artist’s touch; he was sure of it. Now, it was his time to prove it.

The lamp on his desk flickered dimly, casting soft shadows in the nearly deserted office. The ticking clock felt like a countdown, each second urging him to make something extraordinary. Everyone else had long since gone home, but not Adam. He wasn't ready to quit. Not yet. This "scrap" project, tossed to him like table scraps, would be his masterpiece. Something that would make the seniors take notice, something more than just an intern running errands.

Adam’s emerald-green eyes gleamed as he turned his attention to Lilith Leonhart, the muse of his art. Lilith—one of the most stunning and sought-after models in the industry. She was perfection wrapped in golden silk, her icy blue eyes and flawless features etched into the minds of designers and artists everywhere. If he could design something that matched her beauty, something elegant yet unforgettable, he’d have a chance. He had spent hours sketching her, imagining her in every pose, every fabric, every colour, refining every line until his fingers cramped. Her pinups dominated the walls of the design department—lips parted in a coy smile, hair cascading in luxurious waves.

He had chosen a popular style—one that young people were wearing in droves, a look that blended sophistication with a pop of youthful energy. The outfit was sleek, tailored to perfection, a bold purple suit with sharp lines and subtle accents in green, blue, and pink. Purple, Adam thought, made Lilith's striking features stand out even more, her icy blue eyes practically glowing against the rich fabric. It was trendy, it was polished. Surely, this would catch someone’s eye.

Just as he was about to lean back and admire his work, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Purple has never been Lilith’s colour."

Adam jumped, nearly knocking his sketches to the floor. His heart skipped a beat as he snapped his head around to find Sera, the head of the design department, standing behind him. She was stunning in her own right, with long, thick curls in a striking blend of white and purple, her dark skin glowing in the soft light. Her features were sharp, almost regal, with a gaze that could cut through steel.

“O-oh? Excuse me?” Adam stammered, blinking in surprise.

Sera didn’t seem fazed by his reaction. She hummed softly, her long lashes fluttering as she examined his work. It was late, and she appeared to be on the verge of leaving, yet something had drawn her over to him. Her lips curled into a slight smile, a knowing look in her eyes.

"You're married to the work, just like me," she remarked with a cool chuckle.

"I... I just want to do the best I can," he confessed, voice softening. Adam flushed, his pulse quickening at her words. "I’m serious about this—about being a designer. Like my mother."

Sera's hum deepened, her eyes still on his drawings.

"I can see that. You’ve put your heart into these," she said gently, but there was something else in her tone, something that made Adam’s chest tighten. "But sometimes... effort isn’t enough."

Adam froze, her words hitting him like a splash of cold water. He swallowed hard, watching her as she tilted her head toward the wall of pinups—not just Lilith, but Eve Heather green, Lute Scar, Michael Morningstar. Each model radiated their own unique energy, their own style. They were all muses, not just Lilith, Adam realized.

“I remember when I was in your shoes,” Sera continued, her voice soft, yet filled with experience. “I wanted so badly to be like the senior designers, to mimic their success, to be noticed. But I had to learn something important—you don’t get noticed by doing what everyone else is doing. You get noticed by being yourself, by bringing something fresh, something that speaks you into the world."

Adam gazed across the room, at all the designs pinned up for inspiration. Lilith was everywhere, yes, but suddenly, he saw it—how uniform they all were. How... ordinary. His breath hitched as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Sera was right. There was nothing special about his designs. He had been following trends, regurgitating what had already been done. Nothing original.

"Take a break," Sera suggested softly. "Come back to it with fresh eyes. Don’t stay too late."

With one last encouraging smile, she turned to leave, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she walked away.

Adam watched her go, his heart sinking. His chair squealed as he swivelled back to face his desk, staring down at the sketches of Lilith. Slowly, his lips twisted into a frown, eyes flicking over the designs pinning around the office. All the same. All safe.

Without another word, he crumpled them up and tossed them into the trash. No, this wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He needed to dig deeper, to find that spark within himself, even if it meant creating something new, something risky. He wasn’t here to follow—he was here to lead.

With renewed determination, Adam stood up, ready to start over. He would create something different, something that would leave an imprint—not because it was what the world expected, but because it reflected the artist, he knew he could become.

Adam slowly climbed to his feet, the weight of the world resting heavily on his shoulders. His body felt stiff, but it was his mind that bore the real exhaustion. His thoughts, spinning in endless circles, needed clarity. He wandered around the design apartment, his fingers brushing lightly against the countless portfolios and framed issues that lined the walls. The models, captured in breathtaking poses, stared back at him—faces aglow with soft, luminous light. Every detail of these iconic covers was meant to catch the eye and hold it. The colors—cool, muted tones mixed with vibrant accents—made the models shimmer, like rare gems in the sea of high fashion.

Even the work of the senior designers, those whose approval he craved, had a consistency to it. They all pursued one ideal—polished, ethereal perfection. As Adam moved between the desks, his gaze fell on the work of the other interns, the sketches and color swatches they left behind. They too seemed caught in the same web, designing to a familiar formula, chasing the style that had already been deemed successful. A quiet frustration brewed in his chest. He thought he had been creating something fresh, something new, but now he saw how closely his work mirrored theirs. Too close. He was following, not leading.

Back at his desk, Adam tapped his fingers against the surface absentmindedly, slumping back into his swivel chair. What should he do? How could he stand out when everything he created looked like a reflection of what had already been done? He wanted to carve out his own path, just as his mother had. But what would she do? What advice would she give if she were still here?

His emerald eyes flicked across the scattered art supplies on his desk—cheap, store-bought tools that felt as disposable as his ideas. Then, his gaze settled on something different, something precious. In the corner of his workspace, tucked away but never far from his thoughts, was a small, sealed packet. His mother’s hand-me-down watercolors. They were all he had left of her. Adam had never dared to use them, too afraid of wasting the last remnants of her artistry.

Slowly, as if drawn by some invisible thread, he reached for the packet, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the lid. The worn edges were soft under his touch, and with a deep, steadying breath, he eased it closer. A small piece of his mother, something he had kept with him all this time but had never been able to fully embrace.

Breathing deeply, Adam carefully pulled the latch. The box opened with a soft click, revealing the pristine watercolors inside. But what caught his attention wasn’t the paints—it was a small, folded piece of paper tucked neatly inside. Frowning, he reached for it, curiosity and a hint of apprehension bubbling in his chest. Slowly, he unfolded the paper, his breath hitching when he saw his mother’s familiar, elegant handwriting.

“Adam,” the note began, the letters flowing smoothly, as if she had written them just yesterday. “I’m so proud of you, my love. I’ve always adored the little fashion designs you did for school. I could see even then that you had something special, a talent that would blossom into something extraordinary. I know you’ll grow into a wonderful designer, just like you’ve always dreamed.”

Adam’s chest tightened, and before he even realized it, tears welled in his eyes. His vision blurred as he read the last line.

“I love you so much.”

The tears slipped down his cheeks, unbidden, and he didn’t bother wiping them away. He’d tried so hard, poured everything he had into his work. But what if it was never enough? What if, despite all his efforts, he didn’t make it? The fear gripped his heart, squeezing tighter with every silent tear that fell. His breath came in shallow bursts as he stared at the note, his fingers trembling.

Then, as he folded the note over, he noticed something written on the back. Blinking away the moisture in his eyes, Adam carefully turned the paper over and read the words there. It was a quote, one that tugged at the corners of his memory. His mother had often said it to him when he doubted himself.

“Just be you, and everything else will fall where it should be.”

A soft sob escaped his lips, and he covered his mouth, trying to steady himself. Adam swallowed hard, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. The words echoed in his mind, weaving through his doubt like a balm. His mother always knew just what to say to pull him out of the dark.

He stared down at the delicate watercolors for a few moments, his heart aching but also filled with warmth. She had believed in him, more than anyone else ever had. And if she had believed in him, then he had to believe in himself, too.

With gentle hands, he began to close the box, making sure everything was lovingly put away. But as he did, his gaze wandered to the walls again, to the faces of the models who hadn’t graced the big issues, the ones relegated to the sidelines. His eyes landed on Vagatha Luna, with her sharp, mysterious features, and Husker Card, with his brooding gaze. Then there was Anthony Dust, whose playful smirk seemed to challenge the status quo, and Alastor Shot, whose wild, untamed hair defied every convention but spoke so old fashioned.

And finally, Charlotte Haz, the sweetest person you’d ever meet. Adam chuckled softly, wiping his damp cheeks. Charlotte, with her golden hair and striking blue eyes, bore such a resemblance to Lilith and Michael that there had been rumours she was their daughter when she first debuted. For a brief moment, she had been the talk of the town, until the rumors were debunked, and her popularity plummeted. She had been cast aside, like so many others. The "hazbins," as people cruelly called them. Forgotten, rejected.

Adam’s fingers drummed softly against the edge of his desk as his mind began to wander. What if he didn’t follow the path everyone else was walking? What if, instead of chasing after the perfect, popular muses like Lilith, he turned his focus to the ones no one was paying attention to? The ones who had been cast aside, dismissed, overlooked.

He bit his bottom lip, a new spark of excitement flickering in his chest. Maybe that’s where his originality would come from—not by following the trends, but by embracing the forgotten, the misfits. They had stories, too. They had beauty that the world had turned away from. And maybe, just maybe, that was where he could shine.

Adam sat back, his fingers itching to grab his pencil again. He wasn’t just going to follow the crowd anymore. He was going to lead it in a direction no one else had thought to go. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to make him stand out.

The following morning, Adam sprang from his bed before the shrill call of his alarm could even break the silence. Excitement pulsed through his veins, every inch of him buzzing with the creative fire that had ignited deep within his soul the night before. His mind raced with ideas as he leapt into the shower, the water cascading over his skin barely registering against the flood of inspiration that stormed through him. Today was going to be the day—the day he set the world ablaze with his designs, something fresh, something bold. His heart raced in sync with the images flashing in his mind.

He barely noticed the blur of the city as he dashed through the streets on his way to work. Coffee for the seniors, sushi for the team—it was all routine, but today everything felt different, sharper. The mundane tasks didn’t bother him, even as he juggled cups of steaming coffee and trays of sushi while dodging pedestrians. As he passed the old, dilapidated movie theater, its faded marquee hanging forlornly above, something about its crumbling grandeur caught his eye. He stopped for a beat, staring up at it as though it held a secret only he could decipher, before shaking his head with a smirk. Not today. Today, he had bigger dreams to chase.

By the time he arrived at the office, he was running late, and the seniors wasted no time reminding him. But instead of the usual flush of embarrassment, Adam simply grinned, an unshakable confidence burning in his emerald eyes. Sera, the head of design, who was known for her cool, unreadable expression, glanced his way, and her lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. She could see it in him—the fire, the hunger. There was something different about Adam today.

After handling his minor duties with a practiced efficiency, Adam returned to his desk, where the other interns were already deep in chatter about their own designs. They were blissfully unaware of just how dull, how monotonous their ideas had become, stuck in the same tired loop of what had already been done. His friend, always curious, frowned slightly.

"Don’t you have anything to show?" they asked, peering over at Adam.

Adam hummed softly, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Not yet," he replied, his voice low and teasing. "I’m aiming for next week now."

His friend raised an eyebrow, surprised. They had seen Adam sketching feverishly the day before, but they didn’t press the issue. Something had changed in him, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on what.

Adam didn’t linger in conversation. He twisted in his chair and sprang to his feet, walking with purpose toward the neglected corner of the design room—the forgotten “hazbins.” These were the models no one wanted to work with anymore, their faces pushed to the side as newer, shinier names took the spotlight.

But today, Adam had a different vision. With a greedy, almost possessive determination, he began taking down the pinups of Vagatha Luna, Husker Card, Anthony Dust, and Charlotte Haz. Nobody batted an eye. They were rejects, after all, collecting dust in the shadows. But not to Adam. No, to him, they were the key.

He carried their images back to his desk and dumped the pile of headshots and old issues in a chaotic sprawl across his workspace. His friend looked over with a slight grimace, as if Adam had brought home a box of junk. But Adam paid no mind, a sly grin spreading across his face as he sorted through the pile.

"Do you want these?" Adam asked casually, without even looking up, holding out a handful of Lilith’s pinups to his friend.

They blinked in surprise, eyeing the coveted images of the company’s golden girl. "Uh... sure.”

"Thanks... But are you really going to use those?" Their tone was sceptical, a little bemused.

Adam’s grin only widened, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Of course."

His friend made another face, half-amused, half-worried.

"Well… your funeral," they muttered before turning back to their own work.

Adam chuckled, a soft, throaty sound that vibrated with the thrill of rebellion. He was breaking free from the mold, and it felt exhilarating. He pinned up the photos of the hazbins in a deliberate arrangement, making sure each model’s face stared down at him as if they were waiting, eager for him to breathe life into them once more. With the room around him buzzing with the hum of design talk, Adam leaned back in his chair, surveying his new layout with satisfaction. This was it. He was going to do something crazy. He was going to pitch his Hazbin Project.

But as the initial excitement began to cool, doubt slowly crept in. Adam groaned, his forehead dropping to his desk, his fingers threading through his tousled hair in frustration. What theme? What style? What colours? Every idea he sketched felt stale, too similar to the trends already dominating the office. He needed something bold, something seductive—something that would make the seniors stop in their tracks. But no matter how hard he tried, everything he came up with felt… wrong. Boring.

