#better than the alternative which is not giving a single fuck but it can be jarring

[honeylover]

Sometimes when I'm feeling a little flimsy and weak i get almost too porous lol don't show me a video or play me a song or read me a book or anything. I'll suck it right up

[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.

[katboykirby]

Going to play Devil's Advocate (ha) here for a moment, as someone who has experience working in the industry & game development:

Remember, every single time that any new feature is added to the game (even if that new feature is "just a new artwork and phone call") it means that Solmare is -

Paying artists for the new artwork

Paying writers for the new scripts

Paying the voice actors to record the new voice lines

Paying the game devs, coders, debuggers, etc, to actually implement the new feature into the game without breaking anything

Paying for QA

Paying the translators for all the different language versions (Obey Me is currently available in 4 different languages)

Paying the localisers for all different language versions

Etc, etc

This is all on top of the monthly costs of keeping a live service mobage like OM running smoothly. Anything that isn't paid for by the players is being operated at a loss. This isn't a flaw with OM itself, this is a fact that exists on an industry-wide level.

Secondly, while any concerns about the price are entirely valid, I think that a lot of people are glossing over an important point - Solmare is not charging you $30 for a Date Ticket. Solmare is charging $30 for a BUNDLE, which includes the Date Ticket as well as 300 DP. So this is similar to all the other sales bundles that have been rolled out in the past.

And the price is consistent with the standard price for DP in Akuzon. It has always been about $30 for 300 DP, so the price has not actually changed or been increased. This is an optional, $30 bundle for 300 DP that essentially includes the Date Ticket as a bonus for free.

You're totally justified if you don't want to spend $30 on this. I'm definitely not arguing that. While I think that this feature isn't as bad as some people are saying (I never would have expected any new features to be totally free) I do think that Solmare could have rolled this out in a better way than they did.

I think that most, if not all, of the complaints would disappear if they simply offered different bundles for different price tiers. This is something they've already done in the past, even! Just give people alternatives, like...

$1.39 for the Date Ticket by itself

$10 for 100 DP + Date Ticket

$20 for 200 DP + Date Ticket

$30 for 300 DP + Date Ticket

And so on. I think this probably would have alleviated many people's concerns, and would have made the new feature more accessible for more players.

Now, I don't think that harassing the official Twitter account is the way to go about communicating your thoughts. There's a difference between genuine constructive criticism/feedback given in good faith, and needlessly rude hate comments. "Fuck you, hope your game goes broke" doesn't help anybody, and will only make Solmare less likely to listen to the EN fandom. They've dealt with a lot of harassment from Western fans before, including death threats, and you aren't communicating anything useful or constructive by sending hate to the EN social media account.

Solmare has a Support team that you can email, if you have feedback and you actually want to reach the JP game devs. If you want to let them know that you want other/more affordable options for the new Date Ticket feature, this is the best way to do that. Just remember to be civil, since harassment and hate mail are extremely likely to simply be thrown out before it reaches the hands of anyone in charge.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 1.7k | tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, soft boys, Steve takes care of Eddie, Vecna aftermath | @steddielovemonth Love is a warm hug by @unclewaynemunson | AO3)

They made it. They really did it.

Corroded Coffin play in front of thousands of people in a sold-out Madison Square Garden. Every single person seems to know their songs by heart and is singing them back at them loudly. They cheer and scream their names and Eddie feels like he's flying so high he's on his way to the moon.

This moment right now, right here, is what he has been dreaming of ever since Wayne gave him his old acoustic guitar for his fourteenth birthday and showed him how to play his first song. He always knew he'd end up here, deep, deep down. Never lost hope.

Well, that's not exactly true, but nobody knows that but Steve.

Because it was Steve who helped him to find that precious hope again, to rekindle the wild spirit inside him that only wanted to be heard with his music. He had almost lost that gift along with his left nipple.

The bat bites had been bad, of course. Pieces of his flesh were missing, gnarled scars littered his body, even as he decorated it with a plethora of new tattoos. They'll always be there.

But the worst part hadn't been the flesh wounds. It had been the infection. Robin hadn't been so far off in her fears back in the Upside Down, because while neither he nor Steve had gotten rabies, the bat's saliva hadn't been the most sterile substance to get into his wounds, and more than one bite had become infected as a result. The worst one had been on his left forearm and had caused some severe nerve damage.

The doctors had been able to save his arm and most of the feeling in his hand, but relearning how to play the guitar had been excruciating. The pain had been really bad, but even worse was the frustration, the white-hot rage he felt at this cosmic injustice. It wasn't enough that he was basically an orphan (because his father could be dead for all he knew, Eddie hadn't heard from him in years at that point), living in a trailer park and being labeled the town freak who everyone still thought had murdered several people. No, he also had to get mauled by demonic bats in an alternate dimension, nearly die, and fight his way back to his feet only to find out that he couldn't do the one thing that had always given him at least some peace of mind. His ticket out of this hellhole of a town, just gone. Poof.

It had been one of those summer days, so hot and humid that it felt like warm water was filling his lungs and dripping out of every pore of his body. He had been sitting on his bed in just his boxer shorts and a crop top because any clothes were too much, with his guitar on his lap. Eddie had been so focused on getting this one simple tune right for hours now, his fingers raw and aching, his nerves screaming at him to please stop. Only he couldn't.

He couldn't stop, because to stop would be to give up. It would mean accepting this new reality in which Eddie Munson had lost a vital part of himself; his music.

The pain had been almost unbearable for the better part of an hour by now, but it wasn't until his fingers cramped so badly that he couldn't even hold it anymore that he threw his beloved acoustic guitar off his lap and onto the floor with enough force that it was a wonder it didn't break.

"Fuck," he yelled with bitter resignation, rising like bile in his throat and spilling out in the form of hot tears from his burning eyes, and then "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," a repetitive mantra of pain and sorrow as sobs broke from his aching chest.

He was brought back from the brink of a meltdown by the pressure of a warm hand on his knee, another hand cupping his burning cheek.

"Eddie, hey, man, you're scaring me. Can you look at me, please?" Steve's voice filtered through the anger and grief that constricted his chest, and Eddie lifted his wet eyes to meet Steve's hazel ones. They were bright and warm, even with his eyebrows knitted with worry. They had become close friends over the past few months and Eddie could read his face like an open book.

"That's good, you're doing so good," Steve's voice soothed some of the ragged edges of the broken pieces that had once made up a whole person. His warm hands found Eddie's left hand, still bent into a misshapen claw, and began to massage it gently.

It felt heavenly, even if it still hurt, the gentle but firm pressure slowly loosening the tightly curled digits. Eddie's breathing had slowed, as had his heartbeat, and by the time Steve had finally stopped massaging of Eddie's hand, the sun had begun to set outside.

"Thanks," he had whispered, suddenly ashamed of his outburst, "you didn't have to do that." What he meant was, 'You shouldn't have had to do that. You shouldn't have had to see that.'

Still holding Eddie's hand loosely in his, Steve simply said, "I know. I wanted to. I always want to." The hazel eyes searched and held his again. "You want to tell me what happened? You don't have to, but I have it on good authority that I'm an excellent listener."

That had made him laugh. "That's only because Birdie speaks for both of you when she starts rambling."

"Takes one to know one," Steve had teased back, and the rest of the tension had seeped out of Eddie's body. He had told Steve everything then, about his hand, his fears, his shattered hopes and dreams. Steve hadn't lied, he was a great listener. Attentive and calm, he let Eddie talk without once interrupting.

After Eddie had finished, Steve had been quiet, clearly thinking about what Eddie had told him. After a while of comfortable silence, Steve finally broke it by asking, "Is it possible that you want it too much?"

"Huh?"

"To be able to play the guitar like you used to, I mean. I feel like maybe you want it so much that all the pressure you're putting on yourself is making you so tense and stressed that it's only getting worse."

Eddie wanted to protest, to tell Steve that there was no such thing as wanting too much, but then he stopped himself. Steve had proven himself to be far smarter and more insightful than anyone had ever given him credit for, so instead of denying the possibility outright, he had asked, "What makes you think that?"

Inexplicably, the question had made Steve smile. "When Nancy left me for Jonathan, I was kind of desperate. It sounds silly now, but I thought I needed to find a girl to help me get over it, to prove to myself that I was still attractive, still a catch. Still lovable." The smile had vanished from his face at those words. "I tried so hard, it wasn't even funny anymore, just kind of sad. Robin even had a whole board dedicated to my failures. She told me to just be myself, to let it come to me instead of chasing it like a dog after a bone. It was hard to hear at the time, but you know what? She was right."

Eddie only ever knew the Steve who never had any trouble picking up girls, so it was strange to hear him talk about a time when he clearly didn't.

"So all I'm saying is, maybe take it easy on yourself. Play for the same reasons you started, not because you want to recreate someone you no longer are. None of us is who we were before. None of us ever will be. But you can become someone new. It's up to you who you want to be instead."

After his little speech, Steve had gotten up to get them a couple of beers, and they had just hung out for the rest of the night, the guitar forgotten. It stayed in a corner of his room where Eddie wouldn't see it for a week, until Eddie felt a genuine desire to play something that had been stuck in his head whenever he thought of Steve.

It was the first tune he could get through on his guitar. It was the first song he ever played just for Steve, before he leaned in and caught Steve's lips in a soft kiss for the first time. It became the song he hums whenever Steve wakes up from a nightmare, either while holding Steve in his arms or over the phone when he's on tour.

So it's no surprise that this is the song they play as an encore at Madison fucking Square Garden.

"Hey everybody. This last song is for someone very special to me, so please let's hear it for the love of my fucking life". The crowd goes wild and Eddie winks at the camera that projects his face onto the big screens behind them. "This is for you sweetheart, thank you for always believing in me. You knew I could be someone new long before I did. I wouldn't be here without you and I don't want to be. Nothing makes sense without you. This song is called 'Someone New' and someday I want to play it at our wedding."

He gives it everything he's got, forgetting the last 90 minutes he's been on stage, to make these four minutes the most intense of their whole set. Everyone holds up a tiny flame with their lighters, and when they're done, there's a reverent silence before it breaks into thunderous applause. They cheer, they whistle, they scream.

Eddie doesn't hear any of it, his senses attuned to just one person he's spotted at the edge of the stage exit. He puts down his guitar, walks over to the tall man waiting for him with open arms, and sinks into them as if coming home.

"You did it, baby," Steve whispers into his ear and Eddie just buries himself deeper into his boyfriend's body. "I'm so, so proud of you."

"I love you," he replies simply, the only thing that matters with strong arms wrapped around him, the familiar scent of Steve filling his senses, and the steady beating of Steve's heart against his, the metronome of his new life as sure as ever.

It doesn't matter that they made it, not as much as the man holding him tightly, lovingly.

Eddie's new life is right here in his arms.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Reluctant Partners (Part 2) | #LeviMonth2024 Smut Drabble

✧ word count ➼ ~700 ✧ notes ➼ canonverse, captain!reader, technically part 2 to this but can be read on it's own too ✧ comments ➼ levi month entry for august 1! this had gotten too long so i split it into two parts ✧ content/warnings ➼ afab!reader, p in v, oral (fem receiving) ✧ join my levi month taglist here!

{{ August 1 (Pre-Canon: First Time Part 1) | August 4 (BDSM) }} Masterlist

Things hadn't been the same since that night. All that had really happened was you finding out the truth regarding his abrasive attitude towards you, but now you couldn't get him off your mind.

It was less inappropriate now than it would have been had you still been a recruit, but it still felt wrong and like something you had to keep under wraps. You had found yourself regularly going to his chambers in the middle of the night.

Initially, it was just to chat, with you quoting that you couldn't sleep, and that he'd be the only one awake at this hour—but you knew that the reality was that you wanted to be around him, as well as move towards figuring out whatever the hell was going on between the two of you.

You didn't know exactly what it was that led to this. Whatever your original intention was for seeking him out late into the night currently seemed lost on you as you struggled to keep quiet while bouncing up and down on his cock.

It started off as words left unsaid, unspoken frustrations, and multiple nights alone in which a single touch from him was enough to set your heart ablaze.

Your fingers were digging into his shoulders, your arms wrapped around his neck as you moved your lips against his, with your breasts rubbing up against his bare chest. His eyes were beginning to roll towards the back of his head as he focused on the feeling of your heat wrapping around his length.

Levi wasn't one to be into one night stands or meaningless sex, but he already knew that wasn't the case with you. While he had never assumed that you would ever get together, the idea of sleeping with you only to forget it ever happened brought a pang to his heart.

Pulling away, he leaned back so he could get a better look at you, his pupils dilated as he noted your flushed expression, your breasts moving up and down so prettily, and the thin layer of sweat that had coated your skin. His eyes wandered down to your lower abdomen, his eyes honing in on the scar that had formed from when you had gotten your injury all those months ago.

Levi let out a soft hum from his throat, before gently tapping on your rear to signal you to get up, immediately flipping you over upon doing so.

You looked directly into his intense gaze that you still struggled to read as he hovered over you, giving you only a second to reorient yourself before leaning down to plant his lips on yours.

His lips quickly began to trail down your neck towards your chest, with him planting a gentle kiss on each breast as he continued his descent.

Levi paused a bit near the scar on your belly, gently touching his lips to the area. Your face began to heat up as you watched him, with it becoming next to impossible to hide how flustered you were as he continued to move until he was eye-level with your pussy.

He let out an elated sigh as he eyed your heat that was still dripping with your own arousal, and throbbing from how good he had been fucking you just now.

"Beautiful," he murmured quietly to himself before gently pressing his lips against your sex.

Your eyes instinctively shut as you felt your hips bucking towards him once his tongue began swirling around your clit. Your walls were fluttering as you felt his fingers playing with your slit, with a guttural moan escaping from your throat.

One hand was holding your hips in place to keep you from moving too much, especially once you began squirming under him upon feeling him thrust two fingers deep into your pussy. His lips were wrapped around your clit, alternating between sucking and gentle nibbles, making it a struggle for you to contain the mewls he was drawing out of you.

"Cum for me," he rasped, his voice vibrating through you, which only further added to the sensation. "Let me hear you come apart."

#: @shayewrites @littlerequiem @ackerbootytobbi @humanitys-strongest-brat @mostlilo @dustbuniesworld @levisrations @ebechnasheim @moonchild-angel @jayteacups @bipolargatto @samackermaan @deepzombieyouth

[thirsty-flygirl]

Good With Their Mouths

My fave fictional men have some very specific talents in the bedroom.

A/N: Back from the dead, put me in horny jail, whatever. I thought about it and I wrote it. Also, if you have any other Oscar/Pedro, Triple Frontier/Ted Lasso characters to add, let me know - this was way more fun that it should have been.

Spicy times ahead - minors DNI

Frankie Morales

We all know what Frankie is good at, and it’s keeping his idiotic buddies in line and eating pussy. That man has memorized every single sound and movement that you make during sex and he uses it to his advantage when he’s DTF. Which is all the time. He’s a tease, kissing down your body, stopping at all the hot zones from your lips to the apex of your thighs. He’ll nip at your mouth, slide down to circle his talented tongue around your nipple, then slowly make his way down your torso. He loves sucking a mark on your hip bone, marking you as his in a way that no other person can, but keeping it discreet because the man does not kiss and tell. Once he gets to your thighs, he will pepper the insides with kisses and nips while you whine and press your hips toward his generous mouth. After you’re nearly insane with arousal, he will gently suck at your clit, almost igniting your fuse right away. But again, this man knows exactly how to prolong your pleasure, so he will pull back just before the point of no return. You might bitch for a second, but the man dives in, tongue fucking your cunt and moaning so loudly your neighbors can hear him. He will alternate for an hour, sucking you off and licking up the taste of your slick until he finally lets you cum. You, of course, almost blackout from the sensation, but he doesn’t let up, working you even higher. You quickly cum again, squirting, and Frankie will swallow down everything you give him, then clean you up and ask for more two hours later. 

