#this is why I’ve maintained for years that at the end of the day aces only have each other and can’t rely on the greater queer community

[arcticmist0324]

In high school, my young closeted ace self had a one-sided beef with the school’s gay-straight alliance. I assumed they were exclusionists because they commemorated “ally week” on a week that so happened to coincide exactly with ASEXUAL AWARENESS WEEK.

To this day, I hesitate from participating in queer spaces because “what if there are acephobes?” I think this hellsite did psychic damage to me. Or at least my former friend who decided my asexuality wasn’t valid because “I’m a lesbian and we have it worse.” (I never claimed to have it worse)

even my fucking government textbook doesn’t know i exist

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Since there’s been a lot of yume related confessions, I want to give my whatever cents as something of an ex yume. I think that the community is misunderstood to a degree. However I think the view that most are nuts and unreasonable is also not unfounded at all, and that’s mostly why I don’t associate with the community anymore. It doesn’t surprise me that there’s considerable crossover with dolls - dolls are a really good way to have a 3 dimensional version of your FO (fictional other) and I actually got into this hobby through yume stuff! As for why I left? Well.

From the outside or to a newcomer the yume community is very welcoming and they make a huge deal about being ‘just like everyone else’ ’just normal people’. They will insist the stereotypes are not true (fighting over fictional characters, hating people over tiny things, ending friendships over head canon differences). The problem is this only rings true if you’re also a yume or until you ship their FO with another character. I’ve met people I was convinced were the nicest people to ever exist until they found out I shipped their FO with an existing character. You can truly only maintain decent friendships in that community if all your FOs are unrelated and there’s no clash, and I am saying this from years of experience in the community. If you are lucky you can find a group of people with the same FO who assure you ‘sharing’ is ok and just want to bond over a shared love of the character but you are one wrong headcanon away from ending up on their bad side, and you HAVE to be ok with the fact that at least one (often most) will appoint themselves as THE fan of that character and act like their word is law and matters more than anyone else’s, they WILL secretly judge anyone they don’t thing is as obsessed (rich) as them (usually cos they don’t buy as much merch) no matter how much they pretend they don’t (again, I know this from YEARS of being in the community) if so the stress of wondering if the person they’re subtweeting about today is you just isn’t worth it.

I admit I still check in on yume accounts on twitter for content purposes (to make a long story short I like the concept and dislike the community) so I saw yume people tearing the recent confessions apart and it reminded me why I left, it really showed me again how unselfaware they are about their own actions. One of them I recognize as a person who is extremely over protective of their FO, constantly making angry posts about how people with the wrong opinions on him should die, insulting or back hand complimenting shippers of the main ship for their FO, but they’re still insisting they’re a normal and rational person being subjected to unfair assumptions from outsiders and the confessor is the bully. Got RTs about how positive and wholesome the community is. They even accused the confessors of aphobia?! Well, this confession is coming from inside the house (as well as from an ace person confused what the hell being yume has to do with it given that the entire spectrum of sexuality is well represented in this community) although it’s a house I’m leaving because of people like you. I still sympathise with the reasons someone would be yume, including wanting a doll of their FO. It can be a very comforting thing for people. Lord knows just holding my dolls hand has gotten me through some tough days. But I regret getting involved in the actual yume community and all its rotten malice disguised as toxic uwu positivity so much. I don’t judge anybody for seeking comfort in imagining a relationship with a fictional character, that’s not the red flag for me.

The red flag is being active in the yume community itself, which I will never not associate with bullying, classism, crab bucket mentality and a persecution complex to exclude and belittle ‘outsiders’ by design. And when you add the doll community to that mix, it’s like the worst of both mixed together. I expect the usual suspects will have something to say about this confession over on twitter and elsewhere but I’ve heard it all before. I expect you to blame me for my experience and insist it’s a really positive space, because I know exactly what you guys are like and how much you love victim blaming. I know most of you won’t but if at least one of you would stop for a moment and think why people like me are saying things like this, maybe you can fix your attitudes and your community won’t stink as awful as it does.

~Anonymous

[chronicallycouchbound]

Unlucky: Protective Factors and Homelessness

Becoming homeless isn’t based in luck. The vast majority of homeless people aren’t just in unlucky circumstances. Most unhoused people I’ve interacted with are multi-marginalized, and have significant risk factors for becoming unhoused and lack supports to maintain secure housing.

The average American might be one significant event away from homelessness, sure. But the average American will also have better access to not only supportive services, but natural supports that can prevent or alleviate the toll that emergencies can have on an individual’s housing specifically. Thus, the average American won’t become unhoused.

In contrast, the average unhoused person (or person in precarious housing) doesn’t have natural supports who can provide relief for them. The average unhoused person is a part of several marginalized communities who have been systematically deprived of resources, and aren’t given true support by what few services exist to help their housing status.

My current housing is precarious. Housing my whole life always has been. My first times being homeless were before I have memories. But even as a young child, I had a solid understanding of the fact that if our house wasn’t spotless on inspection days, we would be unhoused again. It was such a routine part of life for me and my family, I didn’t even think about how the families of some of my peers were landlords.

When I first started sleeping outside, before I graduated elementary school, I met other unhoused people who all had varying risk factors. I didn’t know it at the time, but statistically, it was unlikely I would have never ended up homeless.

My ACE score is 10/10. My protective factors were 0/4. Beyond that, I was (and am) a part of other marginalized communities that I was discriminated against on the basis of, without even knowing I was a part of those groups like being queer, trans, and disabled.

While living on the streets, in shelters, couch surfing and even while doing community organizing, I watched as dozens of people became housed long before I did. The biggest running theme? Those who had natural supports, those who held privilege in our society, those were the people who became housed fastest and longest. They were often only unhoused once in their life.

But people like me, a part of many marginalized groups, no safe natural supports around, discriminated by supportive services, are the people who end up unhoused for most of our lives, and when we do gain housing, it can be taken due to events significantly smaller than the average American would normally see a housing related emergency.

For example, if I’m behind on rent, as someone who is 100% reliant on government aid programs with zero income and no family financial support, if I can’t find an emergency assistance program in time, I will lose my housing. Not only that— but my lease being in subsidized low income ADA housing and using governmental vouchers for rent means that if I’m formally evicted, it is a criminal offense. I have friends who have gone to prison for what should be minor lease violations that led to evictions, and they no longer qualify for any assistive programs for a predefined period of time (usually 5 years). Now they have a record, and have no governmental supports on top of already not having natural supports.

The housing we have is precarious, forever teetering on the edge of loss. We are so close to the safety of secure housing, it’s palpable, while being unattainable.

There are many genuine factors of luck that play into housing status, but make no mistake: Homeless/unhoused people are systemically disenfranchised.

If you’ve never been unhoused, if you’re currently in stable housing, there is a very strong likelihood that it’s because of your protective factors like natural supports and privileges in our society. You should acknowledge the reality of this, and not only name your supports as why you’re not homeless (not just luck), but also be leveraging your resources to support our community.

I created a resource for this if anyone is interested in how they can stand in solidarity with their unhoused neighbors.

More information about ACE & PCE scores can be found here.

[Pictured: an elementary school project from around 2006, from my sister. Child-like handwriting says: “My inspection is coming up. If your house is dirty you will get kicked out. If your house is clean you will get to stay in your house.” A small drawing of our house at the time is below it.]

[terrors-and-tables]

As a way to give this blog some purpose, and give myself something to do, I’ve decided to start writing out my RPG musings in my spare time. I’ve been slowly working on a campaign setting for several years now, and it’s become a little creative space for me to hammer out a hypothetical kitchen sink to throw my fantasy ideas in. I’ll probably end up using it for a Pathfinder game (where I’ll finally get to use Spheres of Power/Might, and maybe even Guile), but I’ve thought about running it with an OSR game as well. Who knows, maybe I’ll run it over several different systems. Without further ado, here’s the first installment!

Post #1: The Ottoguard

This idea was created using Ultimate Engineering, the most recent (and final) Pathfinder product for Spheres of Might from Drop Dead Studios. I contributed a bit to the playtesting and had a great time, and its author spent two years fine tuning it, so if you're interested, go support them and take a look. At the time of writing, it should also be on the SoP wiki any day now.

In the core of the setting, the city of Scalmoor treats scientific advancement like its own fom of magic. They build marvelous contraptions of steel and glass, whether powered by tightly wound clockworks or by burning coal and spewing black smoke. In this city, the law is kept by those with the most money to build the biggest toys, and one such toy is the Ottoguard.

Standing at eight feet tall, an Ottoguard is a hollow sort of mechanical construct, but bears no magic or animating consciousness like a golem. Instead, a trained fighter pilots it, wearing it as a sort of incredibly heavy armor that carries itself. Ottoguards don’t do all of the policing, usually accompanied by a few regular guards who can do things like fit into buildings, move obstacles aside, bully civilians up close and personal, and so on and so forth.

Ottoguard CR 1 XP 400 Human Warrior 3 LN Medium Humanoid (Human) Init +2; Perception +5

Defense

AC 17; Touch 12; Flat-Footed 15; (+2 Dex, +5 Chainmail) 21 HP (3d10+6) Fort +5 Ref +3; Will +3

Offense

Speed 20ft. Space 5ft; Reach 5ft Melee Sap +4 (1d6+1 nonlethal) Ranged Light Crossbow +5 (1d8/19-20) Special Attacks Snag (Swift action, render target battered as melee touch attack)

Statistics

Str 13, Dex 15, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8 Base Atk ; CMB ; CMD ( vs. trip) Feats Extra Combat Feat Skills Craft (Technology) +6, Intimidate +5, Perception +5, Sense Motive +5; Racial Modifiers Languages Common SQ Gear: Mwk Chainmail, Light Crossbow, Longsword, Large Crossbow, MwK Large Sap, Potion of CLW, 8 gold pieces, 13 silver pieces. Martial Tradition: Mechaguard* Martial Talents (2 talents from progression, 1 talent from feat)

Equipment Sphere: Bounty Hunter’s Tools Armor Training Tinker Sphere: Transportation Package Mechanical Arsenal Transportation Mastery Wrestling Sphere: (Constrictor Drawback) Hammerlock Clinch Strike

Those stats above are for if our unlucky Ottoguard pilot is caught… off-guard. They’re there to represent what’s inside the fantastic mech and what he’s trained to do in a fight, particularly specializing in nonlethal capture- even when fully kitted out he’s here to apprehend criminals, not brain them. The crossbows are just for emergencies. So let’s break down what he’s capable of as a third level warrior, namely his talents:

His Equipment Sphere talents are there solely for proficiencies, for the Sap and for medium/heavy armor. The Athletics Sphere lets him run pretty quick (five times his speed in medium armor, at a hundred feet per round)- he won’t be able to outrun most people, but he won’t fall too far behind either. Tinker is much more complex, opening up an entire subsystem, but the bulk of why it’s there is to build and maintain his precious Ottoguard, with Mechanical Arsenal allowing him to outfit it with custom-crafted plate-mail for free, and Transportation Mastery allowing him to make an immersive cockpit that responds to his movements with a complicated array of levers and pulleys. Wrestling is there so that he can tackle a criminal and, if needed, beat them unconscious. It’s alright though, because even if it’s scaled up to be sized for an ogre, a lead rod wrapped in leather will still deal nonlethal damage.

Mechanoid Statistics: 4th level Mechanoid N Large Construct Init +2; Perception +5

Defense AC 24; Touch ; Flat-Footed ; (+9 Full Plate, +1 Dex, -1 size, +5 NA) 27 HP (3d10+12) Fort +5; Ref +3; Will +3 Defensive Abilities ; Immune Construct Traits

Offense

Speed 20ft. Space 10ft; Reach 10ft Melee MwK Large Sap +8 (1d8+5, Nonlethal) Ranged MwK Large Light Crossbow +5 (2d6/19-2) Special Attacks Snag (Swift action, render target battered as melee touch attack)

Statistics

Str 20, Dex 14, Con --, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8 Base Atk +3; CMB +9; CMD 21 Feats -- Skills Perception +5, Sense Motive +5, Intimidate +5; Racial Modifiers SQ 6 Upgrades (Arms, Legs, Cover*, Focused Design (+2 Str), Immersive Cockpit, Armor Slot, Alternate Size) *Free upgrade Gear MwK Large Sap, MwK Light Crossbow,

The Ottoguard, while piloted, can benefit from its pilot’s skills, feats, saving throw bonuses, base attack bonuses, et cetera, while keeping its own physical ability scores, armor class, and better weaponry, while also having its own pool of hit points. The pilot isn’t totally sequestered, however, and some parts of him are still visible, even if they’re behind hatches or a visor, and he may be attacked separately from the Ottoguard- though he benefits from Cover, gaining a +4 bonus to Armor Class.

