#and if you refuse to be drawn properly...

[fannedandflawless]

The Virgin Theory: Severus Snape, and the Sanctity of Unlived Intimacy

Let’s begin with the quiet truth no one dares whisper in the halls of Hogwarts or the depths of Tumblr:

It’s entirely possible Severus Snape died a virgin.

And no, that isn’t shameful. It’s shattering—because it wasn’t about purity. It was about penance.

This wasn’t a man who couldn’t get close. It was a man who refused to be touched—as if intimacy itself were a sin after what he lost. After what he ruined.

Because when he had loved someone so deeply that the echo of them still rang at twenty-two, and thirty-two, and thirty-eight—all while they were long gone and never his—he didn’t offer his body to others. He archived it. He let it gather dust like an heirloom he believed no one deserved.

Snape didn’t swear off others for lack of attention. He swore it off because he had already given everything to someone who never asked for it.

Not romantic. Not idealised. Absolute.

—

We have no canon that says it outright. But show me a man who:

Never flirted

Never dated

Never even hinted at interest again

And I’ll show you someone not untouched by inexperience—but untouched by choice.

Virginity, in this context, is not innocence—it’s a slow bleed. A devotion. A life sentence stitched into the lining of his robes. His body became a battleground he refused to let anyone else step on.

Because what if he let someone close? What if they asked for softness and he only had shadow? What if they loved him—and it felt like betrayal?

So he closed the door before anyone knocked.

—

Let’s be honest, darling: He didn’t need to be saved. He needed to be mourned while living. And no one mourned him properly. Not even himself.

So yes. He might’ve died untouched. But he didn’t die unloved.

Because he loved once—so fully, so ruinously—that he decided no one else would ever be allowed to touch what he gave away long ago.

And that? That is not pathetic. It’s terrifyingly sacred.

—

🕯 Could Someone Have Loved Him?

Yes. Absolutely. There would have been witches who saw through the darkness, who admired his brilliance, who were drawn to his complexity.

But Snape? He would’ve deflected. Dodged. Withdrew. Possibly cruelly. Possibly awkwardly. But always deliberately.

Because in his mind, he’d already loved once, failed once, and paid in full.

—

Related Post: Severus Snape: Widower of the Living

[solanj]

Learn to draw Heinrix or die: the challenge ("Die" seems a much more likely outcome with the way it's going so far, tbh) This one was supposed to be a study of a Jeremy Irons shot, but for some mystical reason while Irons looks similar to Heinrix (in my eyes at least), whenever the picture started to look like Irons it stopped looking like Heinriix at all. So at this point there is not much similarities left to either of them, but, well, at least it started to resemble Heinrix at least a liiiiitle tiny bit

[mintyys-blog]

LOVE YOU FOREVER — viltrumite! mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

A/N: for some reason I couldn’t directly reply to the post but here it is!

WARNINGS:

Mark never expected to set foot on Earth again.

A century had passed since he last walked these streets, since he last felt the warmth of this sun on his skin. It wasn’t home—not anymore. Not without her.

Y/N.

Her name still ached. A wound that time refused to heal. He had lost wars, lost comrades, lost entire planets—but nothing compared to losing her. Yet here he was, frozen in place, staring at a woman who should not exist.

She was across the street, laughing with a friend, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a way so painfully familiar it nearly brought him to his knees. It was her. And yet… it wasn’t.

Mark’s breath came slow and measured, his mind warring with itself. He had seen people who resembled her before, echoes of her face in strangers long gone. But this was different. This woman didn’t just look like her—she felt like her.

His heart, long thought incapable of feeling anything but grief, beat with something dangerously close to hope.

He knew reincarnation was possible. He had seen it on other worlds, civilizations that believed souls never truly died. But believing and witnessing were two very different things.

He wanted to go to her. Wanted to grab her, hold her, beg her to remember. But he had already taken her once before. This time… he would wait.

Mark found himself drawn to her, lingering in the places she frequented. A coffee shop on the corner. A bookstore where she browsed without buying. A quiet park where she sat alone, lost in thought.

She was different from the woman he lost, but there were traces of her in everything she did. The way she scrunched her nose when concentrating. The soft hums she made when deep in thought. Even the way she glanced over her shoulder, as if searching for something just out of reach.

It was her soul. He knew it. But her heart did not remember him. So he did something he never thought he would. He courted her. Properly. Like a human man, not a conqueror.

Their first meeting was accidental—or so she thought. Mark made sure of it. He “bumped” into her at the coffee shop, catching her drink before it spilled.

“Sorry about that,” he said, flashing a disarming smile.

She looked up at him, and for a moment, he thought he saw something flicker in her eyes. Recognition. A shadow of something lost. But then it was gone. “It’s fine,” she said, brushing it off.

He introduced himself as Mark—nothing more. No mention of Viltrum, of war, of their past life together.

Just Mark.

And so, he stayed by her side. Gently, patiently. He learned what she liked, what made her laugh, what made her angry. He asked about her dreams, her fears, her world.

He wanted her to love him again. Not because fate demanded it. But because she chose to. It started small.

“I feel like we’ve done this before,” she murmured one evening, staring out at the ocean. Mark tensed. “Done what?” She hesitated. “…Sitting here. With you.”

He said nothing, letting her thoughts unravel at their own pace. It happened again when he called her by a nickname only he had used. She blinked at him, startled. “…Why did you call me that?”

“I don’t know,” he lied. “It just felt… right.” Little things. Déjà vu. Dreams she couldn’t explain. A lingering sense of familiarity whenever he was near.

She started looking at him differently. With curiosity. With recognition, though she didn’t understand why. Mark waited. And then, one night, it happened.

They were walking through the city when she suddenly stopped. A sharp breath. A flicker of panic in her eyes. Then she collapsed.

Mark caught her instantly, his heart hammering against his ribs. “Y/N?” She trembled in his arms, clutching at his shirt as if she were drowning.

And then, in the smallest, weakest voice— “…I remember.” The world stood still. Her breath came in gasps, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I saw you. I saw… us. Our children. Everything.”

Mark swallowed hard, barely able to speak. “Do you remember me?” She hesitated, her fingers tracing his face like a ghost relearning a lover. “Not everything,” she whispered. “But I know you.”

His chest ached, something between hope and agony threatening to crush him. “Then let me show you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. “Let me remind you.”

A pause. A shaky breath. Then— A soft, hesitant smile. “…Okay.” And for the first time in a hundred years, Mark felt whole again.

Mark didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until she smiled. It wasn’t the same smile from before, not yet, but it was enough. A flicker of something familiar in her eyes, something lost but not entirely gone.

He exhaled slowly, afraid to move too fast, afraid to break whatever delicate thread connected them now. She was staring at him like she was seeing him for the first time and yet had known him forever.

“What… happens now?” she asked softly, her fingers still ghosting over his face as if trying to memorize it.

Mark covered her hand with his own, his grip gentle. “Whatever you want,” he said.

Her brows furrowed, as if the answer confused her. “What if I never remember everything?”

His heart clenched at the thought, but he had already made peace with it. He shook his head. “Then we start over.”

She searched his eyes, looking for something—maybe reassurance, maybe truth. “You’d be okay with that?”

“If it means I get to have you again? Even just a part of you?” His voice was quiet, raw. “Then yes.”

She looked down at their intertwined hands, her expression unreadable. “I don’t understand how, but… I feel it.” She pressed her free hand against her chest. “Like I’ve lived another life, like I’ve loved you before. It’s not clear, but it’s there.”

Mark swallowed past the lump in his throat. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to hold her the way he used to, but he didn’t want to rush her. She wasn’t the woman he lost. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But she was still his.

She took a deep breath, composing herself. “Okay,” she said finally. “Let’s start over.”

Relief washed over him so strongly he almost sank to his knees. He smiled—soft, real. “I’d like that.” She smiled back. “Then tell me, Mark… where do we begin?” And just like that, the universe gave him a second chance.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

This is the end guys :')

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, one vague suggestive joke

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus woke before dark this morning. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he realized that you’d drawn closer to him in the night, your body half on top of his and his arm curled around your shoulders as though to keep you there. Remus’ other arm was asleep, trapped beneath Sirius’ ribs. Somehow, on a twin bed, the three of you had managed to get close enough that there was room to spare. 

He didn’t move, but something about Remus’ waking must have caught your attention. He saw your eyes open through the darkness. You’d likely already been rousing, as he had, your body gearing up for a practice that wouldn’t be taking place today. You turned your face up to see him, and the two of you shared a fond, sleepy smile. Then you kissed his chin and went back to sleep. 

It had been a late night. Not the bad kind, but it left you all tired nonetheless. After a long day of talking to press, shaking hands, and celebrating your silver medal (not gold, but Remus reasoned that it wasn’t such a bad thing to lose to the undisputed best skating duo in a generation, and after some pouting even Sirius had agreed. When you stood next to Virtue and Moir on the podium, you’d looked so starstruck Remus was worried you’d faint) you’d been eager to be alone with each other. You’d talked until nearly morning, tenderhearted conversations that perhaps might have taken less time if you’d all been less easily distracted by each other or if Sirius hadn’t made that joke about his parents that made you fall off the bed laughing. Remus can’t bring himself to regret the detours. 

Neither of you seem to either, though Sirius laughs when you yawn in line to drop off your baggage at the airport.

“What is that, five yawns since we’ve left?” he teases, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and smushing a kiss to your cheek. “Poor girl.” 

“Shut up,” you mumble, leaning into his side. “I’m not used to being up all night like you are.” 

“Well, you’d better get used to it, baby.” 

Your brow wrinkles. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Remus laughs, giving Sirius a little shove. Sirius responds by bumping his hip into his own suitcase, forcing Remus to readjust his grip. You shoot Sirius a condemning look. 