His pencil danced between his fingers, spinning idly as his thoughts swirled in chaotic frustration. He was on the verge of pulling his hair out, desperate for the spark of inspiration that just wasn’t coming. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind screaming for a breakthrough. He needed something daring. Something sensual, seductive, yet elegant.

His eyes flickered to the models pinned on the wall—the hazbins, their eyes shimmering with forgotten potential. Maybe… Maybe they needed a theme, something that played off their fall from grace, their buried allure. Something darker, more dangerous. The glitz and glam of the typical designs weren’t enough anymore. No. Adam’s models would rise from the ashes, not in the glowing light of stardom but in the sultry shadows of allure and mystery.

Adam groaned, letting out a frustrated breath as his friend gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm, telling him they were headed out for a smoke break. He waved them off, too absorbed in his failure to respond properly. Every line he sketched felt wrong. His ideas twisted and crumbled the moment he put them on paper. With a defeated sigh, Adam laid his head on the table, turning his face to the side as his arms formed a fortress around him, his forehead resting on his makeshift barricade. The weight of his creative block felt unbearable.

Then, a soft chuckle drifted from above. Adam blinked, lifting his head to see Sera standing over him, her cool grey eyes taking in the array of models he had spread across his desk. For a brief moment, Adam expected the usual dismissive comment, the same ridicule he’d been receiving from everyone else. But Sera said nothing of the sort. Instead, her lips curled into a sly smile.

“Hazbins?” she asked, her voice low and almost teasing.

Adam sat up straighter, feeling a flicker of hope, and gave a sheepish shrug. “It’s a play on words.”

Sera’s smirk widened, clearly appreciating the joke. “I see.”

Her gaze lingered on the models before returning to him. “And what would the Hazbins theme be?”

Adam’s smile faltered, his excitement fading as quickly as it had appeared. He groaned, running a hand through his tousled hair. “That’s the problem. I can’t come up with one. I’ve been stuck all morning.”

Sera hummed thoughtfully, crossing her arms. “I know that feeling all too well.”

She gestured with a subtle tilt of her head, inviting Adam to walk with her. “Come with me. Sometimes, when I’m stuck, a walk around the building helps. You never know what might inspire you.”

Adam grinned, eager for any break in his mental block, and quickly agreed. He followed her through the halls, their steps echoing softly as they moved past the bustling design room. The tension in Adam’s chest began to ease as they strolled side by side, the rhythm of their walk soothing him.

After a few moments of quiet, Adam finally asked, his curiosity piqued, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Sera’s cool gaze flicked to him, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

“I was on the board of decisions for this year’s internships,” she said, her tone casual.

Adam blinked, his brows knitting together. “Really?”

Sera nodded. “We had a lot of young artists apply. Normally, we wouldn’t take someone so fresh out of university.”

His curiosity deepened. “Then why did you accept me?”

Sera’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with something almost secretive. “Because I can recognize talent when I see it.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat. He stared at her in awe, his mind reeling. She had believed in him all along?

They came to a stop by a large set of windows that overlooked the company’s sprawling garden. Sera leaned against the frame, her eyes gazing out at the view with a serene smile.

“I liked how you sketched back then,” she continued softly, her voice carrying a touch of nostalgia. “The raw emotion you put into your designs was exactly what we were looking for. You didn’t just draw… you felt it.”

Adam noticed the shift in her tone—past tense. His heart sank slightly, realizing what she was implying.

“You need to stop thinking so hard,” she added, her voice low and almost intimate. “You’re letting your mind get in the way of your instincts. Just… let it out. That’s when the magic happens.”

Adam swallowed, nodding, though the weight of her words pressed heavily on him. He turned to gaze out of the window as well, taking in the beauty of the garden below. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of trees, casting warm golden rays that painted the leaves with soft red and amber hues. The light danced across the landscape, creating a stunning tapestry of colours that seemed to shift and shimmer with every breeze. Adam couldn’t help but marvel at how peaceful it looked, like a scene from a dream.

His breath hitched, eyes widening as he caught sight of a figure sitting on the grass.

Lucifer Morningstar.

The name struck him like lightning. Michael’s older twin brother. The company’s retired golden boy, and Lilith’s fiercest rival. For years, Lucifer had been the face that adorned countless magazine covers, his popularity surpassing even Lilith’s at her peak. He was a legend—mysterious, untouchable.

Adam’s gaze lingered on the man below, who sat elegantly on the grass, feeding bread to a few ducks. The afternoon sunlight bathed Lucifer in a warm glow, highlighting the shimmering strands of his golden hair, which fell in soft waves around his face. His brilliant blue eyes, half-lidded and serene, glimmered in the sunlight, their cool depths seeming to capture the very sky itself.

“He’s beautiful…” Adam breathed out, almost to himself. His heart pounded as he took in the sight of the man, his chest tightening at the sheer presence Lucifer exuded, even in such a quiet moment.

Sera sighed softly beside him. “Such a shame he retired. He was so young.”

Adam gulped, tearing his eyes away from the vision below. “Why did he retire?”

Sera’s smile faded slightly, and she shook her head. “Personal reasons. I’m not going to delve into it.”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if recalling something bittersweet. “But the company would welcome him back with open arms if he ever decided to return. Can you imagine the explosion if Lucifer came back? Every department would be scrambling to work with him again.”

Adam listened in silence, his attention drifting back to Lucifer. There was something so captivating about him—his grace, the quiet way he moved, the warmth in his smile as he sat with the ducks. Adam’s eyes traced the soft blush of his cheeks, the same natural rosiness that had captivated fans for years. There had always been rumours that Lucifer’s makeup was enhanced during shoots, but seeing him now, in this unfiltered moment, Adam realized the blush had always been real.

Lucifer reached into a small bag, pulling out a shining red apple. As he bit into it, the sun shifted again, casting a delicate array of shadows across his body. The leaves above danced together, and for a brief, magical moment, the shadows framed him like wings—six ethereal wings, as if the very earth recognized his angelic presence.

Adam blinked in awe, his breath catching in his throat. Something inside him stirred, vibrating with a deep, sudden realization. “

Oh…” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Sera glanced at him; curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Adam gasped, his entire body shuddering as the revelation hit him like a tidal wave. He turned to her; eyes wide with excitement.

“Oh, I got to go!” he nearly squealed, the spark of inspiration blazing to life. “I’m sorry, Sera, I’ve got to go!”

Without waiting for her reply, Adam bolted down the hall, his heart racing with newfound purpose. Sera watched him speed off, a bemused smile tugging at her lips. She placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head in amusement.

Glancing back at the garden, her eyes met Lucifer’s curious gaze. He waved wearily, offering her a gentle smile. Sera awkwardly waved back before turning sharply and sighing deeply to herself.

“What a shame he retired…” she muttered, her voice laced with quiet longing.

Adam burst back into the design room, heart pounding with anticipation, making sure to steer clear of the senior desks. He practically flew to his own corner, relieved to find it still empty. His hands trembled as he fell into his chair, adrenaline surging through him. Without a second thought, he seized his pencil, the memory of Lucifer in the garden still vivid, still glowing in his mind. Every detail burned into his imagination—the way the sunlight framed Lucifer, casting delicate wings from the shadows of the trees. His fingers danced feverishly over the paper, sketching as if driven by something primal, a deeper force beyond his control.

Lucifer didn’t have wings in reality, but in Adam’s mind, they unfurled, majestic and otherworldly. His pencil twirled, bringing to life the angelic vision that shimmered in his mind’s eye. Emerald eyes gleamed from the page, full of ancient wisdom, seduction, and untold power. His chest tightened with excitement as he continued to sketch, knowing full well he couldn’t use the retired model in his Hazbin pitch. But something, some mysterious pull, urged him to keep drawing Lucifer anyway.

With a gentle stroke, he added a top hat, laughing softly to himself at the juxtaposition—something so refined yet mischievous. A delicate halo encircled the brim, like a crown of light tainted by shadows. His pencil moved fluidly, as though bewitched, and soon Lucifer was draped in flowing, elegant robes, each fold and ripple caressed by the imaginary breeze that Adam saw in his mind’s eye.

The sketch took on a life of its own. Adam paused, staring at the breathtaking figure before him, his hand itching to add colour—a sensation he usually ignored. Colouring had always felt secondary to him, something he left for last with minimal care. But this time, the urge was so overwhelming it made his fingers twitch with need. His eyes shifted to the old, rare watercolours his mother had left him, the elegant black box sitting patiently on the shelf.

Adam’s heart raced as he reached for the box, his hands trembling ever so slightly. He opened it with a reverence reserved for sacred things, selecting the colours with care—yellow, orange, red, blue, green, pink, and white. It felt like a ritual, and as he dipped his brush and began to paint, he realized he was not merely colouring but bringing something divine to life. The hues bled together, creating a luminous, delicate masterpiece. Each brushstroke breathed life into Lucifer Morningstar, who now sat on the page as the angel who had once walked in the heavens.

Lucifer—the true Morningstar Angel. Adam could hardly believe he’d captured him in this light, this way. It was almost laughable—the irony of painting the fallen angel who had given the apple of knowledge to Adam and Eve. His lips quirked into a smile, amused at the symbolism he hadn’t even intended. But as his eyes roamed over the final painting, an idea—a theme—began to swirl in his mind like a whisper from the cosmos.

Heaven. Hell. Knowledge and damnation. The story of Lucifer’s fall, of him giving humanity the apple of knowledge and being cast down for it. And then, in Hell, witnessing the consequences—the Sinners, who entered his dominion because of that single act of defiance.

Adam’s breath hitched, excitement flooding his veins. Lucifer, the King of Hell... The vision of it was so clear, so powerful. His entire body tingled as the concept came together in his mind, piece by piece, until it felt like a masterpiece begging to be unleashed.

This time, Adam didn’t stay late at the office, though every fiber of his being wanted to. He left on time, unable to think of anything but the theme—his entire body buzzing with it, as though lightning had struck him. His fingers twitched at his sides, eager to hold a pencil again, to keep sketching, keep creating. He was nervous—no, terrified—by the boldness of the idea, the enormity of what he was about to pitch. But that fear was intoxicating. It pushed him, thrilled him.

Adam couldn’t shake the thought of Lucifer Morningstar. The man was a legend, a god-like figure in the modelling world, and even though he was retired, there was something so irresistible about using him. Lucifer, with his perfect face, his golden hair that shimmered in the sun, his brilliant blue eyes that could pierce through to someone’s soul. Adam bit his lip, his thoughts spinning wildly. He couldn’t officially use Lucifer in his design—he knew that. But that wouldn’t stop him from drawing inspiration from the retired model, from weaving him into the very heart of his concept.

In his mind, Lucifer would become the anchor, the forbidden muse around which everything revolved. He was the spark—the one who gave humanity the knowledge that led to sin, the one who had been cast down for it. The Hazbin pitch would be centred on that moment of temptation, on the forbidden fruit and the world that came from it—Hell itself.

Adam’s pulse quickened. He didn’t think anyone had done something like this before. It was new, daring, and so close to the edge it made his hands shake. What would people say? How would they react? A part of him was terrified of the backlash, of the potential failure. But another part—the part that had been sitting dormant for so long—thrived on the idea of pushing boundaries, of creating something no one had dared to before.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts in his mind, though his excitement wouldn’t die down.

Lucifer, King of Hell, he thought again, smiling to himself.

The title alone sent shivers through him. And though Lucifer was no longer in the spotlight, no longer a model, Adam knew that he had become something far greater in his world—a legend, an idea that couldn’t be pinned down by contracts or retirements.

He may not officially be part of the project, but Lucifer Morningstar would forever be intertwined with it, unofficially the beating heart of Adam’s vision.

As Adam walked home, his thoughts swirling like a storm, he couldn’t help but laugh softly to himself. He was both exhilarated and terrified—nervous beyond belief. But more than anything, he felt alive.

Adam was humming to himself, completely lost in thought as he turned the corner, eyes closed, a smile playing on his lips. The thrill of his new project still buzzed in his veins, making him giddy with excitement. He didn’t even notice the man stepping out of the nearby store until it was too late.

Crash.

They collided with a surprising force, sending both tumbling to the ground. Adam’s sketchpad and various materials scattered across the pavement, his precious painting slipping from his grasp and landing right in front of the stranger.

“Oh, man, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Adam babbled, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he hurried to gather his things. He didn’t bother to look up at first, too busy trying to collect his scattered thoughts and belongings.

A soft grunt came from the man he had bumped into, and Adam heard him mutter something under his breath as he rubbed the back of his head. It wasn’t until Adam’s hand reached for the painting—only to find it already in someone else’s grasp—that he finally turned to face the person he had crashed into.

And froze.

The sight of him hit Adam like a tidal wave, stealing the breath right out of his lungs. Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar, the very man Adam had just been painting, was sitting there, staring intently at the artwork in his hands. His golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his brilliant blue eyes were framed by impossibly long lashes that only added to his ethereal beauty. Adam's mouth opened and closed, words escaping him, his heart hammering in his chest. His cheeks flamed crimson as he stuttered an incoherent apology, barely able to comprehend the situation.