An Ottoguard isn’t cheap, of course, but by the rules of Ultimate Engineering, Project Materials (for things such as mechanoids) may be acquired freely with time and successful crafting checks (DC 15 for 50 gold worth of material, +50 for each increase of 5, gathered over the course of 4 hours per check), meaning that by carefully sourcing and repurposing parts, the Ottoguard may be constructed from scratch by its pilot for free. This process of assembly and subsequent maintenance are drilled into pilots’ heads from day one. At a cost of 500gp for the average Ottoguard (100 per level, +200 for being large size), and about 100gp of Project Materials being acquired per day, this means an Ottoguard can be fully constructed in a week’s time (not counting the weekend of course). If in a proper settlement and in a real emergency, 500 gold pieces can be paid outright to acquire exactly what is needed almost immediately, after which construction of the Ottoguard takes 1 hour. All of this means that while Ottoguards are probably extremely similar on the outside (serving as somewhere between uniforms and police vehicles, they probably should), a pilot knows their machine inside and out, and there may be differences in the internal construction.

Ottoguard Adventure Hooks

1. A pilot’s Ottoguard has been stolen, likely to be reverse engineered by some enterprising criminals.

2. A pilot has been found guilty of illegally modifying his Ottoguard with blades, flame projectors, and stronger leg actuators. After causing several fires and deaths, he’s gone on the run with his new death machine.

3. A chaotic druid has caused trees and vines to grow over all of the city’s Ottoguards overnight, and has ruined the Ottoworks. With the city’s strongest defenders disabled, and Scalmoor’s stingy oligarchy unwilling to fund that many replacements immediately, the city is in shambles!

4. A mad tinker wizard has stolen the blueprints for the Ottoguards, creating one with an integrated Artificial Intelligence. It’s been going on its own patrols, blending in perfectly and disappearing before it can be apprehended. What is its purpose?

*New Martial Tradition

Mechaguard Equipment Sphere: Bounty Hunter’s Tools Armor Training Tinker Sphere: Transportation Package Wrestling Sphere: (Constrictor Drawback) Hammerlock

Inspirations:

FantasyNameGenerators is a wonderful site, and I used it to come up with the name Scalmoor

Appleseed (the 1988 OVA) is what really inspired this idea, bringing that movie's Landmates into a technologically advanced fantasy setting

[idontblushsrry]

Love Language|| Jujutsu Kaisen

“I wanna be fluent in your love language. Learning your love language.” 

A/N: If you didn’t guess from the tagline this is inspired by the song love language by Kehlani. I’ll probably do more of these with different shows and what not because why not. If I missed anyone lmk and I can make a part 2. Also please tag spoilers appropriately esp for manga readers, that being said spoilers for the prequel? manga on Yuuta’s part.

Characters: Itadori, Fushiguro, Kugisaki, Maki, Inumaki, Okkotsu, Gojo, Nanami, Sukuna

Warnings: said it b4 but spoiler warnings in general but esp on Yuuji, Yuuta, and Maki’s parts

Plot synopsis: The 5 love languages; physical affection, quality time, words of affirmation, gift giving and acts of service, and how each jujutsu kaisen character shows their love and affection for you. Ft. a gender neutral reader!

Word count: 2352

Itadori Yuuji

Love Language: Quality time and physical affection

Ok listen-

So for physical affection, Yuuji’s just that kind of person

He is all about giving to you

He’s holding hands with you if you’re ever walking anywhere, and if you’re not a hand holder pls pls pls let him hold your pinky he likes the reassurance

No but seriously he loves to hold you like yall could be walking in completely opposite directions and he’ll try to find some way to hold onto you until the very last second

And even then he’s all ‘:( babe imy’

‘Yuuji we just talked 2 minutes ago’

Another way he shows his love is through quality time

I think for him this is the biggest thing overall, esp as a jujutsu sorcerer bcus you never know yk but also because you’re important to him

Like remember how he literally went to occult club so that he could get out of school in time to go visit his grandpa...ye :(

He also loves finding dumb touristy things to do with you while in Tokyo or anywhere yall go together on a mission 

If you get together before he died and came back then that time he had to spend away from you literally killed him

Like my mans was goin THROUGH it

He almost considered spoiling Gojo’s secret

When he sees you again, he’s not gonna let go for like a solid day

Fushiguro Megumi

Love Language: acts of service and words of affirmation

This boy loves you so much

He loves to tell you all the things he loves about you when you’re alone

But he’s a little awkward with his words sometimes, hence where acts of service come in

He’ll immediately offer to hold your things, run to help you train or study, and if you’re cold? He’s fully prepared to never see his jacket again

Also he can’t cook but he’s fully prepared to suffer hearing Sukuna and suffering through Yuuji’s antics if it means he can learn how to make your favorite food

He also will surprise you by making you a playlist of all the songs that you’ve had stuck in your head and sends it to you randomly out of the blue one day like ‘thought you might like this’

However the best of both worlds is when he leaves you little notes throughout the day or sends you texts asking if you need anything or just encouraging you to keep going 

Negl he’s lowkey the president of the Y/N support club bcus-

You need anything? It’s yours

Cravings? Sad? Angry? What do you need bby, I’ve got it for you

Also he’s totally the type to be like you need help fuckin this person up? 

Also before yall started dating, Fushiguro was a mess

He was constantly asking to spar with you and go on missions, basically anything he could do to be near you  

End of the day, Fushiguro loves you and makes sure you know it whether it’s through his actions or his words

Kugisaki Nobara

Love Language: physical affection

So, she’s not the best with words, she tries but like someone help her bcus she is LOST

Like when she had a crush on you she was like “c’mere dumbass i wanna give you a hug”

In fact, she still is like “c’mere” but now you are dating :)

She loves you though and at first she doesn’t really know how to show it 

But one day you both come home from training and you just look at each other like ‘yeah today sucks’ and yall both just held each other for the rest of the day 

After that, she decided that she wants to do that with you but like always

She’s holding your hand, kissing your cheek when you go shopping, etc. etc.

She really loves to cling to you because she always has this fear that maybe one day you’ll get killed or just disappear so she figures might as well hold onto you for as long as we’ve got

After missions, she’s running up to you and if you aren’t prepared for the tackle, you’re probably gonna fall

On dates too, like if you guys have to meet up for a date, she’s tackling you

On the subject of dates...

She doesn’t mind PDA, and while she might hold your hand or arm so that you don’t get separated

She also doesn’t mind wiping food off your face and eating it, only to then kiss the spot on your face the food was previously at

She will split her shopping load between the two of you, however she will be slightly pouty if she’s carrying more than you (she then cheers up when she realizes she can do more shopping to “balance” the two of you)

In private she’s very cuddly and kissy which honestly isn’t that bad until it gets hot

At which point she’ll just say turn on the ac or convince you to walk around in a tank top (or something like it) so that she can continue holding you

Tbh she prefers the big spoon, but if she’s ever upset you let her be the little spoon >:(

All in all a very loving girlfriend who tries her best to show how much she loves you by glomping you at any given moment. 

Zenin Maki

Love language: acts of service and quality time

So you’re telling me that Maki wouldn’t immediately go out of her way to make sure her and her s/o can spend as much time together as possible?????

Like she’s super observant (which can cause her to be a bit harsh, see Yuuta) but she can always tell what’s bothering you

So if you’re upset that you haven’t been spending enough time together due to her being out on missions or otherwise busy she’s immediately running to finish her stuff and spend time with you.

((She’s very sorry, but on the bright side she brought your favorites!))

Maki is also an acts of service type

This mostly ties in with her kind of direct action way of thinking

She thinks she’s slick but you can always see her sneaking around to do small things like grabbing your laundry for you and folding it

She’s very much like if you love someone, you gotta prove it

Overall, dates with her are very intimate and personal to the two of you

Like she’ll take you to a frog pond you landed in during a fight once

Or you’ll take her to a street fair that serves this exclusive food that Maki mentioned wanting to try 

However, Maki shows her love through quality time and acts of service and while she does receive love from these to a degree, she is very much a words of affirmation gal

She’s not insecure in her day to day life but she has her moments, everyone does

Sometimes, she’ll feel like shit and a failure and all she wants is for you to say that she’s doing amazing and that she’s a great girlfriend.

Inumaki Toge

Love language: Physical affection

Because of his curse, he can’t exactly express how he feels about you through words

He does text you frequently throughout the day (I’ll have to do a hc abt that someday)

But he’d prefer not to be on his phone to communicate if you’re right in front of him

So he does the next best thing and just smothers you in physical affection

He loves kissing you the most

Like he could spend hours just kissing you if you let him (please let him)

But in public, he gets if you’re not a big fan of pda he’s willing to tone it down as long as he gets kisses later in private

He’d still prefer it if you held his hand or linked pinkies maintaining touch in some way

Also, unrelated, but it means so much to him if you try to understand his sushi language

He knows realistically the foundation of any relationship is communication so already he’s at a disadvantage because of his curse 

But if he sees you like take notes after he says something or start to need him to text you to translate, his heart is swelling

Like ‘omg this person loves me enough to learn a whole new language <333′

Another tangent but before you were together he was struggling so muchhhh

Like how does one express their feelings for someone without words?

If you’re Inumaki, you buy some flowers and text said person to meet you at a cafe

It took an embarrassingly long time for you to realize it was a date, but once you did, you ever so gently linked pinkies with Toge

Okkotsu Yuuta

Love language: words. of. affirmation. 

He’s literally so sensitive please tell him you love him regularly

In return he’ll be sure to tell you how much he loves you too

He knows that he can’t really be there for you as much as he’d like but he likes to let you know that he’s thinking of you

Doesn’t matter the time, if you call, he’s answering

If he doesn’t he’ll cry he’ll immediately call you back and is apologizing for missing your call

You assure him it’s no big deal but the man has his volume turned all the way up and changed your ringtone to one specific for you by the time you’ve even said hey

Aside from that, he really is sensitive

He’s been through a lot especially with Rika as well as growing up alone and bullied 

So for him, it’s everything to hear that you like having him around and don’t think he’s too much or anything like that

Of course, he gets better with time, trusting you and having the confidence in himself to not need constant assurance

That being said, if you ever just whisper in his ear, “I love you, Yuuta.”

That’s not your boyfriend, that’s a puddle of love on the floor

(Maki, Panda, and Inumaki had a field day when they saw him, Fushiguro now questions if Yuuta really is a respectable 2nd year.)