In the spirit of good coaching, Remus had volunteered to carry your bags. He’d been more concerned with getting you and Sirius into bed over the last few days than ensuring you were properly stretched out, so when you’d both complained of soreness this morning he felt the need to make it up. You had completely refused and said you’d carry your own, but Sirius had relinquished his hulking suitcase readily; he did, however, insist upon massaging and kissing Remus’ hip for twenty minutes before they left for the airport to prepare it for the journey. 

“Don’t worry,” Remus tells you. “You’ll have plenty of time to sleep in after today.” 

You blink. “No practice?” 

“I think you deserve a couple of days off.” 

“A couple?” Sirius raises an eyebrow. “We just won silver at the Olympics. I’d say we’re due a week at least.” 

Remus eyes him, biting back a smile. “Maybe four days,” he says. 

“God, four days.” You blow out a breath. “What are we gonna do with all that time?” 

Sirius makes a pffting sound. “Like you won’t be at the rink anyway.” 

“Like you won’t be there, too.” 

“Take some actual rest,” Remus chides, ignoring the ridiculous warmth in his chest; it’s obscene how listening to your teasing has become such a comforting familiarity. “You’ve been working hard, you need it.” 

“Alright, Coach,” Sirius says with mock solemnity. “If that’s what you think is best.” 

Remus looks at you. 

You roll your eyes, relenting. “Okay.” 

“Good.” He smiles, winding an arm around your waist and tugging you from Sirius’ hold to press a kiss to your head. 

“Hey!” Sirius protests. 

You laugh. The warmth in Remus’ chest flares again. It’s odd to think about the person he was when he left home to coach you two, and how much has changed since then. Remus had been grieving, a years-long grief, focused only on what he lost and uninterested in trying for anything new. He’d been lonely without knowing it, isolated and purposeless, but you and Sirius had defied his expectations in every way imaginable. He thought he’d simply coach you, take you to the Olympics, and go home. Now, Remus’ sense of home is different than what it was before. 

He wants to stay with you. He’ll coach you and Sirius for as long as you’ll have him, and if someday he’s not what you need anymore he’ll find someone else to coach. He thinks he’ll need to get an apartment instead of an Airbnb, someplace to unpack his things and make his own, preferably with three chairs at the kitchen table and a bed big enough for all of you. He wants to continue feeding off the energy of you and Sirius in your element, readying you for competitions, making you the best you can be. Maybe eventually Remus will get back out on the ice, too. Not like he used to, never to compete, but maybe just for fun. It doesn’t sound so daunting when he imagines skating with you and Sirius alongside him, there to catch him if he falls. 

You’re looking up at him with a small, curious smile. Remus realizes he must be looking mortifyingly in love. “What?” you ask. 

“Nothing.” He kisses you, partly because he wants to and partly to watch your smile bloom in full. It does, and Remus relishes the feeling. Like standing in a pool of sunlight. 

“Oi.” Sirius glares, relaxing only when Remus kisses him, too. He grins and takes another for himself, delivering a playful nibble to Remus’ lip. “That’s more like it.” 

“We’re going to give the woman at the counter a heart attack,” Remus notes. “She looks terribly confused.” 

“Probably just starstruck,” Sirius says without looking. 

“Oh, shit!” You smack your forehead. Remus and Sirius both frown, Sirius taking your hand in his to prevent further damage. “I was going to steal one of the Olympic mugs from the dining hall, and I forgot. I need to find a souvenir.” 

“Ooh, should we get shirts?” Sirius’ expression turns eager. “Something like I went to the Olympics and all I got was this stupid t-shirt.” 

Remus thinks of the silver medal in Sirius’ backpack and actually guffaws. Both you and Sirius beam at him. “I think you got a bit more than that.” 

You laugh and loop your free arm through Sirius’, drawing both boys close. “That’s true.” 

[heartz4shauna]

the wilderness; as lottie’s “muse”

warnings: reader basically being a test subject, reader is shorter than lottie (only mentioned once), slight manipulation from lottie, season 3 lottie being a warning in itself, alcohol/drug use (not really), shaunahat mention, taivan mention, etc.

۶ৎ you’d never have thought you’d be in this position.

۶ৎ hell, you never thought you’d be in any of this mess.

۶ৎ it had been a few months since that dramatic coronation of natalie’s, and yet you were still adjusting to.. well, everything.

۶ৎ while everyone else had already seemed to be used to the idea of never being apart of society again, you struggled. sure, everyone had their own ways of coping; shauna and her little.. friend?, tai and van with their witty remarks as usual.

۶ৎ but, there was one that stood out to you most. lottie and travis’ trips away from everyone else to.. do what exactly?

۶ৎ you didn’t know exactly. did anyone? the only thing you were sure of was that travis’ vocal chords were sure as hell shredded.

۶ৎ everyone noticed that part. you’d be dumb not to.

۶ৎ aside from coping mechanisms, you spent a lot of your time around the animal pen with akilah. you couldn’t help but be drawn to the docile nature of the animals. especially after all of the ravenous behaviour you had experienced months before.

۶ৎ travis, after a particularly tough session of coping, wandered in awfully close to the animal pen. you couldn’t blame him, he slept very near it, coincidentally enough.

۶ৎ it didn’t take long for you or akilah to notice him. you thought it’d be best to leave him be. akilah thought otherwise.

۶ৎ you tried to pull her back down to you, saying that he just needs some space, but she refused. she picked up your best duck and approached him, “you wanna hold Mortimer?” in that sweet tone of hers. you almost envied her constant kindness.

۶ৎ due to travis’ lucky streak, lottie found him about a minute after holding the duck.

۶ৎ after an awkwardly short conversation, with a bit of persuasion from lotties end, she found refuge next to you as you watched the rabbits.

۶ৎ “hey.” was all she muttered, giving you a soft smile. you could only glance at her, not wanting to give her a chance at doing her travis thing with you.

۶ৎ giving one last pat to a favoured rabbit of yours, you decided to properly acknowledge her. “hi lott,” you sighed out as you stood up from the ground. you dusted your hands off and placed them firmly on your hips as lottie followed you upwards. she stumbled slightly as she rose from the ground, and you had to let out a quiet chuckle.

۶ৎ the height difference between the two of you was noticeable, but she could never intimidate you. you’d seen her before when she was like this; soft, quiet. it was impressive how stealthily she could manipulate someone.

۶ৎ “uh, travis said you’ve been hearing It. or, trying to,” is what she followed up with. god, she really didn’t know how to be subtle, did she? no buttering up was needed.

۶ৎ “oh, is that what he said?” you chuckled out, turning your head away and down from her slightly. you had never been one of the main believers in “It,” to say the least. during winter, you went to one prayer circle. it was hard not to, especially since you couldn’t deny the connection between lottie and the wilderness.

۶ৎ since the doomcoming, she had some sort of power over the group. you had been there when she decided to tell jackie straight up “you don’t matter anymore.” you were there when she wore the antlers. when she killed the bear. when she crowned natalie the queen. she called the shots, even if she wasn’t in charge, because she knew deep down she was connected to the wilderness.

۶ৎ she followed alongside you as you left the pen, making your way to your hut, “maybe you’d like to really connect with It?” she didn’t know whether or not she meant it as a question, but she sounded unsure of herself. as you stopped outside of the entrance of your hut she added, “help us find out what It wants.”

۶ৎ you sighed before you turned to face her once again, and she noticed the irritated expression on your face before you could say anything. her eyes lacked any sort of emotion when she asked “do you feel It?”

۶ৎ needless to say, that got the two of you a couple of glares from the rest of the group; a whisper from mari to gen. you chewed on the inside of your cheek nervously and gently tugged her into your hut.

۶ৎ lottie gave you a sort of confused look, her eyebrows creasing slightly as you instructed her to sit down. reluctantly, she took a seat. you sat opposite her on your very own makeshift mattress made out of old clothes and leaves.

۶ৎ you took a moment to gather your thoughts before speaking in a quiet tone. “look, lott. i dunno what travis told you, but.. i don’t hear the wilderness. i don’t hear It. at all.”

۶ৎ she let out a short chuckle that almost went unnoticed, and her eyebrows creased together slightly like she didn’t understand what you were trying to say. “why would he lie? you do feel It, don’t you?”

۶ৎ poor lottie, you thought. she really couldn’t see that look on his face when he lied? when he tried to “be a man”? you thought it was obvious, with the way he looked like a kicked puppy.

۶ৎ you let a breath out through your nose, “lottie-” before she interrupted you with a quick “just once. just to see. if it doesn’t work, we don’t have to do it again. i promise.”

۶ৎ over the span of a few days, you tried to separate yourself from lottie as much as you could, to keep yourself safe. you knew you wouldn’t be farther than arms length. she’d find a way to sit next to you when it was time for dinner, and try to make conversation. each conversation eventually ended up being about one main topic; It.

۶ৎ after spending a few days of avoiding lottie as much as you could, you finally agreed to be apart of lotties experiment. it did take a lot of convincing, both from lottie and travis, that you just had to give in.

۶ৎ she led you hand in hand, her thumb almost subconsciously rubbing over the back of your hand as if to soothe your nerves which she was sure were shot. she sat you down gently against the bark of a tree and knelt next to you, cup in hand.

۶ৎ “you got this. it’s okay,” she kept whispering to you, like a mantra, as you took small sips of the bitter liquid.

۶ৎ being drunk or high or whatever it is you were while drinking that tea, you were a lot less giggly compared to travis, lottie said. more stoic, even.

۶ৎ you didn’t feel stoic, not at all. your heartbeat was racing, everything around you spinning and contorting. yet, you couldn’t hear anything.

۶ৎ you shook your head firmly as lottie tried to raise the cup to your lips again and widened her eyes expectantly. “what do you hear?”

۶ৎ shrugging slightly, you answered with a simple “nothing.” lottie didn’t like that. she needed details, to know exactly how you were feeling. any tic, and hitch of your breath, she was sure to notice it.