“I—uh—I didn’t mean to…” Adam fumbled.

His pulse roaring in his ears, watching Lucifer’s expression for any sign of anger, but the retired model’s face remained impassive. Was he mad? Would he be upset that people were still sketching him even after all this time? Adam’s mind raced with anxiety, fearing the worst.

Lucifer blinked, his eyes softening as he turned his gaze from the painting to Adam.

“Did you make this?” His voice was smooth, calm, and utterly captivating.

Adam nodded, swallowing hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Y-yeah, I did.”

Lucifer hummed, his gaze returning to the painting, and for a moment, Adam could only stand there, breathless, as he watched the man take in every detail of his work.

"It's beautiful," Lucifer said softly, his voice warm but distant, as if lost in thought.

Adam blinked, utterly floored by the words.

“Excuse me?” he blurted out, disbelief creeping into his tone.

Lucifer’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles as he slowly got to his feet, the painting still in hand. He looked at it once more, turning it slightly in the sunlight, allowing the vibrant colors to dance on the canvas.

“I said it’s really good. I like it.” He then handed the painting back to Adam with a slow, deliberate motion. "I don’t usually like most designers’ interpretations of me."

Adam stood there, in awe, as he gingerly took the painting back. His fingers brushed against Lucifer’s as he did, sending a jolt of electricity through him. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe that Lucifer Morningstar—the legend—had just complimented his work.

“Do… do you really like it?” Adam asked in a hushed voice, still unsure if this was some sort of dream.

Lucifer chuckled softly, a low, velvety sound that sent shivers down Adam’s spine.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” he replied, his brilliant blue eyes meeting Adam’s. There was something in his gaze, something warm and genuine, that made Adam’s heart pound even harder.

Adam’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions—disbelief, joy, terror, and something else entirely that made his breath catch in his throat. He was standing face-to-face with Lucifer Morningstar, and the man was complimenting his art. The one figure that had inspired him more than anyone, the one he thought would never even glance his way, was standing here, admiring his work.

“I—I don’t know what to say…” Adam murmured, feeling his heart race. “I-I’m Adam.”

He looked up at Lucifer, who now seemed so much more than just a figure in his painting. He was real, tangible, and even more beautiful up close. There was something mesmerizing about him—an effortless grace, a magnetism that Adam couldn’t quite put into words. His presence was overwhelming, like standing in the presence of something otherworldly.

Lucifer smiled, a soft, almost tender expression that made Adam’s stomach flip.

“There’s nothing you need to say,” he said simply, stepping back with an easy elegance. “Just keep doing what you're doing.”

“I’ll see you around, Adam.”

Adam could hardly breathe as he watched Lucifer turn and walk away, the moment leaving him both shaken and exhilarated. His heart was still pounding in his chest, his thoughts swirling in every direction, but one thing was clear—this was just the beginning.

As he clutched the painting close to his chest, Adam felt something light up inside him, a spark of inspiration and courage he hadn’t felt in a long time. Lucifer’s words echoed in his mind, filling him with a sense of confidence he hadn’t known was possible.

Maybe—just maybe—he was on the right path after all.

Adam had been on cloud nine the rest of that evening, practically gliding home, his feet barely touching the ground. His lips were curled into a grin so wide it made him look like a meerkat basking in the sun. It was a kind of happiness he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. Lucifer Morningstar had complimented his work—his painting! It was surreal, like something out of a dream. Adam hummed to himself, his heart light, hopeful that tomorrow would be just as good.

But it wasn’t.

The next day was an absolute disaster. Worse than anything he could have imagined. The seniors had him running around like a headless chicken, darting from one ridiculous task to another. He wasn’t pitching today—or all week, actually—so he’d been relegated to the role of the errand boy, pouring coffee and tea, fetching snacks for the seniors while the interns presented their ideas. Adam stood on the sidelines, watching as his friend made their pitch, and he saw the way the seniors’ faces pinched, how Sera’s lips curled in subtle disappointment. Everyone got feedback, but no one was taken to the next stage.

Adam’s heart sank for his friend, watching them deflate under the weight of rejection. He wanted to say something comforting, something to lift their spirits, but nothing seemed right.

For the rest of the week, Adam was the errand boy—every day, running around, fetching drinks and food. It was humiliating, but in some small way, a relief. Every time he sat down to work on his own pitch, his mind blanked. He couldn’t get anything onto paper. The creative high he'd been riding was now nothing more than a distant memory, washed away by the endless monotony of menial tasks.

Then came the day that everything truly fell apart.

Adam was rushing through the company garden, a large tray of lunches balanced precariously in his hands, when disaster struck. His foot caught on something, and with a yelp, he tripped forward, sending the entire tray of food flying. He crashed to the ground, covered in salads, sandwiches, and drinks, his face and clothes a mess of spilled liquids and sauce.

For a moment, he just lay there, stunned. The week had started so perfectly, and now it felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke on him. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as humiliation washed over him. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, someone crouched down beside him, and the bag that had fallen over his head was gently lifted.

"Are you alright?" came a deep, smooth voice filled with concern. "That looked like a nasty fall."

Adam’s eyes shot up, his breath catching in his throat. It was him. Lucifer Morningstar. Of all the people to find him in this state, it had to be Lucifer. Adam’s face turned beet red, his mouth opening and closing, words failing him completely. He could hardly think, let alone speak, as Lucifer’s piercing blue eyes locked onto his.

"I... I..." Adam stammered, utterly mortified.

Lucifer didn’t seem phased by Adam’s embarrassment. Instead, his expression softened, and without hesitation, he reached out a hand to help Adam up.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a gentle smile. “No one else saw.”

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, and though Lucifer’s reassurance was kind, it did little to ease the burning humiliation he felt. His vision blurred with unshed tears, and he could barely hold it together when a voice called his name.

Sera appeared, rushing over with concern written all over her face. "Adam! Are you okay? I saw what happened from upstairs!"

Adam was too flustered to respond, but Lucifer turned to her and said smoothly, “He had a bit of a rough fall. I think he might have smacked his chin.”

Sera’s eyes widened in alarm as she moved closer to Adam, her hands hovering as if she wanted to help. “Do you need to sit down? Should we call an ambulance?”

“No!” Adam’s voice cracked as he scrambled to assure them both. “I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

Sera frowned, her worry etched clearly in her expression. “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. I’ve noticed how hard the seniors have been pushing you this week. A bit of time off might help you focus on your own pitch.”

Lucifer’s brow arched slightly at Sera’s comment, his gaze flickering between her and Adam. Adam, on the other hand, could only look down, his face growing hotter by the second.

Sera lingered for a moment before she nodded, giving Adam a soft smile. “Think about it, okay? Take care of yourself.” With that, she left the two of them alone, retreating back into the building.

Adam exhaled a long, shaky breath, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion and embarrassment. “I wonder who else saw that,” he muttered under his breath, his face still burning.

Lucifer’s gaze was steady as he reached out and gave Adam’s shoulder a gentle pat.

“It happens to everyone,” he said softly. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

His voice was calm, soothing, and for a brief moment, Adam felt the tension ease slightly from his body.

Before he could respond, Lucifer started guiding him toward the nearest bathroom. The walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable, the silence broken only by the rustling of leaves in the garden. Once inside, Lucifer helped Adam clean the mess from his clothes, his touch careful yet confident.

“On the bright side,” Lucifer said with a light chuckle, “at least you weren’t carrying hot liquids.”

Adam managed a small smile, but the embarrassment still clung to him. Lucifer seemed to sense his unease, his eyes softening as they continued their quiet work. After a few more minutes of wiping away food stains, Lucifer sat down beside Adam, their backs against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall.

“I was bullied when I first started out, you know,” Lucifer said casually, his voice breaking the silence.

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise, his gaze snapping to Lucifer. “You were?”

Lucifer smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, of course. I was this geeky, skinny brat from the Highlands. Thought I was better than everyone, and believe me, nobody liked me. For good reason.”

Adam blinked, taken aback by Lucifer’s honesty. He couldn’t imagine anyone bullying the elegant, confident man sitting next to him.

 “But... you’re Lucifer,” Adam said quietly, almost in disbelief.

Lucifer laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “I wasn’t always this Lucifer. It took time.”

He leaned back against the wall, his arm brushing lightly against Adam’s. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s been stuck as the errand boy.”

Adam frowned, glancing over at him. “You were?”

Lucifer nodded. “Oh, definitely. Had to run around, get everyone their coffee and food. The senior designers made sure of that.”

He shifted slightly, his hand brushing lightly against Adam’s knee in a way that felt deliberate. “But you’ll get through it. Just don’t let them get in your head.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat at the light touch, a strange warmth flooding his chest. “I just... I feel like I’m the only one they always stick with those jobs.”

Lucifer’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, his expression softening further.

“They’re testing you,” he said, his voice low. “Seeing how far they can push you.”

Adam sighed, the weight of the week pressing down on him.

“I thought you were retired,” he said, changing the subject, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Lucifer chuckled, his smirk returning. “I am.”

Adam blinked in confusion. “Then... why are you here?”

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he tilted his head. “What, I can’t miss the gardens?”

Adam’s cheeks flushed. “No! I mean, yes, of course you can! I didn’t mean it like that!” He stumbled over his words, panicking slightly as he worried about offending Lucifer.

Lucifer laughed again, a rich, melodic sound. “I’m just teasing you. I was actually invited back for a few meetings. They’re trying to get me to sign a new contract.”

Adam’s eyes widened in awe. “Are you going to do it? Another issue?”

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, his expression turning distant for a moment. “Probably not. For me to come out of retirement, it would have to be something... grand. Something I couldn’t say no to.”

Adam nodded, feeling a strange mix of admiration and curiosity. After a long pause, he asked in a quiet voice, “Why did you retire?”

Lucifer’s gaze darkened slightly as he looked at Adam, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I made a mistake,” he said softly, almost regretfully. “A mistake that led to some... bad things. For my own sake, I had to step away.”

Adam’s chest tightened, his heart aching at the pain in Lucifer’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Lucifer nudged him lightly with his shoulder, a soft grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault.”

Adam smiled weakly, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence again. After a while, Adam asked, “What were the designers like when you worked with them?”

Lucifer chuckled darkly, tapping his chin. “Predictable. After a while, I could tell what the next concept would be

Lucifer’s voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, as he leaned back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. Adam sat beside him, feeling both overwhelmed and strangely at ease in the intimate quiet of the moment. He listened closely as Lucifer spoke, his tone turning soft, reflective, as he shared his past experiences.

“You know,” Lucifer began, “it’s supposed to be a partnership. When the model likes your pitch, you present it to the higher-ups, and if they approve, it gets brought to the model you based it on. If the model likes it, you work together on it. If not, it goes to another model. Sort of a half-and-half deal.”

Adam nodded, absorbing every word. He could hardly believe he was sitting there, side by side with someone as legendary as Lucifer Morningstar, listening to his personal experiences. It felt surreal.

Lucifer’s voice took on a more thoughtful note.

“It really meant something to me when I liked a pitch,” he said quietly. “I remember being so eager, so excited to work with certain designers. But over time, it soured. Some of them became pushy, ignoring what I had to say. Sometimes I’d be shut down with nothing more than a wave of their hand, like my input didn’t matter. It infuriated me, to the point where there were certain designers I couldn’t work with anymore.”

Adam stared at Lucifer in awe, his mouth slightly agape, disbelief flooding his features. The idea of anyone shutting down Lucifer like that seemed absurd. He bristled with a flicker of anger on Lucifer’s behalf.

“That's awful,” Adam muttered, his voice tight with indignation.

Lucifer smiled warmly, a kind of tenderness in his expression.

“It’s alright now,” he said soothingly, his tone calming. “It doesn’t bother me anymore. But, yes, some designers were pretty pig-headed. They thought they knew best, but sometimes... I could just tell when something could be better, you know? And they wouldn’t listen.”

Adam’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “If someone like you agreed to be their model—to work with them—it would be a dream come true. How could they think they knew better?”

He spoke with such sincerity, unaware of how passionately his words tumbled out until Lucifer turned to look at him, his eyes soft, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“I would be beside myself if you liked my pitch,” Adam blurted, and then, realizing what he’d said, his face turned bright red. “I mean... I would listen to everything you said... I—I just mean, it’s... it’s common decency.”

Lucifer chuckled, the sound warm and rich, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You’re very sweet,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “But, trust me, it’s not as common as you’d think.”

Adam’s blush deepened, and he glanced down, feeling his heart race in his chest. The warmth of Lucifer’s gaze made him feel both flustered and flattered, emotions mixing together until he couldn’t quite tell which was stronger.

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued.

“So, tell me,” he said, his voice soft and inviting. “What about your own pitch? You must be working on one, right?”

Adam shifted uncomfortably, his embarrassment now tinged with frustration.

“Yeah... I am,” he admitted, though his tone was far from confident.

Lucifer hummed, his gaze steady as he watched Adam. “How’s it coming along?”

A deep sigh escaped Adam, and he buried his face in his hands for a moment before groaning.

“It’s not,” he confessed. “I can’t even start it. I have an idea, but no concept. It’s just... stuck. I’m running out of time, and I don’t even know where to begin.”