Jamie Tartt

Jamie doesn’t always eat pussy, but when he does you can count on cumming hard.  While his favorite thing in bed is to fuck you from behind while staring in a mirror at the way your tits swing and the face you make when you shatter around his (very impressive) dick, he will gladly eat you out if he has the time and he’s not too exhausted. What he lacks in finesse, he makes up for in effort. Jamie eats you out like he plays football - with one goal in mind. He wants to make you forget every name but his and, damn him, it works every time. He knows exactly what gets you off and will get right down to business when given the chance. He talks just as much in bed as he does on the pitch and holy shit, can this boy talk dirty to you. “Fuck, love, your pussy was made for eatin’,” he grins up at you as he swipes his tongue through your folds, blue eyes crinkling because he knows you’re just dying for it. “Mmmm, c’mon, you can do better than that,” he says while you beg him to let you cum, “tell me what you want, and you know I’ll give it to you . . “ All you can do is moan incoherently, which makes him absolutely smug because he knows exactly what you want and exactly how to give it to you. He spends his time between your legs sucking your clit the way you like and telling you what a good girl you are, how your cunt was made for him to fuck, that you taste so fucking good right now that he might cum before he can even sink his cock into you.. . . yeah. Jamie Tartt eats pussy. 

Benny Miller

It’s hard for Benny to slow down, but when he does it’s literally the best you’ve ever had. He takes his time, stripping you down to your panties and breathing you in before he ever thinks about touching you. Your quiet whimpers whenever his lips brush against your most sensitive spots, still covered by your soaked panties, drives him wild. But he is a trained soldier and he knows how to wait out his target, so he’ll wait until you’re absolutely begging him to put his mouth on you. Once he does, it takes you about 30 seconds to reach your peak, but that’s okay, because your boy will spend as much time down there as he needs to make you come at least two more times before getting his dick wet. The second one is a slow burn, lots of kisses pressed against your clit and gentle pressure as he sucks on your folds. He loves to stroke his tongue inside you, following it up with his fingers, as many as you can take. Once you give in to him and cum for the second time, he will ramp it up, relentlessly licking and biting at you until you flood his mouth with your arousal. He will quickly move up to kiss you hard, fucking your mouth with his tongue so that you can taste yourself while sliding his thick cock inside you. 

Santiago Garcia

We all know Santi fucks. Like, one look at this guy and you know he’s down for it any time, any place. He will turn that baseball cap around as soon as you give him the go sign and he’s on his knees ready to send you to heaven. He’s made a career out of paying attention to minute details and scanning for possible weaknesses, and making you cum is, in his mind, another mission. He has every sound, every breath cataloged. He knows when it’s too much and when it’s not enough, and he uses your body the way he knows you like it best. That said, he eats your pussy when he wants to eat your pussy, not the other way around. Luckily for you, he wants it almost every fucking day. It’s usually a surprise attack from Santi; you never know where or when, but he makes you so hot that the minute he initiates something you want it now. Something as innocent as washing dishes turns into a fuckfest; he’ll dip his hands in the warm, soapy water, flinging a little onto your white t-shirt so he can see your bra clearly underneath. As your nipples harden, he will stand behind you and massage your tits, pressing against you so you can feel his cock harden. His fingers will trail down your body, slipping underneath your shirt to softly stroke the curve of your belly before gently pulling your shorts down, kneeling on the floor despite his shitty joints because when he’s got your sweet pussy this close to his face, nothing hurts.He will begin from the back because he’s a goddamn KING, spreading your ass cheeks and letting his tongue lazily lick your hole(s). He’s a talker, but it’s more in quiet groans and whispers against your skin than actual words: “Oh, sweetheart, you’re so wet . . . let me take care of you . . . ‘s that all for me? . . .” Once you’re trembling and gripping the sink to stay standing, he will lead you to a more comfortable location for the main event. 

Roy Kent

Okay. Okay. OKAY. Roy gives Pussy Eating King Frankie Morales a run for his money. This man serves cunt and eats it too. He will give it to you any way you want it. You want it slow, romantic? Roy Kent will gently lick your clit until you feel like you might explode from the sheer pleasure his mouth can bring you. The man doesn’t miss a spot, softly sucking and kissing your clit, your lips, the skin of your thighs, and everywhere in between. But the way you moan his name, like you’re on another plane of existence and he is the singular thing keeping you tied to Earth? Drives him absolutely feral. He can turn on a dime, eating your pussy like a starving man eating his first meal in a month. His groans are absolutely filthy, his big hands wrapping around your thighs so he can keep you right where he wants you. He’ll press his hips into the mattress, just to relieve some of the pressure on his cock, and he’ll cum, just like that, and be hard again for you in less time than it takes to get through halftime on match day. Once he’s completely wrung the pleasure from your body, he will grip himself and look you in the fucking eye as he slides into you. The intensity in his gaze and way he says, “Fuck, you’re incredible,” makes you nearly cum again. 

Javier Pena

One of my OG fictional boyfriends, Javi doesn’t eat pussy. Okay, he does, but it’s definitely not his favorite thing to do. Thing is, the man is so fucking good at it, he deserves a medal and a membership card, or something. Everything about him screams sexy, from his swagger to the way those big brown eyes just need to give you a look (yeah, you know the one, where he eye fucks you from head to toe and then just licks that pouty bottom lip) to get you wet. He’s a little like Santiago Garcia, the way he will eat your pussy when he wants to, not when you want it. Once he’s down there, though, he savors you. He’s not a chump and if he’s gonna do it, he’s gonna do it well. He pays attention to the things you like, and will nibble and suck your clit in alternating rhythms, slow and fast, to get you off. The one thing that sets Javi apart is the way he uses those thick fingers to help push you over the edge. While his lips and tongue are working your clit, he thrusts his fingers inside you, stretching you so good. Curling his fingers up until he finds the spot that makes you explode, Javi will work you until you’re almost there, pulling back before he can taste your sweet cum. Instead, he’ll trail those wet fingers down to your ass, slowly working them against your skin and dipping inside you, watching your pussy clench around nothing. Eventually he’ll finish the job, but not until you’re a sweaty, teary mess on his bed and swearing you’ll do anything for him if he’ll just let you cum. 

Poe Dameron

Poe, my baby, my true love, and the one that got away (yes, I’m delusional). This man does not have a lot of time, so most of your sexual liaisons are a bit rushed and there’s not enough time or space to really get down to business. BUT. When you both have a few unoccupied hours to yourselves? You will be absolutely torn apart, put back together, and shattered again. Poe Dameron loves you. He loves every. Single. Part of you. Every curve, dimple, roll; the hard places and the soft places and the places that you hate - Poe finds you absolutely stunning and would gladly spend hours worshiping every inch of your body if your little whines and breathy moans didn’t make him want to get right to the main event. His sexy, panty-melting smirk as he runs his tongue down your body floods your core to the point where you would feel embarrassed if it didn’t feel so fucking good. And Poe loves how wet you get for him. He gently tugs your underwear down your legs, eyes glued to the heaven between your thighs. He’s almost reverent at this moment, settling down on the mattress and letting his thumbs pull you apart - just a little - so he can see your slit leaking. You hear a shaky breath, and those brown doe eyes will just stare into yours. In that moment, you can see how badly he wants you, and you feel beautiful under him. “I love how wet you get for me,” he mumbles, eyes never leaving you as he dips his head and licks up a taste with the tip of his tongue. Just the smallest touch makes your hips jump and he spreads that warm hand flat on your belly to keep you grounded. “Shhh, sweetheart, I’ll make you feel good,” he says and you believe it with everything inside you. Poe gets messy when he eats you out, using every part of his mouth to make you feel good. He loves it, really, the scent and the taste and the sight of you, coming undone on his bed. When you cum, it’s a long, rolling orgasm that just won’t stop, one right into the second, and maybe a third if you have the time. When he’s sure you’re satisfied, he’ll lick his lips and kiss back up your body, taking your mouth with his and letting his tongue swipe against yours as he urges his thick cock inside your wet heat. Eyes rolling back, Poe will let out the most satisfied groan as he begins thrusting, bringing you both quickly to release. When the two of you cum together, he’ll rest his forehead against yours and give you a soft kiss, the ring he always wears resting between your breasts on its chain.

[slytherhys]

Silver Linings & Raspberry Fortunes

Prompt: New Beginnings (week one) @elriel-month

A/N: HAPPY ELRIEL MONTH! 🌹🦇 I had so much fun writing this silly little AU and I hope you all enjoy it too!

You can also read this story on AO3!

If there was one thing everyone knew about Elain Archeron it was that she didn’t like being single. Her friends knew it, her sisters knew it, her therapist knew it – even her ex-boyfriend, who wasn’t the most perceptive person Elain knew, had callously pointed it out right before Elain kicked him out of her house. Truth be told, she had a serious case of abandonment issues with a side of middle-child syndrome and – because those weren’t enough – a deep fear that she’d never be loved the way she very much wanted to be loved. The fact most men she met were a disappointment was just the cherry on top of a very emotionally damaging cake.

Which explained why she had accepted to go on a date, at her sister’s insistence, with a man she had never met or seen before in her life.

At first glance, it had seemed like a great idea. Feyre clearly had great taste in men (read: Rhysand), her friends were some of the most interesting people Elain had ever met and the alternative had been staying at home watching crappy romcoms, eating salt & vinegar chips and wondering if maybe installing a new dating app would finally lead to her meeting the man of her dreams (even though it never did). Looking back, maybe even a night of getting texts from strange men who were entirely too comfortable asking about her sex life did seem like the better choice. Because Elain Archeron had officially been stood up – which, considering the dress she was wearing, was a damn shame.

Elain sighed again, earning herself a look from the bartender that definitely felt a little bit exasperated. She couldn’t even blame him considering she’d been nursing the same drink for the past 45 minutes (a martini because it sounded fancy) and she probably looked as dejected as she felt, which probably didn’t go well with the overall Saturday night vibes he definitely preferred.

Smiling weakly, Elain turned to stare at the door for a few seconds longer, wondering if instead of giving up and going home, she should just stay, have a drink in a too-dark bar where no one could see how hot she looked in her very expensive dress, under the hostile gaze of an entirely too attractive bartender. Because she was 25 and she was single and if she spent another night wallowing in self-pity, she would probably dye her hair a ridiculous colour in the name of adventure. And that couldn’t happen – no matter how many times she tried to bleach her hair it never looked any good.

And she was absolutely not staying for – Elain checked her phone – Lucien Vanserra and his stupid red hair and his stupid “nice manners”. The only reason she wasn’t calling her sister to complain about the audacity of it all was because it was past 9pm and Feyre and Rhys were most likely enjoying the only time of the day their son actually slept.

All in all, Elain’s night was pretty fucking miserable – and she couldn’t even drink her pain away since the martini alone had cost a ridiculous amount of money and Elain was supposed to be saving money in the name of being a responsible adult.

“Can I get you another drink?” A low, gravelly voice sounded from behind the bar and Elain startled as she looked up. Hazel eyes stared her down, darting between her and her untouched drink. If the bartender had been attractive from afar, Elain could barely think with him standing so close. A strong nose, high cheekbones and a lush mouth that twitched under her perusal. His dark hair was unruly, as if he had run his hands through it in the past five minutes, but somehow, he made it look hot. Elain blinked once, twice before her brain finally caught up, making her cheeks heat under his gaze.

“Uh,” was her eloquent reply. “No.” She said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching again as he eyed her martini. Elain shifted in her seat. “Is there something wrong with the drink I made you?” He asked teasingly and Elain flinched. It probably wasn’t good for his ego that she hadn’t touched it yet, was it?

Elain sighed, trying not to buckle under the embarrassment of being called out. “I don’t like martinis.” She confessed, unable to look the man in the eye. She probably seemed like an idiot, looking completely out of place in her stupid dress and glancing longingly at the door waiting for a stupid ginger man. Mother, she didn’t even like gingers. What the fuck had she been thinking?

The bartender laughed – well, he huffed but it sent a sparkle of heat down her spine, so it might as well had been a full-on laugh. “Why didn’t you order something else, then?”

Now it was her time to chuckle. Bitterly though because it was embarrassing how hard she had tried for a man that hadn’t even bothered to show up. “I wanted to look sophisticated.” She shrugged as if it didn’t really bother her that her cheeks were aflame and that the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life was looking at her as if she had lost her mind. She couldn’t even blame him – she probably had. “For my date.” She clarified at his confused face, as if that made it better.

The bartender frowned, eyeing her where she sat, and Elain felt heat lick up her body at his slow perusal. Even if she did feel like shit, it was a small victory that her boobs looked amazing – and that, apparently, the bartender thought so too.

“Who the fuck stood you up?” His midnight voice sent shivers down her spine, the incredulity in his question sending a jolt of satisfaction down her stomach.

Elain stood a little straighter, feeling encouraged in her own disbelief. “Can you believe it?” She asked, her voice sounding a bit shrill. If the bartender smiled at her outburst, Elain didn’t notice.  “And now I’m sitting here alone at this stupid bar waiting for a date I didn’t even want, drinking something I don’t even like–”

“You could’ve ordered something else.” The bartender muttered.

Elain, however, was too focused on her own tirade to be silenced. “And it’s too dark in this room for people to even notice my dress and I spent so much fucking money on it.” Elain shook her head, feeling ridiculous. “I really shouldn’t have spent that much money on a dress.” She confessed in a sigh, looking up and blushing as she noticed the amusement written on the bartender’s face. He raised an eyebrow, and it was absurd the way her body reacted to that small movement. Feeling chagrined, Elain smiled weakly. “Hi, I’m Elain.”

“Azriel,” his lips twitched. “Owner of the Stupid Bar.”

Of course he was. Elain groaned, dropping her head into her hands in a rather melodramatic fashion. “I’m so sorry.” She said, covering her face with her hands. “I’m usually much nicer than this.”

Azriel chuckled, tilting his head as he eyed her. “You look pretty fucking nice from where I’m standing.” He said, and Elain’s brain nearly short-circuited at the oh so casual way he said it. However, before she could answer he was leaning down, strong arms folding across the bar, hazel eyes set on her. “What do you really want to drink?”

Elain smiled sheepishly, pushing her martini away. “I’m not a big drinker.” She said, loving the challenge in his eyes as he waited for her answer. As if he wanted to figure her out. The thought of it shouldn’t have pleased her nearly as much as it did. “But I like sweet things.”

Azriel squinted his eyes ever so slightly, closely watching her expression. Elain wasn’t sure what he found, but her heart tripped inside her chest when he started to smirk.  “I’m not sure you do, Elain.” He mumbled, head tilting as his eyes trailed down her body again. No one had ever made her name sound so decadent. “Want to make this more interesting?”

Her entire body went hot and cold at the suggestion.  How was it that this man had already turned her entire night around when she had only known his name for five minutes? Elain bit her lip before leaning closer, intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll make you a cocktail and if you don’t like it, I’ll give you whatever drink you want on the house.”

Elain raised her brows, embarrassingly charmed by everything this man said. “And if I do like it?”

As if he knew that question was coming, Azriel smirked, bending down until his face was close enough to hers that she could feel his breath warm against her lips. Elain felt her breath catch, her heart stutter inside her chest. “If you like it you’ll go on a date with me.”

Elain blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. Why was this bar so fucking warm, all of the sudden? She looked around, aware that she had been so caught up in Azriel she had notice little else. When had the bar gotten so crowded? Elain would’ve felt claustrophobic if not for the man taking up all her attention. “Don’t you have to work?” She asked dumbly, painfully aware of the crowd behind her and of how silly she sounded.

Still, Azriel smiled softly. “Slow night.” He said, refusing to take his eyes off of her. She chuckled, feeling a bit frantic as she watched Azriel watch her back, a daring look in his hazel eyes.

“You want to go on a date with me?” She asked, just to be sure.

“Tonight, preferably.” Azriel said, throwing a cup into the air with an ease that spoke of years of experience.

Elain choked, laughing in disbelief. “Tonight?”

He looked up, all pure charm and wicked smiles. “That dress looks too fucking good on you for you to go home alone.”

Elain couldn’t help but giggle. “You sound very cocky.” Never mind that her entire body was heating up with his every word.

“Yes or no, Elain?”

She bit her lip, unsure. Wasn’t it crass of her to go on a date with another man only hours after being stood up? Elain wasn’t entirely sure what the protocol was in this situation, but she couldn’t exactly say no when everything in her was screaming at her to say yes, go. Truth be told, any thoughts of gingers and missed chances had been long gone. Everything seemed to start and end in the way Azriel, the bartender, was staring at her in the dim-lighted bar. And like Feyre always said, sometimes you needed to take hold of your own destiny.