۶ৎ she repeated her question in a slightly firmer tone, “what do you hear? listen.”

۶ৎ you knew it was probably best to give her what she wanted when she was like this. “my.. heartbeat. it’s, like, drumming in my ears. it’s so loud, lottie,” you told her, on the brink of dry heaving.

۶ৎ lottie raised a heavy hand and placed it on your chest. it felt cold against your skin, despite the weather and your own raised temperature. lottie had always ran cold.

۶ৎ she nodded, her eyes were empty like she was looking through you. “i feel that. i’ve got you. breathe.” her eyes came back to the moment, and took a deep breath, coaxing you to do as she was.

۶ৎ you took a deep breath, but it got caught in your throat, hitching. it felt like time had slowed and everything was still; every whistle of wind through the trees was gone, every thump of your heartbeat was silenced. then lottie was gone.

۶ৎ you shouted out for her until your voice was hoarse, and despite your efforts, you were still stuck sitting against the tree. it occurred to you then that you shouldn’t have let her do this.

۶ৎ suddenly, all of your shouting came back to you in higher pitches of your voice, almost as if It was mocking you. it was like the wilderness knew you couldn’t hear It. you clasped your hands over your ears and hummed to yourself, trying to drown out the sounds.

۶ৎ when you finally snapped out of your state, lottie was back in front of you, grasping at you, her eyes blown wide, “what happened? talk to me.”

۶ৎ you gasped as you came back to your consciousness and dropped your hands from your ears, holding them against your chest. you were trying to tell lottie about what happened as quickly as you possibly could before it disappeared from your memory. “lottie- oh, my god. lottie, i.. i was shouting for you, and you were gone. the wilderness, It- i don’t know what it wants. It screamed at me, like it was me.”

۶ৎ she almost sighed a breath of relief as she heard you say that. “so, you heard It? It spoke to you?” she asked, giving herself a reassuring nod.

۶ৎ you wanted to deny it. you didn’t want her to win, to be her next subject. but, you knew you shouldn’t lie to her. she’s caught you out on lies more than enough times for you to know she calls you out on purpose. even here, her personality shines through. she knew that travis was lying, she just needed someone fresh.

۶ৎ “uh, yeah. i think so,” was all that you told her, you didn’t want to give her too much detail. you knew that if you did, she’d keep to coming to you to talk to It. you’d end up in travis’ state in no more than a week or two.

۶ৎ she gave a soft, delighted sounding chuckle and she pushed herself up from the ground. “good. good.” she looked down at you and put her hand out for you to take.

۶ৎ you slowly took her hand into yours and she pulled you up as you tried to gain your balance for a moment. she smiled once you were standing upright again. “we can try again tomorrow. see if you can hear anything else It has to say to you.”

۶ৎ tomorrow? try again tomorrow? god. even that sounded like too much for you. you were already a little shook up by what happened just a few minutes ago, and she’s already sprung tomorrow onto you.

۶ৎ “again tomorrow? lott, i dunno. i mean..” she had already started walking back to camp when you said this. she turned to face you again and she grabbed your hand, pulling you along with her. “yes. again tomorrow. it’ll be easier this way.” will it? “we’ll find out quicker what It wants. if we wait, you might tap out of It.”

۶ৎ she stopped abruptly and dropped your hand. you glanced down at your hand and back up at her, your face contorting in confusion. then, she ever so slowly turned her head to look at you. she looked you over for a second before her gaze came back up to your face, and a flicker of something shone from behind her dark eyes. “don’t you wanna help us get home?”

# look at my trip sitter bruh i’m gonna die 😭

divider creds: v6que & anitalenia

a/n: no the buffy sainte marie song doesn’t work it’s a screenshot don’t fret LOL. haven’t written anything since before new years so yes i AM rusty and no i dont wanna hear nothing. but lottie is brain rotting me so hard so yay! before anyone says my writing is bad i promise i KNOWWWWWWW i just love her and yeah okay. that’s all 😇💗

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part four.

( 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), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise. 

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too. 

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath. 

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days. 

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface. 

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself. 

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now. 

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out. 

Maybe your drink will be poisoned. 

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own. 

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out. 

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t. 

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling. 

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks. 

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.” 

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement. 

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.” 

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink. 

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.” 

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder. 

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow. 

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought. 

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?” 

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top. 

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave. 

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself. 

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words. 

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies. 

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one: 

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over. 

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top. 

His skin is smooth. 

Heated. 

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

.

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[selin-aka-puppydogs68-on-tt]

A HUGE Willtresor analysis— the kiss, my thoughts on their development, why I think their dynamic will change post ep. 120, etc

Oh boy, I fast-passed episode 120 a while ago and this damn ship hasn’t left my mind since 😭

Monty, you really are a loser. Can’t ibuprofen your way out of this one— it’s the end of the line!

The sad reality is Montresor always took Will’s presence as granted; as said before by multiple characters— he always ended up injuring Will in some way, whether it was his feelings or actually just beating the living shit out of him.

Literally any time he purposefully touched Will in episode 119, it hurt Will, even though Montresor was trying to “protect” him, he’s literally the reason Will has blood coming out of his mouth (I’m pretty sure the impact of Montresor hitting Will’s chest when he told him to stay back caused some sort of internal bleeding). And now, he’s panicking; you can tell from the crazed look in his eyes. He’s frantically trying to convince Will to get up but deep down I think he knew there was no hope. He’s more so trying to desperately console himself that he won’t fuck up something again like he always does.

Something’s changed— he’s noticeably more gentle now than he ever was before. Look at the way he holds onto Will’s robe, it’s almost like he’s trying to put it back on, like he’s trying to repair his mistakes.

Behold, Mont-don’t-fucking-touch-me-quit-bootlicking-me-tresor crashing out over the only time Will refuses one of his orders. What’s wrong? I thought you wanted him to stop boot-licking you 😗 bipolar much?

Montresor lashes out at everyone and tbh I think it’s from how he was raised. Ever since he was born he was literally deemed blasphemous. He got a ridiculous amount of attention from everyone around him and was constantly shunned for his actions, so I’m guessing he eventually succumbed to becoming the monster the church claimed he would be. Makes sense, why would he show sympathy towards anyone when nobody bothered showing any to him? But Will was different, he knew growing up that he could never be someone who mattered. NOBODY paid attention to him. I know people will reduce Will’s attraction to stronger men as “omg cute twink!1!” but really, insecure people are drawn towards people who they deem are confident figures that can provide stability to their lives, sort of like an anchor.

Do I think Monty’s actually confident? Lol no. I think both Will and Montresor hate themselves in a way— Will believes his self-worth depends on pleasing others while Monty believes that he’s already far beyond any form of redemption, so he’s kind of embraced being an awful person while Will’s dream is to just improve himself in a way he never could while alive.

Montresor lashes out at everyone because it provides some form of stimulation for him, it makes him feel better about himself— if the church labeled him as a monster, then hell yeah he’s gonna be one and scare the living shit out of them like they did to him. He isn’t sympathetic towards anyone and doesn’t expect anyone to be sympathetic towards him back. Yet here is Will, who STILL stuck with him after being violently beat and impaled twice, dying in his arms. I don’t think Monty can wrap his head around why anyone would do this and for the first time in his life he actually feels guilty for something.

Montresor doesn’t immediately shove Will off of himself, he lets Will grab onto his jacket collar probably because he thinks Will is going to use it to haul himself back onto his feet…except he actually kisses him, much to Montresor’s surprise LMAOOO

I didn’t notice this when I first read the chapter but Montresor puts Will’s robe back on before pushing him away— unlike episode 119, he actually tries not to injure Will further and avoids touching the shoulder with the bite wound; he uses the robe to safely pull Will off him.

He tried fixing him— the robe is on properly now.

The robe falls right off Will’s shoulder again. Montresor’s efforts ended in vain.

If this doesn’t prove the “Montresor never cared about Will” people wrong idk what will. We’ve never seen another circular speech bubble with the scribbly lines (hoarse/about to cry voice?) from Montresor besides maybe the church episode. He definitely didn’t give two shits at the start but now everything’s changed. We went from “you really are good for nothing” to “you did good, Will”. AAAAH!

Not only did Will die, he died doing something Montresor did NOT expect— idk if Montresor has actually even touched a religious text in quite a while since he doesn’t remember how to pray, but homosexuality was possibly discussed in the cult he grew up in. Even though Monty’s canonically an atheist, he literally swears in Jesus’ name when Will kisses him, he has a whole cross necklace under his uniform too; that religious trauma will never leave him, and Will kissing him only further cemented the fact that he is a sinner; the only person who’s actually compatible with him is a man. I also like how it’s fine when he sleeps with a gazillion women but when a man kisses him he starts tweaking— not really historically wrong if you consider that being gay was labeled as a major sin AND a mental issue in both Will and Monty’s respective time periods. Anyways cue closeted bisexual losing it lmao

Annnd I’ve reached the max image count but the scene where Will literally MELTS?? Straight (gay) nightmare fuel for Monty…left all by (bi) himself (“you’re not funny OP!” everyone says in unison while throwing tomatoes at me, yeah okay I’ll stop) Imo Montresor absolutely forgot about those clones, I bet he thought he was truly going insane and hearing Will’s voice in his head…but hey here’s right next to him and…perfectly fine? damn.

Anyways Will reaches for Montresor, but instead of Monty pushing him away, he instead turns the other way and knocks the crutches out of Will’s hand— he doesn’t hurt Will, he hurts himself by rejecting a mobility aid. Also Will just ignoring the huge bloodstain on the wall and floor right next to his slipper??? WTF??? Why the hell didn’t he say anything about it? Also, we’ve never seen other clones bleed like this before. I wonder if this remaining Will is actually a clone, but since he survived and real Will didn’t, he became real Will now, so the OG melted into wax.