Lucifer shifted closer to Adam, his presence warm and steady.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” he suggested, his voice gentle, the words almost a caress. His hand brushed lightly along Adam’s arm, the touch sending a subtle shiver through him. “I’ve got plenty of time. I’d love to hear about your idea.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” he asked, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. Adam looked up, blinking in surprise. “Surely you have more important things to do.”

Lucifer smiled, a soft, reassuring smile that made Adam’s heart flutter.

“Nope,” he said, his tone light. “I’m completely free. These days, I’ve got so much free time, I never know what to do with it.”

Then his voice softened further, more intimate, as his fingers lightly grazed Adam’s arm again. “And besides... I’d really love to hear about your idea.”

The sincerity in Lucifer’s words, combined with the subtle, almost tender way he touched him, sent a warmth flooding through Adam. He smiled shyly, his heart pounding as he gathered his thoughts.

“Well...” Adam began, his voice a little shaky, “it’s not even a full idea. More like half of one.”

Lucifer nodded, encouraging him to continue, his expression one of patient interest.

Adam took a deep breath. “The idea... it came from you, actually.”

Lucifer blinked in surprise, his brows lifting slightly. “From me?” he echoed, intrigued.

“Yeah... You were in the garden, feeding the ducks,” he said, his voice growing quieter as he spoke. Adam nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up again. “I saw you from the third-floor window... You were eating an apple.”

Lucifer’s expression shifted, his eyes growing distant as he seemed to recall the moment. Slowly, he nodded. “I remember.”

Adam bit his lip, feeling nervous but determined to explain.

“The way the shadows of the trees fell across you... it made it look like you had wings,” he said softly, his heart racing as he spoke. “And that’s where the idea came from.”

Lucifer’s gaze sharpened, his eyes locking onto Adam’s with an intensity that made his breath catch.

“The painting,” he murmured, realization dawning in his voice.

Adam nodded again, feeling a little exposed but also strangely relieved. “Yeah. The painting.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt charged, thick with something unspoken. Lucifer’s eyes were fixed on Adam, his gaze soft and searching, and Adam found himself lost in the brilliant blue depths.

Then Lucifer smiled, slow and warm, his eyes gleaming with something Adam couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve got a good eye,” he said softly, his voice almost a purr. “That’s a beautiful concept.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat, his pulse quickening at the praise. He wasn’t sure if it was the compliment or the way Lucifer looked at him—like he was truly seeing him—that made his chest tighten with emotion. All he knew was that, in that moment, he felt something shift between them, something deeper and more intimate than before.

Lucifer’s hand lingered on Adam’s arm, his fingers brushing lightly against his skin as he leaned in just a little closer.

“You’re more talented than you give yourself credit for,” he whispered, his voice low and warm, sending a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Adam swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, unable to tear his eyes away from Lucifer’s.

“Th-Thank you,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer’s smile deepened, and for a moment, Adam wondered if he could feel it too—the unspoken tension between them, the subtle pull drawing them closer.

“You’re welcome,” Lucifer said softly, his voice full of promise. “Now... tell me more about this idea.”

Lucifer’s warm chuckle filled the small, quiet space of the bathroom as Adam shyly admitted his inspiration.

“Well... when I saw you in the garden like that, it sorts of made me think of the Bible,” Adam said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He glanced at Lucifer, feeling both flustered and nervous.

“Oh?” Lucifer’s laughter was soft, almost melodic. “I can imagine.”

Adam’s cheeks flushed a little deeper, and he gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah... well, with your name being Lucifer and you looking like an angel, I couldn’t help but think of the Lucifer. You know, the one who became the King of Hell.”

Lucifer tilted his head, curiosity dancing in his brilliant blue eyes.

“Is that your pitch, then?” he asked, voice gentle and amused. “Something centred around the fallen angel from Eden?”

Adam quickly shook his head. “No, no—that’s more the lore. Not the pitch itself.”

“Lore?” Lucifer’s interest deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned in, intrigued. “Go on, tell me more about this lore of yours.”

Adam hesitated for a moment, feeling both excited and nervous under Lucifer’s focused gaze. He took a breath and tried to explain. “Well... since you’re retired and I couldn’t exactly use you as a model, I thought I’d still use the idea of you. So... you’re the lore. The story behind the concept. The pitch is something about Heaven and Hell, set after Lucifer—uh, you—became the King of Hell.”

Lucifer’s expression softened as he listened, his blue eyes darkening slightly, a hooded look crossing his face as Adam’s words sank in. There was something in Lucifer’s gaze, something Adam didn’t quite understand, but it sent a flutter of nervous energy through him.

“And who’s your model, then?” Lucifer asked, his voice soft yet laced with curiosity.

Adam’s face brightened with enthusiasm, momentarily forgetting his nerves. “I wanted to do something different! Everyone in the department is so stuck on Lilith Leonhart. Every issue looks the same because they’re all using her, and I just... it’s not interesting anymore. So I looked into some of the less popular models.”

Lucifer’s eyes lit up with renewed interest, his curiosity piqued.

“Are you using them?” he asked, a note of excitement creeping into his voice.

Adam nodded, smiling brightly. “Yes! I want to use them as the focus for my pitch, to make the issue revolve around them—instead of using models to serve the issue. I want to highlight them.”

Lucifer’s blue eyes widened, truly fascinated now. The depth of his gaze made Adam’s heart skip a beat, and for a moment, Adam felt like he was the only person in the world as Lucifer focused on him.

“And what would the issue be about, then?” Lucifer asked, leaning closer, his eyes gleaming with genuine interest.

Adam’s enthusiasm faltered for a second, and he sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the uncertainty that had been plaguing him for days.

“That’s where I’m stuck,” Adam admitted, his voice quiet and frustrated. “I don’t know what the theme and concept are yet. I’ve tried to write some, but none of them feel right.”

Lucifer seemed to understand immediately. He smiled softly, watching Adam with an almost tender expression.

“That’s where you’re stuck, isn’t it?” he said gently.

Adam nodded, his frustration palpable as he exhaled slowly. “Yeah... I’m stuck there.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened further, and he shifted closer to Adam, his presence warm and reassuring.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said in a low, comforting voice, lightly brushing his hand along Adam’s arm again. The touch was gentle, almost soothing, and it sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Adam looked over at Lucifer, his breath catching in his throat. There was something about the way Lucifer was watching him, the way his touch lingered just a little too long, that made Adam’s heart race.

“I... I don’t know,” Adam murmured, feeling the weight of Lucifer’s gaze on him. “Maybe I am...”

Lucifer’s smile deepened, his eyes never leaving Adam’s face.

“You’ve got the core of it already,” he said, his voice soft and encouraging. “You’ve got the models, the lore, and the passion. The rest will come.”

Adam’s chest tightened, not just from the weight of the project but from the sudden closeness between them. He could feel the warmth of Lucifer’s body next to his, the way their shoulders brushed, how Lucifer’s hand still rested lightly against his arm. It was enough to make his thoughts swirl.

Lucifer leaned in slightly, his breath warm against Adam’s ear as he whispered, “Tell me more about your idea. What’s the vision in your head?”

Adam swallowed hard, trying to focus, but it was difficult with Lucifer so close, with the way his voice sent shivers through him.

“It’s... it’s about redemption,” he said quietly, his voice a little shaky. “Fallen angels, like you—well, like the lore you. It’s about reclaiming what’s been lost... finding a way back to the light, even after you’ve fallen.”

Lucifer’s hand slid down Adam’s arm, his fingers grazing his wrist in a way that made Adam’s pulse quicken.

“That’s beautiful,” Lucifer murmured, his voice filled with admiration. “You’ve got a real heart for this, Adam. Don’t doubt yourself.”

Adam blushed, feeling his heart pound in his chest. Lucifer’s closeness, his gentle touch, and the way he spoke to him—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“I don’t know how to make it all work yet,” Adam whispered, his gaze dropping to where Lucifer’s hand now rested against his. “I feel like I’m so far behind everyone else.”

Lucifer’s fingers curled slightly around Adam’s hand, and he gently lifted Adam’s chin with his other hand, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“You’re not behind,” Lucifer said softly, his voice low and intimate. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. Adam felt like he was falling into those brilliant blue eyes, lost in the warmth and intensity of Lucifer’s gaze. He swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks burn as Lucifer’s fingers lingered on his skin, the touch electrifying.

“Thank you,” Adam whispered, his voice barely audible.

Lucifer smiled—a slow, soft smile that made Adam’s heart flutter.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured. “Just... believe in yourself, Adam. You’re more than capable of making this work. I can see it in you.”

Adam nodded slowly, his breath hitching slightly as Lucifer’s fingers lightly traced the back of his hand. He couldn’t quite process everything that was happening—Lucifer’s encouragement, his closeness, the way he made Adam feel like he was the only person that mattered.

Lucifer’s smile deepened, his eyes gleaming with something warm and unreadable.

“I think you’re going to surprise yourself,” he said softly, his voice full of promise.

Adam’s heart swelled with emotion, the weight of Lucifer’s words filling him with a quiet confidence he hadn’t felt in days. And as they sat there, close and connected in the dim light, Adam realized something else—he was falling for Lucifer, and maybe, just maybe, Lucifer was falling for him too.

Adam couldn’t believe it—surprise himself, he did. Spending the day with the Lucifer Morningstar had felt like an impossible dream, something he’d never forget. He had been so close, so intimate with the retired model, and the thrill of it lingered in his veins as he made his way home. He had assumed nothing could top that feeling. But then, it happened.

It came out of nowhere, like a sudden flash of lightning on a clear day. Adam was wandering along the quiet streets, lost in thought, when his eyes drifted toward the abandoned theatre. He crossed the road, glancing over at the crumbling building, when he saw them—a father and his daughter standing outside. The father was animated, speaking excitedly to the little girl, who seemed to vibrate with joy. As the moments passed, their laughter grew louder, the father eventually lifting her into his arms and spinning her around in pure delight. Their laughter echoed through the air like music, tugging at something deep inside Adam.

A daughter.

The idea hit him with such force that Adam nearly stumbled. His heart raced as he stood frozen on the street, staring at the joyful scene. Lucifer should have had a daughter. That’s who the issue would center around—the Princess of Hell, Lucifer’s daughter, who was determined to fulfill her father’s old, broken dreams of redeeming the sinful souls of humanity. The concept burned through him, igniting his imagination with such clarity that he gasped aloud.

His feet moved before his mind could catch up. Practically bouncing with excitement, Adam raced back to his tiny flat, his breath coming in short bursts as he climbed the stairs two at a time. Once inside, he didn’t even pause to catch his breath. He swept everything off his desk in one motion, grabbed his sketchbook, and flipped to an empty page. His hands trembled with anticipation as he thumbed through the various models he’d clipped into his notebook—hazbin models, ones no one else seemed to notice.

His gaze landed on Charlotte Haz, and he froze.

Charlotte Haz... the rumours about her flashed in his mind—the whispers that she could have been Michael’s daughter when she first debuted, even though it was impossible. If Michael had a daughter, he would’ve been twelve at the time. But still... the resemblance between her and Lucifer was uncanny. The sharp angles of her face, the intensity of her gaze—everything about her screamed of Lucifer’s lineage. Her last name too—Haz. It was as if the universe had already written the story for him. Charlotte would be the star, the heart of the issue.

The Princess of Hell. Lucifer’s daughter.

Excitement coursed through Adam as he began to unpack his supplies, grabbing a pencil and lightly sketching out Charlotte’s features. But something nagged at him, and he paused, frowning in thought. She wouldn’t look completely human, would she? Not if she were a demon now. A half-human, half-angel hybrid... yes, that was it. Lucifer was a fallen angel, so his daughter would carry both the heavenly and infernal traits.

His mind raced with possibilities. She would still be beautiful, of course, but with demonic features—goat hooves, curling horns, a sleek tail, claws—yet she would still maintain that ethereal, humanoid beauty.

Gasping in realization, Adam’s pencil flew across the page, sketching Charlotte in her full demonic glory. His excitement grew with each stroke of his pencil. He drew her over and over again, experimenting with different styles, until finally, he settled on the perfect version of her.

Long, dark hair braided back, with strikingly familiar reddish cheeks, claws, and hooves. But her eyes—her eyes were what captivated him most. In real life, Charlotte’s eyes were a vivid green, but that felt too human for what he envisioned. She needed to stand out, to embody the power of Hell. With careful, delicate fingers, Adam reached for his mother’s watercolours, mixing shades of fiery red and molten gold, and painted her eyes. When he finished, a chill ran through him. The way those eyes gleamed on the page, so similar to Lucifer’s yet uniquely her own—it was perfect. Almost too perfect.

Adam leaned back, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the demonic beauty he had brought to life. But then another question stirred in his mind: How would she redeem humanity? What was her purpose, her mission? It had to be something Lucifer had attempted, something he had failed at.

His thoughts drifted back to the theatre, to how much he had admired the old grandeur of it. That’s when another idea struck—what if she ran a theatre? Or better yet, a hotel within a theatre, a sanctuary for lost souls. The Hazbin Hotel. The image formed in his mind, clearer than ever. A place where damned souls came to seek redemption, a last chance to claw their way back from Hell.