“Yes.” She said, and Elain was sure she had never sounded so certain in her life. Maybe tomorrow she’d regretted and maybe in 10 years she would look back and think fondly of the one night she decided to be a bit brave and trust the rugged bartender who looked at her with wicked promises in his hazel eyes. Whatever outcome it all had, Elain felt absolutely no regret as she watched Azriel smile, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

And as she watched him pour drink after drink into a steel jigger, pouring liquids into a shaker as if this was just another drink, she knew that no matter the drink he made, Elain would be leaving the bar with him. Because sometimes things just felt right, and sometimes a failed date meant more than being left stranded in an unknown bar. And maybe to Azriel this was just another night – maybe this was something he did often. As a bartender, Elain assumed he had no shortage of pretty girls trying to convince him into a wild night. And yet, it didn’t feel like it was just any other night for him either – not as he kept glancing at her, a smile curving his lips every time he found her, as if relieved she hadn’t left yet. And Elain did not blush. She absolutely did not feel herself coming out of her skin as she watched his biceps bulge as he shook the shaker, and she definitely didn’t squirm in her seat every time those hazel eyes flickered in her direction with a promise that sent heat to her core.

Elain took a shaky breath as he began to pour a red drink into an empty glass in front of her, a sprig of spearmint and a few raspberries sitting prettily on top. Elain eyed her drink dubiously, avoiding Azriel’s watchful gaze. A shot of adrenaline went through her and Elain bit her lip as she eyed the fruit floating on top of her drink.

“What is it?” She twisted the glass around, watching as tiny bubbles danced to the top of the glass.

“Exactly what you need.” Azriel answered simply, making Elain chuckle in disbelief. Her cheeks probably resembled the exact colour of the drink in front of her and Elain wondered if the way his eyes flickered from the drink to her face meant he was noticing it as well.

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you believe you know what I need, Azriel?” She wouldn’t tell him how he was most likely correct – how raspberries were her favourite fruit.

He shrugged, unbothered by her scepticism. “We can say it’s bartender’s intuition.”

Elain smiled, intrigued. “But what is it, really?”

“Stop stalling, beautiful.” He nodded towards the drink, urging her to take a sip. With little doubt he had nailed it, Elain did.

An explosion of flavour burst in her mouth, and it was all Elain could do not to react to the delicious drink in front of her. The tartness of the raspberry and the hint of lemon mixed perfectly with the sweetness of whatever liquor Azriel had chosen. The freshness of the spearmint kept the drink from being too sweet and – no matter how unbelievable it seemed – it was everything Elain loved. She didn’t know how, but it was everything she needed.

Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave hers, cautious hope clear in his face as he waited for her verdict. Elain wasn’t sure what kind of expression she had on her face, but before she could even say a word, Azriel’s shoulders sagged, and a brilliant smile took over his face.

“So?” He asked anyway, as if needing to hear it coming from her mouth.

Elain finally let herself smile, impressed and a little turned on by how fucking good he was. “What is this drink called?” She asked instead, stalling once again. Because she wasn’t sure what it all meant, but she knew it was more than just a drink.

Azriel huffed, a bit exasperated. “Really?” He groaned, making Elain chuckle.

“Just indulge me, please.”

“It’s called Kismet.” He shrugged, as if his words didn’t send her heart tumbling down her tummy. “It’s an invention of mine.” Elain could’ve sworn his cheeks darkened a bit. Still, his eyes never left hers.

Elain smiled sweetly, making herself comfortable where she sat. Azriel watched her with amusement. “Well, you can make me another one since I’ll be waiting for a while.” She said, eyeing the clock. The bar would close soon enough but Elain didn’t mind waiting. She didn’t mind waiting at all. “Seems to me we’re going on a date, Azriel.”

[bloodibambiidoll]

Purple Houses and Paranorman

(Single!Dad Eddie Munson x Single!Mom Reader)

Summary: Eddie asks you and Oliver to go to a special screening of Paranorman with him and Charlotte. WK: 3.9K

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Warnings: Basically none, modern AU, mention of a dead family member (readers aunt), There’s like one second where Eddie is checking reader out and his thoughts get a little carried away, readers son has a speech delay, reader is implied to be alternative and have tattoos but I don’t talk about it much besides her outfits, fluff fluff and moreee fluff. But as always my blog is 18+MNDI

A/N: So I might have gotten a tiny bit carried away talking about the house, it wasn’t something I originally planned out but it kind of just came to me as I was writing, I’d like for them to all live there together eventually. I’m trying to make it a lil slow burn but I suck at that so hard so we will see how much longer I can go without making them kiss LOL. Also I said these were blurbs and this is almost 4K sooo Oopsie. As always my requests for these guys are open and feedback is greatly appreciated.💜💚

Your phone vibrated and the screen lit up, the contact reading “Eddie🎸🦇” you smiled to yourself before pushing the green accept button.

“Helloooo Edward, what can I do for you on this fine autumn morning?”

“Hey weirdo” He let out a laugh, one you’ve grown to find comfort in over these last few weeks. “What are you and Oli up to today? The theater is doing a special showing of Paranorman and I was wondering if you guys would wanna go with us later?”

“What’s in it for me?” You joked.

“Ummm you get to spend time with your bestfriend and do something Halloween related, which I know you love.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re my bestfriend.” You laughed, knowing he definitely had become the best friend you have but still wanting to fuck with him a little.

“Me? I’m talking about Charlotte, you are her new self proclaimed bestfriend and also you do her hair better than me, apparently. Can’t believe my own daughter likes you more than me.” He sighed dramatically and you could practically see him faux fainting.

“Awww I love her, she’s my new bestfriend too. Verdict is still out on her dad though.”

“WOW I can’t believe you would betray me like this, I thought you loved me.”

“Don’t worry, you’re better at playing monster than me apparently sooo I think we are even. What time do you want to go?”

“I guess we can call it even, for now. How about around two? Gives us a few hours to get the goblins fed and ready to go.”

Jokingly teasing each other had become the norm for you and Eddie, easily falling into flirty banter since the day you met.

“Okay, perfect.”

“Want to meet us there? Or I can come get you guys and we can ride together.”

Something you had noticed about Eddie is how perceptive he was. He picked up early on that you’d avoid going places you’d have to drive especially if you’d never been there before, which in those first few weeks was essentially everywhere. So he always offered to pick you and Oliver up whenever you all did something together.

“Could you pick us up? If that’s okay.”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if it wasn’t okay, babe.” Babe, was something he only started calling you recently but it made you giddy every time.

He was also constantly reassuring you that he didn’t mind helping you when you needed it. He knows how hard it is to do this alone so he was always offering to do anything to make things easier on you. Even if it was something as small as picking you and your son up for a movie. At first you declined his help every chance he offered, used to doing things alone, not wanting to burden him. But he’s told you over and over how he doesn’t mind, that it makes him happy to be able to help you.

So who could blame you if you had developed a not so small crush on him? You tried not to, but he was all kind gestures, big brown eyes and chunky jewelry. So how could you not? It’s not your fault it was like he was your dream come to life. You weren’t positive but you were pretty sure he felt the same. Hugs started lingering just a little longer than they should have, hands started brushing when you followed behind your rowdy children on evening walks, the cute little pet names he would always call you that made your stomach flip, the kisses on the cheek you had started giving each other.

So after you got Oli ready you gave him his tablet and spent a little extra time getting ready. You did your hair in your favorite style and added just a tiny bit more makeup than usual, both turned out perfect. But now you were standing in front of your open closet, staring at it like the perfect outfit was just going to jump out at you.

The October chill had set in throughout Hawkins, the days still sunny but the breeze cold, not quite bone chilling like in mid December, but cold enough that you needed some layers. You were also going to be sitting in a movie seat for two hours even if they were the reclining ones you didn’t want to spend that amount of time sitting in jeans.

After trying on several outfits, you ended up deciding on a black long sleeve skater dress, the neckline scooped just enough to make your boobs look nice. You layered some thigh high socks and leg warmers before pulling on your boots. You grabbed a plain zip-up just in case you got cold in the theater and gave yourself a once over in the mirror.

You couldn’t deny the fact that you looked good, and you hoped Eddie would think so too. He had never seen you this dolled up, usually wearing more comfortable clothes and simpler make-up.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, a mixture of emotions going through you. Excitement to see Eddie was in the forefront, but the nervousness was lingering in the background. Are you reading things wrong? Is it smart to get involved with someone that your son has already started to form an attachment to? You took a deep breath, checking your hair one last time before shaking your head as if it would erase those feelings like an etch-a-sketch, willing yourself to enjoy something for once.

When you decided you were as ready as you’d ever be you got on Oliver’s shoes and jacket before grabbing your purse and taking him outside on the porch to wait on the swing. You smiled to yourself as you looked at the porch you spent many summers drinking lemonade with your aunt. The various wind chimes that hung moons and stars and zodiac symbols chime in the mid October breeze.

You loved this house, it belonged to your late aunt who left it to you in her will when she died. It was beautiful but eccentric, kind of like your aunt herself. It stuck out among the many suburban style houses in your neighborhood. It was a late 1800s Victorian style home, with beautiful arches and various types of windows, a wrap-around porch, and a beautiful backyard with a garden that your aunt cared for until the day she couldn’t anymore. You and Eddie had planted pumpkins back there with the kids in her honor, she’s the reason you love them so much after all. They were almost ready to be harvested and carved, a Halloween movie on in the background and the smell of pumpkin seeds baking in the oven.

But what really made the house stand out was that your aunt had it painted a deep purple color, the shutters and roof black, matching the porch. The door was black but it had a beautiful stained glass window in the middle of it, depicting the same kind of crescent moon and stars that dangled from the wind chimes. Inside there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living and family room that held a mixture of her old and your new furniture, and your favorite part, the kitchen. It had been updated since the house was built, but still held a vintage feel. Your aunt had the cabinets and drawers all painted the same purple as the outside of the house, wallpaper with those same moons and stars adorned the walls. The only modern thing about it being the fact that she had replaced all the appliances with shiny new ones.

It was a lot of space, too much for just you and Oliver. But you couldn’t bring yourself to sell it, some of your happiest memories were spent here. So you decided you’d take this opportunity and get the fresh start you’ve been needing. You didn’t have much keeping you back home anyways. You and your mom weren’t particularly close but when she found out your aunt left you everything, not just the house, but her money too, she was furious.

Now that you’ve settled you know it was the right choice. Oli started school and despite his struggles with communication he was thriving in class, you got a job at a local diner where you made pretty decent tips, you had this beautiful house, and last but not least you had Eddie and Charlotte.

•

A large smile stretched across Eddie’s face when he turned down your long driveway and saw you and your son sitting on the porch. He loves your house, he used to drive by it when he would deal to the rich kids in highschool and always admired it. But when you stood up his jaw actually dropped. He had never seen you in a dress before, you always looked beautiful but right now you were fucking radiant.

He got out of his SUV to help you get Oliver’s seat in and you were even more breathtaking up close.

“Wow. You look… wow.” Eddie shamelessly lets his eyes wander your form for a moment, his cheeks turning red when he reaches that little sliver of skin between your socks and your dress.

“Thanks, babe. You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.” You repeated his words from earlier back to him and he cackled.

“Ha ha veeerry funny, brat.” He stuck his tongue out at you.

“Reaaaal mature, nerd.”

“Hi Eddie!” Oli ran over to hug Eddie’s legs and smiled triumphantly, having recently gotten his new friend's name down.

“Hey little dude! How’s a going?” He gave your son a wide smile while he affectionately ruffled his hair.

“Where Char?” He tilted his head to the side, more concerned with where his friend was than answering Eddie’s question.

“She’s in the car buddy, you wanna to say hi to her while I get your seat in?”

He just nodded, grabbing your hand and dragging you around to the other side of the car where Charlotte was, knowing he’s not supposed to walk down the driveway without holding hands.

Eddie couldn’t help but watch you walk away, internally groaning when he saw that same sliver of skin from the back. The dress is long enough to cover your ass, but not by much and he can’t help but imagine flipping the skirt of it up and-

“Eddie? Are you gonna put the seat in the car or are you just gonna stand there and ogle me?”

You couldn’t help but tease him when you turned around and he was just standing there holding the car seat with his mouth hanging open.

“Huh? Oh! Uh, yeah- yeah sorry.” His face turned beat red and he turned his back to put the seat in to try and hide it, but you saw it. At least you know he thinks you look cute, mission accomplished.

Once the kids were all buckled and ready to go you got in the passenger seat and flashed him a smile. He turned towards you and reached under your seat, his leather jacket covered arm going across your thighs where your dress rode up. You tried to act like your heart wasn’t beating a thousand miles a minute whenever you were this close to him, hopefully succeeding.

But Eddie caught the tiniest little squeak that came out of the back of your throat when he first touched you. Feeling satisfied with himself that he had any kind of affect on you because you made him feel like he was in highschool with a crush on a girl he didn’t have a chance with. But you were constantly showing him that maybe he did have a chance with you.

He pulled a bag from under your seat, plopping it in your lap.

“Me and the princess stopped at the dollar store and got your guys’ favorite candy. I figured since the movie theater candy is like crazy expensive we could get the candy before and get popcorn and drinks at the theater.” He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal that he remembered you and your son’s favorite treats. But to you, it was. Every single time you saw him he gave you another reason to fall for him.

“Wow, thank you Eds. That’s really thoughtful of you.” You smiled at him sweetly, the kind of smile that made him feel like he was going to melt into a puddle in the driver's seat.

“Of course Darlin’ anything for my favorite dude and my favorite girl.” He smiled back at you, the kind of smile that reminds you of sunshine that you wanted to bottle up for a rainy day.

He put the car in reverse and of course he had to put his hand on the headrest of the passenger seat while he pulled out. You just wanted to tilt your head up and kiss his wrist where his jacket rode up. You wanted to be close to him so badly, you’ve been trying to find the courage to ask him to hang out, just the two of you but you keep psyching yourself out. You didn’t have anyone to watch Oli anyways and if he wanted that he never hinted at it. Always suggesting things for you to do with the kids. Which you love, having someone think of both of you the way Eddie does is something you’ve never really had. But what you wouldn’t give for just a few hours alone with him, no kids, just being yourselves. But maybe he didn’t want that?

Eddie glanced over at you as he turned onto your street, you were staring out the window, chewing your lip that way you always did when you were thinking hard about something. Usually something that was upsetting you, so he did what any good friend would do and reached across the center counsel to grab your hand.

You whipped your head around at the feeling of his larger hand engulfing yours.

“You okay?” He ran his thumb over the top of it before intertwining your fingers. He had never held your hand before, and you felt your insides grow warm at the feeling. His palm was surprisingly soft against yours, but his fingers were calloused from years of playing guitar and working on cars. The juxtaposition of rough and smooth was more soothing than you ever could’ve imagined.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just got lost in thought for a second. Thank you for checking on me.”

You smiled at him sweetly, squeezing his hand in yours. Expecting him to let go after he knew you were alright but he just held on tighter. One hand on the wheel, the other in yours, hidden from the kids by the center console.

“DADDYYYYY! I want an icee, a blue oneeee!” Charlotte said in a sing-song voice.

“Okay baby, we can get a blue icee.” Eddie smiled at her in the rearview mirror and she clapped her hands in triumph.

“Oli, do you want an icee?” His eyes moved over to the other side of the backseat as he addressed your son.

“Yuuppp! Blueeee!” He said in the same sing song tone as his friend. He was always parroting her and saying things she said back to her and it warms your heart. He’s come so far with his communication skills since he started school and started spending so much time with Charlotte, you couldn’t be more proud of him.

Eddie held your hand up until he parked the car and took the keys out of the ignition. Squeezing it before placing a quick and sneaky kiss on the back of your hand, giving you one of those goofy smiles you love so much and exiting the car like he didn’t just make a bomb filled with butterflies go off in your stomach.

You got the kids out of their seats and walked into the movie theater, Charlotte and Oliver insisting on being in the middle so they could hold hands too. Eddie showed the guy at the ticket booth the barcode on his phone that had the tickets on it since he insisted on paying for everyone.

“Icee! Icee! Blue!” Oli jumped up and down as he pointed at the machine spinning the different colored slushy ice.