Gojo Satoru

Love language: gift giving and quality time

So Gojo doesn’t exactly get to spend a ton of time

Between missions, him beefing with higher ups, and you and him playing parent the baby sorcerers yall don’t exactly get time to go out much

In which case Gojo tends to default to two options:

He’ll either go the extra mile to try and spend time with you 

Whether that be an at home date where he tries and fails to surprise you with a home cooked meal

Or a date out at a restaurant or cafe (which you tend to visit after his home cooking efforts)

OR he’ll bring you various souvenirs from his missions

He loves to spoil you, and if he could he’d probably bring you back a whole store’s worth of stuff

But alas, airport security regulations

Anyways, he loves to spoil you especially if he can spoil you with sweets because it benefits him in two ways 

He treasures all the time you spend together, and he does try to overcompensate for his absence with gifts

Despite your assurances, it’s kind of a guilty pleasure at this point (just let him, trying to argue just goads him on further)

He doesn’t only buy you small things, he enjoys buying you outfits

And he especially likes seeing you in them 

Kento Nanami

Love Language: acts of service

Y’all remember the episode where he killed that curse that was bothering that baker lady?? Yea that

He’s literally such an acts of service boyfriend it’s not even funny

Before you got together, he would memorize your coffee order and bring you a cup pretty much everyday like clockwork

Now that you’re togehter, he wakes up before you so h=that when you wake up there’s the smell of coffee throughout the house

When you come out of you’re shared bedroom and he’s just scrooling through his phone like “mornin’”

Of course you already made the bed and ironed his clothes because relationships are give and take

And then when you leave for your jobs in the morning, he kisses you and holds the door open for you

He’ll draw a bath for you if he gets home before you, if you let him join or not is up to you

Also, if you ever get sick, he’s actually the best

Like he isn’t the best cook but he can heat up soup and tea

He’ll run to the store while you’re asleep and when you wake up, there’s like a whole tray of food in front of you and he’s like ‘it’s important to eat and drink so your body can heal’

And when you inevitably fall asleep after eating and taking medicine at his insistence, he tucks you in and clears away the dishes, exiting with little more than a kiss to your head

Ryoumen Sukuna

Love Language: gift giving and acts of service

So like Sukuna never says he loves you...ever

But he does notice if someone or something’s making you uncomfortable, and if so, said entity’s head will be presented to you later that day

You also just so happen to be the only person he can tolerate being around him for longer than 20 seconds

He also loves to give you jewelry, he likes seeing you adorned in something from him

He also isn’t gonna just handle all your problems for you, he will push you to become stronger by training with you 

He’ll also expect this energy to be reciprocated, as long as you’re pushing yourself to be better, he’s content with that

(He wants to see you grow because he’s scared that if he ever gets caught lackin one day you’ll end up dead)

He’ll never tell you or admit it, but Sukuna truly does care for you and hold you in a regard that he doesn’t have for others

So be grateful jkjk

[dokoni-mo]

Nights Like These || All for One x F!Reader

Summary: You were his favorite.

SFW // not fluff but not angst

Word Count: 2802

WARNINGS: obsessive behavior, toxic behavior/mindsets, manipulation, possessive behavior, all for one is evil as usual, fear tactics, some sensual touching, kisses, mentions of death if you squint, swearing, age gap relationship of you squint, but reader is depicted to be in their late 20s, also the fact I also didn't proofread this one lmao (pls forgive me I was working on this at like 3 am).

A/N: This takes place before AFO became the potato man. This is my take on how he would be like in a "relationship". If you want some PRIME AFO content, however, AND ARE THE AGE OF 18 OR OVER, go check out @nonobadcat 's story A Hypnotic Nightmare. It's one of my favs atm (also, badcat, if you're reading this, i haven't forgotten about the fanart! i've just had a lot on my plate bc of the end of school. im terribly sorry if it seemed like i left you hanging).

~~

You hated armored black vans.

Ever since meeting him you knew exactly what they meant.

They would come to you when you least expected it, and often when you really didn't want them to. You could be anywhere in the world, and one would always find a way to roll up next to you. If you tried to outwalk them, they would just drive faster. If you pretended to ignore them, they would cut you off in your tracks.

Persistent little shits.

Just like him.

This time, it was late into the night when one rolled up next to you. You hadn't seen one in some days beforehand, and was relishing in that fact when the dread-vehicle rumbled up next to you. You had just gotten done doing some late-night grocery shopping for yourself, looking decent but in no way perfect. Sighing through your nose, you gave the tinted windows of the van the glare of your life, trying in vain attempt to get it to just piss off.

Even though that tactic never worked before, it would never stop you from trying.

The van pulled up to the curb next to you and slowed to a stop. Seeing as there was no way you could run or try to ignore it now, you stopped in your tracks, clenching your plastic grocery bags tighter. A moment later, the van rolled it's driver's side window down, revealing the driver to you. You didn't recognize this one; it wasn't one in his normal rotation.

You wondered if he killed one of the other ones, and this one was the replacement.

Looking into the eyes of the driver, you shot him another glare, your face morphing into a frown. This didn't seem to phase the man, however, since he just stared back at you with a blank expression.

You knew you weren't that threatening, but, come on. At least show something.

"What is it?" you questioned the man, your voice firm and serious. Although you already knew the answer to that, you prayed to whoever was listening that it would be a different answer this time.

"He wants to see you."

No dice.

You let out another sigh through your nose, this time more frustrated and annoyed than the last one.

"I just saw him the other day," you tried to bargain, "and I have ice cream in here. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

The driver shook his head, "Sorry, miss. He wants you now."

Your face assumed a deeper frown. It wasn't often that these drivers made it known to you how persistent he was being in seeing you. This made a lump form in the bottom of your stomach. What did he want this time? Another date? Quality time? Or just to remind you of who you belonged to?

You hoped it was one of the former two.

Looking from side to side nervously, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking again, "Can I at least put my groceries in my apartment first?"

The driver shook his head, "We can get someone to do it for you, miss. But we need to leave. Now."

Damn, this driver really meant business.

Finally admitting defeat, you slowly took a few steps towards the van, watching as the large, jet-black doors rolled itself open for you. Leaning down, you set your bags on the clean, vacuumed floor of the van, ducking down and pushing yourself inside next. The driver watched you in the rear-view mirror, making sure that you sat down and buckled your seatbelt. Once you were safe in the backseat, he shut the door to the van and pulled out into the street again, driving noticeably careful.

A soft sense of dread washing over you, you leaned up against the van door and planted your elbow on the armrest, resting your chin in your palm. Not feeling up for friendly chat with the man driving you, you fixated your gaze out the window, watching as the neon lights of Japan rushed by you.

You wondered which location you would be at today.

He seemed to have spots everywhere across the world.

You hoped it was the Tokyo one. That one had your favorite food and view.

Hugging yourself closer to the door, you tried to ignore the dread winding up in your stomach. You tried your best to just focus on how pretty the lights looked at night, but couldn't help but have your mind linger back to the racing thoughts that plagued your head.

You wished your friend had never introduced you to his stupid fucking cult. He would deny over and over that it was a cult, but it was a cult. You had been quirkless for so long, and content being so all your life. But, when your friend told you about the man she met that could give you your very own quirk, you would be lying if you said you weren't intrigued.

Biggest mistake of your entire fucking life.

~~

Alas to you, the driver didn't take you to the Tokyo location. It ended up being the Osaka location. You felt rather disappointed by this.

The driver was at least nice enough to help you out of the car and escort you into the hands of your body guards for the night. The guards quickly surrounded you, almost suffocating you by how close they were. After relaying the message that you had arrived, the guards practically drug you into the tall, looming building.

You wondered when the next time you could go outside would be.

Going through the doors, you were greeted with the familiar sight of clean, shiny marble floors, your feet clacking against them as they always did. Everything about the building was ornate but simple, reminding you of some fancy hotel.

It was so fucking obnoxious.

Only one dude and occasionally yourself lived here. And not even full time.

It make you frown.

Eventually, the guards and yourself made your way to the elevators. When one eventually came down (it didn't take long because you were most likely some of the only people in the building), all of you packed in the elevator like a fucking clown car. You were shoulder-to-shoulder with the much taller guards, suffocating on their cologne.

The dead silence in the elevator made you wanna puke.

~~

The guards left you once you were at the door.

You were now all alone in the hallway, the tall, dark, looming door before you. Your fingertips were trembling, yet you didn't know if it was out of fear or anticipation.

He probably already knew you were here. Why did you even have to go through this step? Just for his sick kicks?

Most likely.

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

You swallowed and closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths in and out of your nose. You had to give yourself a pep talk before you could lift up your hand, curling your knuckles to knock on the door.

You stopped before you could knock even once. If there was any time to run, this is it. If you could just-

No. It's impossible.

God how you knew it was impossible.

No matter where you went, no matter what you did, he seemed to always know.

You've seen him angry before. It ran shivers down your spine and made you contemplate whether or not there was an afterlife or not.

You didn't want to know how he was like when he was pissed off. Especially if it was directed towards you.

And, you knew, trying to get away from him was a sure as fuck way to royally piss him off.

Taking in one last deep breath, you put on your brave face and knocked on the door, feeling your dread become almost overwhelming in your gut.

You wet your lips before you spoke.

"It's me."

...

Silence.

Your head perked up at the nothingness that greeted you back. Was he not here anymore? Did he leave for a different place without telling you?

You opened your mouth to say something again, but quickly shut it again.

Could you... leave? Go home?

This was definitely a first.

As soon as your excitement welled up, however, you were quickly shot down again from the deep voice behind the door.

"Come in."

Fuck.

Squaring your shoulders and putting on your bravest face, you gingerly opened the door and stepped through, leaning your back against the wood as you shut it again.

Why did you do this to yourself? So willingly walk into the lion's den?

It didn't take you long to remember.

Fear.

Looking inside the room, the lighting was moody to say the least. Barely anything was turned on, and it was so deafeningly quiet, sans the sounds of the city below and the hum of the AC.

Scanning the room with your eyes, you felt your stomach do a flip when you landed on the man of the hour.

The man who had taken over your life for the past three years.

Him.

Shigaraki. Or, as he was known by everyone who wasn't you, All for One.

Probably the most feared man in Japan. Hell, the world even.

Christ on a fucking bike.

He was seated on the couch that faced the door, his usual sly smirk on his face. One of his legs was crossed over the other, and he seemed to had shed his black coat long ago. His crimson eyes bore right into the very fiber of your being, right into your very soul. His presence was so fucking overwhelming it made you feel like you couldn't breathe. The amount of power that dripped off that man was uncanny.

It always made you wonder what he wanted with quirkless little you.

Unable to maintain eye contact with him for any longer, you dropped your gaze to the floor, your back still pressed against the door. Even though you couldn't see him anymore, you could feel his eyes on you, raking up and down your body.

You prayed that this night went by quickly.

"You're late, little one." He said to you, making your shoulders tense up.

"I..." you began, your nervousness painfully obvious as you brushed your hair behind your ear, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be."

All for One let out a hum, and you could practically fucking feel his smirk grow bigger from across the room.

You wondered if he knew that you were only half telling the truth, or if he was just that delusional.

After a moment, he spoke again.

"Come into the light, darling. Let me get a good look at you."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hesitated for a brief second, your fingertips twitching against the wood of the door. Seeing no possible way out, you decided it was best to just do what he said. Pushing yourself off the door, you took small, timid steps into the light, keeping your gaze down on the floor. Awkwardly trying to figure out what you should do with your hands, you decided on clasping them in front of you, picking at the skin around your nails.

You could really feel his eyes on you now.

He looked you over for what felt like an eternity before he said something else, making your eyes flicker back up to him.

"There's no need to be shy, my dear," he said, sensing how nervous you were, "There's nothing to be concerned about. You know I would never harm you."

You wanted to snort out a laugh, but decided against it. Yes, he had never hurt you before, but you doubted it was out of his realm of capability.

Not knowing what to respond with, you simply just nodded, turning your attention back to your hands.

Shigaraki continued to stare at you for a good long while, his red eyes lingering on your cute face and nervous eyes.

Fucking hell you were just too adorable.

After a good second, All for One lifted up his hand, making you look up at him. He was holding his palm out to you, his usual smirk on his face.

"Come here." He said.

Shit, he was getting serious tonight.

Your cheeks tinting a faint pink, you forced your feet to raise up and make you walk across the room. Once you were close enough, you put your hand into his, watching it as it was nearly swallowed by the sheer size of his palm. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you slipped yourself in between his long, thick legs and sat back into his lap. Your side was nuzzled into the crook of his armpit, his strong arm wrapping itself around your waist to keep you in place. Just like he liked, you rested your head against All for One's shoulder, gently lying your hands across his broad chest. This seemed to please him greatly, since he put his other hand on your lower thigh, gently rubbing circles into the side of your knee with his thumb.

You must really be fucking insane.