In previous chapters while Will is talking to Montresor, he constantly has this crazed look in his eyes. Will’s eyes are greyish-blue but you can’t even tell in most scenes because they look so black and small all the time from him being so nervous while talking to Monty, like the toothbrush scene and also Will suddenly becoming religious out of nowhere and telling Monty he’s gonna pray after seeing that Monty wears a cross, then completely doing a 360 and agreeing when Monty shares his beliefs as an atheist. Will’s big fat crush was so obvious tbh.

Annnd now Monty is the nervous one. We see one of the first scenes where Will’s eyes are normal sized and blue. Personally? I think Will is actually going to grow a backbone this time and realize Montresor didn’t treat him well. Clone or not, a part of Will just died, and it the most sensitive and vulnerable part that had feelings for Montresor.

I feel like they’re going to (somewhat?) flip their dynamic, it’s definitely going to be hella awkward between them since only Monty remembers the kiss (…and also Will’s dead corpse melting into the floor while reeking of blood, but uhhh yk 😅), I feel like Montresor will be more nervous now while Will will gain confidence. Lenore said it herself, Monty is always scared. I want to see what happens without his mask.

Anyways thanks for coming to my deranged willtresor essay (is it obvious I have audhd), keep writing fanfics (no, not the gooner NSFW willtresor AO3 fanfics…I’ve already found multiple…I SEE Y’ALL—) and uhhh stay strong willtresor nation 🤑🙏

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |11|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of injuries, talks of killing, talks of attack

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

You sat on a bed in the ambulance as you got stitched up, again. For the second time, in one day, you had to have your wound from the previous day restitched, then on top of that you needed the wound on your leg stitched. For once you got lucky and the cut on your arm didn’t go deep enough for stitches, the medic just cleaned it and wrapped it.

Much to Sam’s displeasure you refused to go to the hospital, again. You were fine though, you had a slight limp at the moment but once you got used to the pain, you’d be fine, you just needed to walk it off. Besides, you couldn’t waste time going to the hospital, it would take too long and two attacks in a day meant Ghostface could do it again. You weren’t about to leave Sam and her friends alone just to get properly patched up.

You hopped out of the ambulance with a groan, clenching your jaw as you tried not to focus on the pain that radiated throughout your leg. You walked off, trying not to flinch with each step. You looked down, pulling at your shirt as you took in the new blood stain from your torn stitches, which wasn’t nearly as bad as the blood on your pants from that stab wound. If people didn’t know you had literally just been attacked, they’d probably assumed you committed a murder.

“Survived to tell the tale again,” Kirby said, approaching you just like last time. “Seems Ghostface got some hits in,” she tilted her head, gesturing at the bandage on your arm.

You held up your arm, giving the bandage a look, then scoffed. “Cheap shots,” you said with an eye roll.

Kirby gave a knowing hum. “That’s how he does things.”

“I’m learning that,” you mumbled.

You would be prepared next time. The first time, you didn’t have anything, but you caught him off guard, until the second one appeared. The second time you were caught off guard, forced to run into a territory filled with civilians, you won that one, but you didn’t finish the job. And now the third time, you were once again caught off guard, without weapons, your only priority had been to make sure the others got away, taking Ghostface out was your second priority. The fourth time would be different, you would make sure of it. The next time you went up against Ghostface would be the last, for every single one of them.

“You got everyone out,” Kirby said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Not everyone,” you whispered. You looked across the way where you saw the coroner wheeling Quinn’s body out on the stretcher. A sheet was covering her face, but you knew she was under there. Bailey looked distraught as they stopped next to him, allowing him to say goodbye one last time.

You narrowed your eyes, Bailey was crying over his dead daughter, there was nothing out of the ordinary, it was the reaction anyone would expect from a father. Bailey had been the first on the scene this time, by several minutes before anyone else, as if he was already on his way there. There was a chance that was the case, he could have been coming by to see his daughter or update everyone on the case. There was something tugging at the back of your mind though, telling you not to take it at face value, Bailey was the last to arrive after the bodega attack, but the first on the scene to the apartment, which happened to be when his daughter was murdered.

You furrowed your brow; you and the girls had gone back to the apartment right after the attack. The only person who had left the apartment was Ethan, you knew the twins wouldn’t let some random stranger into the apartment, besides Quinn’s hookup, who was found dead in the bathtub. That meant Ghostface had to either have been in the apartment the whole time, which was improbable, there was no way he could have stayed hidden for so long. The other option was that he got in another way, possibly through one of the windows, which meant he had to climb up the fire escape. Your eyes tracked the fire escape from the ground up to where you knew Sam’s apartment was. The ladder wasn’t pushed down but the dumpster was close enough that if Ghostface jumped up on it he could have pulled himself up onto the ladder. It still should have made enough noise for someone to notice, but no one did, not until the phone call came in.

“I should get to work,” Kirby said. You nodded and watched her walk off towards the crime scene.

You looked around the area, seeing Chad with Mindy as she got patched up in the back of another ambulance. A medic checked out Anika right outside the ambulance, but you knew the worst Anika probably had was a concussion from being slammed into the wall. Sam and Tara weren’t too far from the ambulance as they talked to an officer. You noticed Danny standing off to the side by the gate and decided to walk over to him.

“Hey,” you said, giving him a nod.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, nodding at your arm.

“It’s nothing,” you waved it off.

“Almost bleeding out it my apartment doesn’t seem like nothing.”

You chuckled, you couldn’t help but nod. The cut on your arm and the tearing of your stitches really was nothing. The real issue was the stab wound on your leg, the knife had gone deep and was bleeding quite a bit before the medics got to you. Honestly, if you didn’t get help when you did you would have most definitely bled out, not that you were going to mention that to Sam or anyone else, but it was definitely something you should have gone to the hospital for.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you said. “That ladder stunt was crazy,” you smiled, shaking your head. “But it was fucking brilliant man.”

Danny chuckled and scratched the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. “Me? What about you?” he gestured at you. “Jumping from the middle of the ladder? Now, that,” he pointed at you. “That is fucking insane.”

You couldn’t argue with him there. That was one of the craziest stunts you had ever done, and you had jumped out of planes and helicopters before, though you always had a parachute. You were bleeding out, the ladder was unstable, if you had missed, if you didn’t fall to your death, you probably would have broken most of the bones in your body.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” Danny’s question caught you off guard. “I got some you could borrow since you look…” he gestured at all of you. You looked down at your bloody self, you wouldn’t be able to go back to your house and change again.

“Thanks,” you said. “But I got some in my car,” you pointed to your vehicle down the street. “But can I change in your apartment?” Danny nodded.

You made your way over to your car, fighting through the pain that shot through your leg at every step. You opened the back door and unzipped the duffle bag you kept back there; you made sure to always have a change of clothes and anything else you would need in your car. You grabbed your spare plain black t-shirt and black cargo pants. You were sure you’d look rather intimidating walking around in all black, but you needed to be ready for a fight.

You followed Danny up to his apartment, grimacing at the pool of blood on his hard wood floor. You would have to make sure to pay to get that cleaned up, you knew how hard blood was to get out of things. The cops had walked the apartment when they first arrived but because the attack didn’t happen there, they finished up after a few minutes and made their way over to the actual crime scene.

You made your way into Danny’s bathroom to quickly changed. You pulled off your bloodied shirt and had to do a double take when you caught site of yourself in the mirror. You were in great shape, spending most of your time training, when you weren’t deployed, but your body had been through a lot. The stab wound on your side and the cut down your arm was nothing compared to the rest of you. Even the wound on your leg didn’t seem like much. Your body was litter with scars from knife and gun shot wounds, all the times you almost died. You subconsciously brought a hand to the tattoo over your heart, it was the insignia of army special forces, with the initials of your teammates throughout. As your finger brushed over the tattoo you could feel the scar underneath, the bullet that should have killed you.

You shook your head, pushing the memories down as far as they would go. You couldn’t be thinking about that, Sam needed you at your best, you couldn’t let your own trauma get in the way of that. You gripped the sink until your knuckles turned white and kept your eyes pinched shut until you had completely pushed everything away. When you looked up again, you recognized the soldier in the mirror, the one that would do whatever it took to make sure the mission succeeded and right now the mission was saving Sam and her friends. You quickly threw on the clean clothes and made your way back down to the others.

“You fuck with my family, you die,” Bailey said just as you walked out of the apartment.

You furrowed your brow as he talked to Sam. You knew he was upset; it was natural for a father to want revenge on his daughter. However, it hadn’t even been an hour since Quinn was killed, it didn’t make sense for him to be so cold and logically already.

You made your way over to Sam and Tara’s side just as Gale Weathers walked up. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Gale said.

“Don’t even start,” Sam snapped.

“I’m not here for that.” Her gaze flicked to you; you could tell she still wanted to ask you questions but she didn’t.

“Bullshit.”

“Truly,” Gale tried again. “Off the record,” she rolled her eyes. “I found something you’ll all want to see.”

Gale didn’t say what she wanted to show everyone, she just said it was connected to Ghostface. Sam and Tara began gathering the others, you couldn’t help but furrow your brow when Ethan appeared. Chad kept flicking a glare at him, you weren’t sure what happened while you were changing but if Chad was suspicious of Ethan, then whatever happened certainly couldn’t have been bad. Once everyone was gathered you all made your way to the location Gale sent.

You stood close to Sam as everyone gathered at the front of an alleyway, as Gale explained the two kids from Tara’s class who were killed rented the building. It was broad daylight, making an attack unlikely but not impossible. Attacking someone during the day was a risk, higher probability of being seen, but it was unexpected, it was a way to catch the target off guard.