“Yeah baby, I’m gonna get you an Icee.” You chuckled at how cute his excitement was, letting him drag you toward the concession stand with Eddie and Charlotte in tow.

You ordered two small and two large blue Icees and a large popcorn. You go to pull your wallet out of your purse to pay since Eddie bought the tickets but you feel a large hand on yours, pushing it back down.

He already had his card out before you even open your purse, handing it to the woman behind the counter.

“Eddie… you paid for the tickets, it's the least I can do.”

“Nope. My treat.” A triumphant smile spread across his lips and he sent you a wink.

He always did this, paid for you, drove you, brought you little things he saw in the store that reminded him of you or Oli. It’s not like you didn’t have money, your aunt left you plenty of it and you had your job at the diner. But you knew Eddie did well for himself, he had told you some about his childhood, how he grew up with very little and he didn’t want his daughter to ever feel like he did as a kid. So after he finally graduated he and his uncle opened their own mechanic shop. It was fairly successful, their lower prices and more efficient work times drawing in and catering to the less wealthy people of Hawkins.

“Dada I have to go potty!” Charlotte tugged on Eddie’s hand, pouting toward the bathroom sign that was on the way to your designated theater.

“Alright sweets, let’s go potty. Oli and your bestie will go get our seats.”

She shook her head and pouted, looking at you with big round brown eyes, asking without verbalizing, something you’ve became an expert at understanding after having Oliver. Ever since you had all started going on outings together more often she had been asking you to take her to the bathroom. She had hardly ever gone in the girls room, always having to have her dad take her, so after you took her that first time, she always asked.

“Do you want me to take you potty honey?” You smiled at her sweetly, titling your head toward the bathroom.

“Yes! Please! I like going to the girl potty room!”

“Alright little dude, looks like it’s you and me with the snacks and the seats. They have lady business to attend to.” He grabbed the drink carrier from your hand, guiding Oli to walk in front of him into the bright colored double doors that led to dimly lit theater.

You stood outside the stall while Charlotte used the restroom, “standing guard” as she called it.

“Have you ever seen Paranorman before?” You asked her as you helped her wash her hands.

“No but my daddy said it’s a lot like Coraline and I love Coraline so I hope I will like this one too!” She smiled at you in the mirror.

“I’m sure you will, Oli loves it!” You helped her dry her hands before leading her out of the bathroom and into the theater to find the boys.

“Mommmmyyyy! Sit!” Oliver patted the seat on his left, signaling for you to sit down next to him. Charlotte sat to his right and to her right sat Eddie.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to sit by him before you even got here. But he felt like he was a world away with two reclining seats between you, it made you miss the old movie seats, at least then you’d be close enough to reach behind the kids to hold his hand over their heads. You missed his hand in yours the minute he let go, it still felt empty now even as you held the large cup filled with sugary blue slush in your hand.

The movie went as smoothly as it could’ve with two five year olds. You had to shush them both more than a few times and twenty minutes in, Oliver had to go to the bathroom, Eddie took him, he liked going in the boys bathroom just as much as Char liked going in the girls.

When it ended you corralled the kids back into the car, Eddie offering to drive through McDonald’s on the way to your house to get the kids happy meals and they cheered.

The ride was filled with small talk, jokes, and all four of you singing along to different songs on your playlist because Eddie even let you pick the music in his car. He never let anyone pick the music, it didn’t hurt that you had good taste.

When you were a few minutes from your house, just like before Eddie reached over to grab your hand. You took it instantly, intertwining your fingers and looking over at him with a shy smile.

“I had a lot of fun today, thanks for coming with us.” He glanced over at you at a stop sign, his smile sweet and his eyes filled with affection.

“I did too, thank you for inviting us. Next time I’m paying though.” You ran your thumb along his, the soft gesture contradicting the teasing tone in your voice.

“Yeah, we will see about that sweetheart.” He sent you a wink as he turned onto your street, giving your hand one last squeeze before getting out of the car to help you with the seat.

He got Oliver and his seat out of his car, you grabbed your son's hand and he held onto the car seat as he walked you a few feet to your door. He sits the seat down on the porch before turning to Oli and asking him for a high five, he happily obliged, even offering to bump knuckles with him in return.

“I really did have fun today, I love hanging out with you guys, it’s nice… to have someone else to do things with.” Eddie rocked on the balls of his feet with a bashful look on his face.

“It is nice, I’m glad we have you guys. I love spending time with you, both of you.” You were sure the smile on your face was lovesick and dopey but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. “The pumpkins are almost ready to harvest, would you guys want to come over and carve them next weekend? We can put a Halloween movie on, make some popcorn, make a whole thing of it.”

“I’d love that, and I’m sure she would too. It’s a date.” His eyes widen as he realizes his choice of words and you can tell he's about to correct himself so you cut him off.

“It’s a date.” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug that he immediately reciprocates, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head. You give him a final squeeze before pulling away and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight Eddie, get home safe.”

He was beat red with a flustered look on his face, you had kissed him on the cheek a few times now, but something about this felt different, more intimate.

“Goodnight sweetheart, sleep tight little dude!!” He waved at Oli before giving your forearm a squeeze and walking back towards his car. You sigh as you watch him drive away, knowing you’ll be counting down the days until next weekend.

Taglist: @comic-harley @yujyujj @witchwolflea @ali-r3n @bmunson86 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @sheneedsrocknroll92 @melodymunson

[physalian]

Character Types: The Coward

Specifically, the cowardly protagonist, because this character is so tricky to make compelling and not insufferable.

Cowards, much like schemers, tend to be the antithesis of a brave, selfless hero. They look out for themselves first, and if anyone else benefits, it’s a happy accident. Unlike schemers, they’re missing an inflated ego. They lack the drive and confidence to connive and claw for power.

Which tends to make cowards extremely unlikable, because not only are they unheroic, they’re useless. Plenty of characters get called cowards when they’re not, they’re just being sensible, and plenty more wear that badge proudly.

So how do you make one that isn’t a burden on the story and endlessly frustrating to the audience?

Well, I wrote one, and so far haven’t had any complaints.

Elias is my protagonist in Eternal Night, and he is a coward, and he knows it. He’s quiet, a bit of a cynic, a proud introvert, and a nerd. He also lives in a hyper-survivalist society that doesn’t waste any time on superfluous things like mourning their dead or facing their emotions because if they did they’d all steep into a depression rot and never escape.

The survival rate of hunting parties outside their cave is pretty low and Elias already lost his only brother to an accident, and has absolutely no desire to leave the cave. He’s got a perfect job as the Keeper—bookkeeping, inventory, and historical record.

He has a valid reason to be selfish: Being brave just gets you killed.

Elias is not a “chosen one”. He’s just extremely unlucky and cannot catch a break, dragged around by different vampires and clashing covens, none of whom really like him all that much, but for plot reasons he’s important to their plans.

The only character who cares about him is a Fixer and my Fixer absolutely suffers for sticking his neck out for Elias.

There is no “the power was inside you all along” moment, no “you’re the one true king to unite all the vampire covens” moment. Elias’s whole plot journey is to do whatever it takes to survive to the next morning and maybe also woo a boyfriend cause eyyyyy.

His whole story journey, which is different than the plot, is learning how fucked his clan’s survivalist nature made him. He’s missing so many social skills, so many milestones in life, so many experiences that are just a given to everyone he meets.

To somebody who’s never seen the stars or even clouds before, dumping him into a castle of 200 strangers and asking him to make friends is a tall order. Dumping him into a den of what he’s been raised to think of as monsters and stockholm-syndromed blood slaves and asking him to make friends is damn near impossible.

Elias is self-serving, and self-sabotaging in nearly every way. He’s wrong, about most everything he says, and doesn’t get away with it.

Elias’s refusal to make nice and let old grudges fade makes him extremely disliked by everyone in his new home, except for one person. So when the time comes for Drama and Plot, they do not give a single shit about protecting him, because he didn’t give a shit about protecting them.

“I just want to be normal” heroes are annoying, unless the task they’re chosen for is hell. Everybody wants to be a wizard at Hogwarts. But nobody’s signing up to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

Elias’s “fuck this I want to go home” selfishness does have merit. He doesn’t want to be food. But everywhere he turns, characters are proving him wrong about how it’s not “just being food,” how their society benefits everyone in the harsh environment they live in, how they’re doing the best they can with what they have and it’s not perfect but it’s better than the alternative.

He fights it at every turn. It’s not just “wah I hate vampires because they’re icky” it’s “I’ve been raised to hate vampires, and you ripped me from my home and everything I ever knew and they might all be dead now. If I start sleeping with the enemy and forgive and forget, then who am I?”

Elias might be a coward, but he’s not lazy, and he’s not stupid. He doesn’t throw a tantrum and refuse to accept the alternatives to being food. He works hard for his place (once he gets over his weaponized incompetence), works hard to try and save himself by learning more about his world and geography and all his possible escape routes, and when his survivalist upbringing of “do or die” comes in, Elias doesn’t freeze when he’s cornered, he comes alive.

So he’s still very much a “coward” in that he primarily only wants to save himself (and the one other character he cares about), but he’s not a couch potato, not a damsel in distress who can’t lift a finger to break the locks on his own cage, and the plans he does come up with to stay alive actually work.

I don’t expect Elias to be anyone’s favorite character, he wasn’t designed that way. He’s a walking tragedy constantly in the wrong place at the wrong time and gets caught in the middle of a fight he never asked for over and over again.

—

I also don’t see a ton of protagonists like him, so if you’re going to write one, or even a cowardly side character who audiences aren’t supposed to hate, I’ll synthesize the above points here:

Give them a valid reason for why they’re selfish, some reason that might have anyone else in their situation probably making the same choices

Make it clear that they are wrong, and that their own cowardice is their largest hurdle, and that either the plot or other characters don’t let them get away with it

Give them positive traits to balance out the cowardice. Maybe they’re kind, or they’re funny or they’re clever, but audiences do need something to root for

Give them agency. They can’t sit around like a bump on a log being a burden to the plot and the other characters. Even if they’re only in it to save themselves, they still have to work to accomplish that

Bonus option: Give them somebody else to shed their cowardice for, especially if they pick the absolute worst moment possible to suddenly become a hero

—

If you’re interested in Elias’s story, the first book in the planned trilogy is out now: Eternal Night of the Northern Sky

[bogkeep]

grousing about ai art stuff

every time i open twitter (my mistake) there's a new thread on how to spot ai art or ai photos by finding all the mistakes in it, and like obviously this is useful and it's good to watch out because they kEEP SHOWING UP EVERYWHERE AHHH HELL WORLD HELL WORLD, but it's also a little depressing that we're training ourselves to nitpick all kinds of details within a piece of art.

like even before the artifically generated image boom randos on twitter would reply to fully finished illustrations with the most asinine unsolicited advice possible. art's gonna be flawed sometimes! i'll draw someone in a weird pose because of vibes! i'll wing a hand! i don't fucking know what a house actually looks like!!! like yes of course the way a human artist creates flawed art is different from the way an algorithm doesn't actually know what anything looks like because it has no mind. it doesn't know shit. so it's not that it's UNRELIABLE but it's like. it's like... i've been telling myself and others every time i'm struggling to make something look Just Right that actually nobody i going to be staring as hard at my art as i am while making it. if i don't point it out people aren't likely to notice unless they are going through it with a fine toothed comb BUT NOW WE ARE DOING THAT APPARENTLY. WHICH IS ANYONE'S PEROGATIVE AND FAIR ENOUGH! PEOPLE CAN LOOK AT MY ART HOWEVER THEY WANT IT'S FINE

but it's ALSO so depressing to consider having to analyse every single piece of art you come across like that my goddddddd i just wanna enjoy it!! i wanna enjoy art!!!! i mean the main reason i finally stopped going on twitter regularly was during the NFT boom and i got so tired of having to vet every single artist i came across to make sure i wasnt retweeting nft stuff. like that really ruined my previously enjoyable experience of LOOKING AT NICE ART ON MY FEED WITHOUT PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE.

god another thing that happened during the dark nft times was how certain art styles tended to be nfts. and i don't mean the ugly apes and stuff, like of course there's those, but there were a lot of artists who sold their souls to crypto and there was just a certain Vibe to a lot of those styles. like i got a sixth sense for it, i would see a piece of art by an unknown artists and when i checked - yep, that was a crypto guy now. and you know what!!!! i hated that!!!! i hate that it ruined entire art styles for me!! AND NOW ARTIFICIALLY GENERATED IMAGES ARE DOING THE SAME!!!!! like what tends to tip me off is less because i spotted some wonky hand or a weird flap but because the style is a popular one for the ai bros to imitate. you know what i mean right!!!!!! it's kind of how the ai photos look a bit too clean and crisp and smooth in an unsettling way. it just pings the brain a bit.

ULTIMATELY the absolute main method i have for filtering away ai images isn't so much looking for mistakes, but by checking sources. it's the same way i check that i'm not reblogging from reposting accounts Because That's A Thing I Care About Too - if there's no description or the description seems off and i don't recognise the OP, i check the original post/blog to see what's up. if the image gives me a weird vibe, i check where it comes from and who posted it. oftentimes the comments on posts with ai images will point it out - they're not always accurate and there's definitely been times where people are a little too trigger happy to accuse art of being AI... but it can be a good lead or confirm suspicions. on one hand, i don't want to do detective work while im having chill scrolling time, but on the other hand - i already had this habit for other reasons, so it's less disruptive to me than the alternative. it also helps that it's very rare for ai shit to turn up in my tumblr feed. i don't want to keep looking over my shoulder!!

(also for anyone who wants a little bit of optimism in the middle of all this, here's an episode of Better Offline podcast that outlines how it's very unlikely for generative ai to actually get much better. here's the part two also.)

[delulu-with-wandanat]

ayo i have a request! platonic mob boss!natasha and single mother female reader! nat is a mob boss who is known to be heartless and merciless. reader is struggling financially and decides to take a loan from nat’s mob, which she can’t pay back. she’s taken by nat’s men and beaten, but then when nat sees reader out of place among the drug dealers and crackheads, she takes pity on reader, forgives her debt and protects her, as well as helping reader out financially. kinda like older sister protective vibes

THANK YOU I love all your writing!!

Alternative Proposition-

A/n: Awww thank you! I'm sorry this took a while, life finally catch up on me and I'm find myself writing less and less. I never actually dipped into mob au's beforee so, sorry if anything is out of place. I'm actually a little scared of posting this ngl- :')) I try to not give the daughter a name, only like a nickname so you can decide it for yourself. Anywayy, I hope you like it!!

Reader Description: She/her, single mother, mid 20s.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Platonic), Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff (Romantic).

Warnings 18+: Mature themes, mentions of drugs, violence, crimes, (idk what else i need to put tbh), threat, use of guns.

Summary: Struggling to take care her 5 year old daughter, Y/n took out a loan from the mob to start a small business in hopes that it would resolve their financial struggles. But small businesses takes time to flourish, which Y/n doesn't have and ends up biting her in the ass... or did it?

PUNCH!

Right on the stomach. The man tugged her from behind so she would stand up straight.

TWACK!

Christ, her nose was probably broken now. Perhaps she should've known better than to follow her friend's advice.

"Fucking bankers..." Y/n said out of frustration. Her appeal to take out a loan was rejected once again. At this rate she might have to finally settle for just working double time and barely making ends meet for her and her daughter. Suddenly, she hears her neighbor next door arguing and smashing god knows what.

For fuck sakes, again?

Gun shots can be heard from out the window, a few minutes later a police sirens follow through. The neighbor above blasting music and making noises on what could only be... something.

Her heart ached as he mind raced to the 5 year old sleeping in her room. No, she deserves a better life, a better living condition, a better future. She has to find a way, there has to be. The front door flew open and her friend walked in with a dopey smile.

"You look like you could use a happy sniff!" Y/n only rolled her eyes at her friend.

"I'm way past that, and you know it. Besides, those things are bad for you." Y/n responded without even looking.

Her friend plopped down beside her on the couch with an exaggerate groan. "You've gotten so boring since she was born. We used to have so much fun, no?"

"Grown out of it," She looks at her friend. "So should you."

Kate then rested her head on Y/n's shoulder, looking over her notes. "Bank denied you again?" She said almost mockingly with a pout.