Gently, Shigaraki pressed a gentle kiss into your hair, mumbling out a quiet good girl in the process.

You couldn't stop the pink dust from spreading across your cheeks.

"How was your day today, darling?" He asked you, the rumble of his voice in his chest loud in your ears.

You hummed before speaking.

"It was okay..." you said, feeling the hand on your side gently stroking up and down.

"You had a lot to do, didn't you?" He asked, making you glance up at him.

Of course he fucking knew about your goddamned errands and job.

"Yeah..." you said, "I was expecting to go back home and chill the rest of the night, but..."

Shigaraki let out a chuckle at this. You didn't have to finish your thought for him to know what you meant.

"Oh, I'm sorry, little one." He said, pressing another kiss to your temple, "I know you must be tired."

You nodded in response, maybe a bit too eagerly.

"I just couldn't bear another second without you, darling." He continued, tracing circles on your thigh this his pointer and middle finger, "I just had to have my special girl with me tonight."

You shifted your weight in his lap, looking up at him, "Did something happen?"

Shigaraki chuckled at this, reaching up and brushing the hair out of your face, "Let's just say I had some... family issues tonight, my dear."

Family?

Shigaraki had family?

This was definitely a first.

You couldn't help but to be nosy.

"Family?" you asked.

"Oh, nothing for you to be concerned about, my sweet girl." He said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"You never told me you had family." You pressed, not wanting to let the subject go.

"You never needed to know, small one. Besides, it would be too dangerous for you to meet them anyhow."

"Dangerous?"

"There's a possibly they would try to take you from me."

"I highly doubt you would let that happen."

He chuckled, "As clever as always, my darling."

"What are their names?"

"Let's move on from his, my love."

"But I-"

"Are you hungry, dear? I can have someone fetch you something."

"Shigaraki, I just-"

"I said no."

A shiver went down your spine and you were quick to shut your mouth. You knew what that tone meant. It meant shut up or you get a punishment.

You always just chose to shut up.

Seemingly pleased at your compliance, Shigaraki assumed his usual smirk again and planted a kiss on your cheek, rubbing more small circles into your side.

"Have I told you how radiant you look tonight, my dear?" He asked you.

Not feeling in the mood to talk anymore, you just shook your head no.

"You always look gorgeous to me, my dear. Every single piece of you."

Pulling you closer to his chest, he lifted up your chin and looked deep into your eyes.

"My special girl. My favorite."

Closing the distance between the two of you, All for One pressed his lips to yours, stealing your breath away. His kisses were always just like him: strong, confident, and dominating.

Kissing Shigaraki always filled you with a whirling of emotions. Perhaps it was because you were tired that night, or perhaps it was because of the air, but you allowed yourself to fully enjoy his kiss. The feeling of his hands on you, the feeling of how small he made you feel, the feeling of his power radiating off his skin...

He always had this affect on you. When you were apart from him, you found it hard to love him.

But, when you were together...

you found it hard to stop.

[itsdanii]

I have no clue if this is where you take request but oh well! I was wondering if it was possible to have like a short angst to fluff with Asahi? This man is so underrated and I just need more of him 🥺 Have a great day!

Your Ace

Hey, bub. Thank you for requesting. I agree that Asahi is such an underrated character and he really deserves more love! He's always so soft and gentle that I want to hug him like a bear 🥺 Anyway, here's a piece for you. I hope you like it 😚

genre: slight angst to fluff, slight crack

ft. asahi azumane

encouraging someone to continue doing the things they love has never been so hard, especially when that person comes in the name of asahi azumane.

"Was that Shoyo and Kageyama?" you asked Asahi as you sat down on the chair infront of him, your eyes following the two first years as they scurry out of your classroom.

"Yeah, they're really persistent on making me play volleyball again." He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck.

You stared at the man in front of you and tilted your head a bit to the side. "Why don't you join the club again then? I heard Noya's back," you suggested.

"I've already quit playing volleyball," he simply answered.

Despite what he said, you didn't fail to notice the way he clenched his fist. A faraway look was present on his face as if he was remembering a certain memory.

"Is this still about what happened?"

Upon receiving no reply, you decided to continue. "I saw you play, you know? You were actually good. Just because you were defeated doesn't mean you failed. What matters isn't the number of times you failed but the number of times you pick yourself up."

Asahi let out a small 'tsk' before looking at you straight in the eyes, a frown now visible on his face. "I appreciate the thought but can we please drop it?"

Stubborn as always, you shook your head and leaned over his desk in determination. "But a team is not a team without an ace, 'Sahi. They need an ace. They need you. Nothing will happen if you just sit here. You'll just get stuck and end up regretting your decisions in the future."

Asahi is a patient man, everyone knows that, but everyone can lose patience when they get provoked or if someone butts in in their business.

And unfortunately for you, Asahi's patience was running thin. The two persistent first years and your nonstop encouragement seemed to be putting pressure on him which is something you missed.

"Y/n, I already asked politely but you still haven't stopped talking so I'll ask again. Please, drop it. I'm not going back," he said with finality.

"But Asahi-"

"I said drop it. Look, I really admire you for trying to encourage me but I don't need it, especially not from someone like you."

You stared at him in shock. Never have you ever thought that you would hear such words from him. He was always gentle and soft spoken especially to you, so hearing him say that made you feel as if your opinion wasn't needed.

Oh, right. He didn't know.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" You gave him a small fake smile before bowing slightly. "I'm sorry for speaking too much. I didn't mean to cross your boundaries."

"Y/n, I-"

Luckily for you, your teacher suddenly entered the room which meant that classes were about to start. Without letting him finish, you turned your back on him and focused in class, unaware of how much the ace wanted to turn back the time and take back what he said.

To say that you were upset was an understatement and Asahi wasn't stupid to not know that. The way you were ignoring him was enough to prove it.

He didn't intend to snap at you but he couldn't stop himself due to the pressure. He didn't even know why you were just as persistent as Shoyo and Kageyama were when it comes to bringing him back to the volleyball club.

Sighing, Asahi stood up as classes ended. Just as he was about to call out for you, you were already making your way out of the door.

Asahi quickly grabbed his bag and followed you. He called your name several times but he wasn't sure if you really didn't hear him due to the noisy hallways or you were just purposely ignoring him.

"Such a stubborn woman," he murmured under his breath as he continued to follow you.

His footsteps slowed down as he saw you making your way inside the gym, Daichi's arms enveloping you the moment you stepped in.

Are you Daichi's girlfriend?

Asahi felt an unpleasant feeling at the thought.

With sneaky movements, Asahi pressed his back against the wall as he heard you and Daichi talking. He was lucky that the small windows were open or else he would need to enter to hear what you two were talking about.

"But Daichi, I can still play!" Asahi heard you raising your voice.

What's going on? Why were you two fighting?

"I said no, y/n. I know that it's hard for you quit being the  ace of the girl's volleyball team but the doctors said that you have to stop playing unless you want to permanently damage your ankle." This time, it was Daichi's voice he heard.

"Just one set, Dai. I promise that I-"

"Asahi-san?"

All noises ceased the moment those words came out of Hinata and everybody's eyes turned towards Asahi who was now peeking through the door.

"It's Asahi-san!" Hinata squealed once again. The orange head grabbed Asahi's hand pulled him inside the gym.

Ignoring everybody's gaze, Asahi chose to focus on you. His eyes drifted down to your ankle for a brief moment before staring at you again.

The players noticed the tension between the two of you and decided to give you both space. Daichi's eyes lingered at you for a brief moment before sighing and leaving you guys when you gave him an assuring smile.

"I didn't know," Asahi said guiltily.

You frowned at him, the words he said awhile ago still fresh inside your memories. "Of course you didn't." You looked down at your ankle. "Such a bummer, right? I'm injured but I still refuse to give up."

"Y/n.."

"Maybe Daichi's right. Maybe I should just give up."

"No." You were surprised when Asahi placed his hands on your shoulder, his hand gripping you but not too tightly. "Didn't you tell me awhile ago that what matters is not the number of times you fall but the number of times you pick yourself up?"

"I guess I was just being hypocritical when I said that." You chuckled pathetically as you heard his words. "As much as I want to continue, I can't. If I do, I might end up breaking my ankle permanently."

"Then let me play for you."

You lifted your gaze to Asahi and saw determination in his eyes. "'Sahi.."

"I realized that you were right. Nothing will happen if I just sit and do nothing. I guess it's about time I face my fears." Asahi wrapped his arms around you, enclosing you into a hug. "I'm going to try again. Not only for the team, but for you as well. I'll be an ace you can be proud of."

You immediately hugged him back and buried your face to his chest, tears streaming down your cheeks. "You don't know how happy I am to hear that," you said and slowly pulled away from the hug.

The both of you stared at each other and it was only now that you noticed how handsome he is. Has he always looked this good?

A blush formed at both you and Asahi's cheeks. He quickly let go of you and maintained a safe distance. His heart was beating so fast that he was scared you might feel it.

"Are you done flirting with my cousin?" Daichi's said, interrupting the moment.

Cousin?

Oh...

What a relief.

"I-I wasn't flirting!" Asahi defended himself as he tried to avoid your gaze.

"Mhm?" Daichi said, clearly unfazed. "So it won't matter to you if I tell you she likes you then?"

Your eyes widened at what Daichi said. "Daichi!"

You quickly looked down in embarrassment and fiddled with your fingers, a nervous habit of yours Asahi was clearly familiar with.

At first, Asahi didn't know what to do nor how to act. Was he supposed to hug you? Was he supposed to confess as well? Or was he supposed to kiss you like what the guys from the movies do?

Clearing his throat, Asahi slowly stepped closer to you and put a hand on your head, petting you gently. "It's okay, y/n. I like you too."

Suddenly, Tanaka's laugh echoed throughout the whole gymnasium. Holding his stomach, he pointed at Asahi while laughing. "Are you seriously petting y/n's hair?! That's not how you confess to a girl Asahi-san!"

Asahi quickly removed his hand out of panic, his face now turning red. "I-I'm sorry!"

"What a bunch of idiots," you whispered before pulling Asahi down by the collar of his uniform, stopping when his face was merely inches from yours. You then rose an eyebrow at him before asking, "I like you and you like me. I guess we're dating now, right?"

"I-I guess?" he answered shyly.

"Good."

Those were the last words you said before finally pressing your lips against his.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

Ace of Hearts

Sam “Ace” Rothstein x Reader

Hi guys! Corny title, I KNOW, but I’m so incredibly happy to finally be posting this. I’ve been working on it since December, and it’s probably the longest thing I’ll ever write! Just to give you a quick rundown: it’s based off of Casino so you’ll see some familiar events and verbiage, but it’s told out of order to fit what I wanted and there’s a new character (Miss y/n). I have worked so so hard on this, so I hope you all love it! Thank you so much!

TW: smut, anything in Casino that triggers you may be in here, violence, injury, drinking, smoking, drugs, death, threats, cheating/affair, divorce, cursing, etc.

Word Count: 17.9k

"(Y/N)! Good evening, it's nice to see you, hun," Sam says, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug and giving you a kiss on the cheek, "Looking beautiful as always." You place a hand on his chest, taking in the scent of his cologne; he always smelled good and expensive.

You are at Sam's casino, The Tangiers; he had invited you for dinner, like he does regularly. You and Sam are good friends; you met through Billy, the casino manager, and so Sam invites you to dinner there quite often. When it came to the casino, he was quite the social butterfly: always wanting to show the casino off to people and being extremely hospitable so that word-of-mouth would travel and bring new people in.

"Thank you, Sam, how have you been since I last saw you?" Most people call him Ace, but he had introduced himself you as Sam, for some reason, so it just stuck.

"Really good, actually, I have some news for you," you had become a person that Sam likes to confide in; he trusts you, and he says it's nice to get a woman's perspective.

"And what is that?" you ask with a smile as you head towards your usual table.

"I'm dating someone," he says with a grin, trying not to be too proud of himself.

"Sam! Really? You found a girl?!" you stop, taking his hand, waiting for details.