Gale and Kirby argued over how Gale found the place. You knew Gale was a good reporter and reporters had the habit of finding things they shouldn’t, but the fact that Kirby didn’t know the place existed was concerning, considering she was in the FBI and specialized in Ghostface cases. You glanced over everyone else, Chad stood next to Ethan, who had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking uncomfortable and out of place as usual. Mindy had her arm wrapped around Anika, whispering something in her ear. Anika hadn’t said a word since the attack, she just had a distant look in her eyes as her entire body shook. You had seen that look plenty of times, in soldiers after their first fight, in survivors after an attack, it wasn’t easy to get past, but everyone did eventually, with time.

You followed the group down the alley, with Gale leading the way. Gale swiped a card, unlocking a large metal door at the end of the alley. The door led down a dimly lit hallway, the dated red wallpaper was peeling, revealing the stained drywall underneath. You looked down, there was a thin dark red carpet to match the wall, though you could feel how sticky it was every time you lifted your foot. You came to a stop, furrowing your brow as Gale swung open a door and stepped into a metal cage of some sort, before swiping the card again and opening another metal door.

“What is this place?” Mindy asked.

“Just wait,” Gale said, before disappearing. She walked off to the side, a second later there was a loud click that echoed throughout the room, and then all the lights came on.

You couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open, it was some sort of old movie theater. “It’s a shrine,” Gale said as she rejoined the group. You looked around, seeing she had flipped the breaker.

“Holy shit,” Mindy whispered.

The theater was filled with display cases, all of them full of stuff you assumed was from previous Ghostface attacks. It even seemed that whoever created the shrine dressed up mannequins in the actual clothes from the killers and victims, at least that’s what you gathered from the bloodstains on the clothes in question. All the displays led straight to the stage, and in center stage was a set of nine Ghostface costumes, each of them in their own special display case.

You walked through the displays, your eyes scanning over all the information. You had heard bits and pieces from the news over the years, but you never knew it was anything like this. Whoever these new people were, they clearly had done their research, they seemed to have planned everything quite thoroughly. Everything from all previous Ghostface attacks was in one room, that definitely wasn’t a coincidence, you knew something bigger was at play, everything was too easy.

Kirby said she had been investigating the two college kids, they were stupid enough to get on Kirby’s radar before they ever even killed someone. Yet, this place was apparently theirs and hidden so well even Kirby couldn’t find it. On top of that, even if they were rich kids, there seemed to be too much evidence, there was no way they got everything by simply bribing cops.

You stopped at one of the displays, there were sketches of Sam and Tara. You figured it must have been from the attack last year. In the display was also crime scene photos, and photos of Tara. You flicked your eyes to Tara as she made her way up the stage towards her sister, just based on the photos she had endured one hell of an attack. Your eyes then fell on a picture of some guy, smiling at the camera, the nameplate at the bottom read ‘Richie Kirsch’ Sam’s ex-boyfriend. You wrinkled your nose at the picture, you didn’t know the full story, didn’t know anything about the guy, but you didn’t like him from a simple photo.

“So, what,” Chad said. “Someone killed these guys and took over?” you made your way up to the center of the stage where everyone else had already gathered.

“If this were a normal Stab movie,” Mindy said. “This would be the killers lair.”

“But this isn’t a normal Stab movie,” Kirby said.

This wasn’t a movie at all. You might not have been used to this whole thing, but you didn’t get all the movie references. This wasn’t a movie, even if some psycho was inspired by a movie, this was real life, real people died, and Ghostface was just a normal guy behind a mask. You wouldn’t deny that the place certainly looked like a lair, they were definitely right about that part. The idea that two kids created the whole space, only to end up dead and have someone else take up the Ghostface mantle and know about this room just didn’t seem plausible. All your senses were telling you to take nothing at face value, that there was something deeper going on.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler

[mellosdrawings]

Can we hear more about the N2 squad? I love them :)

(Side note: Can we get a Trey doodle in your style? I just want to see what he looks like drawn by you. Love your drawings!)

(Side note p2: you can ignore the first side note if you wish!)

More about the N2 squad uuuuuh *check my notes*

Leona sleeps in very weird positions like a cat and often kicks his legs around. He's also a furnace so it's not rare that he ends in the middle of a cuddle pile, especially since he likely won't get up at all during the night.

(It's not rare that Jamil and Vil complain about having been kicked during the night)

Jamil and Leona regularly play chess together. Jamil picked up on the rules very fast but still can't quite win against Leona. He regularly has false joys before Leona inevitably crushes all his hopes because he just refuses to go easy with him.

Vil grooms both Jamil and Vil to de-stress. Paints their nails, brushes and styles their hair, plays dolls with them whenever they agree to try out clothes or jewelries for him. He doesn't want to change them but his love language is just... grooming. So that's what he does.

Jamil was a bit shy about it at first but he certainly doesn't dislike it. Leona playfully fights him a bit about it before he just gives up and lets him do whatever he wants.

Leona and Vil go back a year or so already. They've dated on and off, been sex buddies, broke off in big flourishes, etc. They only properly settle together after they bring Jamil to the mix. Despite being his own kind of mess, Jamil works well to glue them all together.

At one point Leona brought Jamil to help in his club coz there was a few sick guys and they couldn't train properly because of low numbers. He knew Jamil was good at flying but turns out Jamil is actually really good at Spelldrive so now he regularly kidnaps him to play together.

Vil (and Rook) love to watch them fly around and have fun. (Plus those clothes are so cool looking please who wouldn't be in love?!)

(Side note: Hm, well, I have a little Trey in Spelldrive getup from the AU I'm preparing about my and @the-fab-fox 's OCs?)

(I'll draw him more in time, promise <3)

[revelboo]

WAIT!!! those little blokees are coming to walmart!? Ahhh i need them so bad! can't wait to see who I'll get! 🙏😫

I’m so ecstatic to see Blokees in a store, they’re getting more mainstream so hopefully they’ll keep making them. I need the Scavengers, TFP versions, more bugs…

Coin-Operated Boy Pt 6

Steve x Reader

• Nose wrinkling when your eyes are drawn inexorably to the glowing thing Steve had gifted you and really hoping that glow isn’t radioactivity, you’d ended up using it as a side table for your favorite chair. And it doubles as an only slightly unsettling nightlight. That might be irradiating you. Sighing, you head into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Sleepily yawning, you catch a flash of red glow through the window a foot from your face and scream, dropping the glass to shatter in the sink as your heart races. It’s like you’d summoned him just by thinking about him. Mouth open as Steve lifts a hand.

• Backing away at the sound of your muffled scream, his plating flares slightly before settling. Hadn’t meant to scare you, but Soundwave’s little pet had given him so many ideas. And Soundwave himself hadn’t hurt him for talking to them. Just stared him down, an arm lifting to point at the door after finding him, those tendrils of his lashing behind him. Threatening, but not punishing him. Shifting to try and track you through your little dwelling, he shifts on his peds. Finally, the door opens and he hesitates. What are you wearing? It’s very short, very thin and those fluffy things on your feet have faces.

• “Steve, sweetie, it’s one in the morning,” you manage, heart still pounding as he slowly kneels in front of you in the dew soaked grass. And his head tilts to make you think that time probably doesn’t matter that much to him. But at least it’s only him and not a bunch of his buddies to stare at you with that weird, almost reverence. And he’s lifting an arm toward his chassis and just pulling stuff out of nowhere like a magician as your mouth falls open. A fistful of boxed candy, stuffed animals, and part of someone’s rose bush is held out to you.

• Offering you the gifts he’d spent so much time finding and secreting away in his subspace, he waits as you just stare. “You didn’t seem to like my other gift,” he says, holding his hand closer, waiting. Doesn’t any of it appeal to you? The other human had seemed so sure these things would be liked. Needs to properly thank you for your kindness, his little human. He’s altered his patrols to include your dwelling so he can look after you, convinced some of his brothers to do the same so you’re protected at all times.

• Because you have no idea what his other gift even was, but he’s bending, leaning over you, visor dimming slightly. Will it hurt his feelings if you refuse? Reaching, you pick up a stuffed dog, smoothing a thumb over its soft face. “You don’t have to thank me for helping you. It was the right thing to do.” And his head tips, alien and unreadable. Like he doesn’t understand someone being kind, reminding you of how he’d reacted when you’d helped him. That he hadn’t seemed to trust that you weren’t going to harm him. Like he’s really not used to any kindness and your heart aches for him.

• Watches you shuffle to the side as he reaches past you, movements slow so he doesn’t spook you and deposits the rest of your gifts inside your dwelling. “You’re under Vehicon protection,” he says and you hug the stuffed animal to yourself, staring up at him. “Debts must be repaid in kind.” Hesitating, he slowly brushes the back of his servo against your arm, nudging you back into your dwelling. “I’m watching over you.”

• Why does that sound more like a threat than anything else. Not sure what to say as he gently nudges you inside and you hear his servos scraping the door as he tries to close it until you end up pushing it closed with a foot. What does he mean by watching over you? Peeking through the blinds, you see him fold up, transforming into a car in your yard a foot away from your door with his front wheels in your flower bed on your pansies. Oh, yeah that looks normal. The neighbors are going to think you were drunk. Wait. Is he staying the night? Too tired to try and figure out how his mind works, you grab a box of chocolates and shuffle upstairs to your bed. Not about to deal with the half a rose bush in your living room this early in the morning.

Previous

Next

[yxxdel]

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐓 FT. SAE ITOSHI 𖦹°‧ ** you can’t bear physical contact during summer, it’s just too hot. your boyfriend think otherwise.

W/C : 1.3k

C/W : none, pure fluff, reader is feeling insecure (?)

A/N : first fluffy post hihi

𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 a lot of things.

He hated weak and annoying people; he hated when his body was too exhausted to train; and he hated when someone raised their voice at him.

But one of the things he hated the most, was the summer. The air was too hot to even breathe, his clothes stuck to his body due to sweat, he couldn’t train properly and the list went on..