"It's so stupid. I just need some cash to start this business, I did the numbers and the market is huge! Yet, none of them are willing to even listen at all..."

Kate then repositions herself to rest her head on the arms of the sofa. "You're asking the wronggg people." She giggled. Clearly high on drugs.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know someone who could help you. Actually... I know someone who KNOWS someone. No questions asked, just gotta pay them back on time."

"No questions asked? Sorry, Kate, but that sounds really shady." Y/n is too tired to even listen to her.

"Give it a tryyyy. You're confident about your business?" Y/n nodded. "What's the worst that could happen?" Kate concluded. Perhaps she was right, that what it takes to start a successful business no? Take a risk-

TWACK!

Famous last words. She did in fact took out a pretty huge loan, and promised to pay once a month with interest. Very high interest. Even though Kate was right, they asked no question whatsoever, the risk was also extremely deadly-

SMACK!

-right on the jaw this time. "I was late, I'm sorry. Please I promise I will-"

TWACK!

"We've heard that excuse many times before." The man said with a thick Slavic accent. He grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged it harshly so she would face her. "And when you take out a money that big, the boss doesn't play around."

TWACK!

"Please..." The poor woman pleaded. "I swear-"

"Swear on your life? That is what we will take." Instead of a punch, the platinum haired man pulled out a gun, Y/n felt her stomach dropped the moment he pointed the gun to her head.

"Wait, wait!"

"Hold." She heard the other man who was holding her from behind spoke. "We're needed elsewhere."

"Now??"

"Just put the rat back in her cell, we'll deal with her and the rest later."

The blonde man hesitated for a few second before putting away his gun. He bent his body to her eye level and spoke, "You are one lucky son of a bitch."

Y/n was put back in the filthy place. Among with all the other hostages they have taken and beaten. She grunts at every single move she makes, every part of her body was extremely sore with the amount of punching she had endured.

The warehouse was dark, there was only one source of light, it was now probably almost midnight, fuck she needs to get home. She asked Kate to babysit her daughter, which was probably not the best course of action as Kate was quite a heavy drug user. But fuck she didn't have anyone to go to.

Kate will take care of her right? Well, she was... She wasn't addicted, but- Oh fuck her mind is running a mile minute.

She doesn't know how long time has passed as all she could think about was her daughter. Her sweet little bug. "Be safe, please, please be safe."

Oh god, what if Kate uses drugs in front of her? Come on, Kate was the one helping Y/n throughout the pregnancy, she would be more mature than that. Then again drug addicts are selfish- No, Kate is not like that. Kate adores Y/n's daughter, even going as far as supporting this business so the little bug would have a better future.

But what if Kate-

Y/n perked up at the sound of a door opening. Heavy sets of footsteps could be heard walking in her direction. "Cut the crackheads fingers as a warning, that oughta teach them." Y/n shivers at the woman's command. "Their debt remains, any late payments will be paid by their hand."

"What about the dealer?" Her men asked.

"Kill him, he went against our terms and conditions. Make him suffer." Y/n heard a unanimous 'Understood.' This woman definitely held a high power among all of them.

"And Stark's men?" Another one of her soldier asked. There was a beat of silence as the woman weighted her decision.

"Send him our... parcel. He'll understand." Whatever it is, Y/n is sure it's not what is implied.

She heard a few cells opening, some of the hostages cried and plead for their life. "I have nothing to do with this!" The man screamed. "It was Mr. Stark's order-"

"Stark and I, despite our rivalry, have mutual respect with each other." The powerful boss spoke again. "Though I won't be surprised if the orders did in fact came from him."

"Please..." The hostage started crying. "Please, I- I have kids-"

"And a wife?"

"Y-yes."

"Good. At least there's someone to take care of them." Fuck this woman is a sadist.

The poor man continued to thrash and screamed, yet he was no match in his condition and the strength of his taker. His screaming gradually disappears as they take him god knows where. And finally, the woman came into view as she stood just outside of her cell.

Y/n had pushed herself into a corner, hugging herself, knowing she would be next. And from what she has heard, there was no way of convincing a woman who holds such power and fear. Reality dawned on her that she had failed her daughter, her sweet 5 year old bundle of joy.

I'm sorry, bug...

The red headed woman studied the hostage before her. Seems like her men had taken her after she had finished her shift, Y/n was still wearing her waitress uniform.

"It's the one that took out the big loan." Another woman with blonde hair told the boss. Y/n notes she has a thick Russian accent.

"And?"

"She claims the purpose was to start a food and beverage business. Late payments, but I doubt the business even took place. I haven't seen or heard any new establishment in the area." The blonde woman explained.

The boss narrows her eyes. Y/n refused to speak or even look at them in the eye. As the red headed women was about to decide her fate, they heard a phone ring. Y/n's head turned to the source of the ringtone, it was her phone. "Shut that phone." She told her men.

"No wait!" All eyes turned to Y/n as the hostage finally spoke for the first time. "Please, that's mine. It might have something to do with my daughter..."

The goons gave the boss Y/n's phone. The woman looked at the caller id, "Kate."

"That's my friend, she's babysitting her. I just need to know if she's alright." The blonde and red haired woman shared a look, they've seen this before. Last act of desperation to seek help.

Finally, the boss bent down to her level beckoning Y/n to get closer from her position. Y/n hesitantly crawled closer so she was able to speak to the phone. Before the boss answered the phone, she looked at Y/n dead in the eye. "Any attempts, I will track this caller id. Understood?"

The boss didn't have to elaborate further, Y/n nodded while shivering in fear. The woman then accepted the call, and put it on speaker. "Mama??" A little girl's voice could be heard.

"Hey there, bug!" Y/n responded with fake enthusiasm. It was very convincing, even an adult wouldn't notice anything. "What are you doing up so late huh?"

"I'm waiting for you! You promised me movie night." The little girl said sadly.

"Awww, I know bug. Something came up at work, and I needed to work extra hours. But how about this, I'll make it up to you and we'll go somewhere special on your birthday, how does that sound?" Y/n spoke, her heart aching as she was making fake promises to her daughter. After all, the mob would most likely take her life.

"Yey!!! Aunty Kate, did you hear that?" It seems like the little girl was so happy at the idea. Y/n can imagine her daughter running to Kate in their tiny apartment excitedly to tell her the news. She then heard Kate responding as excitedly to the little girl. This is her chance.

No. She can't put her friend in danger. Even though that idiot gave her the stupid idea- No, I made the decision.

"Kate, it's already midnight. Can you make sure she sleeps please?"

"Aww, it's weekend! I'm sure she can stay up once a while with her aunty." Kate responded over the phone.

"I gotta go." Y/n said after noticing some of the goons growing impatient. "And Kate..."

There was a beat of silence, would she do it?

"Please remember to restraint yourself." Kate could be heard signing on the other side of the phone.

"You know I would never do that in front of bug. I promise, I'll take care of her. Just come home safe ok?" Kate understood Y/n's fear. And Kate knew better than to use drugs around children's proximity. In fact, she wasn't using the addictive substance as much as she used to... Only when she party that is-

"Of course. See you." The red haired woman then ended the call. She wasn't going to lie, she was quite impressed at this hostage. Perhaps this girl was something else...

-

Natasha came home way past midnight, it wasn't unusual for her of course. Though she does sometimes wishes to leave the crime life completely. Well, sometimes was an understatement, she wants to leave the crime life and focus on her own family. However, her sister was far from ready and there were numerous business she had to resolve first.

Then again, perhaps that was just an excuse. The cycle would never end. There's always something coming up, and she was the one the city held respect and fear for. By the end of the day, Natasha wasn't even sure if this life would leave her completely.

It was tied to her like an anchor.

She sighed and walked over to the master bedroom quitely. When she opens the door, she found her wife already fast asleep. She made her way to the bathroom, changed her clothes into something far more comfortable. She opted to skip her nighttime routine, and walked out of the bathroom.

Her wife had moved in her sleep, and it seems like she is awake. A small smile appeared on Natasha's face. "I didn't mean to wake you up." The mob boss said apologetically.

"The Americans would say, old habit dies hard." Wanda responded with a sleepy smile. Natasha soon joined her on the bed, giving her wife a loving kiss on her lips, and the slope of her nose. Despite being married for a couple of years, it warms Wanda's heart at Natasha's actions.

For someone who have gained the reputation of being merciless, she was so gentle on the people she loves.

"Everything alright, darling?" Wanda asked, she knew there was always something in this line of business. But really, what else was she supposed to ask?

"Same old, same old." Natasha answered as she settles on the bed next to her. Wanda then nuzzles onto Natasha like she always does every single night. "I'm getting too old for this."

Wanda chuckles, "Well, Yelena is next in line."

"Oh please, she her patience is as thin as a baby hair. She wouldn't last a 30 minute meeting." Natasha then starts to rub small circles on Wanda's back. "And you?"

"Just the usual, took the boys to school. They're already asking me if they could get their own car now that they're in middle school." Natasha let out a small chuckle.

"I hope they know they have save up their own money for that."

"I doubt it." The two women shared a laugh and fell into a comfortable silent. It was nights like these that Natasha adored. She may ruled the city, and had resources the average person can't imagine, but all she wanted was simple nights in the arms of the woman she loves.

Crazy to think how they met each other, all those years ago. When Natasha was only a second in command and Melina was ruling the mob, and Wanda was just a single mother trying to get by. Just like-

"Your thoughts are loud, detka." Wanda said, her wife truly knows her inside and out. "Care to share?"

Natasha lets out a sigh before continuing, "There was this girl, probably in her mid 20s." Wanda stayed silent, listening to her wife. "She reminds me of you..."

Wanda pulled away slowly to look at Natasha in the eye, "Natalia... If this is your way of asking us to open our marriage-"

"Excuse me, how did you even come to that conclusion?" God no, Natasha never even had that thought.

"Well when you start with that kind of sentence..." Natasha only rolled her eyes and pulled Wanda back into her arms.

"No, It's not that." She sighed, trying to find the right words. "I'm just..." She trails off once again. Wanda waited patiently for her wife to form her words, except Natasha ended up letting out a soft chuckle. "I think I'm just getting too old and too soft for this."

Wanda made herself more comfortable on Natasha's chest, listening to her heartbeat. Something she finds rather comforting. "You kept your heart. That is something I love the most about you." She shifted slightly so she could look at her wife in the eye. "But moreover I think that is something Melina would be so proud of..."

Natasha's heart warmed at Wanda's words. She pulled Wanda into a soft kiss, pouring the immense love she had for the woman before her. Natasha's hand gently cupped her wife's face, she held her ever so carefully as if Wanda was the most precious and delicate flower to ever exist.

--

Y/n waited, and waited.

She glanced at the clock, and then back to the front door. Still no one...

She heard a groan from Kate and looked at her friend/co-worker now. "Where are all the people..." She whined as she waited at one of the empty seats.

"It's ok. There's time like these, we just have to be patient." Y/n responded optimistically, even though deep inside she was screaming. The restaurant barely made enough to be self-sufficient. Despite it being small, and having herself as the staff with the occasional help of Kate, all of the profit had gone to running the business.

Moreover, she has to pay back the mob.

Fuck... "Kate, what day is it?"

Kate quickly checked her phone, "Friday. Why??"

Shit... shit, shit, shit. Her next payment was due tonight. She opened the register to check on the cash she had separated to make the payments. Y/n hastily re-counted the money and found that she was still $1000 short, "Fuck-"

"What's wrong?" Kate asked upon noticing her friend's frustration.

"Nothing..." Y/n sighed, no point in panicking now. She rubbed her temple and started giggling out of the immense frustration she was in. "Out of curiosity, is there a way to make $1000 in less than 6 hours?"

"We could always turn to crime."

"Few years ago I would've agreed, but I have a daughter to take care of." Calming herself down, she puts the money back and closed the cashier. "I need to pick up bug soon, you think you can manage on your own?"

"Don't underestimate me..." Y/n only gave Kate a look as she walks towards the cashier, "I will man the fort."

Y/n merely chuckles and took her bag, she gave Kate a quick hug. She has been such a great help, the definition of true friends lie on none other than Kate Bishop. "Thank you, I'll be quick!" Y/n said as she made her way out of the restaurant.

--

"-And I made a new friends!" The little one said as she held her mother's hand on the way to the shop.

"That's wonderful, bug!" Y/n responded as enthusiastically. Relief that her daughter was doing well on her first day of elementary school, not that she ever doubted her daughter's capability. In contrast to Y/n, her daughter was much more outgoing than she was when Y/n was younger.

"Maybe I can invite them to the restaurant!" Y/n chuckles at her statement.

"Well you know what? Tell them I will give their family a VIP service." The little bug scrunch up her nose in confusion, she look up to her mother.

"What's a VIP??" She asks, just before they entered the shop. Y/n bent down to her level with an adoring smile.

"VIP means, 'Very-Important-Person'. And because they're your friends. They're important, don't you think so?" The little girl nodded her head as her mother explained, "Meaning they'll get special treatments."

It was like a lightbulb switched on inside the little one's head. "Oh! I get it!!"

"My brightest star." Y/n said while ruffling her head, "Come on, let's head inside. Aunty Kate might need some back up."

The two entered the shop to find Kate talking to a customer. Oh thank god. Their back was facing Y/n, once Kate noticed Y/n she perked up. "Oh! Y/n, you're just in time. This is our owner, and the mastermind behind all these amazing dish!" Well, gotta give the enthusiasm to Kate.

The customer turned around and Y/n felt chills down her spine.

"So I see." The same powerful woman spoke. Y/n tensed up, but the little hand she was still holding kept her grounded. "Y/n, was it?"

"Y-yes." She cleared her throat. No, nononono, the payment was still in a few hours. Well, she was still short a $1000. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

The redhaired woman shifter her eyes downward to look at Y/n's daughter. "And who might you be?" She asked the little girl kindly. Was it genuine? Y/n doesn't even know.

"My mom and aunty calls me bug!" The girl said excitedly. "I like your hair."

The mob boss laughed, "Thank you! I like your little braid. Did your mother did that for you?" Oh well, she's surprisingly good with kids?? Such a stark contrast to the one Y/n met at the warehouse-

"Yeah!" The little girl giggled.

"I'm having trouble choosing something to eat. Since I have the owner and I'm assuming the chef, perhaps you could recommend me something?" The woman asked.

Y/n snapped back to reality, "U-uh, well... Our uhm the-" Speak, SPEAK, why am I so-

"Oh, oh!" Her daughter excitedly ran up to the dangerous boss, she went on her tiptoes to take the menu off the counter. "You should get this one! It's my favorite and my mom makes it the best."

"I will take your word for it." The woman said with a kind smile, she turns to Kate. "I'll take the recommendation from this little one. I'll sit in that corner."

"We'll be right with you, ma'am!" Kate said, obviously oblivious to who this woman is.

Fuck.

--

Y/n hand shook as she plated the food for the mafia boss, Kate noticed it and giggles. She clearly doesn't realize how bad the situation is.

"Hey relax, boss." She nudges her friend, Y/n only let out a nervous chuckle. "Alright, I'll take it from here." As Kate was about to take the plate to serve, Y/n stopped her.

"I got it, why don't you go stand by the cashier in case any more customers comes in." Thankfully for Y/n, Kate agreed and went back to her station. As much as she would like to avoid the mob boss at any cost, she doesn't want Kate to be involved further.

Y/n walks towards the table with food in hand, the woman was sitting by the corner looking out the window. Heart stammering in her chest as fear and anxiety tried to take over her body, what did this woman want?

"Your food, ma'am." Y/n sets the plate with shaky hands.

"Oh, thank you. It looks delicious." The redhead said turning to face Y/n with a smile. Just as Y/n was about to leave, the lady stopped her. "Hold on just a minute, I wouldn't mind the company of the owner herself. Take a seat." It sounded more like a demand than a request.

Y/n took a deep breath and sat across from her. The woman took a sip of her drink, still looking out the window. Maybe I should've poisoned her food or something-

"I believe I haven't introduced myself." The woman's voice took Y/n out of her trance. She looked up to see her staring back at her. "Natasha, pleasure to meet you under... better circumstances." Natasha offered her hand to shake.

Y/n reached out, hand still visibly shaking a little as she shook her hand. "Y/n, although I'm sure you knew that already."