"Yeah, we just got together a few weeks ago. She's... Well, she's like me, I guess," you both start walking towards the table again, "She's driven and she's got a big presence when she walks in a room. And she's just got this spark; I don't know what it is about her."

"Ah, he must be going on about Ginger," Billy says as you walk up to where he's seated, waiting on you, "yeah, he was starstruck the moment he laid eyes on her."

"She'll be here soon; I'd like you to meet her," Sam says to you. Despite being a very confident man, there were certain people he likes to get approval from; you feel honored to be one of those people.

So, you take your seats at the table, and as promised, Ginger is there only a little while later. You can tell it's her; she is exactly the way Sam described her. Her tall, blonde figure really captures everyone's attention, especially Sam's.

"Hey, gorgeous," Sam greets her, motioning for her to slide into the booth next you him.

"Hi, Sam," she hands him her clutch purse and sits down, giving him a peck on the lips. He goes around and introduces her to everyone at the table including you. She seems like she has a great personality and excellent people skills, but you couldn't help but feel a little jealous that she called him Sam too. You thought you were the only one, but it makes sense considering she is his girlfriend.

After everyone is settled in and food orders placed, Ginger leans forward so she can see past Sam to talk to you. "(Y/N)?" she says kind of quietly.

"Oh, hey!" you reply casually.

"I just wanted to say," she starts, "Sam talks about you a lot; it's nice to finally meet you, and I hope we can be friends. There aren't a lot girls in this business," she says with a bit of a chuckle at the end.

At that moment you both realize Sam is listening in on your conversation.

"Oh, well, thank you, Ginger. Any girl good enough for Sam must be really spectacular; he's a picky man!"

He puts his arm around her, "Spectacular is a good word to describe her." He takes your hand in one of his for just a moment, squeezing lightly and giving you a happy look, proud that you and her are getting along.

• • •

Over the next few months, you see Sam fall madly in love with Ginger. She couldn't deny that he was a very sweet man who gave her respect and anything should could ever ask for, but you could tell she never reciprocated those feelings as much as Sam. You get the feeling that she loved what he could do for her more than the man he was, but then again, maybe she's just slow to fall in love and you're being overprotective of your friend.

You trust Sam and know that even though he's in love, he'll maintain a level head. He treats everything like a business transaction.

As it turns out, that's exactly how he handles their engagement from what he tells you. You had stopped in for a visit at the casino, so he is sitting with you and catching up before he heads back out to the floor.

"Yeah, I told her that I know her feelings haven't developed as quickly as mine, but that if she lets me marry her, she'll be taken care of for the rest of her life, and she won't have to hustle the streets anymore. The love will come, I know it will," Sam explains to you, although it seemed like that last part was for him.

"And she said yes?" you ask.

"Yes. She said yes. She even agreed to have a baby with me." You'd never seen such a happy look in his eyes; Sam had always wanted a family, and it took a long time, but it's finally happening for him.

While this worried you a bit, you press on, "So, when's the wedding?!" you try to joke.

"Oh, well, uh... In a year at least. We want to have the baby first; it was part of our deal."

"What? Sam," you try to make sense of what he just told you, "you don't find it a little odd that you had to negotiate your own engagement, and that you can't trust her to have a baby with you 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 you're married?"

"I mean, it's unconventional, but that's just Vegas."

"No, love is love, no matter what city you're in. You deserve someone who will love you and respect you as much as you love and respect them. Not many people see it, but you have such a big heart, Sam; don't let someone take advantage of it," you place your hands on his, and his eyes glance up at you. You both share a knowing look. As much as Sam respects your opinion, nothing will stop him once he wants something, and he wants Ginger: her trust, her respect, and her love.

You see Sam and Ginger several times throughout their pregnancy, and honestly, they couldn't be happier. Sam is going to have the baby he always wanted, and Ginger is getting all the attention in the world for carrying Sam Rothstein's child. You think maybe this will solve all their problems.

• • •

Just a few months after the baby was born, you received an invitation to their wedding. You had been by their apartment a few weeks prior to visit and meet the baby, and gosh, she was so cute. Sam lit up when he held her; he was so proud of his baby girl, Amy. But Sam hadn't mentioned anything about a wedding happening so soon, although they do have the money to make one happen quickly.

The wedding is very nice, although it's more of a party than a wedding. Ginger is a socialite, so it only makes sense that there would be more attention on the reception than the ceremony.

You go sit with Nicky and his wife Jennifer so that you can hold the baby, while Sam and Ginger cut the cake and share champage. This is supposed to be a happy moment for them, but you can tell something is off. Maybe it's because they don't have baby fever anymore; parenting is not easy, so that's what you chalk it up to.

As you're making faces getting the baby to giggle, you see Sam sneak off into a back room, presumably looking for Ginger. You continue to entertain their baby while you wait for him to come back; you hadn't really gotten a chance to see him all night, and you want to show your support and congratulate him.

As you chat with Nicky, you see Ginger and Sam return from wherever they had gone; only problem is, they went two different directions and Ginger had clearly been crying. That's not normal behavior for newly weds. Nicky takes notice as well and says, "Eh, uh, why don't you go check on him? I'll take the baby."

And so, you hand him Sam's little bundle of joy, and make your way across the ballroom to your friend. He had been pulled into a conversation that he clearly didn't want to be having, so you tap him on the shoulder and excuse him from the group of people. He puts his hand around your waist as you walk off.

"Dance with me," you say simply, and he happily agrees. You knew you'd be able to talk privately because you'd be so close to him on the dancefloor, and it wouldn't look suspicious like if you swept him away to a different room.

"Trouble in paradise already?" you ask him, "You two have been so happy the past few months, what's going on?"

"Well, I guess maybe she realized this is the end of the road, and that I'm the one she'll be stuck with the rest of her life... Whatever the reason, she felt the need to call her pimp, Lester Diamond," he explains, pursing his lips at the end; he was really frustrated and trying not to show it.

"What did she call him for? She doesn't still love him or something, does she?"

"She says she called him to let him know it was over and that she's married now. He was her first love, and the only thing in this whole world she's got a soft spot for."

"Oh, Sam... You don't deserve that; you don't deserve someone that's holding onto their baggage with someone else."

"Well then maybe I should've married someone like you," he says with a small laugh and a look of longing in his eyes. He pulls you even closer to him, and you hold him a bit tighter in an effort to comfort him.

"You shouldn't say things like that on your wedding day," you say quietly next to his ear.

"But it's true. You've got the looks, the personality, a great heart, but for some reason, I only want Ginger, or at least for a while I did." With that, he stares into your eyes for a little while, before kissing you on your jawline and neck a few times.

After a pause, you say, "Well, I hope that was the last time she calls him. You deserve nothing but the best, but I know how much you love her, so I hope you two will find happiness with one other." You decide not to say anything about the way he implied that he wanted to be with you or the way he just kissed you; maybe that would make it worse. That probably isn't how he really feels; he's probably just speaking from a place of being hurt by Ginger. You stop dancing and hug him, "Congratulations on your big day, it was beautiful and glamorous in way that only Sam Rothstein could do."

You both share a laugh and hopeful smiles. His hand finds yours as you start to walk away, and he gives it a squeeze before letting his arm drop to his side.

"Everything okay?" Nicky asks when you get back to the table.

"Yeah, everything's gonna be fine," there wasn't much point in explaining it to him, he had a thing for Ginger, so he would make excuses for her. Plus it wasn't your news to share, Sam trusted that you would keep his secrets, because that's how you'd always been.

You grabbed your things to leave, and you shot one quick glance back at Sam before heading out. He was hugging Ginger, trying to comfort her; that didn't stop the nasty look she gave you when she saw you looking at her man. "Sadly, he belongs to her now," you think as you take in the cool night air outside the wedding chapel, "legally, at least."

• • •

The next several months of their marriage only take a turn for the worse. The issue isn't that they don't understand each other, it's that they're exactly alike: both strong-minded with the will to get what they want. The issue is that the things they want don't align with the other person's goals. Sam wants a successful casino and to have Ginger's love, but Ginger is someone who can't be tamed; she wants money wherever she can get it, and she wants to be the center of attention.

The thing that works on Sam's nerves more than anything is that Ginger just refused to cut ties with Lester Diamond.

"She just keeps- she- she asked me for all this money, and she won't tell me what it's for," Sam is fuming as he vents to you about his wife, "She knows I would give her anything she wants of she'll just tell me what it's for. She won't be honest with me, and that's how I know she's up to no good."

"What do you think the money is for?" you ask, placing your hand on his. He had come over to your house just to visit and have a few drinks. This has become a regular thing since he married Ginger; he relies on your company and your advice.

"Mmm, it's just a suspicion, but I think it might be for that pimp." He rubs his thumb across the back of your hand as he held it.

"I thought she ended things with him, but I wouldn't put it past her to go behind your back. I'm sorry that you can't trust your own wife; I know you value that so much."

"Well, I'm at least glad to know that someone in this world still has values like me. In a town like Las Vegas, everyone is so cutthroat. Sometimes I think you and Billy are the only ones left with a moral compass."

"You have one too, Sam, and a good heart," you pull him towards you, and he lies across the couch to place his head in your lap. He is only casual like this with a few people, but he finds it fun to kick back and relax with you. He looks up at you while you gently comb your fingers though his hair; eventually it will work the gel out of his hair, but you like it when he let his waves hang loose. "What are you gonna do about her giving Lester that money?"

"Hm, I don't know yet," he answers with raised eyebrows and a shoulder shrug.

"What if you let her have the money?"

"So she can give it to that scumbag?"

"Listen, honey," you chuckle at him, "what if you let her have the money, knowing she's going to give it to Lester, but you and Nicky's guys show up with her. Put him in his place, rough him up, that way he won't come begging on her doorstep again. AND she'll see what happens if she tries to give him your money again."

A surprised look appears on his face, "Damn, baby, you been hanging out with Nicky, taking some notes from him? It almost sounds like you hate my wife or something!" You both laugh together.

Your laughter dies off, and you look down at his face in your lap, "I hate the way she treats you." It's the simple truth; he deserves better.

• • •

A few weeks later, you're at a pool party at Billy's place. Las Vegas summers are hot, so pools are basically a requirement out here.

Normally, Sam brought Ginger to these kinds of things; that's just what you were supposed to do, but you had convinced him to come by himself. At first the thought made him uncomfortable, because he knew it would cause another argument at home, but he also just wanted to get away for a while. And so, he left Ginger with a stack of cash, told her to go shopping, and came over to Billy's.

You don't notice Sam when he first arrives; you're in the pool taking to some of Billy's business associates, some you had met before, some you hadn't. One of these guys has made himself really comfortable with you: grabbing at your hips and trying to keep you close to him. You're used to men like this putting their hands on you, and it's normally very casual, but this guy is being more aggressive than you are used to.

He's putting his arms around you and pulling you really close to his chest. You use your arms as a barrier between you and him; it's really more awkward than anything.

"Excuse me?"

You look over your shoulder to see Sam standing at the edge of the pool.

"Yeah?" the guy asks, adjusting his arm around you once again.

"Would you mind if the lady came with me?" Sam asked, pouring on the charm.

"She's fine here."

"Looks like she'd rather be with me" Sam says giving you a coy look.

The guy look at you, then back at Sam, "And who the fuck are you?" he replies, rudely.

"Someone you don't want to piss off." Sam takes your hand, and you free yourself from this other man. Sam helps you out of the pool and snags a towel for you to wrap yourself up in.

"Thank you for that," you tell Sam as you walk over to a table where Billy and his wife are.

"Eh, I'm sorry that he felt he could treat you like that. He'll be taken care of." You know what that means.

There are several people gathered around the table, people Sam and Billy work with at the casino, but they're also friends. Sam takes a seat in one of the lounge chairs and pulls you into his lap. Everyone at the table says their hello's and Sam whipsers to you, "Thank you for inviting me... And suggesting I leave the wife at home." He rubs a hand across your thighs and the other rests on your back.