But if he hated summer so much, it was for one particular reason.

Sae preferred the cold weather, not only because it matched his personality but also because he could be near you all the time.

Your cute eyes looking up at him and asking him to warm your hands— he loved that. He loved wrapping his arms around you and kissing your red nose.

So yes, Sae hated summer just because he couldn’t be close to you.

Every time he tried to hold you, you gently pushed him away, saying that you were too hot.

So here he was, sulking like a baby on the couch as he was watching one of his previous games.

Yet he couldn’t concentrate; his mind was always drawn to you.

He let out a sigh as he leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes. Sae didn’t consider himself clingy, but when you refused to kiss or hug him ?

Damn, he was like a child.

Hearing your footsteps, his body immediately rose as he saw you walking toward the kitchen, in underwear.

Well, him too, he was shirtless and in short, and was slowly melting because of the weather .

He titled his head to the side slightly, his teal gaze admiring your curves.

He called your name in a small whine, walking behind you as you put your empty glass on the counter, smiling.

“What is it, baby?”

You noticed his pout, something unusual.

But when he tried to wrap his arms around you, you put your hand on his chest and gently got away from his embrace.

“See? You don’t love me anymore.”

Sae crossed his arms as his tone was cold, like always, but still soft in a way he only used for you.

You giggled as you shook your head, grinning because you found him so cute.

“I love you, Sae. It’s just that I can’t bear the heat of your body right now. I know you want to cuddle, and I’m sorry.”

He only scoffed, grabbing your wrist to bring you closer. He rested his chin on your bare shoulder, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“You can take it, it’s not like you’re gonna die.”

He mumbled, not even caring if his body was starting to get hot too.

He wanted your touch, so he will get your touch. Winter, autumn, spring, and summer.

Your cheeks started to become red, both from the sentence he used and the sudden wave of heat running through your body.

You smiled, grabbing his shoulders.

“Sae, baby, I’m serious. Plus we’re both sweating, I mustn't smell good. “

The midfielder only pulled you closer when you tried to push him away again, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t smell bad.”

For him, you always smelled like a delicate flower. Like tulip. He didn’t even know why, since you didn’t own any perfume with this scent.

Maybe it was something psychological for him.

You couldn’t help but smile, finding it adorable how needy he was for your touch. Caressing his scalp, you sighed.

“Alright, let’s take a shower together, alright ? So you can hug me without the risk of me fainting.”

He immediately raised his head from your neck, his eyes narrowing.

Oh, Sae liked that idea.

“Ok.”

He then took a step back, leaving you with the space you needed.

You inhaled deeply, showing him a sweet smile. You noticed his eyes running down your body, and you felt yourself blushing again.

“Can I kiss you now ? Or in the shower ?”

His question surprised you, and you chuckled.

“You can do both, but wait to be under the cold water to actually kiss me.”

He immediately stepped closer the moment you agreed, but his face stopped inches away from yours at your last words.

With a frown, he asked you:

“What do you mean ‘actually kiss you’ ?”

Your fingertips trailed from his collarbone down to his chest, like a feather, and it made him shiver.

“Well, you know. Kisses with you always end up with your body on top of mine, so I can only give you a peck right now.”

You could laugh at how random the conversation ended up, but you loved it. He crossed his arms, his stoic expression staring down at you.

“Then from now on, I will hate your peck.”

You laughed, clearly amused about how much he looked like a child behaving like this.

“Is that so ? So I’m not going to give you my small kisses before you go training, or when I leave the house ?”

Sae stayed silent for a moment, evaluating the situation with his tongue pocking his cheek.

He then simply leaned in, turning his face slightly so you were facing his cheek.

“I changed my mind. I want the small kiss now, and the big kiss for under the shower.”

Shaking your head, you leaned in and met his skin with your soft lips. Stepping back, you bit your lips as you saw his ear became the same color as his hair.

“Let’s go then, a cold and long shower awaits us.”

He grabbed your wrist as you walked toward the bathroom, following you like a puppy with a small smile tucking his lips.

Inside the bathroom, you were now curiously more shy.

It wasn’t the first time you and Sae took a shower together, but each time it still made you nervous.

What if he didn’t like your body ? What if he saw you the way you saw yourself ?

Those questions ran through your mind all the time.

Oh, but foolish you were for thinking that.

Sae adored your body; he worshiped every single inch of it. Either it was your chest, stomach, thighs, or ass, he wanted to kiss it all the time.

Yes, he loved your body, but that wasn’t what he loved the most. Because, above all, he loved you.

Sensing something wrong, Sae held your hands in his, his lips flying above your skin.

In a heavy silence, he left a trail of soft kisses from your knuckles to your shoulder. Without breaking eye contact, he gently grabbed the strap of your bra and pulled it down slowly.

When both of you were naked, he held your chin.

“Look at me, love.”

And you did because, of course, you trusted him.

In the shower, he cleaned your back and you did his.

The cold water soothed both of you during the hot summer.

His pink hair stuck to his forehead because of the water, making him even more attractive.

“And now, do I get my kiss ?”

He said it teasingly as he gently pushed your back against the shower wall, his finger putting away the hair in front of your eyes.

Closing your eyes, you kissed him. He let out a faint groan as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring your body.

Well, he missed you—it has been only two days—but he still missed your body. Like the touch-deprived person that he was.

Further in the day, after the shower healed you from the heat of your apartment, you were both lying in bed.

You randomly remembered that you bought a big ventilator; Sae almost killed you for that.

You turned it on in the bedroom so your needy boyfriend could finally cuddle with you.

So here you were, his arms wrapped around you and his face on your chest, sleeping like a baby.

So no, you weren’t on the ‘what Sae Itoshi hates’ list, but on the contrary, you were on the ‘rare things Sae Itoshi likes’.

And you were at the top of that list.

© yxxdel 2024 — all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[tqlepatia]

Sevika x reader who has a family loss and refuses to do anything but cry, sevika gets her to eat

DONT YOU DROWN IN ME

Summary: Sevika finds reader in a deep state of grief, refusing to eat, and quietly helps you through it with patience and care.

tw : Depression, grief, familly loss, disordered Eating (starvation due to emotional distress), hurt/Comfort, deep trauma.

The house felt empty, more than ever.

You used to love how full this place was. The noise, the laughter, the small, everyday conversations that you never thought twice about. The way your mother used to hum in the kitchen, how your father always forgot where he put his keys, the way your siblings would bicker over the smallest things, only to make up ten minutes later like nothing had happened.

It was home.

A car crash had torn them away from you. One by one, bone by bone. You never even got to say goodbye properly. One moment, they were there, and the next, they weren’t. The walls still held the echoes of their presence, but they felt like ghosts now. Shadows of the life you had built together.

They were gone. All of them.

You barely moved from the bed after that. What was the point? You couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw them. Their smiles, their touches, the way they had loved you so fiercely. And then you saw their broken bodies, the blood, the lifeless stares. It was like drowning in an ocean of grief, unable to breathe, unable to escape.

Sevika stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you curled up in bed, the same way you’d been for days. The curtains were drawn, the room stale from being shut up too long. Dishes sat untouched on the nightstand, evidence of her previous, failed attempts to get you to eat.

She hated this.

Hated seeing you like this. Hated not knowing what to say, what to do. She wasn’t good at comfort, never had been, but the sight of you wasting away in grief made her chest ache in ways she didn’t know how to fix.

A heavy sigh left her lips as she stepped inside, the mattress dipping as she sat beside you. “You need to eat, doll.”

Still standing in the doorway of your bedroom, arms crossed. You ignored her. You were curled up under the blankets, staring at the wall. She sighed heavily, running a hand down her face. "This isn’t what they would want for you."

You didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Just pulled the blankets tighter around yourself, your shoulders trembling from another quiet sob.

You hated it. Hated when people tried to use the dead as a reason for the living to keep going. What did they know? They weren’t the ones who lost everything.

She reached out, pressing a rough hand against your back. “I know it hurts, baby” she murmured. “And I know nothing I say is gonna make it better. But you have to eat, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, curling in on yourself. “Not hungry."

She exhaled sharply, rubbing slow circles over your back. “I don’t care if you’re not hungry.”

She stood abruptly, leaving the room without another word. When she returned, she had a bowl of soup in her hands, steam curling up toward the ceiling. She set it down on the nightstand and sat back on the bed. “Sit up.”

You wanted to tell her to fuck off, to leave you alone. But she wasn’t going anywhere. You knew that. She was stubborn. More stubborn than you.

Sevika gritted her teeth. She wasn’t used to being gentle, but for you, she tried. She softened her tone, brushed stray hairs from your damp cheeks. “C’mon, doll. Just a sip.”

Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up, wincing at the stiffness in your limbs. Sevika sat on the edge of the bed, holding out a bowl of soup. You stared at it. It smelled good. Your stomach twisted, but you had ignored your hunger for so long that it barely registered anymore.

"Eat," she said, her voice a little softer this time.

You sniffled, shifting slightly under the blankets. It was the most movement she’d seen from you in days.

Slowly, carefully, she slid an arm under your shoulders, guiding you upright. You were sluggish, weak from days of not eating, but you didn’t fight her. “Just one, for me at least, love.”

Your lips parted, and she watched with relief as you took a small sip.

She took that as a win.

“There you go,” she murmured. “That’s my girl.”

The first spoonful was hard to swallow. The second was easier. By the third, you realized just how starving you actually were.

You took another one

And another

And another

Sevika didn’t say anything while you ate. She just sat there, watching, making sure you finished. When you handed her the empty bowl, she nodded approvingly.

She takes the bowl from your hands, placing it next to the small cabinet by the bed, soon, holding you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"You’re gonna keep eating," she told you. "Even if I have to sit here every damn day and shove food in your mouth myself."