Adam grinned, already sketching Charlotte again—this time, in a hotel hostess outfit. He gave her red pants, a crisp white dress shirt, and a matching blazer, with a black ribbon tied around her neck. She looked perfect, exuding both elegance and strength, her demonic features only adding to her allure.

This is it, he thought, staring at her. This is the Princess of Hell, Charlie, who runs her Hazbin Hotel in hopes of redeeming souls.

His gaze swept over the pages filled with other ‘hazbin’ models, each one unique in their own way. Some would be residents of the hotel, forced to be there by fate or circumstance. Others would come willingly, seeking redemption or a second chance. Each of them would have their own style, their own story, their own struggle.

Adam smiled to himself, feeling a rush of satisfaction and pride. He had done it. He had created something entirely new, something that felt alive. Charlie, the Princess of Hell, and her hotel for the damned—her mission to redeem lost souls, picking up where her father left off. And as the excitement of his creation settled into something warm and satisfying, Adam couldn’t help but think of Lucifer again—how the model had been at the heart of this all, inspiring every detail.

And deep down, Adam wondered if Lucifer would be proud.

The day Adam had both eagerly anticipated and dreaded finally dawned, leaving him feeling half-dead and utterly frazzled. For three relentless days, he had poured every ounce of his creativity into his work, meticulously assembling a dazzling array of assets, designs, and models that shimmered with vibrant life. As he stood in his studio, his heart raced like a wild stallion, his skin tingling with anticipation, and his hair standing on end, electric with excitement.

His eyes swept across the breathtaking spread before him, each model a masterpiece that reflected a style so unique it felt like a glimpse into a world he had only dreamed of. But it was the finalized artwork of Lucifer that captivated him the most. In that moment, Adam couldn’t help but lose himself in the mesmerizing image of the King of Hell, resplendent in his pristine white suit, a jaunty top hat perched atop his head, and a whimsical apple cane gripped in his hand. Lucifer’s sharp-toothed grin radiated mischief and charm, and as Adam stared, a warm flush crept across his cheeks. He had to look away, shaking his head in disbelief—only he could find his own artwork so alluring.

Gathering his scattered thoughts, Adam rubbed his face and meticulously packed his creations, securing each piece with a protective embrace. But then, he caught sight of the clock, and a horrified squeal escaped his lips; he was five minutes late! Panic surged through him, and he darted around his flat like a headless chicken, collecting his belongings and racing toward the company building.

His heart thundered in his chest, pounding like a drum as he arrived just in time to see Lucifer entering the building. The sight was mesmerizing; it felt as if time had slowed, the world around him fading into a soft blur. With a twinkle of mischief in his eye, Lucifer greeted him, a delightful laugh escaping his lips.

“Someone seems happy,” he teased, his smile sweet and inviting.

Adam’s heart soared at the sight of him, a radiant warmth enveloping him like a soft blanket.

“I’m so sorry! I can’t chat—I’m late for my pitch!” he exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement. “Wish me luck!”

But before Adam could turn to flee, Lucifer's fingers wrapped around his arm, gently pulling him back. With a playful glint in his eyes, he leaned in and pressed his soft lips to Adam’s cheek, whispering a melodious, “Good luck~”

That sent shivers racing down Adam’s spine. Stepping back with an air of smug satisfaction, Lucifer chuckled as Adam blinked in a daze, his cheeks burning hotter than the fiery depths of Hell.

“Y-you’re right! I’m late!” Adam gasped, suddenly jolted back to reality. Lucifer nodded, a teasing smile still dancing on his lips. “You should probably get going then.”

With a startled squeal, Adam spun on his heels, his heart racing as he began to run. But then, an audacious thought flickered through his mind, and he stopped in his tracks, turning back to face Lucifer once more. Gathering all his courage, he bravely pressed a gentle kiss to Lucifer’s cheek, his heart fluttering with vulnerability.

“Thank you for believing in me. I probably wouldn’t have made it to the pitch without your support.”

Lucifer’s blue eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks blooming with a rosy hue that matched Adam’s own.

“Adam, you’re late!” he exclaimed, the words tumbling out in a rush.

With a startled gasp, Adam shot off, leaving Lucifer standing there, his heart racing as he shyly touched his cheek where Adam had kissed him. A tender smile spread across his lips, the warmth of their brief connection enveloping him like a cherished secret, promising a future filled with laughter, creativity, and perhaps, love.

Adam stepped into the pitch room, a chill running down his spine as his eyes met the intimidating line of senior designers seated before him. The room felt heavy with judgment, their eyes scanning him with the precision of a thousand needles. He swallowed nervously, shuffling his feet as the weight of their stares pressed down on him.

"I—I'm sorry for being late," he muttered, sheepishly offering an apologetic smile.

His gaze flickered over to Sera, one of the more approachable seniors, who smiled at him warmly, offering a silent encouragement. That small gesture was enough to settle him, if only a little. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm inside him as he clumsily set up his presentation.

With shaking hands, Adam began, flipping up his first artwork—Lucifer as an archangel, bathed in a soft, radiant light, majestic and untainted.

“The core of my concept is the balance between Heaven and Hell,” he explained, his voice wavering. “Redemption. Souls being given a second chance at Heaven.”

His throat felt dry, and his hands trembled as he unveiled his next set of models, each one meticulously crafted. A deep breath. Focus. “This,” Adam gestured to his painting of Charlotte, her dark, angular features contrasting with her father’s sinister charm, “is Charlotte, the central figure. She’s the daughter of Lucifer and runs a hotel where sinners—those condemned to Hell—are offered a second chance at redemption.”

The room felt suffocating as he continued, explaining how each model represented different residents of the hotel, each with their own unique style and story. The words came out unevenly at first, shaky and stuttering, but the more he talked about his creations, the more his passion bled through.

When he finally finished, silence followed. It was broken by the harsh, slicing questions from the seniors.

"Why such a complicated concept?" one asked, their tone cutting like glass.

Adam hesitated, his mind scrambling for the right words. “I… I don’t think Heaven and Hell is that complicated. It’s a well-known idea in media, something people understand. But I wanted to explore it differently—through the lens of second chances of redemption.”

The next question was sharper, as if testing his resolve. “Why choose Charlotte Haz as the main model? Why not someone more prominent like Lilith Leonhart?”

Adam stammered, his voice faltering, unsure how to defend his choice. But before he could reply, the door at the back of the room creaked open, and in slipped Lucifer, as effortlessly composed as always. His blonde hair gleamed under the harsh lights, his sharp, cobalt eyes finding Adam in the crowd. Lucifer’s smile, soft and reassuring, washed over him, and instantly, the weight of anxiety lifted from Adam’s chest.

He drew in a breath, steadied by that glance, and turned back to the senior.

“Lilith is overused,” Adam said with newfound confidence. “I wanted someone new, someone fresh. Charlotte isn’t well-known, and that’s exactly the point. The audience will be intrigued by her because she’s different, unpredictable. They’ll want to come back to learn more about her.”

The seniors leaned in, more interested now. Adam pressed on, explaining that his models were meant to be outcasts, unfamiliar to the public, so that their stories would captivate in ways the more conventional characters couldn’t. Another senior frowned, crossing their arms.

"And the colours—red and purple?" they asked with a slight sneer. "They’re too harsh. Why choose those?"

“Red and purple have meaning,” Adam said, feeling strength in his explanation. “Lucifer’s story is about falling due to pride—purple is the colour of pride. Red represents passion, both destructive and transformative. These are the central themes of the project, and I want the audience to feel them in the designs.”

Another senior, this one fidgeting, asked, “And the fashionable outfits? They’re… bold.”

Adam’s eyes flicked to his paintings. “Every model has their own style, their own sense of identity. I didn’t want them to look the same, because they’re not the same. They’re individuals, each with their own journey to redemption, or failure. That’s what makes them real.”

The room quieted as the seniors muttered amongst themselves, their expressions hard to read. Adam’s heart pounded painfully in his chest as he twisted his fingers together, nerves biting at him like cold wind. Had he failed? Was it not enough?

And then Sera spoke, her voice cutting through the murmurs. “I like it.”

Immediately, the room fell silent, all eyes turning to her. Adam’s heart soared.

“It’s different,” she continued, her tone thoughtful, yet warm. “It’s fresh. It’s not like anything we’ve seen before, and it’ll give the project a new edge. It’ll make people think.”

One of the other seniors frowned, crossing their arms. “Sure, it’s different, but the models might be overlooked. A concept like this needs someone with more… relevance.”

Adam’s stomach sank, knowing exactly who they wanted. Lilith. He clenched his fists, not wanting to give up on Charlotte. She was perfect. She was his vision of redemption.

But then, from the back of the room, a voice smooth as silk cut through the tension. “Well, I like it the way it is, too.”

Heads whipped around, eyes wide with shock. Lucifer stood, his arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Sera’s eyes widened in surprise. “And how much do you like it?”

Lucifer’s smirk widened as he tilted his head, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “Enough to come out of retirement for.”

The room erupted in disbelief. The seniors gawked, their jaws nearly dropping. Sera, looking amused, turned to the senior who had been complaining earlier.

“Would Lucifer Morningstar be relevant enough for you?” she asked, her voice dripping with victory.

The senior flushed, stumbling over their words as they nodded furiously, unable to argue.

Adam’s heart raced as he met Lucifer’s gaze across the room. Everything else became background noise as the others began talking rapidly, making plans to take his pitch to the higher-ups. All Adam could see was Lucifer, who gave him a warm, knowing smile.

It was really good, Lucifer mouthed.

Adam blushed deeply, smiling back, his lips silently forming a grateful, "Thank you."

In that moment, he felt like he could conquer anything.

Two full months had swept by like a whirlwind, leaving Adam breathless and in awe. Everything had happened so fast, it felt like a dream he had yet to fully wake from. After the higher-ups heard his pitch, the green light came almost immediately—and Adam knew Lucifer’s involvement had been the key to tipping the scales in his favor. Lucifer coming out of retirement for this project? It had sent shockwaves through the industry, giving the whole thing a sparkle of prestige and a sense of gravity Adam hadn’t expected.

He remembered that day vividly, when all the Hazbin models gathered around, eyes wide, waiting to hear what was next. Adam could see the disbelief in their faces as he and Sera explained the concept. Charlotte, in particular, had looked utterly shocked. Her pale face and wide eyes held uncertainty as she hesitated to believe she was being considered for such a pivotal role.

She had even asked, her voice quivering, “Are you sure you want me?”

Without hesitation, Adam had exclaimed, “Yes! I want all of you!”

His enthusiasm was contagious, and it wasn’t long before the models shared excited looks and agreed to sign on. The contracts were inked in a flurry of excitement, and Adam was left feeling dizzy from how quickly things were moving. What had begun as a stylish, playful spread of colors and characters had spiraled into something so much bigger than anyone had anticipated.

And then there was Lucifer. His mere presence had electrified the entire project, boosting their ratings and igniting a wave of interest that no one could have foreseen. Soon, people were talking about not just fashion spreads, but TV series, movies, books, even video games. Adam could hardly keep up with the endless meetings. It seemed like every other day, he was being pulled into another room to discuss the future of Hazbin. One day, overwhelmed, he had turned to Sera and asked why everyone kept requesting him for these meetings.

Sera had blinked in surprise before softly explaining, “Adam, you own Hazbin Hotel. No one can just use its concept. The company is here to help you develop it.”

“Oh,” was all Adam had managed to say at the time, the reality of it sinking in slowly.

He hadn’t fully realized that this creation of his—this little passion project—was now something so vast and powerful, with limitless potential. And suddenly, everyone wanted him to expand it, to bring this world of Heaven and Hell to life in ways he had never even considered.

But amidst the chaos and pressure, Adam found peace in the models he’d worked so hard to bring together. Vagatha Luna, with her sharp, mysterious beauty, carried an air of quiet power, while Husker Card, with his brooding, intense gaze, brought an edge to every shot. Anthony Dust, with his playful smirk, challenged every convention, and then there was Alastor Shot, with his wild, unruly hair and vintage style that screamed of old-fashioned charm yet somehow worked perfectly within the bold, modern spread. And of course, Charlotte Haz. She was the glue that held it all together, her elegant portrayal of Lucifer’s daughter, the princess of Hell, elevating her to new heights of fame.

The father-daughter dynamic between Lucifer and Charlotte became iconic. The spreads of them together—Lucifer with his devilish smirk, Charlotte with her soft yet determined expression—captivated audiences. Their story gripped the hearts of fans, and soon, Charlotte suggested something that took their work to an even more touching level.

“Why not use my little sister, Hazel, to play a younger version of me?” she had said with a smile.

The idea was an instant hit. Adorable photoshoots of Lucifer and a six-year-old Charlie—Hazel playing her role with innocent sweetness—went viral. Fans ate it up, and it wasn’t long before the love for Hazbin exploded even further. The company, in response, dedicated ten full pages of its monthly publication solely to Adam’s Hazbin project—a move that was unprecedented but well-deserved. It gave Adam room to expand the characters’ backstories, to play with their dynamics in ways he hadn’t been able to before.

One of his favorite developments was the relationship between Charlotte and Vagatha. Adam had always thought they would make a compelling couple, and as he fleshed out their connection, it just worked. Vagatha—whom Adam had reimagined as a fallen angel—was hesitant at first, nervous about taking on a more prominent role. But she embraced the challenge, and soon, Charlotte and Vagatha’s bond became a centerpiece that fans adored.