Natasha only nod, she then picked up a fork and a knife and started eating her food. After the first bite, she lets out a soft laugh. "Your daughter wasn't lying when she said this was the best."

Y/n could only force a smile as multitude of things ran in her head. Was she here to execute her? Did she know that Y/n was still a few dollars short? Was this a genuine interest in her food or was she here for business?

"How's business so far?" There it is.

Y/n sighed and looked around at the empty restaurant. "We've had better days."

Natasha only raised an eyebrow as she continues eating her food. "So I see."

There was a few minutes of silence as Y/n waited for Natasha to speak further, however, it seems like the other woman was just simply enjoying her food.

"I have to say I am incredibly impressed with your cooking." She said as she wiped her lip with a napkin and set aside her cutleries.

"Thank you, I learned it from my mother."

Natasha nodded and fixed her posture as she set the plate to the side to rest her hand on the table. "I'm sure you know why I'm here. It's strictly business." Y/n took a deep breath, but before she could say anything Natasha cuts her off. "Although, seeing the state of your establishment, I'm assuming It's barely making anything to run itself."

"I- I promise you I can-" Y/n stammered.

"Oh don't make promises you can't keep, Y/n."

"This month's payment might be a lower but I swear it just takes-"

"I've thought so." Oh god, what has she gotten herself into. Her chest started to feel heavy, something felt like it was stuck on her throat. Y/n couldn't utter a single word. She was a dead woman...

"Which is why I would like to offer you an alternative proposition." Natasha as she leans back against the chair. Y/n who was still in the state of fear only looked at her. "I would like to turn your debts into an investment."

...I'm sorry, "W-what?"

"I would like to invest in your business instead, I see great potential. It should help lighten the burden." Whoa, what??

"I- What's the catch?" Natasha only laughs, not one of those evil laughs, just... laughed.

"I get 20% share of your profit, but to say that's a catch would be misleading as that is just the nature of investment."

Y/n thought for a moment, this wasn't so bad. No, actually it was great. Instead of having debts, she only need to pay Natasha a share of the profit that the restaurant made.

"That's... a very generous offer, Natasha. Thank you. Although, may I negotiate?" Natasha smirked slightly at the sentence and nodded, she liked this girl. Normally people would take the offer without any hesitation, so to have someone negotiates back was refreshing. "I think 20% is too high, how bout 10%?"

"Hmmm, that's too low for me. How about you and I meet in the middle, 15%?" Y/n nod and Natasha had a satisfied smile on her face. This time, it was Y/n who reached out her hand.

"We have a deal."

--

To say the mob boss was being generous was an understatement, but Y/n wasn't going to ask questions. It helped elevated the financial burden a little, as she did not have to pay a fixed price every month. If the business soars Natasha gets a good cut of the revenue, it it fails, well they fall together.

What's weird was Y/n had expected for there to be a catch, maybe even have Natasha suddenly barging in and run the business however she likes. Or making some sort of speakeasy underneath her restaurant, or anything crime related really. But she never did, in fact, Natasha became a regular at the restaurant. She comes by once or twice every week, one time she even comes with a lovely lady who Y/n quickly learned was her wife.

Natasha's wife, Wanda, was a truly lovely lady. Overtime, Wanda stops by more often on her own. Although truth to be told, Y/n had a feeling they adored her daughter the most as bug truly was the ray of sunshine in the restaurant.

Doorbell chimes through the restaurant, the little bug excitedly dings the bell on the cashier counter top informing the kitchen of an incoming order.

"Ms. Wanda's specials!" The little girl said loudly, causing Wanda to giggle slightly at the scene. Y/n comes out of the kitchen door to greet her as she was in the middle of cleaning up.

"Wanda, good to see you again! Your usual?"

Wanda smiled and nodded. "For me, as always. Another one of the same for my wife, and 2 dish of your recommendation for my boys please."

"Anything in particular?" Y/n asked.

Wanda hummed for a moment, before glancing at Y/n's daughter who's practically bouncing on her little feet to make the decision for her. She then smiles and said, "I'll let the little chef surprise me."

Bug beamed upon hearing her sentence, Y/n smiled at her daughter and gave her an encouraging nod. She pulled down her mother to her level and whispered her recommendation. Y/n then pulled away and playfully gave her a salute, "Right on it, chef!"

As Y/n was walking back to the kitchen she heard her daughter yelling, "And be quick, it's for our VIP!"

She was glad her daughter seems to make the restaurant her own little playground, most of the costumers adored her too whenever bug was around. She wishes that her daughter could go out more often and wasn't forced to be stuck in the restaurant as much as she is now.

As time goes by the restaurant started to gain more and more exposures around the neighborhood and Kate has been a big help through it all. Arguably it was good for her too, as she used her spare time to work instead of partying and doing drugs.

Many more months have passed, and their popularity continues to rise and rise to the point where Y/n NEEDED to hire a cook helper and a waitress. She was grateful to say the least, but she wonders if the mob boss had something to do with it.

Y/n noticed that she had seen one of the customers being the one that kidnapped her, she was terrified for a minute only for the same platinum haired man to apologize and leave her with a huge, and I mean HUGE tip. She found out that his name was Pietro and he was surprisingly a funny, cocky, yet quite the gentleman.

The other one was the blonde woman that stood next to Natasha. However, at that time she was rather busy in the kitchen so Kate was the one who interacted with her the most. She didn't learn much about the blonde woman, only that her name was Yelena and that Kate seems to have a big crush on her.

She starts to wonder if half of her customers were affiliated with Natasha's mob. There were times when Natasha came by with a group of people, was it for a business meeting or whatnot she doesn't know. She doesn't even want to know. One thing for sure, Y/n's perception of Natasha changed. The initial impression of Natasha being a cold, heartless, merciless woman was gone, it turns out Natasha has a heart of gold.

From spreading the word about her restaurant, to giving huge tips every time she eats, refusing on-the-house meals and paying more than what her bill stated. To even, at least to Y/n's assumption, keeping the area of her restaurant safe. It wasn't confirmed by any means, but Y/n had a gut feeling Natasha had something to do with it.

--

All in all, business was great and was making enough for her to profit from it as well. She can now take her daughter out occasionally and not having to worry about starving herself in process.

Today was rather slow than usual, thank god...

She probably shouldn't as a business owner, but damn girl needs a room to breathe sometimes. Calm before the storm they said, and Y/n was going to use it to her advantage and catch up on her book as she waits for the next customer.

A good few minutes into her book, the door bell rings. Y/n looks up and put on her smile at the customer. Kate called in sick today and their waitress was having a day off, so Y/n had to cover both for both. "Welcome! What can I do for you on this fine day?"

"Hi there." The woman with a black hair said with a kind smile. "I heard this was the new hotspot in town. What would you recommend me?"

"Well that depends, are we looking for somethings sweet or savory?"

"Hmmm...." The woman scanned the menu quickly. Finally she looked up and said, "I'm feeling adventurous, surprise me."

Y/n smiled, "Take a seat anywhere you like, I'll be right with you." The customer thanked her and sat by the corner. From the corner of her eye, she could she the woman seems to be observing the restaurant. It wasn't weird by any means, maybe she's just one of those food bloggers.

Nah, she's dressed so formal to be a food blogger. Oh, shit... is that a food critique? We'll let's impress her.

After a few minutes, Y/n goes to her table. "This is one of our favorites." She said as she set the plate on the table, "And this is a complimentary drink, it's on the house."

"That's very kind of you." The black haired woman said. "Say how long has this place been established?"

"Oh we've just opened a couple of months ago."

"The owner certainly has an exquisite design taste." Y/n smiled at the compliment.

"Thank you! It was highly inspired by my heritage." The woman raised her eyebrow.

"I take it you are the owner?" Y/n nodded. "Wow! Congratulations on your business! The food looks amazing, please, would you mind joining me? I would love to listen more to your stories."

"Certainly!" Y/n took a seat in front of her, she was used to this, sitting and talking to different customers. It helps build relationship and making them a regular. "Are you new around this area?"

The woman chuckles, "No, I know this city like the back of my hand. My name is Maria Hill, pleasure to meet you." Maria offered her hand to shake.

"Likewise, I'm Y/n." The two shook hands and Maria leaned back on her seat.

"I'm guessing you're not originally from here?"

"No, my family and I migrated to the US when I was younger." Maria hummed again as she stared Y/n down, honestly Y/n was feeling rather uncomfortable. It was like she was... observing her, maybe even assessing her?

One thing for sure, Y/n was starting to get really bad vibes.

Maria suddenly let's out a small laugh, "Perhaps I should be more frontal." She fixed her posture and leaned her elbows on the table. "I was going to ask you sooner or later."

Oh god, what is it? Am I getting deported??

"Are you aware of an individual named Natalia Alianovna Romanova?"

Y/n twisted her head in confusion. "No, that doesn't seem to ring a bell."

"What about Natasha Romanoff?" The woman continued to prod. Well, she only knows one Natasha, she's a-

"I'm sorry, I just-" Y/n was confused, "What is this all about? Are you a health inspector or an immigration officer because-"

Maria raised her hand to stop Y/n, "No, neither of those." Y/n raised an eyebrow. "I'm an FBI agent."

Oh...

"I've been investigating an organized crime for the past few years."

Oh, fuck.

"You're not in trouble, Y/n. I merely require your assistance."

This isn't fucking calm before the storm-

"So are you or are you not," Maria took out a picture, a photograph of Natasha walking out of HER restaurant. "acquainted with this individual."

This is calm before a fucking typhoon. And she is in the middle of it.

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part two.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.5k 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 - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, pet names, nipple play, overstimulation, multiple orgasms Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part one. / part three. | masterlist

2-5-1-2.

It’s an easy enough combination to remember, being Christmas Day and all.

Pressing 2, 5, and 1 is easy. The final '2' makes you second guess yourself.

You’re not sure why you’re panicking. He’ll pick up.

(It’s literally his job, idiot.)

Fuck it.

Your index finger hits the '2' and the hashtag to finalize the combination.

When you hear the line go dead, you tense every muscle in your body.

No breathing.

No blinking.

Just waiting for that silky, sultry siren song to come over and confirm your bias that it’s the single sexiest voice you’ve ever heard.

—but it’s that automated lady you tried to bypass from the menu.

“Please enter your credit card number, followed by the expiration date—”

“Oh, Goddamn it,” you groan, shouldering the phone to shuffle your purse around.

Eventually after some digging, you find your card before she can continue a second loop of her payment spiel. 

You can’t believe you’re legitimately putting your credit card information out there for anyone to steal.

Yet, if Annie’s been doing this for ages, then it ought to be safe.

Right?

After typing in the necessary numbers and confirming they’re correct, you’re so out of your own head that you don’t even realize the line switches from slight static to smooth nothingness.

“So you finally called back.”

“Shit!”

The buttery smooth greeting — or lack thereof — makes you nearly drop your phone.

You gasp and manage to catch the device just in time to hear a chuckle, graveled and low, on the other end.

“And just as jittery as last night.”

“Levi,” you greet breathlessly, straightening your outfit like he can actually see it.

You swear you hear a smile in his voice.

“Hey, baby.”

Oh sweet Jesus.

“Or do you prefer it when I call you Scarlet?”

You prefer literally anything he’ll give you, is what you want to say back, but you don’t want to automatically appear as though you’re ready to be walked like a dog at minute one.

“I’m… fine with ‘baby’,” you confess after a beat, focusing on the swirl of the marble counter below you just to dissociate to his voice.

“Thought so,” he arrogantly states before making this grunting noise, like he’s rolling his body in a chair to get more comfortable. “Are we talking again?"

"Is that alright?"

"You know it is." Levi's voice lifts, softer now. "And how's your Saturday so far?”

“Very mundane and super lackluster,” you admit. “I’m sure you’ve had a much more interesting day than me.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replies without skipping a beat.

“No?” you ask with a smirk. “I’d say getting people off with the sound of your voice makes for a pretty interesting job.”

“Who said it’s only just my voice?”

Son of a bitch.

The phone shifts from your right shoulder to your left.

“It isn’t?”

He makes a noncommittal hum, and it runs straight to your core. “That's confidential, sweet Scarlet."

"Boo," you joke. "You're no fun."

"You haven't seen me at my fun yet," he corrects. "Speaking of fun: how are you not hungover?"

“The power of heavy tylenol and H2O? Which... I have to apologize that."

"For what?"

"Uh, I pretty much poured my heart and soul out to you last night.”

He chuckles. "I didn't mind it. Feeling any better about that situation?”

“I haven’t really thought about it since last night, so you’re already a miracle worker.”

"Oh?"

"Yeah, no joke."

“Huh." He clicks his tongue. "And what have you been thinking about?”

You say it without realizing you’ve said it out loud:

“You.”

Both ends of the phone go silent.

Your eyes widen, wanting nothing more than to take a pan out of one of the cabinets to bash your head in with anguish. 

“In, like, an interested sense.”

Shit, that isn’t much better.

“An… interested sense,” he repeats, slower this time. His vowels dip deep.

“Oh no,” you bemoan. “Okay. Let me restart: I mean it in like a — you were on my mind? Today, sort of way. So I called.”

“...uh-huh.”

“Because the call ended so quickly!” you add. “I didn’t think it was going to end so abruptly at the fifteen minute mark, but I wasn’t done talking to you, so I called again.”

“You’re shit at asserting yourself, aren’t you?”

His words make you blink twice.

“Huh?”

“You don’t like making decisions or having to explain things,” he replies without judgment. “You think if you want something, then it makes you selfish.”

Ouch.

“Well, when you put it like that,” you reply in a bitter, yet lifted tone of surprise. 

You hear a noise on the other end. A ‘tch’ if you can make it out.

“Sorry," he apologizes. "Too far?’

“No! Too real,” you admit with a small laugh. “And I’m sure you don’t want to play analyst-therapist tonight, so.”

“I’m here to do anything you want,” he reminds, syrup-y sweet. 

“Anything?”

“Mostly anything,” he adds, and there’s a tiny chuckle bubbling between the words that makes your heart flutter. “Can’t hold a tune worth a damn and I don’t know how to speak some languages, so there are limitations.”

You laugh despite yourself, feeling your stress melt.

Then—

A small groan, like his head's tilting backwards. “Damn, I like hearing that.”

You turn away from your kitchen counter, subconsciously padding to your bedroom. “Hearing what?”

“Your laugh,” he explains. “It’s sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Very.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully.

Dark hair. Gray-ish blue eyes. Sharp nose. High cheekbones.

Fit.

When your eyes flicker to your own bed, you try to picture a version of him waiting there.

He could be leaning back on his elbow, button-down shirt splayed open like a newly-peeled present.

Maybe his legs are parted.

Maybe he stares at you like you’re all he could ever want.

His voice cuts through the fantasy, causing your breath to catch.

“What do you want, baby?”

Then it drops an octave lower.

“...c’mon, be selfish for once.”

For once.

Like he can read your soul through a damn cell phone.

But Levi is right — your entire short-lived relationship with Porco and just about any other man before him has been through a small lens. Fitting in the middle seat just to never make any noise. To bend with the curve rather than against it to create your own path.

It’s just a sex hotline, but for some reason, his words resonate.

Be selfish.

Wasn’t that the point of calling in the first place?

“Anything?” you repeat a second time, much softer.

Levi shuffles on the other line then exhales like he’s getting comfortable.

“What do you need?” he asks, tone low and words slower. 

Purposeful. 

“What do you want?”

You close your eyes, drawing in a slow, steady inhale.

Are you seriously doing this?

No more overthinking.

“Should I... get comfortable?” you ask, too afraid to say what it is that you want.

What you’re about to do.

“Mm, you near a couch or a bed?”

“A bed.”

“Don’t get on it yet,” he orders, “but walk towards it. Bend over it.”

Jesus Christ.

“Bend over it?” you ask with a shaky breath of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “You’re home from a long day. I’m home from a long day. All you’ve wanted all day is to have someone tell you what to do, right?”

As much as your face feels like it's on fire, you slowly walk to your bed and put the phone down between your splayed palms.

You press the speaker option to ‘on’, and feel a wave of arousal hit your gut when you hear him sigh through the phone.

“I thought you said you wanted me to be selfish,” you remind, bending over your bed.