A weak, breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it. It felt foreign, wrong. But Sevika smirked, shaking her head.

"Good to know you can still laugh, at least, hm?."

She couldn’t take away the pain.

But she’d be damned if she let it take you away too.

Sevika didn’t rush you. She never did. She let you sit in that heavy silence for as long as you needed, her presence steady, a quiet force beside you. But eventually, she shifted, and you felt her eyes on you.

“You need a bath,” she murmured, not unkindly. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You exhaled slowly, but even that felt like effort. You knew she was right. You could feel the weight of exhaustion clinging to your skin, the stiffness in your limbs, the way your clothes felt like they’d fused to your body after too many nights of lying in bed, doing nothing but sinking deeper into yourself.

Still, moving felt impossible.

Sevika didn’t sigh, didn’t chastise you. She simply stood, reaching for your hands and pulling you up with a gentleness you weren’t sure you deserved.

The bathroom was warm, the tub already filling with steaming water by the time you got there. Sevika moved with quiet efficiency, rolling up her sleeves, checking the temperature with her fingers before glancing back at you. You hovered at the doorway, arms wrapped around yourself like you were bracing for something.

Sevika tilted her head. “Let me help,” she said, softer this time.

You didn’t resist as she stepped forward, fingers carefully lifting the hem of your shirt. She undressed you with the same methodical patience she did everything else—slow, deliberate, never lingering in a way that made you feel exposed. It wasn’t about that. It was about getting you to do something, anything, about the state you were in.

Once you were settled in the tub, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The warmth wrapped around you, seeping into your aching muscles, loosening something tight in your chest.

Sevika knelt beside you, dipping a washcloth into the water before running it along your arm, then up to your shoulder, then your neck. She worked in silence, her touch firm but careful, like she was trying to wash away more than just the dirt and sweat.

You closed your eyes, letting her take care of you.

When the water cooled, she handed you a towel, watching as you dried off and pulled on fresh clothes. It felt strange, feeling even slightly human again, like stepping into a body you hadn’t fully inhabited in a while.

But Sevika wasn’t done.

“Teeth,” she said, arms crossed over her chest. “Then we’re getting out of here for a bit.”

You wanted to groan, to curl back into yourself, but the way she was looking at you—the way she had stayed, despite everything—made it impossible to say no.

So, you brushed your teeth while she stood in the doorway, watching you like you might change your mind at any second. The toothpaste foamed up too fast, making you gag slightly, and Sevika snorted. It was such a normal sound, so utterly mundane, that it almost made you smile.

By the time you both stepped outside, the sunlight felt too bright, the air too sharp against your skin. The park wasn’t crowded, but the noise still felt strange after so many days of suffocating silence. Families sat on blankets, couples strolled hand in hand, kids ran across the grass with the kind of carefree joy that felt like something from another life.

Sevika kept close, her hand finding its usual place at the small of your back. She didn’t rush you, letting you set the pace, letting you get used to the world again.

For a little while, it was okay.

Then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

The weight of everything pressed in too fast, too sudden. The laughter of strangers felt like a reminder of everything you had lost. The sun felt like an intrusion, too harsh, too exposing. The ground beneath your feet didn’t feel stable anymore, and before you even realized it, your breath hitched, your vision blurred, and the world tilted.

Sevika moved instantly, guiding you toward a bench, pressing you down onto it before you could fully unravel.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice low, steady. One hand rubbed slow circles into your back, the other gripping yours like an anchor. “Just breathe.”

But you couldn’t. You pressed your face into your hands, shoulders shaking, the grief clawing its way out of you before you could stop it.

Sevika didn’t tell you to stop crying. She didn’t try to fix it. She just sat there, letting you break apart, letting you feel everything you had been trying so desperately to ignore.

And when the worst of it passed, when your body slumped in exhaustion, Sevika exhaled through her nose and said, “C’mon. You need something sweet.”

You let her pull you to your feet, let her lead you toward a small cart selling ice cream. She handed the vendor a few coins, then passed you a cone.

“Eat,” she said simply.

You took a slow, tentative bite. The cold was sharp against your tongue, a contrast to the heaviness in your chest. But it wasn��t bad. It was… nice. Almost.

Then, before you could take another bite, a small blur of motion crashed into you. A kid, running too fast, not watching where they were going. You barely had time to stumble before the ice cream tumbled from your hand, landing in a sad, melted splat on the pavement.

For a moment, you just stared at it. Sevika did too.

Then, unexpectedly, you laughed. It wasn’t forced or broken. It was real. Surprised. Something small but genuine cracking through the heaviness.

Sevika blinked, then snorted, shaking her head.

The kid, looking guilty as hell, stammered out a rushed, “Sorry!” before sprinting off again. And you laughed even harder.

Sevika sighed, shaking her head as she turned back to the vendor. “Another one.”

The man chuckled, handing her a new cone, which she passed to you with a smirk. “Try not to drop this one, yeah?”

You took it, nudging her playfully with your elbow. “No promises.”

Sevika just huffed, but there was something softer in her gaze, something close to relief. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in as you both sat back down on the bench, watching the world move around you.

Things weren’t fixed. They weren’t magically better, nothing work like that.

But for now, in this moment, it was enough.

[biolumien]

hello!! I loved your rooftop smoke fic so much oh my goodness could I ask for literally anything hoshina I would love to read more of your works... It would make my day if hoshina fell first/if he was the one hopelessly in love but anything that is easier to write for you I would love to read

ALSO PLS FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF ITS NOT EXACTLY IT FOR U!!! TYSM IN ADVANCE

notes: bwahhhh omg… thank you for liking my first work…  i havent written hoshina before… but uh. i hope this is good. same reader-insert from last time for this one too!

hoshina falls first (or tries not to, because to love is to be known)

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader i turned it into kind of a character study, forgive me word count: 1103

let’s get this right off the bat, to clear any misconceptions. hoshina’s not a romantic. he doesn’t fall for anyone first. he’s built up the demeanor of a sly, wily little fox not because he wanted to, but because he had to. tread lightly around others, and they will never know what lies in your heart, the insecurities that bubble and eat at you alive. never let them know how you feel, because as soon as your inherent, weak-willed intent is shown, you’ll be devoured alive.

well.

that’s what hoshina tells himself, anyway. 

it’s what he has to remind himself of constantly when he sees you.

you’re not allowed, he reminds himself, to get under his skin. not in any mean way, not in the way where you play up his insecurities–except you do, don’t you? you don’t mean to, but he gets the impression that if he were conventionally stronger, more impressive, that he’d deserve your attention, the small smile that crosses your lips and lights up your eyes when you see him, the faint exhale of breath when you see him–he’d deserve that if he were better. if he were just simply better, he’d deserve it. he’d feel worthy of it.

hoshina’s not a romantic.

he signed up for a line of very dangerous, practically suicidal work knowing it might mean the death of him.

all to prove that he was worth something.

he’s not the ashes you throw away, he’s a brilliant ball of fire, can’t you see–but he needed to prove that he could shine alone, under his own merit. he didn’t need anyone, except he needed mina to get him into the third division anyway. 

he didn’t need you, except he kept making excuses to get close to you, and not even in any particular suave way. hoshina practically pines for your affections and attention, but the key thing about it is that he refuses, in a way that’s either very cute or insanely frustrating, to make it seem like he’s making the first move. fleeting kisses he shared with you, he never properly initiated himself–he’d stand there, make a big show of leaving, and you’d pulled him by the collar to kiss him. 

but at the very least you seem to be accommodating about it, in any case. you sometimes end up preparing him a cup of tea when you go on break, as if instinctually expecting him.

hoshina wonders if he’s pavlov’s dog in this case–drawn by you, trained to behave around you.

he doesn’t know how he feels about it.

“you keep coming here,” you say to him one day in the lab. at your desk is a wide variety of papers–notes on chemical formulas for bullets, the blueprints for one of mina’s new absurdly-large guns shoved haphazardly under a stack of notebooks, a coffee cup clasped between your hands, and you blow some of the fresh steam off. “i’m starting to think the captain’s going to find you slacking off.”

there’s a sardonic smile on your lips, but hoshina’s gotten better at reading you. you’re happy to see him–he can see it in the tiny way you fidget a little bit when he takes the spare coffee mug from your desk, finding it full of coffee already. does he feel his face softening, his drawn-up shoulders relaxing? no, surely not. he’s better than that. he won’t be influenced by you–and yet. and yet. 

“you have a lock on your door if you don’t want to be disturbed,” hoshina says simply, taking a sip of the coffee. black with a single spoonful of sugar in it, because as much as it was impressive to drink your coffee purely black, hoshina quite frankly couldn’t take it. and he’d built as much a complex around that, too, as if a simple coffee preference might define how worthy he is of love. respect. the works. he watches you, sees dark under-eyes from days of restless work and the writer’s bump on your middle finger, and feels his heart squeeze.

god, he hates it. does he? does he hate it? is he insecure about that? does he hate that he doesn’t hate it? does he hate that by pining for you, by forcing his way into your life, that he’s created the rumblings of his own downfall? no. the worst part of it all is that he can’t hate you. can’t hate the way you watch him, and he wonders if you’re watching him the same way he observes you–like a prey animal, almost, twitchy and nervous, in an attempt to grasp at feeble understanding. 

“if you keep coming back here, i’m going to assume you’re in love with me,” you say.

and you have no idea what those words do to him, really. you don’t know, because hoshina has learned to obscure most of his emotions, at the very least. 

so why does his face feel so hot?

“hm.”

he can’t even come up with a proper retort. you’re staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for the classic hoshina quip–a cackle or giggle, a casual slap on the table with a you wish! attached to it. but it doesn’t come. hoshina stands there, gagged for a moment–and suddenly his grip on his coffee cup feels a little weak.