And then there was Alastor, whose popularity surged beyond anything Adam had expected. Alastor’s idea to speak with a radio-static voice—a charming nod to an older era—became his signature, and Adam loved it. They even gave him a radio staff to carry as part of his character, and it became an iconic prop that fans instantly associated with him.

Angel Dust and Husker, too, found their own following. Adam found himself especially drawn to their dynamic, the chemistry between them palpable in every shoot. As Hazbin continued to grow, the company began suggesting new characters, more models to add to the expanding universe.

Through it all, Lucifer was by his side, quietly supporting Adam in ways that went beyond words. Late nights in the studio, reviewing character designs and storylines, were made sweeter by Lucifer’s presence. There was something comforting about the way he would sit beside Adam, casually leaning in to offer an opinion or teasing him with that ever-present smirk. And when the work became overwhelming, Lucifer had a way of calming him, his mere presence a reminder that Adam didn’t have to do it all alone.

"Purple isn't really my colour."

A sudden voice chimed in, cutting through Adam's swirling thoughts like a warm breeze. He blinked and turned, finding Lilith standing beside him, her figure both commanding and graceful. His face lit up immediately, beaming at her presence.

Lilith’s sharp blue eyes flicked down to the watercolour paintings Adam had carefully arranged on the table. He had been working tirelessly on these pieces for her, hoping to entice her into joining the Hazbin project. Now, six months in, the project had blossomed into something far beyond his original vision, and they were ready to add some of the most iconic faces into the mix—characters who would serve as powerful side players but would become integral in the years to come. Lilith wouldn’t make her debut right away, but when she did, it would be alongside other legendary figures like Eve, Lute, and countless more. The future felt electric with possibility.

Adam glanced down at the paintings again, feeling a surge of nervous pride. Lilith, the queen of seduction and darkness, draped in rich purples and blacks, her horned crown casting a shadow as regal as her presence. Her long, elegant dress shimmered in shades of amethyst, her gloves stretching up to her elbows, delicately concealing the claws that hinted at her fierce power.

“I wanted to try something a little different,” Adam explained, his voice soft but eager. “I know people usually don’t associate you with purple, but I thought... maybe this could be an exception. A twist on tradition.”

Lilith hummed thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on every detail of the artwork. She studied the sharpness of the horns, the fluidity of the dress, the subtle, hidden power the design implied. There was a contemplative silence as she weighed it all, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, her eyes lifted, meeting Adam's.

“Are you sure you want me to join?” she asked, her voice gentle but carrying an edge of vulnerability that Adam hadn’t expected.

Adam blinked, surprised by the question. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I? Is something bothering you about the role?”

Lilith shook her head, a small, rueful smile playing on her lips. “No, no. I love the role. It’s perfect for me, really.”

She paused, her gaze drifting back to the paintings. “I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Adam’s heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of admiration. Disappoint? He almost laughed at the thought, but instead, he let out a soft gasp, eyes wide with awe.

“Lilith, you could never disappoint anyone. You’re... you’re incredible! You’re a brilliant model, and I’m so excited to have you as part of this. I mean it. The project wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Her smile softened, warmth flickering in her eyes as she looked back at him. “You’re too kind, Adam.”

There was something almost tender in the way she said it, like she was letting down her guard just for a moment. “I can’t wait to work with you.”

Adam couldn’t contain his excitement, his entire face lighting up as he grinned at her.

“Neither can I! Does that mean you accept?” His voice was eager, almost childlike in its enthusiasm.

Lilith chuckled softly, a melodic sound that danced through the air. “Yes, Adam. I accept the role.”

Adam’s heart soared. He cheered softly in relief, his entire body relaxing as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you, Lilith! This is going to be amazing.”

She smiled warmly at him, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer before nodding. “I think so too.”

As she walked away, her presence still lingering in the air like a sweet perfume, Adam found himself glowing with pride. Every piece of the puzzle was falling into place.

Later that evening, Adam found himself back in his studio, surrounded by sketches and designs, his mind buzzing with excitement. But this time, he wasn’t alone. Lucifer stood behind him, leaning casually against the desk, watching Adam work with a fond, almost amused expression.

“You’re going to wear yourself out,” Lucifer teased softly, his voice like velvet as it filled the room.

Adam looked up from his drawings, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of Lucifer’s easy smile. He couldn’t help but grin back, a blush creeping up his neck. “I’m fine. Besides, there’s still so much to do.”

Lucifer’s lips curled into a smirk as he moved closer, his hand resting gently on Adam’s shoulder.

“You’ve done more than enough for one night.” His fingers traced delicate patterns on Adam’s arm, sending a shiver of warmth through him. “How about we take a break?”

Adam tilted his head up, meeting Lucifer’s gaze. The way those piercing blue eyes stared into his own, like they were seeing right through him, always made his heart race.

“A break?” he asked softly, though a teasing smile was playing on his lips. “And what would we do on this break?”

Lucifer leaned in closer, his breath warm against Adam’s cheek, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “I can think of a few things...”

Adam felt the heat rush to his face as Lucifer’s lips brushed his ear, sending a thrill down his spine. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this little universe they had created together. It was in moments like this that Adam realized just how much had changed since the day Lucifer first walked into his life.

They were partners in every sense of the word now. From the dazzling world of Hazbin to the quiet, intimate moments they shared late at night.

Adam looked up at Lucifer, his eyes softening as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” Adam murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. “For everything. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Lucifer’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he wrapped his arms around Adam, pulling him close.

“You did this all on your own. I just... gave you a little push.” His voice was warm and affectionate, the teasing edge replaced with something deeper.

A soft gasp escaped Adam as Lucifer shifted himself onto his lap, his fingers tracing along Adam’s shoulders. Adam meet Lucifer’s eyes, watching shyly as Lucifer began to rotate his hips. Grinding their hips together, making sure their hardening cocks beginning to rub together through their pants.

Leaning in close, Lucifer licked at Adam’s lips. He soft tongue tracing Adam’s soft lips until he parted them and his tongue slipped inside, meeting Adam’s.

“Have I ever told you…” Lucifer whispered, running his hands down Adam’s body. He rubbed his chest, traced his stomach and finally, slipped his fingers along Adam’s thighs. “I really love your thighs.”

“Um, no.” Adam said. “Don’t think you’ve ever mentioned my thighs before.”

Chuckling, Lucifer snipped at Adam’s chin and throat. He shifted himself off Adam’s lap, pushing his thighs over his and pressing down harshly with his hips. He purrs as Adam let out a delightful moan.

“I think they’re my second favourite part of you.”

“Second?” Adam laughed, cupping his lover’s face. “And what’s your first favourite?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lucifer asked lovingly, leaning forward to kiss him again. “Your mind. Your brain. I love what you make. I love what you can think up.”

The two began to kiss again, Lucifer beginning to rub his hips firmly against Adam’s. His fingers pulling at Adam’s t-shirt, pushing it up so he could touch the warm flesh. A shiver ran through Adam as he traced his fingers along the soft curve of his back.

“Adam, can we try something new?” he asked.

A hum escaped Adam. “Always.”

“I want…” Lucifer pulled back to meet Adam’s eyes. “I want to thigh fuck you.”

Adam stared. His mind fuzzy.

“What?”

A sharp grin spread across Lucifer’s face, a grin that sent a familiar, exhilarating shiver down Adam’s spine. It was a look Adam had come to know well—too well, in fact. Lucifer seemed to be merging with the very character Adam had painted him as, slipping between the lines of reality and fiction with an unsettling ease. His smile, wide and gleaming, carried all the same energy he embodied as the King of Hell—dazzling, dangerous, and impossibly charming.

Even without the costume or the fake sharp teeth, the effect was the same. His pearly whites gleamed with a hint of mischief, the smile teetering on the edge of intimidation. It was a look that could both seduce and terrify, depending on who was on the receiving end. Adam, sitting there under the weight of that smile, felt his heart skip a beat. He swallowed, unsure whether to laugh or shudder.

“You’re doing it again,” Adam murmured, his voice half-amused, half-nervous as he playfully narrowed his eyes at Lucifer.

Lucifer tilted his head, arching a brow in mock innocence.

“Doing what?” he asked, though his voice carried that telltale lilt, low and smooth, like a purr.

“That grin,” Adam said, pointing at him with a small, nervous laugh. “You look just like him—the King of Hell. Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re joking or if you’ve really become him.”

Lucifer chuckled, the sound rich and velvety, sending another wave of heat through Adam.

“Maybe I have,” he said with a wink, stepping closer, his presence intoxicating.

“Or maybe I’m just giving you what you wanted, hmm? The devilish charm you so meticulously designed.” His finger gently lifted Adam’s chin, bringing their faces close enough for Adam to feel Lucifer’s breath warm against his skin.

Adam’s blush deepened, though he kept his composure, his pulse racing in his ears.

“Well, it’s a little unnerving when the devil in my head starts standing in front of me,” he teased, though his voice wavered slightly under Lucifer’s gaze.

Lucifer’s grin softened, becoming less menacing and more affectionate, though the spark of danger never entirely left his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his tone softer now, though still steeped in mischief. “I’m still me. Your Lucifer, not the one in the paintings.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat at those words—your Lucifer.

It was in moments like this, when the playfulness gave way to something more sincere, that Adam felt the full weight of their connection. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten here, in this strange whirlwind where reality and fantasy blurred so effortlessly. But in Lucifer’s arms, he didn’t mind. There was a warmth, a safety, even in the chaos.

Lucifer leaned in, his lips brushing against Adam’s, not quite a kiss, but a promise of one.

“Besides,” he added with a smirk, pulling back just slightly, “It’s you who brought the devil to life. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

Adam chuckled, though his voice was breathless. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Adam,” Lucifer teased, his eyes gleaming playfully. “You might just get more than you bargained for.”

Adam’s heart raced, but he smiled, leaning into Lucifer’s touch. “I think I’m okay with that.”

"Now." Lucifer purred, beginning to strip Adam of his clothes. "Let me show you what I really want from you~"

And that was how Adam later found himself naked, on his knees with Lucifer behind him. A sharp gasp escaped Adam, his green eyes watering as his body jolted back against Lucifer's much warmer body. His blonde haired lover's arms held him against his body, with his hard cock pushed between Adam's thigh and rubbing without mercy against the bottom of Adam's.

"Aw, you're so stressed~" Lucifer cooed, flashing that same grin again. "Let me help with that~"

"Oh god!" Adam gasped, Lucifer's hold on him tightening and snapping his hips even harsher. "You really are the devil in disguise."

Lucifer grinned at that.

[sommerflue-22]

Little Things They Do... (Pt. 3)

Little things they do to show you they love you

Read the other parts: Part 1 // Part 2

Featuring: Reiner Braun, Annie Leonhart, Pieck Finger, Zeke Jaeger, Bertholdt Hoover, Porco Galliard

Warning: Modern setting

Word Count: 748

Author Note

Hi! This will be the last of the series. I've linked the previous parts for you to read. Here's the song I listened to while writing this. I feel like this part is more gloomy because hey I'm kind of a mess rn haha. I hope you still enjoy it, tho. Again, these actions can be perceived platonically or romantically, whatever suits you.

Reiner

Reiner worries about you a lot even though you're a grown adult, fully capable of doing stuff on your own. When you both are apart from each other, you keep each other updated. What you both are doing, where you're at, who you're with. After you got your own car, Reiner text you to drive safe all the time. Especially when you're alone or during the winter. He can help you if you cut your finger when cooking, he can help you if you're sick from walking in the rain, but he can't really help you if anything happens while you're driving alone. He doesn't want to think of the worst case scenario. Whatever your relationship is with him, whether it's romantic or platonic, he doesn't want to lose you.

Annie

Annie is not the type of person who will explicitly say she loves you. She is also not a big fan of physical contact. You are no exception, but she really does care for you a lot. So, whenever you're out with her and need to cross a street, she will hold your hand. She doesn't ask you if you need help crossing the street, nor does she glances at you and smile (like you often sees in movies). Annie just automatically holds your hand and leads you forward, looking both ways to make sure everything is safe.

Pieck

Pieck is a busy lady, okay? She works hard, every single day. She's highly professional and her colleagues count on her a lot. However, when it's just the two of you, she puts away any mental to-do list or any work-related stuff. She just wants to be with you, listening to you talking. She pays attention to you and you only. Of course, she will talk about work if you ask her about it. Though, she'd rather spend her free time not worrying about work. She feels like she can relax and be her everyday, cheerful self with you.

Zeke

Having a relationship in general is not easy, but having a relationship with Zeke is definitely on the next level. He can be stubborn at times, and even though he doesn't mean it, he might say things that hurt you. Not to mention, his *cough* family issue. Loving Zeke, as a friend or as a lover, is not easy. You both argue a lot, often times resulting in one of you taking time away from the other. Most of the time, it's you who request a time off. Now, Zeke is quite a prideful man alright. He doesn't go mushy and beg you to stay. He let you go be alone for a few days, but eventually he will be the one who apologizes first. He doesn't do that with other people, but he does for you. Because you never leave him, and he would love to keep it that way.