“You’re allowing me to take charge,” he retorts with little hesitation. “You’re letting me take care of you the way you always should’ve been taken care of. Your ex-boyfriend has no fucking clue what he’s missed out on.”

You exhale, trying to keep it together.

“Levi—”

“I’m right here, baby,” he huskily promises. “Right here. Not leaving you.”

You feel ridiculous.

You’re so turned on it’s almost laughable.

“You ready to let me take control?” he eventually asks, and you nod like he can see you.

“Yeah, I’m— I think so.”

“I like using a red-yellow-green light system,” Levi hums. “Red’s a hard stop. Yellow is negotiating, a slow down to check in. Green means you’re in.” He pauses, and you lean down closer to your phone, bending further. “Color?”

Even on speaker, his voice rips straight through you.

“Green,” you decide, blurting before your brain can catch up.

“Good girl.”

You’re not going to survive this.

“Are your lights off?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he decides. “I want you to crawl slowly onto the bed now. Can you do that for me?” 

Your hand slides obediently, passing over the phone as you begin to rest one knee on the mattress. It dips with give. 

“All the way up to your pillows, then you can lay on your back — but keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay.”

Eventually you drag your phone with you as you crawl to the headboard of your bed, only to then slowly turn around and drop to your back.

“Are your eyes closed?”

With the phone speaker right at your ear, it almost lends itself to the fantasy of him hovering above you.

His lips dip at the edge of your ear, the static lost to you.

“Yes,” you exhale, relaxing into the bed.

“Good. You’re doing so good for me already, and we’ve barely started.” He pauses, shifting once more. “What’re you wearing, baby?”

“Something so not sexy,” you joke, and it earns a breathy laugh from him.

“Bet you can make anything sexy,” he tells you, and it shoots straight to your lower belly.

“How would you know?” you ask, your hand already reaches for the hem of your shirt. “You’ve never even seen me.”

“No, but I hear you, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Your breath hitches, and you can hear it; the smile in his voice.

“Take everything off, except your underwear.”

“Bra, too?”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he tells you, and it’s much less breathy. It’s certain, like he wants to check in — make sure you’re just as into it as he sounds. “Would you rather I help you take that off?”

Your brain blanks.

Slowly you push your jeans off first, kicking them to some unknown corner.

Then you rise, ripping your t-shirt off of your body, until you’re sitting in your mismatched bra and panties.

“How would you take it off of me?” you boldly ask, though you can’t quite get rid of the shake of anticipation in your voice.

“Fuck, I’d love to,” he grunts, and your face burns. “I’d be so busy pressing small, slow kisses to your neck. Reach up and touch your neck for me. Feel how I’d kiss it.”

You do.

As surprised as anyone else, you reach up and press your fingers against small parts of your neck, earning him a tiny gasp and noise of want.

“Dragging down to your throat.”

You press two gentle fingers to your skin again, following his path, before slamming your thighs together to try and relieve the heat between your legs.

“My finger would just… slip, right under the right strap of your bra.”

Your fingers dance across your collarbone, slipping your middle finger just under the delicate strap to mirror.

With your eyes closed, the motions lend to an almost out-of-body experience.

Like your hand trailing down your body isn’t yours; it’s his.

You’re his, right now.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, and you nods furiously.

“Very.”

“Good. Let me pull the other one down. I wanna see how pretty my girl is.”

The praises, the way he so easily speaks this way, has you all sorts of flustered.

Slowly you raise your other hand to pull down the strap, and whimper when you tug down as far as you can.

Your breasts spill out over the cup, allowing your hardened nipples to greet the night air.

“Can I touch you?”

The words almost make you open your eyes, as if you’ll see this mystery man hovering over you.

You know he's not here.

You wish he were right here.

“Yes.”

“How do you like to be touched, baby? Show me.”

“Levi,” you whine, allowing your shaky hands to run along your breasts.

You’re afraid, you’re exhilarated, but when you finally pinch the little buds and roll them between your fingers, you’re too far gone to care.

“Fuck—”

“Feels good, huh?” Levi’s own breathy voice interrupts your curse. “You look so beautiful like this. Letting me play with you— God, I could do this for hours—”

“Want you to.”

You don’t even recognize your own breathy tone. 

Hell, you only hear him.

You only feel him.

“Need more,” you pant, and he hums with amusement.

“No,” he replies, “think I’m gonna play with you a little more right here for now.”

You accidentally pinch your nipples, harder, like he’s teaching you a lesson.

“Levi.”

“What, is my girl getting impatient?”

His girl.

You don’t even know him, but you’d sure as hell like to be.

(How easy is it, for you to fall so fast from your judgmental high horse when Annie first slipped you this number — only for you to be moaning on your bed, hands groping and kneading your breasts, for a man you didn’t know?)

“Y-You said,” you stammer, “to be selfish, and I want—”

“Shh, I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” Levi interrupts on the other end. “But you have to do something for me, too.”

“What is it?��

“I don’t want you holding back on me. No shyness. No second guesses. I want you, I want to hear what I do to you. Is that understood?”

You can’t take it.

Your one hand leaves your chest to skim down to your belly, unable to wait any longer.

“I want you to touch me,” you hiccup.

“Yeah?”

His voice wavers in the response before it strengthens. Demands.

“I want those panties gone first. Take them off and spread your knees. Feet flat on the bed.”

No need to be told twice; you hastily pull your panties down your hips, your knees, until they pool at one of your ankles.

Your knees knock together before spreading, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I want to touch you, too, baby.” Levi swallows, coating his throat. “How wet are you for me?”

Fingertips run past your lower belly to touch the apex of your thighs, gasping with surprise and relief when you feel that familiar electricity.

“Really fucking wet,” you admit.

The groan he emits is delicious. “Fuck.”

For a moment, you feel completely out of your depth. 

This is meant to be a sex hotline, but there are lines blurred in your mind. Something about the sheer image of him leaning back into his chair, fucking a fistful of his cock while he has a phone operator headset against his ear, only turns you on that much more.

“If we had time, I’d spend all night memorizing what you taste like. What you feel like. How you let go — for me, only for me.”

“Only for you,” you promise, unable to stop yourself from drawing circles over your clit.

You moan, head bent back against your pillow.

“Fuck, you’re touching yourself, aren’t you?” he asks, and his voice seems less controlled now. It’s got a hint of raggedness, and it only quickens your pace. “You feel amazing, you know that? Such a pretty pussy, all spread and wet for me—”

“Shit, Jesus, Levi,” you gasp, knowing that you’re not going to last long.  You’re too wound up from the night before. “If you keep talking like that—”

“What, are you gonna come for me?” Amusement tickles the question. “Oh, you can come for me, baby, but I’m gonna need at least two from you tonight.”

Your fingers press a little harder to your clit, and you keen. 

“Wh– At least?”

“As if I’d ever be satisfied with only one,” he murmurs. “No, I wanna watch you come apart. Feel it on my fingers with those cute little contrac—”

That’s it.

You moan louder than you expected, the taut bowstring suddenly snapped in half. 

You arch off the bed, relentlessly rubbing your fingers against your body to ride out the insane orgasm that you — that Levi has given you.

Even if you’re blissed out, you hear it on the receiving end:

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Fuck, you sound amazing. I know it’s gonna be tough, but keep going for me, okay? Don’t stop.”

“It’s sen– ha, sensitive!” you whimper, wanting to stop your hand.

“Mm-mm, you said you’d be good. Be selfish, baby. Give me two.”

“But Levi!”

Everything is on overdrive.

Your hand; your body; your mind.

You imagine he’s hovering over you, working you with his hand with a near-sadistic relentlessness.

As you battle your own refractory period, your toes curl, teeth clenched.

You want to be good.

You want to be so good.

And somewhere in that overwhelming intensity, you feel it: the ebb and flow of pleasure returning, crawling through your veins and forcing you to not give up.

To give this to him.

Then you hear it: panting.

As if he’s getting off to this himself. Your eyes snap open, wide, to an empty room. 

When your cheek turns to the phone, you confirm that’s what you hear:

Ragged breaths, albeit softly, with added grunts of control. 

Like he’s holding back.

Something about that image of him in a chair, his hand relentlessly pumping his cock in time with your hand, your whimpers and moans, does damage.

“I need— mm— want— please.”

“I’m right here, baby,” Levi promises, though his voice is weaker. You can even hear him swallow again. “Right fucking here, wanna hear you cum so bad.”

Maybe you really were pent up enough for two, because soon you’re slipping — falling — into that blissful nothingness while your body clenches on itself, clit fluttering from a second release.

It’s less intense, but that doesn’t make it any less good.

Everything throbs in your body as you come down, panting, with a slight sheen of sweat on your skin.

You turn to your phone, totally gone in the bliss of the aftermath.

Levi has grown silent as well; only light puffs of air come through the speaker now.

“Feeling better?” Levi asks with a hint of pride in his voice.

“Shut up,” you answer with a gentle laugh of your own. “I’m… shit. I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

That statement gets Levi to laugh, and your heart feels twice as full.

“That’s one way of pillow talk, I guess.”

The man pauses.

“Are you alright?”

As if he’s truly concerned, worried about your wellbeing.

You don’t allow yourself to fall for it, not completely.

This is his job — even if it felt so real, in the moment.

“Much better,” you promise, smiling to yourself.

“Happy to help,” he hums, his voice returning to that stormy swirl of seduction and softness.

The sobering reality of an empty bedroom should deter you, but all you can do is smile.

(When is the last time you genuinely felt giddy? Excited? Satisfied?)

“Hey, Levi,” you murmur eventually, slowly sitting up to unhook your bra and toss it away. No need to keep it on.

“Yeah, baby?”

You’ll never get over the way he sounds when he calls you that.

It’s permanently stuck to your frontal lobe, obscuring any other logic or reality.

“Am I still allowed to call?”

“Allowed?”

“Yeah, even though we…”

“What, you think you get one experience and your membership is up?”

Levi chuckles, shifting in his seat — or bed — or wherever he is.

“You can call me anytime you want.”

“Any?”

“Between company hours, yeah.”

“Even to talk?”

“Of course,” he answers, softer this time. “Always to talk. Go get some rest.”

“Mm,” you mumble, turning on your side as exhaustion takes over. “I will, but only because I want to and I’m being selfish.”

It surprises you to hear him laugh again, but it’s louder now.

More prominent. 

As if he genuinely enjoyed your joke.

Get your head out of the clouds, girl, is what you want to say to yourself, but you can’t be bothered to care.

“Good. You earned it.”

A noise emits from your tired throat to acknowledge him, too sleepy to formulate a real sentence.

Then his voice drops to a whisper, for your ears and your ears alone.

“Goodnight, baby.”

You press the ‘end call’ button and fall into the deepest sleep you’ve had all year.

.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading part two of P4! This is insane. I still cannot believe the feedback I got in part one. Seriously, you all made my June. I hope this next part has satisfied your curiosity of how Levi would be a hotline operator.

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

[dracaelus]

CHERIK FIC RECS

Angst (multiple levels of angst)

too close to the sun, by joshriku: 3, 683 words, charles pov, canon compliant to Jean Grey #1 (2023) (i think it's better to read the issue first, but it's not really necessary)

Jean Grey erases Magneto's mind - or so she thinks. When Charles finds his body, he brings it back to the mansion, and begins the arduous task of putting Erik's mind together. Of course, when it comes to Erik and persevering, it's always a lot more effective than he expects.

To Breathe Again (Impossibilities Remix), by Unforgotten: Erik's pov from the original movies timeline. The old men are old!!! It's a 3,879 words oneshot and it's beautiful

After Liberty Island, you think you must have burned that bridge at last. After Alkali Lake, you're even more certain. What once seemed so easy is now an impossibility, and the dream that once plagued you no longer comes.

Then Charles dies and you know: Going home was never truly impossible until now.

This is not easily described by a single genre methinks

superposition, by borninsideatornado: The racer car driver au! This one has some angst yes, but it didn't feel right to put it in the angst category bc there's so much more to it! This story is about healing. It's also about racing cars. And it's also a romance ! Charles and Erik have an amazing dynamic, but then so does Erik and Emma, Erik and Pietro (the father and son are father and son'ing!) and the entire team tbh. Really fun to read!

erik is a race car driver coming off the worst year of his life. charles xavier may be his last hope.

Time to Grow, by zarah5: 20K oneshot, Charles pov. Fluffy fix-it

In which you'll find chess dates which aren't dates (or maybe Charles is wrong about that). -- Based on First Class, this turns (slightly) AU during the beach scene.

Comedy

Fathers and sons, by M_Leigh: 6K oneshot, Hank pov. So fucking funny

“I have an – interest – in Peter Maximoff,” Erik said, somewhat grudgingly, glaring. “A – familial – interest –”

Everybody stared at him.

“In that – mutantkind is one – large – family –” Erik said valiantly, if pathetically.

“Oh, shit,” Alex said. “No way. No way.”

i guess i should say thanks or some shit: au but they do have powers, 17K oneshot, charles pov

believe it or not, charles has a well-thought-out moral philosophy. he doesn’t follow it. but he has thought it out. alternatively: charles and erik douche it up in amsterdam

Frosted hearts, by aesc & palalife: 29K oneshot, multipov, the main focus is cherik, and it comes with art!

Emma Frost has 99 problems, but a date ain't one. Specifically, she has no time to play the dating game--which is fine with her, because she'd much rather run it instead. From a set of sleek, silver and white offices on Fifth Avenue and with her trusty, stylish, and silent partner Janos Quested, Emma has built Frosted Hearts into New York City's premiere dating service, built on the principle that money, and a sufficiently rigorous psionic scan, can, in fact, buy you love.

Somewhere in Frosted Hearts's server is one Charles Xavier, genius and geneticist, with the kind of nicely-starched good looks that sell well on brochures for New England prep schools. He's also a telepath who's decided to give up pursuing serious relationships and instead spend his thirties doing what he should have done as a teenager: have a lot of sex with random people. Fortunately for him, Erik Lehnsherr, metallokinetic and engineering executive, has absolutely no time in his heart or his schedule for anything more serious than... well, absolutely nothing romantic at all.

[angelmelon]

How Leasebound suffers under the ablebodied gaze

Hiiiii I’m on my bullshit again 😘❤️

today we are going to talk about how Leasebound’s disability rep is kind of mid

we all know how I feel about the special ed teacher panel

and BONUS: this is Sunny’s insert. Sunny has never worked with disabled kids. RUSTY has never worked with disabled kids, and neither are disabled to my knowledge. I am disabled AND have worked with disabled kids. I still think that panel is complete bullshit, with the lack of knowledge on the topic showing through in the implication that there is ever an instance outside of imminent harm to yourself or others that you need to restrain a disabled child even if my old post may have admittedly overreacted. There is not. There is never an instance outside of imminent harm to yourself or others. If your special education facility has told you that restraint is an option at all when a kid hugs you too long, get a new fucking job 😭 the next alternative to a “let me go” or a collapse or drop move you weren’t taught somehow is never to “hm. If I don’t go to self defense training my only other option is to restrain them”

anyway to the guys I wanna talk about here

now let’s list off disabled characters

Shanzay (it’s not spelled Shanzey in any language Rusty should probably correct that)

Rocky

Uhhhhhhh

Ginger is most definitely disabled given the knee injury but that was most definitely added to give her a stereotypical middle aged “man” backstory of wanting to play professional football and then getting injured and it doesn’t even really come up on panel. Plus the trans women in the comic are. Well. We all know 😭😭

and I am of the personal opinion that Brick has some form of dwarfism or potentially Down syndrome due to how Rusty draws them (height, proportions, and facial features) but this was not done intentionally by Rusty and seems to have mostly been an attempt to make them look “clownish” which is a whole other set of issues. Like I thought Parniya was supposed to teach your grown adult fanbase not to make fun of people for their height or weight but your commentors say otherwise when it comes to Brick sooooo

anyway the only ones I can definitively say are disabled are Shanzay and Rocky

so so far the only 2 characters who are definitively disabled both got it from some big showey traumatic event, not looking good so far seeing as that’s a pretty common stereotype…

Shanzay has partial blindness, seemingly caused by blunt force trauma

Now I can’t believe I have to say this but…

regardless of how you are drawing this REALLY does not communicate a blunt force eye injury

fun fact: I’m not going to show a picture because HOLY SHIT the pictures are horrible but a healed blunt force eye injury (one that WOULD cause permanent full blindness in the eye) usually includes

partially or fully detached retina

reddish sclera for obvious reasons, it gets better overtime but it rarely fully goes away

usually rather than a perfectly vertical scar with stitches there is a bruise or a scar that isn’t. Yk. Perfectly vertical over the whole eye. Often a scar would be something like a deeper one over the eyelid, or uneven tiny scar bits around the eye. While we don’t see what Chris does to Shanzay exactly, if he hit her with what he had at the moment (his fist), she more than likely got a hugeass bruise with no permanent scar outside the eye, maybe a tear in the eyelid itself if we give Chris the disbenefit of the doubt that his single fist is that strong, or that he got multiple hits in. I mean he sells drugs or whatever so maybe??? I’m gonna be for real I doubt this guy’s mary sue ass strength he looks under half my dad’s weight

Bonus that shit is probably HORRIFIC if the injury wasn’t super bad then because it doesn’t seem like she was taken to the doctors

Better ways to stylize this sort of injury on Shez:

partially detached retina, rough healing

Retina removed surgically due to extreme injury or infection after injury, probably healed better due to medical intervention. Would likely wear an eye cap or glass eye cover to protect the eye

Traumatic cataract (what I think Rusty was going for??). Despite all the models you’ve probably seen or whatever the fuck a traumatic cataract is rarely completely perfect over the eye, and often the original eye color is slightly visible underneath. I specifically made this one partial, giving an easily stylizable but accurate look.