This is a crowd that you and Sam are comfortable being close in. You two were always like this before he got with Ginger, so it feels nice to have him close to you again. You gently squeeze at his side, while he lights a cigarette and takes a puff. He offers it to you, but you just smile and shake your head.

"Hey, Billy," Sam starts.

"Yeah, Ace?" he asks, turning his attention to the man next to you.

"You see that dopey ass motherfucker in the pool over there?" Sam asks, pointing with his cigarette between his fingers, "The tall one at the center of that group?"

"Yeah, yeah, I see him. Did he do something?"

"He thought it was okay to make (Y/N) here uncomfortable, and he tried to mouth off at me about it," Sam explains.

"(Y/N), is that true? What did he do to you?" Billy asks you.

"He was just being weird and way too handsy. I tried to get away from him but he would just grab me if I did that. I didn't wanna make a scene though."

Billy turns to look back at the group of guys in the pool, "And all those guys with him just let it happen, huh?" He turns back to you, "It'll be handled. That's unacceptable."

Sam gives your waist a squeeze, and you share a look with him. "You gonna get in the pool at all today?" you ask him, motioning to his outfit: khaki slacks, a button up shirt (unbuttoned a little bit), and a pale pink sports coat.

"I don't know, I'm having a good time right here. You look good in that bikini, baby," he whispers the last part, rubbing his fingers over the string on your back, "it doesn't leave much to the imagination..."

"Just the parts that all you boys want to see," you bite your lip, and you both giggle quietly.

The afternoon goes by with casual conversation as you and Sam lounge back in your chair with you leaning against his chest and your face tucked into the crook of his neck. He keeps his arms around you, as he chats and enjoys some drinks and cigarettes with the guys at the table.

Soon, the sun begins it's descent before the moon comes out, which means the temperature is dropping too. Vegas has some of the hottest days and the coldest nights.

You sit up from your cozy spot against Sam's chest and pluck the cigarette holder from between his lips. He raises his eyebrows at you as you take a drag off of it, then you exhale the smoke at the same time as him.

A warm smile spreads across your face as you return the cigarette to him. "I'm gonna go change," you whisper to him before getting up and heading inside Billy's house.

Upstairs in the bathroom, you take your change of clothes out of your bag and lay them out on the counter. You hear a small knock at the door before Sam enters the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Sam? What are you doing?" you ask him.

He walks over and places himself behind you, looking you up and down in the mirror. He wraps his arms around your midsection and rests his chin on your shoulder, making eye contact with you, again in the mirror.

"You're so beautiful," is all he says before one hand travels to your hip, and his lips find your skin. He kisses at your neck slowly but sensually; you close your eyes as your back arches into him. He has you turned on in a matter of seconds; you had never realized you wanted him this bad.

One of his hands slides up your back and pulls the string of your bikini top, untying it and leaving your back bare. Your top hangs on by the knot at the back of your neck.

His kisses grow increasingly sloppy as he becomes more turned on for you. One of his hands cups at the underside of your breast, while the other holds your hips in place. You feel his erection in his pants against your backside, as he unties one of the knots at your hip.

"Sam-" You want him badly, but your conscience won't let you do this. "Sam."

His motions stop and he looks up at you in the mirror. You turn around in his arms so that you can look him in the eyes. With a bittersweet look on your face, you say, "We can't do this. You're married, Sam. We can't do this, especially not in Billy's house."

A look of clarity comes to his eyes as you talk some sense into him. "Yeah, yeah, you're right," he answers. He reaches for a towel and wraps it around your body, as if to cover up the thing that was tempting him. You tie the towel in place and go ahead and remove your bikini, dropping it to the floor. Sam pulls you into a hug, holding your toweled waist tight, "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm so sorry."

• • •

The next time you see Sam is just for a normal get-together at The Tangiers. Being the gentleman he is, he treats you as if the incident at Billy's place never happened, and it's best this way; he's one of your best friends after all.

This dinner is anything but normal, however. Ginger had started to catch on to Sam leaving her at home. You got the feeling Nicky was the one who let her in on that secret.

Ginger storms into the casino, making a scene like she always does; she's always been the kind of person you hear before you see when she's angry. Security follows her over as she makes her way to the table with their little girl on her hip. Sam stands up and rushes over to her, in an effort to keep Ginger away from everyone at the table. It doesn't work that well, she continues pushing towards the table as she screams at him about leaving her at home and making her take care of their toddler.

Sam gets the kid from Ginger, and she pushes past him and towards you, "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU PUT THE IDEA IN HIS HEAD TO START SNEAKING AROUND ON ME!"

You sit there, completely taken back. You would try to say something, but you wouldn't get a word in as Ginger is letting you have it.

Sam comes over, grabbing Ginger's arm and pulling her to face him, "What the fuck is the matter with you? What the fuck is the MATTER WITH YOU?! Bringing our kid here at this time of night! Screaming at (Y/N)!" He points at you, "You ain't had nothin' to do with her since you met!! And you wanna come in here and blame your problems on her?!"

You had never seen Sam so angry before, screaming at the top of his lungs like this in front of everyone, in his own casino. There was a pause as everyone waited for what was gonna happen next.

Quietly, Ginger speaks, "Oh my God," her voice cracked like she was about to cry, "oh my God, you're defending her..." She turns to walk away, crying into her hands. Sam quickly hands Amy over to you and runs after Ginger.

Security follows them, and everyone at the table sits in silence as you all listen to Ginger yell and cry at Sam on the way outside, "You never defended me! To anyone! For anything! You've never defended me like that!"

• • •

A few days later, flowers show up at your house with a note from Sam.

"I'm so sorry for the other night and how crazy things have been lately. Let's go out and I'll make it up to you. -S. R."

Attached is a reservation card telling you that you're having dinner with him tonight at a small restaurant you used to go to when Sam first moved out to Las Vegas.

"I'm so glad you actually came. I thought maybe you didn't want anything to do with me after Ginger yelled at you like that."

"Have I ever been the type of girl that would blame you for your wife's actions?" you say greeting him with a kiss on the cheek, "it's good to see you all in one piece; I was worried what she might do to you." You both chuckle and sit down at your table.

"I just- uhh, I just wanted to take you out like we used to do before everything got so crazy. Back when I was still getting used to the desert and Billy introduced me to you; it was just simple... and always fun when you were around. So I just thought maybe we could re-live that for a night," Sam explains his reasoning for bringing you here alone.

"Well I think it'll be fun," you say reaching over and giving his hand an encouraging squeeze, "This place always had great food!" You lean back in your seat, slide your heels off under the table, and prop your feet up in Sam's lap across from you. He raises his eyebrows, giving you a look. "Well you said you wanted it to be like old times!" you exclaim.

After dinner and dessert, you both sit back with your bellies full. The food was so rich and lovely; you both ate so much more than you normally would have, but you aren't in the company of anyone fancy so you cut loose.

"You wanna get out of here? I got somewhere I'd like to take you," Sam asks.

"Ooooh, honey, I don't think I can move, I'm so full!" you groan at him, "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere you took me when I first moved here and I needed some peace and quiet from the city."

And with that, you let him take you by the hand and lead you out to his car. When you cruise past the strip and out into the dark dessert, you lean on his shoulder and ask, "You're not gonna whack me, are you?"

"Now, I couldn't tell you if I was. Typically the guy you're gonna whack doesn't ask ya, and typically the guy you're gonna whack is a guy," you both laugh. Tonight really had been like old times.

You slide over and lay down, laying your head in his lap. He put his arm across your chest and shoulder as if you were an arm rest, and he looks down at you. "Eyes on the road, Mr. Rothstein!"

"Yes, ma'am" he cracks a smile and looks up like he's supposed to.

Parked just a few miles out in the desert, Sam gets out the car, grabbing a blanket from the back, and tossing it across the hood of the car. He also grabs an extra jacket for you for when it gets cold.

"Alright, get outta the car," he says, looking at you laid across the front seat of his Cadillac.

"Mmmm... but I'm so cozy here," you whine.

Sam grabs you by your feet and drags you across the seat to pull you up out of the car. Once you're on your feet, he grips both of your shoulders and looks you over, "Princess. You're a spoiled princess, you know that?" He grabs your hips and lifts you onto the hood of the car before walking around and hopping up to sit next to you.

"It's been forever since I came out here... Thank you for bringing me," you tell Sam as you lean back on the windshield of his car and look up at the endless sea of stars in the night sky. Out here in the desert, there was no light pollution, and it was such a clear night, it felt like there were a million stars up there.

"Want this?" Sam asks holding up his extra jacket.

You take it from him and bundle up in it. It was warm and smelled like him, like he had worn it recently or perhaps sprayed his cologne on it.

He put his arm around your shoulders; together, you looked up at night sky and talked, occasionally pointing out constellations or planets.

The lower the temperature drops, the more you snuggle into Sam. Every few moments you glance at each other, sometimes making eye contact and smiling at each other.

"Mm, come here," Sam grumbles pulling you into a full-on cuddle.

"Cold?" you joke.

"Nope, you're just too far away," he nuzzles his nose into your hair and leaves a kiss there.

You turn your head to face him, "Sam."

He places his hand on your cheek and sarcastically replies, "(Y/N)."

Your eyes linger on one another's for what feels like several minutes; for a moment, the whole world fell away and it was just the two of you. You both lean in, gently pressing your lips to one another's. You move your lips together slowly and carefully, as if you might break something. The moment lasts a long time, but not long enough.

Sam pulls back to look at you, "I love you."

You open your mouth to protest, but all that comes out is, "I love you, too."

Without another word, you both agree to not discuss it. Whether you liked it or not, things were about to get complicated, so you both just want things to be simple for the night.

• • •

You had always assumed Sam was the kind of man to take a woman to bed quickly in a relationship. Of course, your relationship is anything but conventional; you'd been friends for years, but now it was obvious those feelings of friendship had been something more all along.

You had spent some time together a few times since your outing to the desert. He greeted you with a kiss each of those times you met up, because you made sure to meet in private; word couldn't get out about this, or it would cause trouble with Ginger and the crime family Nicky and Sam were in. The family wouldn't take so kindly to Ginger causing a big scene over Sam's infidelity.

You and Sam also really wanted to take things slow; you didn't want to ruin a good friendship by rushing. So when he came to your house or you met in his office, you spent a lot of time in his arms, kissing him, and not too much more.

But your job right now is to act like none of that exists, like everything is just the way it's always been. You're at a big celebration for Sam; the gaming commission is giving an award to him for being such an important asset in the success of gambling in Las Vegas. Everyone who knows Sam is there; it's his big night!

As events like this usually go, Sam is at a table on a stage at the front of the room. His closest friends are all sat together: you, Billy, Nicky, Ginger, and a few others. On the surface everything is cool, but you know this mix of people isn't good news.

There are rumors floating around that the FBI agents keeping an eye on Nicky had gotten some pictures of him and Ginger together. Sam didn't want to pry into it; he didn't want another reason to be mad with her. Sam had also recently told you that Ginger's mysterious phone calls had started up again, and she refused to tell him who she was calling at all hours of the day. You and Sam both knew what that meant: Ginger is being anything but faithful to him.

It's a lovely dinner, aside from Ginger's remarks. It's almost like she knows about you and Sam somehow. Every time she mentions him, she makes sure to watch your reaction, and she makes several remarks like, "proud to call him my man," and, "so glad he belongs to me," while staring you down.

In an effort to try and make friendly conversation with Ginger, you lean over you her to say, "You know, I think Sam likes girls like us, because we're both like him: social and in the business. We make what he does look glamorous." You give her a hopeful smile.

She cuts her eyes and hits you with, "No, Sam likes a woman like me; we both came from the streets and had to hustle our way into money. Anyone can be a socialite in a nice gown. Some of us have more to show for it."

Upon hearing that, Billy gives Ginger a look of disapproval and puts his arm around you to comfort you. It couldn't be more obvious that she is trying to get a rise out of you, but you won't stoop to her level making a scene like that.

Ginger leans into Nicky, and you don't say much the rest of dinner.