“hoshina.”

he wishes the smile on your lips didn’t trigger some gut instinct of delight in him.

he’s better than this, damn it. he’s better than this.

your smile quirks up the corners of your cheeks, and there’s something like a shy flush across your skin. and–

“i wish i could take a picture of your face right now,” you say. “you look like you’re coming down with something.”

hoshina scoffs, the sound a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be.

“you wish,” he says. 

“so are you?” you press. “in love with me?”

hoshina stares at you–there’s a sudden tightness in your shoulders that wasn’t there before–you’re worried about his answer. and despite it all–his bravado, his hatred of the mere idea that he might rely on someone else–that he would ever need someone to know his heart, that he might be cowed and tamed like a dog–

he loves you.

he doesn’t want you to be worried about the surety of his answer.

“yeah,” he says. “i love you.” and when that sudden tightness in your body language disappears, he finally finds the strength to quip, “just don’t faint over me, alright?” 

and when you reach out to hit his shoulder, he grasps you by the wrist and pulls you in to kiss you.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Scottish Sam

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda wants you to wear her jersey

It's not very often that Magda gets to see you in her jerseys.

You wore Pernille's Wolfsburg and Denmark one easily. You'd had, on special occasions like the World Cup, worn Magda's Sweden jersey. You'd never willingly worn her Chelsea one.

You'd complained about everything when she used to force you into it. The size. The feel. But most of all, the colour.

Your aversion to Chelsea was something she had grown to live with but, now that you were at Bayern, Magda hoped you would wear her jerseys more often.

There was a strong sense of pride that she could never properly explain when she saw you in one of her shirts like she could imagine the woman you'd become in your own professional jerseys. There was something about it that just made her turn to mush which was why she was glad the Bayern jersey had red.

Red was your favourite colour. She blamed it for the reason that you were drawn to Arsenal in the first place but now she was sure that it was going to work in her favour.

Of course, that all came crashing down when she walked into the locker room to find you wearing a Bayern jersey that wasn't hers.

It wasn't Pernille's either - the only other person she could tolerate you wearing.

Instead, you were wearing Sam's.

You were standing in the woman's cubby too, arms crossed over your chest as you oversaw the other girls milling about waiting to go onto the pitch.

You look a bit scary like that but only a little because you're the same little girl who still slept with your stuffed toys and complained about eating fruit.

Sam's grinning as she looks around, showing anyone who would listen what you were wearing.

"Did you have to let her wear that?" Magda groans," I had a plan, Pernille!"

"It wouldn't have worked," Pernille laughs," She has opinions now. You can't trick her as easy as before."

"We'll see."

As Sam helps you get down, Magda pulls her jersey out of her bag and clears her throat.

You look over at her, wandering closer because Momma has your keeper gloves and Maria and Anna said that you can train with them and Cecilía today.

"What's that?" You ask.

"A Bayern jersey."

It's your size and you look at it suspiciously. You pull at the one you're already wearing. "Why?"

"Well, I thought you'd like to wear it."

"I'm wearing one now."

"But this one is special."

That catches your attention and you shuffle closer. "Why's it special?"

"Because," Morsa says with a flourish," It's mine."

Your interest waves and you move back to Momma. "Oh. That's boring."

Momma laughs and Morsa hisses at her," Pernille! It's not funny!" She turns back to you again. "It's not boring. We can match!"

You huff and stare at Momma. "Do I have to?"

She laughs and cups your cheeks. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." She helps you slip on your keeper gloves and turns you around so she can fix your hair.

You're facing Morsa now, who is looking between you and the little you-sized shirt in her hand. You stare unblinking at her as Momma runs a brush through your hair and begins to braid it back.

Morsa sighs before tucking it back into her bag and waving a teasing finger in your face. "I'll get you in that soon, Princesse. Just you wait."

You stick your tongue out at here. "Nu-uh!"

Morsa sticks her tongue out too and Momma finishes your hair.

You go towards where the keepers are waiting before you freeze and turn back to Morsa, tugging on her shirt.

"Morsa," You say," You have to take a picture."

"How come?"

"I want to show Australian Sam my new shirt."

Magda bursts out laughing, her ego suddenly soothed by your desire.

You'd never once in your life worn Sam's jersey, Chelsea's Sam of course. You'd always refused, running away whenever she tried to ask you and screeching whenever she came near you with it.

It was always funny to watch and Sam had to try and convince you from a distance.

You never accepted though and Magda's ego suddenly feels fine again now she knows you want to show Sam that you're happily wearing Scottish Sam's jersey.

"Alright," Magda laughs, positioning you so you're looking over your shoulder with a smile as Sam's jersey in seen clearly. She snaps the picture.

"You have to send it to Australian Sam," You say," Okay?"

"Got it, Princesse. Go on off to training."

You grin and nod, running off towards the Bayern keepers, who lead you outside.

"You're not actually going to send it to her, are you?" Pernille asks and Magda's answering smile is all the explanation she needs. "Magda!"

"What?" Magda asks innocently," I'm just respecting Princesse's wishes. There's nothing wrong with that."

Pernille rolls her eyes but doesn't argue anymore and Magda takes this as her chance.

SAM 😈 wtf???? you can't let her do that Magda!!! where's the loyalty???? get that girl into my Chelsea jersey this instant!!!

[gremlingottoosilly]

Kruger's sister being a literal starving artist x Konig. Often times spending her money on paints and stuff while neglecting herself.

One of the main reasons you still live with your older stepbrother even as you both got well over 18 is your total financial irresponsibility. You're the type to blow your entire paycheck on a new set of paint, on her brushes and materials - refusing to get something cheap or work with older materials, your entire savings would be dropped on a new graph tablet. You know you will have a roof over your head, and you even occasionally get some money from commissions and selling your art...still, you struggle to get by. Konig doesn't understand art. He doesn't like it, for the most part, and doesn't see the point in just going to an art gallery and staring at pictures of dead people and already abandoned places just to feel...something? He didn't understand how to look at art properly, so he just ignored it for most of his life. Then Kruger sweeps some of your older pictures that you wanted to put on a garage sale - and Konig is swept off his feet. He stares at the canvas - something about sea, or maybe mountains. Maybe even people, made with such care and talent that even a wood-brained bastard like him knows that you're good. You now have the biggest fan. Requesting his portraits from you - he is shy, awkward, he can't sit for longer than a few minutes so you bark at him to just stay still if he really wants for his picture to be drawn, and he can only get himself to sit calmly if he stares at the way your fingers move and your facial expressions change as you draw him. He pays you so much more than your paintings are worth - you can finally afford nice things, cool things. Proper painting materials, maybe even a new tablet... Konig could be nice and pay you double the rate for nude paintings too - even as you're too fucking shy to look at him, cock standing proudly and leaking on the small cloth he used to cover himself with(it's not working, of course not) and you almost cry in shame. Poor girl, you'd have to work to get your money - you're only lucky because at least he is not forcing you to touch him. Yet...

[tired-teacher-blog]

Virgin Pro hero Deku who -despite being a little over thirty- is still clueless as to how he should speak or act around girls.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who is unable to maintain a steady relationship or even keep one going for over a couple of weeks because it never feels right.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who doesn't believe in casual hookups like one night stands, even with the countless admirers throwing themselves at his feet.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who's a hopeless romantic, spends most of his free time fantasizing about a perfect future with the perfect woman and building scenarios after scenarios of the happy life he dreams of having. Only, he can never assign a face to his perfect lady because he is yet to encounter her.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who wishes to one day have a kid of his own, a thought that often visits him but leaves a bitter aftertaste behind, as he is nowhere near it.

Virgin Pro hero Deku whose mind went completely blank for a millisecond before spiraling out of control the moment he saw you as he found himself inexplicably drawn to you, and his pathetic state only worsened since he didn't know how to properly approach you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who spent weeks following you from afar, has finally found the face to his once faceless perfect woman.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who is a total klutz, was unaware of your eyes following him back, nor of the shy smile appearing on your face everytime you sensed him nearby.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who could not muster up the courage to talk to you, almost passed out the day you spoke to him for the first time.

Virgin Pro hero Deku whose palms became clammy and throat became dry— the moment you stood face to face with him, only nodded to your suggestion for a cup of coffee together as he did not trust his voice around you yet.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who soon came to realize that a mere glance from you is more lethal than the deadliest of villains he encounters daily.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who was certain you are the one for him the moment you laced your fingers with his and pulled him closer for a shy kiss goodnight as you both stood on your doorstep.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who kept smiling like a fool afterwards because the feeling of your lips against his own was addictive, he wanted more but was too shy to ask, regretting his cowardice the moment you walked into your house and closed the door behind you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who rewinded that moment in his head all night long as he laid down in bed, still smiling while tracing his lips with his fingers and wishing you were there with him.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who couldn't believe his ears when the words "I love you" left your lips one evening, so casually, with a giggle following suit. He grabbed your hands and stared into your soul as he wordlessly anticipated to hear it again, and he did.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who stood nervously before you, eyes roaming your luscious curves while watching eagerly as your dress slid down your body and hit his bedroom's floor, fully exposing you to him.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who was lost at that moment between his burning desire for you, and an extreme embarrassment for the throbbing bulge he could not conceal behind his palms.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who dug deep inside his mind for any distraction that could keep him from cumming hard in his boxers as you dragged him to bed with you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who moaned loudly against your neck while feeling the softness of your velvety walls for the first time in his life.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who refused to cum before guiding you to your own release, the hardest test he lived through as the overwhelming pleasure you both experienced was too much to resist, it was addictive and irresistible, keeping you both awake all night long as you explored ech other's bodies until you no longer could move a muscle, gasping for air and holding onto the other firmly, unfazed by the sticky mess connecting you together.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who's always been grateful you were his first, is now certain you'll be his last as he blissfully watched you walk down the aisle..

Divider by: @/cafekitsune