“why is this a problem?? Other media does this all the time”

yeah and I kinda hate it 😭😭 it’s one thing if all your characters have dot eyes, like just put an x there BOOM eye disability communicated. Also, Shez is never shown to have the same or similar disability needs to most people who are partially blind or blind in one eye. The large majority of people with full blindness in one eye cannot drive very easily, first of all. One, in most countries you need to pass a medical test. Also, if Shez’s injury is in fact a traumatic cataract, driving is either an incredibly difficult/stressful task, or just straight up unsafe, seeing as the areas of an eye a cataract falls over only allow for very limited vision.

Like bestie you CANNOT be looking back at Jaden like that regardless of potentially training yourself to drive?? Which even then you’re apparently driving at 3am or so??? It’s DARK AS HELL at 3am fuck off there’s no way

now I’m not partially blind or blind myself so people can absolutely correct me on this (blind people, not people with a totally super real blind cousin or something, I’m not centering ablebodied people here)

Shez seemingly has no trauma from her injury specifically. Only her mother is affected by it. Honestly that’s a lot of the Chris plot line; Shez only wants to save the people around her and that’s apparently good cause “power fantasy” like??? I thought this was supposed to be a comic about realistic women experiences or whatever the fuck.

Oh yeah and why is this panel kind of implying that Shez got her injury on the job when she got it from Chris 😭😭 I guess the rest fits but “this is a rough job” with the weird closeup of her eye 😭😭 bitch what does that MEAN Chris did not injure you at Yonique

okay next one

I have BEEF with this woman ‼️‼️‼️

Whoever decided they weren’t gonna at least teach Rocky sign language is a fucking idiot. Why is she communicating with the same *nod* *nod* she did when her muteness was new at 22 years old. Someone teach Rocky sign language!! ”you can’t expect rusty to learn accurate sign language just for Rocky” then I can’t expect her to respectfully write a mute character without falling into dumbass stereotypes

I do understand why Rocky wouldn’t have an AAC device… I mean, this is 5 (now 6 with Parniya!!) people living in one tiny living space in a city that has a huge classism problem, it’d be very difficult to get their hands on something like that. But. A text to speech tablet?? Like just an iPad?? Maybe??? There’s also AAC-like apps for both Samsung and Android. Rusty invents shit that doesn’t exist all the time!! (Like a plain white simultaneously loose and tight around the boobs turtleneck with plain black text that says yaoi. Looking at Kai) she could just invent an AAC app for Rocky to use that functions exactly like the expensive ones but free and on a standard off brand tablet!! PLEASE it’s giving Teardrop bfb but worse than that because Teardrop was 1. Originally written by children on YouTube 2. Eventually DID get means of autonomy and communication and most people understand and respect her. Rocky only gets nods. How is she getting a job with nods??? Interviews are unfortunately way more complicated than yes or no questions.

now my final issue, applying to both Rocky and Shanzay, which I briefly hinted to earlier

Their disabilities are BOTH from big life altering injuries or PTSD. Which can happen!! That’s fine, but it’s also the most stereotypical form of these disabilities. It’s the one in media most palatable to ablebodied people. Like the little disabled representation coming in the form of wheelchair users who cannot walk at all (often paralysis) or supergeniuses if it’s caused by anything else, or people who so tragically lost an arm, or an eye, or their hearing, or sight in a war, or a fight, or whatever, a mute person who does not communicate in any of the numerous ways that mute people do because the ablebodied writer does not believe they can. Like, you know that dialects of sign language have formed for mute or deaf kids from observation, right?? Even if Meriam didn’t teach her fucking kid to sign or get her in a learning environment where she could learn to, Rocky most definitely knows more than nod and shake, ESPECIALLY as a mute adult.

all the disabled characters are written in the most palatable way they can be to an ablebodied audience, by an ablebodied writer.

Easy fix: GET SENSITIVITY READERS OR DO PROPER RESEARCH BEFORE WRITING SOMETHING YOUVE NEVER TOUCHED JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

[freakattack]

some stuff on.. *shudders*.. twitter got me thinking tldr fake leak about Wario in M&L Brothership, which led to people discussing the common dream of a M&L game with the overalled quartet. how would Wario and Waluigi work in a combat-focused setting? would they be able to work in-sync like Mario and Luigi do? would they even work at all? i wahnder.

AUUUUGGHHHHHH

Sorry. Let me articulate my thoughts more eloquently

AAAAUUUUUGGHHHH

I love wario. I love mario and luigi. I love Mario & Luigi. I even love waluigi. But for the love of god would I hate to have them all in the same room. Here is why:

Wario would never be part of a team that he couldn't be in charge of, much less one with Mario in it. Wario has his own life, his own goals, and his own social circle, none of which have anything to do with mario. He's his own man now

On a similar note, Wario's whole schtick is (ironically) being unique from Mario. Wario Land is a mario game if you tailored every single game mechanic to his very soul, such that it is so distinct that we call other games "wariolikes". To make Wario conform to the game mechanics of a Mario game, RPG or not, would make me very upsetti spaghetti

Also, Waluigi and Wario are NOT EVEN FRIENDS!!! At best, they are exes that sometimes bully people together when they are invited to the same party (if you subscribe to Poppadopolos theory, which I do). At worst, they are simply guys that are not friends, that sometimes bully people together when they are invited to the same party. I DO NOT want waluigi and wario to share a legit game together because I feel this goes against everything we know about the Wahs.

On a related note, I am of the staunch opinion that Waluigi deserves better than to be scaffolded into someone else's series. Luigi has Luigi's Mansion, Wario has WarioWare/Wario Land, and Mario has everything else. If Waluigi gets "his own game", it should be a place where he can build his own identity proper rather than piggybacking off of someone else as usual

Whenever two foods on my plate mix I get really really mad and don't want to eat it

So you can understand why this is not something on my wishlist (because I am a fun-hating asshole). That being said, for the purposes of this thought exercise, let's say that miyamoto himself is holding me at gunpoint and telling me I can't have any more microgames until I make this happen. Here is how I would approach this concept in a way that is least likely to make me go insane:

I wouldn't make it a M&L game, it would be its Own Thing. This is so that the mario & luigi series can continue to feature mario & luigi while opening up the possibility for this concept of all 4 guys working together to have (sigh) a sequel.

The thing that makes this all happen is that in the first chapter the Big Bad Guy of the week somehow transports/knocks the overall men into a deep and inescapable chasm (a volcano, a nightmare, a inside of a whale, whateverthefuck) and you start as mario and have to find luigi.

Along the way you find everyone except luigi. You have to fight wario and waluigi separately before they begrudgingly agree to join your party.

Because you're all kind of fucked they suck it up and decide to work together with each other and mario just to get the hell out of there. Maybe you can shoehorn luigi's superjump ability in here to justify why the other guys would give a damn about finding luigi.

You find luigi.

Once you get out of the Hole Situation you have all 4 guys in your "party" and find out that you all have to work together to save the world super paper mario style. I still don't know if this would be sufficient motivation for either wario or waluigi but something will be in it for them. I guess.

I think Wario should be able to pick up and use Waluigi as various tools (e.g. hammer, crowbar, pole vault), because he is a tool. I don't know it just feels right

Alternatively (or in addition to that), I think it would be fun to have different pair combos of guys you can use at a time, each with their own benefits. Obviously mario+luigi and wario+waluigi would be an option but it would also be fun to explore the potential synergy between wildcard combos like wario+luigi and waluigi+mario

The penultimate boss is wario+waluigi randomly betraying you and using all the skills and EXP you taught them along the way. They behave after you kick their ass though

IDK what else is going on in this pretend game but I'm glad I don't have to think about it actually being real. KNOCK ON WOOD!!!!! NINTENDO CRUSH TWITTER'S DREAMS

[senka-mesecine]

How would the guys react to receiving an unexpected random hug from reader? It can be either platonic or romantic.

---

― For lack of a better word, O'Neill acts like hot shit due to the fact that you hugged him in whatever capacity, platonic or otherwise; the babes love him and they can't get their hands off of him is the running narrative he spins about himself on a regular basis even if the embrace wasn't intended to be flirty in nature, feeling entirely too cocky, with his ego far too fed and overblown for his own good, painting himself as an 'it' guy due to it all. Heck, he might even play a bit hard to get in the aftermath of said embrace and he definitely becomes the infamous, smarmy 'Where's my hug at?' archetypical guy at the same time, simultaneously acting like he's doing you a begrudging, eye-roll peppered favor by letting you hug him in the first place and like he absolutely wants more physical contact and will definitely pester more out of you by just being a nuisance until you give him what he wants. The genuine truth is that he's hooked on the feeling your affection left him with infinitely more than he lets on behind all of that irritating, slimy bravado and one unexpected embrace was probably enough for him to catch some serious feels for you.

― Speaking of feels, albeit of a hilariously misguided sort, Bunny equates a hug with something sexual and raunchy by default. Doesn't matter if it is or if it ain't --- it is now. He undoubtedly tells everyone how close up your body was, how his hard on was pressing into your thigh, how he could feel your chest against his, how good you smell, how he could feel the outline of your underwear against him and genuinely, every detail is more salacious than the other to the point he very well could be describing straight up fucking you. Which he just might. He might just say he fucked you even if he didn't in the most juvenile, playground movie ever, especially if it's meant to annoy someone like Junior. And if he didn't fuck you just yet, Bunny professes that definitely, soon because you clearly want it, 'it' being his dick, of course. Platonic alternatives just don't exist for this kid. That's queer business and he doesn't do platonic anything. He ain't no fairy! Fact is, you triggered a whole world of trouble because you ain't shaking him off ever after this, so good luck. Probably had an erection the whole time you were hugging him. He feels proud of that one.

― Rhah is prolific at this; you hug him and you might just be held for hours in a bear's embrace, cuddled, talked to, sharing a joint together, listening to music, sharing a drink, spooning, being caressed, hey, maybe even falling asleep on one another, him being one of those rare people in the platoon who are a-okay doing this wholly platonically, romantically, with a man or with a woman or just taking a collective nap on a literal pile of people, catch being --- he needs to be in a particular mindset. Relaxed. In a good mood. Possibly high. Not a single thought in that head. Rhah needs to be in that happy place where he's unwinding. If you hug him then? You'll be welcomed with a woozy, dreamy smile and not let go for the longest time possibly. If you hug him where he's lucid and clean? He might seductively coo and taunt how the Jezebel spirit is clearly alive and well today because you're obviously out to butter him up. That's to say, Vermucci's warmly receptive in either case, but when there's no weed involved, he happens to come in tow with more of a charming barb.

― Man, Wolfe thinks this a prank and he can't be convinced otherwise. Who put you up to this? Is this some sort of bet? Because he's convinced it is. Did you stick a note on his back that says something derogatory, is that it? You do realize you could be severely penalized for that if he reports the incident, correct? Again, he is convinced you have done something bad and that he doesn't yet know what. In whatever case, as a result, he reacts to your hug with a stiff sort of awkwardness followed by an acerbic smile Wolfe's known for, unsure if he should hug back or not, meaning that his arms might just linger flatly or hover above your body for a good while. Doesn't matter if you like him. If he likes you. If you're only friends or if there's more complicated feelings involved. He isn't on the receiving side of affection often, if ever. So, this? It'll be in his mind for a long, long time and it probably shook his world in a sense. It's like someone poured a pitcher of cold water down his neck; man's totally befuddled and unsure what to do. Flustered is the real word.

― King's a natural hugger. Possibly one of those people who are just as likely to randomly and unexpectedly hug you first in whatever capacity --- back slaps, fist bumps, shoulder grabs, arms thrown over you and around you and just general physical affection included all around; this is the sort of thing he establishes all on his own and he gives off the airs of someone being so chill and such a good sport with those he considers close that when you embrace him however randomly and unexpectedly it isn't that random and unexpected at all to him or with him; and it certainly doesn't feel weird or alien to you either. Feels spontaneous and commonplace, in fact. Like you could do this all the time and in whatever situation and it won't be met with the usual awkward tension or like it wasn't received with a positive attitude. You feel welcome. Your hugs wanted. As a result? How he reacts is with warm and genuine kindness. The biggest smile humanly imaginable. He possibly practically rattles you with how generously and amicably he taps your back too.

― Deep down, Elias thinks something's dreadfully wrong; that you're seeking some sort of comfort or reassurance from him or that something awful has happened, having been so used to act as what's effectively the gentler side of the platoon that frequently serves as a guiding, understanding mentor to his men and the general pillar of empathy they can turn to, so if you come to him hugging him? His first instinct is also to tenderly inquire if there's something you want to talk to him about and this is something he'd do both platonically and romantically. He might, admittedly, chuckle, somewhat amused by the fact you're embracing him but at the same time, the fact that you have embraced him in the first place would undoubtedly result in you two genuinely sitting down and having a deep, immersive conversation the minute you both have free time to do so. You get the impression you have a true friend in the man. A confidante who understands you. A shoulder you can always lean on. Someone who loves you in whatever shape, way or form.

― In Barnes's case how unexpected are we talking here? How random? Because it needs to be established you're close at least in some capacity for him not to pull a knife on you or stare at your attempt to initiate contact like the gesture of being touched is somehow a sign of hidden aggression. But, if it's been established that you're somehow in each other's corner? You're allowed to hug him. Emphasis on the allowed part. And you know you're allowed when he doesn't stare down at your hands on him like they're a pair of venomous spiders he'd much rather bat off. You do the hugging, namely, and he's the party that stiffly and stoically receives, because I can envision it being probable that Barnes doesn't remember the last time he was hugged, possibly since childhood, if even then and this is a rare grace you're being offered here. It is a strange sign of deep love or at least of great devotion and trust in his particular case. You are someone very special. The closest of the close. Even if he sarcastically quips with a 'You done?' mid-hug, the fact it's The Barnes that's allowing this? Man.

― Wanna know why I put Chris last this time around? Because how he reacts to your unannounced embrace pre and post-war differs as much as two things can differ. Pre-war? Hey, Taylor's your shy, green college boy who might just hug back and that's the end of that --- even when he hangs out with his buddies in the Underworld; he's all affection and good cheer, entirely receptive to the contact all around. Post-war? During the war at certain periods of time? Depending of his mental state at that particular moment? Whether you're a friend but especially if you're a romantic interest? Guy's a Barnes through and through and what's worse, he's not even wholly aware of it. You embrace him and his first instinct is to flinch. Squeeze too hard. Squeeze too little. Hey, he might even be jealous with what ease you hug others. He might glare when they hug you. He might be pissed off if you're not always the hugging type because what's wrong --- giving that affection someone else then, right!? But, whatever Taylor does it's either a 0 or a 100. The capacity for normal reactions is blurred and skewed. Lopsided somehow. Man's just lovesick. Sick.