Bertholdt

Bertholdt can be shy at times, especially when he just met someone for the first time. Maintaining eye contact while someone else is talking to him can be difficult. He felt uncomfortable, like the other person might discover who he really is just by staring into his eyes. How insecure he feels sometimes, the dark thoughts that he keeps for lonely nights, and other things private. You are the only exception. You don't judge, you show him that hey, it's alright to be a little messed up sometimes. You've seen him in states that nobody else has ever seen, even his parents. That is why he's not afraid to look into your eyes. He appreciates you, and he lets you in.

Porco

Porco can be passive-aggressive at times and most of the time he might think he's always right, especially when it has been a long day for him. People might start an argument, or they'll let it go while mentally cursing the man. You, on the other hand, you're one of the few people who can deal with him. Instead of starting an argument (causing him to get worked up) or walking away (and seeing him with a smug expression), you just simply say "Alrighty~ Agree to disagree" It's a new response that Porco didn't anticipate, and you say it with the most chill tone/expression. After awhile, he tried not to be so snappy and cocky with you. He even gives up his need to always be right. You can tell him the rain happens because the angels are taking a piss, and he'll just nodded. "Whatever you say..."

Idk man, I just really love Bertholdt, Reiner, and Zeke. Precious men. Deserves better. I love them.

Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy it. Lemme know what you think in the comment :)

[casualaruanienjoyer]

Just gonna casually drop Chapter 5 of my Cadet Aruani series here. Don't mind me 👀 Actually, what did I get myself into??

Want

Breathless.

Intoxicating. Overwhelming. Rough- 

No. None of that.

Soft. 

Softer than Annie expected it to be. Softer than anything she has ever touched. So soft, in fact, that it lingers on her lips like the touch of a feather. And then it disappears just as quickly as it came. 

Because Annie needs air. 

How long has it been since she last took a breath of fresh air? Since she last exhaled so deeply? Has she been holding in this breath her entire life? It might as well be the case, because when she pulls away, she feels relaxed. Oddly calm. The tangled stream of noise in her head is now but a mere thread.

Annie has answers. Well, some answers. Not the answers she desperately needed to discover for her mission. Not the location of the Founder or the royal family, or anything else  that was relevant to her mission in any way. But answers she longed for just because she allowed herself to simply exist, even if only for a moment.

Annie Leonhart is just a nobody tonight. Another face in the crowd. A colourless piece in a colourless puzzle, or perhaps she’s finally started seeing colours instead? Armin’s eyes are so blue when they flutter open. His messy golden bangs tickle his eyebrows and his ears are such a deep shade of red that Annie fights a sudden urge to bite them.

Huh? Was that really her thought? She stares at Armin, dumbfounded, not quite knowing what to feel, if anything. Or maybe she’s feeling everything all at once? Maybe that’s what this low rumble in her stomach is?

She kissed him. She kissed… Armin? Her eyes fall on his lips and the mess in Annie’s head returns. Only this time, it’s 100 times louder, and it resonated throughout her entire body like the splash of a wave during a storm. The more she looks at him, the louder the rumble in her stomach becomes. Her thoughts morph into something so wild it’s almost primal.

And then she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror to her side and Annie’s chest suddenly tightens with worry.

She looks like a monster.

"Shit! Armin I-" she finally speaks, realising she’s been pushing him up against the door. "I…" she continues, not really knowing what to say. What can she really say, when she’s cornered him like prey? When the ugly beast within her was unable to stop things from escalating beyond the point of going back. When all her body wants to do is devour him whole.

Being a nobody was supposed to be simple, right?

There’s silence. Armin says nothing, and it’s almost scary. Eerie, even. This is the boy who always had an answer for every situation. The same boy who now leans against the door in such an uncomfortable way it makes Annie worry. Is he angry? Upset? Resentful?

"He might have a crush on you, but make sure you don’t -break- him, alright?" 

Scared?

"Say something…" she moves away completely and it’s so cold when their bodies disconnect that Annie wonders if she’s indeed made of stone. Was all that warmth from before…only his to begin with? Has she always felt this cold?

But as she moves away he grabs her arm, stopping Annie in her tracks. A whole minute passes before Armin finally decides to speak. It feels like torture, how gently he holds her even now.

"Annie… did you…?" he mutters as his free hand twists in a tight fist against the door. He looks so incredibly conflicted that Annie cannot read him at all. 

"What…?" she asks cautiously.

"Did you mean it?" he replies determinedly, eyes locked with hers. His gaze on her is so intense it makes Annie feel like a deer in headlights. "Did you really want to kiss someone like me?" 

Someone like… him? Someone like Armin? What does he-

But then Annie’s mind brings back small memories from the past year she thought had been blocked. Minor discussions, trivial jokes, really. Recollections of her colleagues throwing around small distasteful remarks about Armin. Whispers filled with mockery about anything from his personality to his appearance. Boyish jokes about his preferences and girlish teases about his looks. The kind of gossip Annie hated the most. None of these truly defined Armin in any way. 

And then she wonders, who is Armin to her, exactly? 

He’s the enemy, a Paradisian, a cadet, a reading partner, a sparring companion, a genius…and also just a boy. A boy that got her flowers. A boy that thought her hands were soft. An idiot, a daydreamer, a tease, someone who liked her. A boy who liked Annie Leonhart, the monster, the beast, the weapon, but also… the nobody. 

A boy who just wanted to see her smile.

"Annie, I’m sorry…I didn’t want to upset you."

It couldn’t be, could it? Was he perhaps worried of Annie becoming a target for such mockery herself? Foolish. Ridiculous. Did Armin really think she cared what people thought of her?

She wanted to read together. She wanted to train together. And it’s so hard for Annie to admit this to herself because she shouldn’t have any wants of her own. She shouldn’t be making friends, she shouldn’t let herself waste so much time. She doesn’t have long left to live. But at the same time…Why shouldn’t she do something she wants, at least this once? 

"What if I did?" she answers flatly, but the mess in her mind is anything but stern. 

Being a nobody isn’t as easy as Annie initially thought. It comes with feelings, with such intense wants that Annie’s never allowed herself to feel before. It’s overwhelming. Staggering, mind-boggling.

So when Armin’s fingers tighten around her forearm, his serious eyes send shivers down her spine. 

"Then… you won’t judge me for this-" he whispers, hands cupping her face to pull her back in his arms, lips meeting halfway. And Annie allows herself to just… exist.

To drown into this softness again-

No. 

This time it’s different.

This time it’s rough.

Heavy, foggy, it reawakens the beast inside her with such force that she grabs onto his shoulders to steady herself. There’s so much going on and Annie can’t help but sigh into his mouth between heavy, heated kisses.

What if she can’t stop? What if she hurts him? Fear burrows itself in the back of her mind and she wants to pull back, to slow down, she can’t let herself turn into a monster again.

But Armin’s hands slide to her waist, keeping her in place. He whines against her lips, begging for her to stay, to just let herself be. 

He’s not afraid of her.

He wants her.

"Didn’t know Arlert was into beasts like you, Leonhart."

Fuck Ymir. 

Maybe Armin was into monsters like her. Would it be that bad? Would the world really end if they liked each other?

Fuck Marley.

Fuck Paradis.

Damn it all to hell!

She doesn’t want to be anything tonight. She doesn’t want to fight. She doesn’t want to spy. She doesn't want to play soldier or be a brave warrior. None of that bullshit.

The only thing she wants tonight is Armin Arlert.

[wing-ed-thing]

Annie Leonhart Relationship Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns

𓆃 Because no matter how Annie actually feels about you, she's one to keep her distance. Your best bet is to kind of ease into any kind of relationship you can get.

𓆃 Perhaps you might have higher chances if and when you survive the national conflicts, but given her withdrawn and skeptical nature, it's very likely that even post-war, it will take a significant amount of years for Annie to even consider an invested relationship.

𓆃 Or, she'll immediately dive into a relationship and remain emotionally unavailable and aloof. Both are likely depending on the circumstance.

𓆃 Annie is naturally reserved, rather blunt, and calculating. Add into the mix guilt, loneliness, repressed childhood emotions, and Annie's tentative attitudes toward compassion, and you have the perfect storm for an emotionally unavailable partner.

𓆃 This is, of course, not to say that she's one to wait until she's "perfect" or otherwise "healed" to dive into the dating life. Rather, this has more to do about the rate at which she'll warm up to you.

𓆃 You have the best chances being a long-term friend and support and having that friendship evolve into something more. Annie is most definitely not one for fuzzies or touchy-feely things, but you can warm her up to gestures that are more on her level.

𓆃 Your relationship will likely be an unspoken one as well. Don't expect Annie to use labels to introduce you or refer to you. Perhaps you'll get "partner" down the line if you're very close and very lucky.

𓆃 And don't expect large, traditional milestones that other couples may have. Annie hasn't been planning a wedding, picking out engagement rings, or pointing out ideal locations for an engagement.

𓆃 Perhaps you can convince her for an intimate ceremony if you insist that those sorts of things are important for you, but anything that borders on grandiose Annie will certainly consider offensive.

𓆃 She's honestly quite the contradiction, because there's a yearning deep down for deep relationships— she is human, after all— but she's prone to self-sabotage and general aloofness.

𓆃 This may lead her to jump into commitments that she's not actually committed to. She wants your love and attention, but only on her terms because she doesn't feel whole.

𓆃 And maybe you can have a moment just the two of you when she finally reaches an emotional breaking point. Maybe then you can almost build up to a real relationship within your relationship.

𓆃 Annie also isn't one to perform traditional gestures of affection. Don't expect flowers, cutsie acts of domestic labor, or words of affirmation. While she does have a threshold for acts of physical affection, they're executed more like a mundane chore or in times of extreme emotion.

𓆃 Most gestures of affection, you have to squint to see. A lot of them come from her upbringing.

𓆃 Physical activity such as runs, strength workouts, and wrestling is something Annie will willingly bond over and will form an integral part of your relationship. Even if you are unable or unwilling to perform at the intensity that Annie holds herself to, meeting you where you're at is a real gesture of affection for her.

𓆃 She's not a cook but can and will make some cultural foods that have been passed down from her father for you. It's rare, but the cooking is surprisingly solid.

𓆃 Annie is an interesting person to have a relationship with and likely the only one where you can be equally emotionally stunted in and still have a working connection.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[kenlvry]

omg can I ask the first time the boys meet the reader they were beat up by the reader for insulting something (e.g their cat or something) or they made a crude joke? Basically almost like Annie Leonhart and stuff xjsjdjjs

beating up the boys

an; helloooo, anyways i was skimming through my requests and found this, love the concept and cute pic, i screenshotted it hihi, hope you like this! everyone is aged up, 17-18 in craigs you didnt beat him up but yeaaa just read

kenny mccormick

when he first met you , kyle brought you over to stans house where you all hung out. the other two didn't seem bothered by your presence and he asked who you were , kyle introduced you saying you knew tips on the game they were about to play, kenny thought you were attractive and complemented you "damn you got fine ass" kenny blurted that out smirking, the other three knew how you were and you didn't like the perverted comment he made, you straight up slapped him, bro he was shook. no girl ever reacted that way, they always blushed, he was determined that next time you'd blush at him. so he spent weeks flirting with you and by now he realize he got a fat crush on you and just know the flirtings are way more intense.

stan marsh

kenny brought the others to your house because you had a pool and asked if he and the other can play in it, you agreed having known kenny a while now and wanting to meet his other friends. they all came over and greeted you, you were homeschooled so you didn't have that many friends. while they were admiring your house your sphynx cat came over and meowed demanding you feed him, cartman had a cat of his own so he didn't care and kyle wasn't the type to judge a cat, stan however was disgusted, man he made the most foul faces "ew what is that its so ugly why doesn't it have fur?!!" you stopped your tracks and stared at him, kenny knew how defensive you were abt your cat "omg stan say sorry" before stan could reply a hit was blown to his face, you punched him. "get the fuck out and don't even think about swimming in my pool bitch" stan ran away and wanted to say sorry but everytime he saw you at the parks you flipped him off, he tried everything. by the time he bought you flowers just to make you forgive him, he knew he was inlove. the next time he saw you he was all nervous and looked like he was about to puke.

kyle brofloski

the four of them were out at the mall looking for things to do when you bumped into them, he remembered you because last week you came over to stans house to hang out, kyle was supposed to be there but he got sick. the other three greeted you knowing you for a while now after the meet up, kyle introduced himself to you and apologized for not showing up. he then ask what you four were playing at stans house "oh dude you shouldve come over we all played wrestling and y/n kicked ass" kyle laughed, "damn your all weak af, shes a girl her punches mustve been weak" in a desperate attempt to get closer to you he blurted out the most overused misogynistic joke ever "oh shit i didn't mea-" he felt his cheek sting and realized you had punched him "weak? dont make me laugh" you walked off, the next day he tried everything to get your attention and say sorry, you ignored him and he was in tears bro, he would 'unintentionally' bump into you, would try to help you with homework everything bro. in class while he was staring at you thinking about tactics and he realized how pretty you were. he started blushing like crazy, you now realize how kyle doesn't come and beg you to forgive him rather he stares at you from afar and whenever you made eyecontact he'd look away all smiley

eric cartman

bro is foul, when he first met you he made the most misogynistic joke ever like he cracked so many jokes without even looking at your death face. you just stared at him while he was calling you the other words for female. he realized it was silent and looked over at kyle stan and kenny who was dead silent and nervously looking at the floor "why aren't you laughing?? you know i make good jokes" and then before he could make another sexist joke you kicked him in his nuts, and punched him "fuck you asshole lets see you try making kids 6 years from now" you walk away and stopped "if anyone even wants you that is" you continued, bro the other three broke out laughing you were foul for that 😭😭. cartman wasn't happy, everytime he saw you at school he'd glare and make sexist jokes that were loud so you can here but everytime you stared back he'd stop. he tried everything to get your attention, even at lunch all he talks about is you "shut the fuck up fatass, at this point you might as well make her your girlfriend" cartman was offended but the more he thought about it the more right kyle was. damn, he is lovestruck, no girl has ever did that to him. so now he tries being closer to you, you were friends and you didnt want to be close friends but cartman was desperate, hmmm you wonder why...?