After the award was presented to Sam and it's time to mingle, you work your way over to Sam, stopping to chat with several people along the way. As you approach him, it seems like the two of you only have eyes for each other. He greets you with a big smile spread across his face, a hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

With his hands on your waist, and your hands on his chest, you tell him, "I'm so proud of you. You work so hard, and you've been so good for Las Vegas."

"Yeah, well, Las Vegas has been good to me," he says looking you in your eyes lovingly, and raising his eyebrows briefly.

What you don't realize is that Ginger sees the whole exchange, but she does something very out of character: she keeps her cool... For now.

• • •

"It was... It was the way you looked at her. You didn't have to look at her like that," Ginger sobs into the pillow on her and Sam's bed.

"How did I look at her? Huh? What did I do?" Sam questions her, pacing around their bedroom.

Ginger shifts to look up at Sam with tear-filled eyes, "Like you love her... You looked at her like you love her."

"Ginger-" Sam starts and pauses to keep his composure, "What do you care how I look at her? You me you didn't love me! And I thought I could change you!"

There was a pause before he continued, "You're not making any goddamn sense; I don't know why I'm trying to talk any sense into you. You been drinkin' all the time, and those fuckin painkillers you took have your brain so fucked up right now... I don't even know why I'm trying; it's not worth it."

"You really feel that way?" she asks quietly.

"Feel what way?"

"That I'm not worth it. You really think that I'm not worth it?" she sits up and pushes some of the hair out of her face.

That small bit of love Sam still had for Ginger creeped back up; he couldn't hurt her like that.

He sat on the bed next to her, "No," he says as he pulls her into his chest, "I don't feel that way." He simply holds her as she cries into his shoulder.

• • •

"I guess she's spread herself too thin," Sam vents to you as you lie on your couch cuddling, "I think the drinking and the drugs are a distraction from all the men she's trying to hold down. She's never been able to keep Lester under control, Nicky is getting all kinds of heat on him with the cops in Vegas, and she's realized I don't love her the way I used to, or maybe the way I thought I did."

The last part was mostly directed at himself; Sam is coming to terms with the decision he made when he married Ginger, and he's realizing that maybe it wasn't love at all. After all, lust isn't built on trust and respect.

"Don't blame yourself for falling for her. She said something to me the other night, and as hurtful as it was, it was true."

"What did she say to you?" he asks, sitting up a bit and furrowing his eyebrows.

"Well, uh, I just told her that I think you like girls like us because we're like you, but we make the business more glamorous. And she told me that you would only like a woman like her because you both worked for the success you have, and that means you and her have more to show for it."

"She said that to you?"

"Yeah, but don't worry about it. If you went to her about it, it would only cause you more problems," you try to get him to relax. There was no point in him getting stressed over it.

He sighs and lays back down, holding you tight, "I'm so sorry she said that to you. It's not true. I think her and I understand each other because of our backgrounds, but I think you know I like you just as much, if not more than I ever liked her."

"I thought you might say something like that. That's why I tried to not let it bother me," you look up and kiss him a few times.

He turns you to lay on your back, and he puts his head on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair on the back of his head.

"I wish we could just run away. I made such a mistake starting a life with Ginger. I meant it-" his voice catches a bit, "I meant it when I told you I love you. I wish I could just put her in the past and spend the rest of my days with you."

His voice got so soft at the end of his statement. From this position you couldn't see his face, and you figured there was a reason for that, as you felt some dampness forming on your shirt.

You had never seen Sam cry over anything. In that moment, it made you realize how real his feelings are. Even after all the hell Ginger put him through, it didn't break him as much as the idea of being with you.

He lies there and tries to keep his breathing even, while you wrap your arms around him and hold him. He just desperately needs love and comfort from a woman who really cares about him.

• • •

Sam and Ginger got to the point that they could hardly stand to be around one another, so they take periods of separation from one another, and they trade off who keeps Amy. Although, Sam will admit that he's more at ease when his little girl is with him.

Whenever Sam has Amy, he tries to take at least one day off work every week to spend with her. She's getting to be more of a kid than a toddler now, and she enjoys spending time with her daddy.

Today, Sam invited you along to the park and a for a picnic with Amy; it's what she asked for!

"You look pretty in your little sundress, baby," Sam compliments you, as he pushes his kid on the swing.

"It's nice seeing you dressed down a bit, too. Turns out it isn't the suit jacket that makes you so handsome!"

He was just wearing slacks and a button up shirt: sleeves rolled up, no tie, no sports coat. Oh, and don't forget the sunglasses and cigarette holder.

"Hey, Amy?" Sam calls to his daughter while she swings up and down through the air.

"Yeah, daddy?"

"You wanna go eat lunch, sweetie?"

"No!"

"No?!" Sam exclaims sarcastically, "You don't wanna go eat your lunch? I packed your favorite."

She shook her head, despite the big smile on her face.

"PB and J's?!" he asks.

She shakes her head again.

"Applesauce?"

Another no.

"Hmmm... How about those cupcakes we picked up from the bakery?"

Her little face lights up and she tries to stop the swing. Sam scoops her up on his hip to carry her over to their picnic blanket. The whole exchange is extremely adorable; you love watching Sam be a daddy to his little girl!

At lunch, surprisingly Amy stays near you. You've been babysitting her since she was a baby, and now she sees you hanging out with her dad a lot; luckily she likes you. It's really important to Sam that you two get along.

"You're gonna make a great mom one day," he says, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm? And what makes you think I'll be a mom?" you ask him, helping wipe something off Amy's cheek.

"If you stay with me, and if we end up together, you'll be Amy's new mom... aaaand maybe if you really like me, we could have a baby together," he looks down at his hands with a smirk on his face.

You put your hands over Amy's ears, and joke with him, "I think we should probably have sex before you ask me to have your baby! Although, you can trust me to have your baby 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 the wedding."

You let go of Amy's ears, while you and Sam double over in laughter.

"What's so funny?" she asks sassily, sounding just like her dad.

"Nothing, honey, you'll understand when you're older," Sam replies, petting her hair.

"You always say that, daddy. Can I go play?"

"Yes, but stay where we can see you, okay?"

"Okay!" she says, already running off. She's a busy body, just like him.

Sam pulls you into a spooning position and holds you so you can both keep an eye on Amy on the playground.

"So, you want me to make love to you, huh?" he grumbles lowly in your ear, placing some kisses on your neck.

"Mmm... Why don't you come over to my place one night and find out?" you tease at him.

• • •

You assumed tonight would be just a casual night at home, and you appreciate that, because it isn't often you get alone time. You had just gotten out the shower and decided to relax in your robe on the couch for the night.

That all changes when you hear the doorbell ring.

"Who could that be? I don't think I invited anyone over," you think as you walk to the door.

"Sam!" you exclaim, seeing him on your front stoop, "what are you doing here-"

You're cut off by his lips meeting yours in a fiery kiss. He pushes you into the house and shuts the door behind him all while his lips never leave yours. He pushes you against a wall, grabbing at your hips. When his lips move down to your neck, you gasp out his name.

"Sam! What has gotten into you?" you breathe out, "What is this?"

"Mmm..." He moans, leaving little kisses at your ear, "Ginger and Amy are out of town, and... you told me to come over and make love to you."

"That's not how I said it," you laugh, before letting out a soft moan at his actions.

He reaches over and locks your front door before leading you over to the couch. His lips find yours again, then he gently lays you down, positioning himself on top of you. His hands roam your body, as your lips move with his; his tongue enters your mouth and sends chills across your skin.

You pull away from his kiss to look at him in the eyes, "I know we've been seeing each other and doing a lot of kissing, but I don't want to make you a cheater."

"Baby, it's not about cheating. Ginger and I don't wanna be together as it is; I 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 to be with 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

"Sam... are you sure? You can't go back from this."

"(Y/N), I already told you I love you. There's no going back from that." His hand snakes down to the ties on your silky robe, and pulls them loose. With his legs on either side of one of yours, he presses his hardness into your thigh. As he pulls your robe to the side just a few inches, he places soft kisses on your chest.

He pauses and looks up at you through his lashes. You place your hands on his face and shoulder, and he gives you a smile before he pulls your robe open, leaving you naked in front of him, except for the sleeves on your arms.

Sam kisses your lips lightly, then your cheek, then your neck and chest, where he starts leaving heated love bites. He gently squeezes at your breasts, as he teases them with his tongue and teeth. Soon after, he leaves a trail of kisses down your belly, leaving you with a few nips on your hipbone.

He sits up on his knees, taking your body in: your plump thighs, sensual hips, the way your breathing had become heavy, and obviously your naked parts he had always wanted to see. He moves to place himself between your legs, and he pulls one of them up, hooking your ankle on his shoulder and pressing a few kisses to your calf.

"You're beautiful," he tells you before he turns his attention back to your leg.

Sam really made you feel beautiful, but it was nothing in comparison to the way he looks: his dress shirt unbuttoned a little, shiny suit pants, large erection pressed against the fabric and poking at his waistband, his tight leather belt keeping it tame.

You're pulled from your thoughts by the feeling of Sam kissing your inner thigh; he had worked his way up to the soft, sensitive part of your leg.

He grabs you by your thighs, scooting you up the couch, giving him more room to work. Now he's bent over a bit more, placing sloppy kisses and and nibbles on your thighs as a way to get you to spread them apart. Finally, he gets down all the way, and you feel his hot breath on your center.

Seeing him crouched down on his elbows and knees, head between your legs... It's enough to make you want him. When places a few hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses on your labia, it makes you lose any fight you had to turn him down.

"Oh, Sam..." your hand slides into his hair as his tongue laps at you. He looks up making eye contact with you, and enjoying how flustered you look because of him.

He simply grins to himself and goes back to pleasing you. Your grip on his hair tightens each time he does something that you like, and he's smart: if you like it a lot, he does it over and over and over.

A few times, he moves down, licking at your entrance, testing the waters. When he hears a whine from you, he decides to stop being a tease and presses his tongue in past your lips. Your back arches up off the couch and you take in a deep breath; Sam digs his fingers into your thighs, keeping your hips firmly in place so he can continue swirling his tongue around inside you.

After a few minutes, he has mercy on you and goes back to your clitoris. He doesn't let up too much though. He slides his middle finger into you, slowly, and when he can't go any further, he curls it in a "come here" kind of motion.

"Oh, God," you let out, toes curling in pleasure.

Sam puts his lips on you and pulls your clit into his mouth, sucking on it. Jackpot. Your hand pulls his hair and you throw your head back; you can feel your climax coming. He lets out a low, grumbly moan, and it helps push you over the edge. Your orgasm comes in waves as Sam continues sucking and curling that finger; he's reveling in the feeling of you losing control at his hand.

When he decides you've had enough, he eases his motions to let you down from your high. The way he has total control over you and your body... You had never seen anything like it.

Sam crawls over you until he was face-to-face with you again to kiss you and make you taste yourself on his lips. He wraps his arms around you and picks you up, hands roaming your back as your robe hangs loosely behind you. With your legs wrapped around his hips, he takes you up to your bedroom.

"Can I ask you something, Sam?" you start.

"Of course you can, baby girl," he answers.

"Why would Ginger treat you so badly if you're this good in bed? And we haven't even made it to bed yet," you chuckle at the last part.

"I guess that's more of a question for Ginger than it is for me, but I'd really rather not talk about my wife right now," he says dropping you on your cozy bed. You lay there, arms above your head, your hair and silky robe spread out around you. Sam grabs you by wrapping his large hands around your ribcage and sits you up. It always impressed you how large and strong he is, because he keeps his muscles covered with all those suits. He pushes your robe off your shoulders, "That's better."

You giggle at him and reach out in front of you, giving his aching erection some much needed attention with the palm of your hand. Sam let's out a breath, and you take that as a sign to undo his belt. After opening his belt and unzipping his pants, you pull them down just a little, leaving them hanging on his hips. Your hand finds his member again, rubbing it through a much thinner layer of fabric, "You gonna show me what this thing can do?"

He puts a hand on the back of your head and pulls you to him. Your face nuzzles against his pelvis; you leave a few kisses on his groin and look up at him, "You want me to use my mouth on you?"