craig tucker

like always he flips everyone off so it was no different when he first met you, you greeted him so nicely but you just get a middle finger "dude what the hell is wrong with you, fucking jerk go stick your middle finger somewhere else" craig was a little shocked you actually fought back, usually people just get offended and stayed silent. "I'll stick it up your moms ass" he said proudly, he thought he was funny for that but you looked sad and your eyes were glassy you ran away wiping your tears discreetly "dude what the hell her mom died 5 days ago, thats the whole reason she came here" kyle said, everyone knew because they greeted you when you first moved in. craig felt so bad, when he saw you in class he tried talking to you but you flipped him off, he took it as a note you were not in the mood of talking, during lunch he tried talking to you again but you flipped him off again!! now he knew what other people felt fr, its been a week now and you don't know how many times you've flipped Craig off now, people started calling you Craig's long lost twin. craig was going crazy over you, he would look at you during class, find time to talk to you and even planning to go to your house just so he can apologize. "craig, stop staring at y/n, just go confess already" Craig got sent back to reality by cartman, and he was right maybe he should go confess. he knew what he felt for you wasn't just because he wanted to say sorry but because he liked you. this Friday he'll both apologize and confess, bro already bought the flowers and everything , you better be ready to be titled as craigs girlfriend

[bitchimasnake-sss]

tumblr au. ft aot characters!

girlypop im obsessed with making these and theres nothing you can do to stop me. basically, what if aot characters had tumblr? [set in between the time skip period, pre-rumbling]

🐥freedomyeager

oh your friends gave you chocolates? mine gave me ptsd and trauma

🔁🐴jeaniejean Follow

bro you literally lost one uno match why tf are you so fucking emo?

🔁⚔️micasasucasa

eren, stop staring at the ocean and get your ass back in here or so god help me.

345 notes

📘arminarlet Follow

You know what's weird? That typically, I am a "cutie-patootie" but then I do a little, mild, psychological torture to my enemies. And suddenly, I am a threat to the nation. Y'all switch up so quick.

406 notes

👨‍🦲baldspringer Follow

when you enter a dick-riding competition but your opponent is @flochyou

🔁🚩flochyou Follow

you're just mad daddy doesn't like you 😒

🔁🐥freedomyeager

dude how many times do i gotta tell you to stop doing that in public?

🔁🍖sashahaha Follow

hes allowed to do that in private???

#yeagerists exposed

41,032 notes

⚔️micasasucasa Follow

is it normal to have re-occurring dreams about your dead parents or friends?

🔁🩳leviackermanofficial

yes.

🔁👱🏻‍♂️braunreiner Follow

yeah

🔁📘arminarlet Follow

I've asked Commander Zoe if the Scouts can afford to send you all to therapy but she said "fuck no, i dont even have money to eat shit." So, looks like you're all stuck like this. Sorry guys.

3,512 notes

🐴jeaniejean Follow

they call me a horse cause all the girls wanna ride me yeehaw🤠

🔁👨‍🦲baldspringer Follow

dude, blocked.

🔁🍖sashahaha Follow

blocked.

🔁👱🏻‍♂️braunreiner Follow

blocked.

🔁⚔️micasasucasa

blocked.

🔁👑 ymirsgf

and reported.

675 notes

😴leonhart Follow

i swear to god if @baldspringer played "annie, are you okay?" in frong of my crystal one more time, i will break this crystal and come punch him square in his egg-shaped head.

🔁👨‍🦲baldspringer Follow

i was literally trying to keep you entertained. but anyways annie, are you okay?

🔁🍖sashahaha Follow

are you okay, annie?

🔁👓officialtitanlover

@leonhart HOW ARE YOU TYPING IN THE CRYSTAL?

👓officialtitanlover

My son is officially entering his emo phase. Today, he said "ruskin ready to rumble" while staring at the sea. It's literally so funny 😂😂

🔁🐥freedomyeager

ITS LITERALLY NOT A PHASE, I WILL KILL EVERYONE

🔁🩳leviackermanofficial

Have you lost your mind? Do i need to kick you in the face again?

🔁🐥freedomyeager

... no 😞

141 notes

a/n: jean is a loserboy and i love him. only i am allowed to slander him.

[yanderes-galore]

Can I ask for a general romantic concept of Annie Leonhart from AOT?

Sure! Here you go :) This is a general view of her character, but mostly takes place during Season 1 as she had a much bigger role there.

Yandere! Annie Leonhart Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Violence, Blood, Disturbing descriptions, Murder, Kidnapping, Forced relationship.

Annie is a very... reserved character.

Due to her mission, she doesn't want to get too attached to people.

She is shown to care at times, but she tends to focus on her goals.

Even towards her obsession she doesn't talk or emote too much.

Occasionally you two may share conversation, but it's more like her listening while you chat.

She'd find that annoying with anyone else but you....

Annie tends to be quiet, apathetic, and focused on the task at hand.

She's realistic and often struggles with friendships.

She may not want to harm her obsession, but she knows she's a monster.

You may not know it, but she's the Female Titan, nothing's changing that.

She's actually nervous to be attached to her fellow cadets.

She knows their fate.

Unfortunately, oblivious to her concerns, you keep coming up to her to be friends.

Bonds are difficult for her...

Although, she finds herself understanding you better during training.

You see her as strong and want her to help you train.

These sessions are what begins to bring you closer.

Annie respects those with determination, people willing to do anything to achieve their goals.

Seeing you turn to her for strength training... wanting to rely on her... she both feels good and horrible.

Annie doesn't feel she deserves you.

She's trained to be a Warrior, one meant to destroy people like you.

Yet here she is, hiding smiles as she's around you.

Annie feels happy with you.

She feels so guilty about it, though.

She knows she shouldn't get attached, that once you see what she is you'll hate her...

But even Annie knows she's a selfish person.

Annie usually tries to stay distant from everyone but Bertolt and Reiner.

Unless it's you... In that case, she trains you and speaks with you.

Your conversations are often brief... as Annie isn't much of a talker.

She mostly likes to stay in your presence silently.

In fact, Annie's obsession is silent and rather out of the way.

She often busies herself with her goals, yet keeps an eye on you.

Annie tends to follow you from a distance, often telling herself she's just... worried.

She wants to keep you out of harm... out of her plans... away from maybe even the other cadets....

While she may not want to acknowledge it... This is a sign of obsession.

She's watching you when you're unaware, often glaring when other people speak to you or rough you up...

She hates to admit it, probably won't for a long time...

But she's in love with you.

Love... She hasn't experienced such a thing often.

In fact, just thinking about it makes her think of her father...

Her yearning for a normal life....

Annie wants a normal life with you....

Yet she quickly stops herself from thinking that.

Annie is a good fighter, which makes most people stay out of her way.

Annie just being close to her obsession may drive people off.

I also imagine her fighting skills would make threatening and removing rivals easy.

Before her Female Titan reveal I doubt she's killing anyone... alone.

Marco was a different story she'd rather not think about.

Her jealousy is often vented during training, or maybe she'll take it out on someone in private if they pushed her far enough.

Annie is used to fighting.

Blood on her hands is something she expects... In all ways.

Annie's obsession with you would be quiet and observing until she goes into the Military Police.

After that, her obsession has time to grow due to the distance...

You don't "see" her again until the Female Titan attacks when you join the Scouts.

I like the idea of Annie interacting with her obsession as the Female Titan.

During the first few attacks, her goal is Eren, but she's also cautious of where you are.

She often ignores you during her mission, reluctant to accidentally squish you.

She loves you more than anyone here, after all...

She's missed you, too....

During one of the Female Titan attacks I can see Annie trying to abduct you with Eren.

You, other than her father, are what makes her happy.

She feels you're her key to a normal life....

You make her atrocities seem much more bearable.

Which would make her try to kidnap you as a titan.

Moving away from the plot to focus on general ideas (I have that exact plot planned for a fic)...

Annie struggles on how to deal with her feelings towards you.

She's often dismissive or unsure how to give affection.

Even more so after she's kidnapped you and you keep calling her a monster...

Not like she doesn't know that.

I feel she wouldn't try to kidnap you as a human, it would definitely be as a titan.

She'd either tuck away her obsession in her hardened hands, or even her mouth.

Her mouth is more secure and allows her to use her hands but you're definitely covered in saliva afterwards....

When she has you, she finds somewhere to isolate you.

I'm thinking of an abandoned cabin or something similar.

There's plenty of those due to the titans.

Regardless if she successfully retrieved Eren or not... she feels happy to have you.

Annie sometimes smiles around you and may try to give you affection like hugs.

But hugs, let alone kisses, are difficult for her.

Annie would be cold towards you, especially if you lashed out.

Annie doesn't blame you for hating her.

In fact, she expects it.

She's realistic and lucid enough to know you aren't willingly going to throw yourself into her arms.

You see her as a monster, she views herself the same.

After all, by the time she captures you, she's killed.

She decimated many Scouts as her titan... just to get Eren... just to get you.

She knows you hate her.

She knows you don't deserve each other.

Yet she loves you all the same.

Calling her a monster won't change anything.

It stings when you try to fight her, but you won't last without her.

You need her and her titan to live in isolation without dying.

Call her names, say you hate her...

It doesn't stop her from holding you close.

Imagine if she tries to be affectionate in titan form?

Compared to other titans... like Eren as an example, she probably isn't too affectionate like her human self.

Yet Annie enjoys holding you in her hands, using a thumb to lightly touch you.

Another reason she'd use her titan form is if you try to escape.

You won't get far with broken or missing gear.

Allowing Annie to pick you up, pop you in her mouth, and keep you there as she walks you back to that damn hideout.

Annie wants her obsession to love her. She really does.

But Annie won't delude herself, either.

She's a monster... you can't love a monster...

She loves you way too much to let you go, not when she finally can taste the happiness she craves.

[aruanimess]

Armin + braids

It's the third year of training, and the weather is blisteringly hot. The cadets are supposed to do an endurance run trekking up a hill while carrying their equipment on their backs, but most of them have barely enough energy to fan themselves with a lazy wave of the hand. Sweat is dripping on overheated temples, waterskins are passed around and welcomed like the blessings that they are.

Armin, in particular, is struggling more than the rest. Not because of his natural disadvantage when it comes to physical activity, but because his hair is getting everywhere, sticking to his nape and forehead and hindering his eyesight. Normally, he would have gathered his wayward locks into a low ponytail, but he got a haircut recently in preparation for the summer, and his hair is not long enough to stay tied.

He glances at the girls, with their pretty pigtails and their messy buns, and then at the boys, with their short cropped cuts and buzzed heads, and bites back his envy with a sigh.

He has just pushed back his sweat-soaked bangs for the fifth time that morning when a gentle voice speaks up behind him. "Oh, Armin, are you having trouble with your hair?"

He turns to see Krista, who is sporting an impressive braid that loops around her head like a diadem. "Oh, um," he says, a bit embarrassed, "A little. I'm going to be fine though, no need to worry about it."

"Do you want me to braid it for you?"

"I don't think it'll work. It's pretty short."

"Don't fret! I know just the way to make it stay in place!" she states proudly.

And, well, she says it with such confidence, that Armin has no option than to comply. If it works, it'll solve his problem, and if not, he'll have wasted a couple of minutes. No big deal. They're not even being graded on this drill. Not to mention, no one in their right minds would say no to a pretty girl touching their hair. He sits down on the dry dirt, and offers himself to Krista's talent.

Fifteen minutes later, he gets to his feet, dust his white pants (that have been irrevocably stained from the ground; seriously who picked white for a soldier's uniform?), and passes his fingers over his newly braided hair, feeling them over. Two matching plaits are lining his skull, from the crown of his head to right below the ears. He nods, satisfied, and thanks Krista for her help.

Miraculously, the plaits remain intact until the end of the day. Armin is beyond excited.

He goes to Krista and asks her to teach him how to replicate the hairstyle on his own. Krista and a gaggle of other girls are more than happy to guide him through the motions, and, after a few failed attempts, Armin has the hang of it.

It becomes his signature summer hairdo.

Sure, he gets a couple of odd looks. For example, when Annie Leonhart first spots him with the braids her eyes widen comically and her face turns an alarming shade of red, but she ends up murmuring something about him being practical and leaves it at that. The boys also all do a double take when he chooses to show up in class like this, but they're all pretty good sports about it. Except for maybe Reiner, who weirdly chokes on his saliva every time he sees him...

But all in all, Armin is very happy with the results.