His eyes are fixed on yours as his lips pull into a half smile, "No, another time. I can't wait any longer to have you."

And with that, you pulled his pants off of his hips. He quickly works out of his shoes and pants and climbs on top of you.

"Oh, no, Mr. Rothstein! We are not doing this if you have those socks on!" you giggle at him.

He looks back at his feet, "What, you don't think they're sexy?" He turns back to you and kisses you, "I'd fuck you if you were wearing socks," he jokes before reaching back and pulling them off.

When he lays down on top of you, you work on unbuttoning his shirt while he kisses your lips and neck. A few seconds later his shirt is thrown to the floor. He wraps his arms around you as you make out, pressing your bodies together; like this, you can feel his muscles, his warmth, and his love, as if he was the thing you always needed.

His kisses slow down, and he pulls back to look at you, "I love you, (Y/N), and I mean it."

"I love you, too, Sam," you nearly whisper. After a short pause and Sam rubbing your cheek with his thumb, you ask, "Will you take those underwear off already? You're going awfully slow for a man who said he didn't want to wait anymore."

He smiles and shakes his head sarcastically at you, but he sits up on his knees and pushes them off, "Better?" he snarks.

"Better."

He was sexier than you ever could've imagined. He left a lot to the imagination with all his suits, but like this, you got to take in his loving eyes, messed up hair, soft skin, toned arms, and the chest hair that made a lovely trail down to his large member that's standing at attention for you.

"Come here, sexy," you command.

"Who? Me?" he points to himself, jokingly.

You reach up, and grab his hands, pulling him down on top of you again, "Yes, you."

He lets out an excited moan, kicking his underwear to the floor and snaking a hand down between your thighs. As his fingers tease at your clit, he asks, "You ready, baby doll?"

"Very ready."

That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling your legs up to wrap around his waist, slicking up the head of his cock with spit and a little precum. The next moments are filled with moans from the two of you, as he lines up with your wet entrance and begins to enter you. His hips work slowly, giving small motions to sink into you.

You could tell from the way his hips were bucking lightly that he was torn between taking things slow and fucking into you hastily, right then and there. It's the neediest you'd ever seen him; it's sexy the way you make him lose a bit of that control he always has.

As soon as he's got enough length inside you, he starts rocking into you, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. "Baby, you feel so good," he says as he buries a hand in your hair and his face in your neck, kissing you. His breathing becomes more intense, and his back arches a bit allowing for some room for him to work his hand on you again.

As if the feeling of his hardness pushing in and out of you wasn't enough, his fingers start making circles on your clit, drawing moans from your mouth. "Oh, God, those noises... You're gonna drive me crazy," he whispers in your ear before leaving a few bites on your lobe.

He moves so he can kiss you and look at your pretty face while he makes love to you. He's so excellent, pleasing your clitoris while thrusting his hips into you. You lean up to leave a series of kisses and nips on his neck and collarbone; your fingernails leaving scratches on his back and hands tangling his normally perfect hair.

"Oh, fuck..." you hear Sam say as he slows down his movements.

"You okay, honey?" you ask, concerned.

"More than okay, baby, I just got close," he answers, looking almost embarrassed. It's hard to tell if the flush on his cheeks is from answering your question or from pleasure.

"You could've finished if you wanted," you say with a warm smile.

"Oh, no. I'm not done with you yet, princess." He sits up on his knees, snaking his arm around your back and gripping your hips to lift you off the bed. His other hand rests on your pelvis, and his thumb flicks over your clit. He starts rocking you back and forth on his dick, "How about that? You like that?"

Judging by your moans and the way your back arches for him, he got his answer. He picks up his pace until he's fucking into you with quick, hard thrusts, and your thighs clap against his belly. His fingers relentlessly try to please you, and it's working: you're coming apart at the seams once again for him.

When you feel your second orgasm coming on, you can't help but also feel a little surprised... but also so turned on that he made a mess of you, twice.

Feeling your orgasm and feeling you tighten around his hard length, Sam loses himself. His hips buck into you wildly as he cums deep inside you. He sits back on his heels, and pulls you up to straddle his lap. He pumps into you a few more times while he holds you close to him, kissing anywhere his lips can reach.

Your lips meet and you kiss him several times, both of you feeling very satisfied. You comb your fingers through his hair, fixing it a little bit; he seems to like that. His arms are wrapped around you, and he just holds you on his lap like that for a few minutes, kissing your chest.

He lays his head against your shoulder, and let's out a deep breath, "Yeah, I'm in love," he giggles and stares up at you with an innocent, happy look.

"Me too," you say quietly, kissing his head with a bit of a sad look on your face.

"Hey!" he gets you to look down at him, "You okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah... I just wish we could be together, and that it wouldn't be so complicated," you tell Sam.

He lays you down on the bed, pulling out of you, then he lays next to you and holds you in his arms, "Me too, baby, me too. I just feel bad because it's my fault we can't be together like we want to."

"Oh, Sam, you know I don't blame you for that. No one enters into a bad marriage on purpose."

"No, but you were always right about her. I should've listened to you, considering I came to you for advice. She never cared about me."

"Yeah, but you cared about her, and you still do," you say with a warm smile, "she's the mother of your child. You have a big heart, Sam."

You wrap your arms around his neck and hold his head against your chest. "I care about you, too," you hear him mutter.

"I know you do. I care about you, too," you whisper, snuggling into him to drift off to sleep in his arms.

• • •

The sex was amazing, but there's nothing like waking up in the arms of someone you love, at least, that's how you feel this morning. The way Sam clings to you, almost desperately, lets you know that while you may not wake exactly like this every morning, you will wake up loved each morning.

As you begin to stir a bit, Sam's arms squeeze around you, not wanting you to leave your comfortable spooning position. He grumbles to himself a few times before finally cracking his eyes open to tell you, "Good morning, beautiful."

"Good morning," you respond, as he lies there with his eyes closed like he may go back to sleep.

He opens his eyes again, slowly, and you feel his hand gently move the covers off of you. You groan when the cool air hits your skin. "God damn, baby, you look so good," his voice rumbles.

"Mmm... You pushed the blankets off me just to tell me I look good?"

"Well, no..." he starts, and he finishes his statement by kissing your shoulder blade and neck, teasing at your thighs, and feeling your breasts. He presses his hips into your backside, letting you feel his morning wood.

"Oooh, someone's happy!" you giggle, pushing your butt back into him to give him some friction.

"I think you meant horny," he slides a hand down, grabbing at your butt before sliding further down teasing between your legs. He slowly runs his middle finger back and forth along your clit and your entrance, getting you wet for him.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Hm?" He mutters between kisses.

"I love you. I wanted to make sure to say it first for once."

He chuckles and continues what he's doing, "And I love you, and I wanna make sure you know this isn't about sex."

"Well, it's a little hard to believe that when you have a finger inside me, but Sam Rothstein is a man who's good on his word, so I'll believe you...just this once," you look over your shoulder, both of you grinning uncontrollably. You reach back and take his member in your hand, stroking it, "However, for the next few minutes, I'd like to make it about sex."

"Mmm, yes ma'am!" Sam exclaims, attacking your neck with sloppy kisses, and repositioning himself to enter you. You both relax into those feelings of pleasure as his warm cock fills you. He grips your hips loosely and thrusts his hips into you almost lazily, but it feels good.

His hand creeps down and grips your thigh, gently lifting your leg up in the air. You both light up with noises, moans, whines, heavy breathing. Within a few minutes, you hear Sam breathe out, "Baby, baby, I'm gonna cum."

You let out a hum, "Cum for me, sweetheart."

Sam pulls you close to him, moving against you with quick, small pumps. You grab his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, while he holds you tightly. After his orgasm, he slides out of you easily and turns you over to kiss your lips for the first time that morning.

Sam is so needy after sex; he wants to hold you as close as possible and shower you in kisses and affection and sweet words.

"I'm sorry I didn't finish you off, honey," Sam says to you.

"It's okay, sweetie, I'm just glad you felt so good," you hold his head in your hands, nuzzling your nose against his.

He lowers his voice as if someone might hear him, "I'll make up for it in the shower," giving you a little wink.

And he does, because Sam Rothstein is a man who's good on his word.

• • •

Since you and Sam spent that weekend together, you start fucking like bunnies. That is to say: you find time to make love to one another often, especially when Ginger is out of town. You both prefer to do it at your home, but when Sam has Amy, he will sometimes invite you over; you quickly get past sleeping in another woman's bed, because you know Sam's heart belongs to you. Sex for the two of you isn't about getting off; it's one of the many ways you show your feelings for one another.

You both find it very hard to hide your feelings for one another in front of others. You can be so open with one another and your feelings when you're in your little bubble. Despite that, you have to put your feelings aside for The Tangiers charity event tonight. Sam has a lot of big spenders flying in for this event; it's going to bring in a lot of money and a lot of publicity for the casino.

"Hey, baby," you say, sneaking into Sam's office, closing the door quietly.

He's standing by his desk signing a few papers; this is probably the one quiet moment he'll have all night. "Hey, princess," he gives you a cute look, signing a few more papers. You sit in comfortable silence, while you wait for him to finish his work. "Alright," he says, tapping his pen on the final paper, "Bring that sweet ass over here!"

He sits on the edge of his desk and pulls you into a hug, taking in your scent and the way your dress feels against your body. He lets out a relaxed sigh, "I missed you."

It has been few days since you've seen each other. With Ginger being home in preparation for this event, you and Sam decided it was best not to see each other. "I missed you, too," you nuzzle into him.

You feel his hand under your chin, lifting your face so he can kiss you. You kiss slowly at first, letting Sam explore your mouth with his tongue, but things quickly get more heated since it feels like it's been so long since you had each other.

He turns you around, sitting you on his thigh as he leans against his desk. You both crane your necks to keep your lips connected. Sam presses your back against his chest before dipping his hand into your dress, fingers teasing your nipple. You inhale sharply and brace a hand on his hip.

"You like that?" he purrs in your ear.

"Mm-hmm," you hum, leaning your head back against him.

His free hand pulls your dress up and disappears between your thighs, touching you through your panties.

"Sam..." you whine, moving your hand to squeeze at his half-hard length.

"Seems like someone misses me, needy baby," he whipsers to you.

You urge his hands off of you and stand up, facing him, "Now let's get something straight, Mr. Rothstein: I wasn't needy when I came in this office. I patiently waited for you to finish signing things, and then YOU made me needy."

There's a long pause between you before Sam cracks a little smirk and says, "You're sexy when you're mad."

Once you head downstairs to the casino floor, the party is on. Millionaires and billionaires fill the room, enjoying slots, tables, and free champagne. Sam always thought it was funny how rich people love a free handout.

Every business associate that Sam knew was here, plus the rich friends they brought with them. Those of you who spend a lot of time at the casino mingle with the guests who came to spend money; your job is to keep them spending money, because a hefty portion of what the house makes tonight is going to be split between a few charities. It was Billy's idea, saying that a charity event would be great publicity and raise goodwill with the people.

Most of your evening goes by playing table games with people you barely knew, so it's nice to see Billy, a familiar face. You hadn't seen him since you got there.

He hands you a glass of champagne and you find a more secluded place to talk while Billy watches the floor. You see Sam doing the same from his usual spot; Sam sees you and gives you a cute look, scrunching his nose when Billy isn't looking.

Almost on queue, Billy smirks, "So, you and Ace, huh?"

"Huh? What?" you stammer, caught off guard.

"Don't worry, I haven't told anyone. You know my lips are sealed," he has a pleased look on his face, and he gives you a wink.

You sigh and give Billy a knowing look, confirming his suspicions, "How'd you know?"

"Well, I'll admit it took me a while to catch on, because you two have always been close. Sam's been much happier the past few weeks, but I chalked it up to Ginger getting out of his hair with her little vacations. Tonight has been the first dead giveaway: you sneaking up to his office and coming down to the floor together, and the way he's been keeping an eye on you all evening, like he's worried about you getting too far away from him."

If Sam had been watching you like that, you hadn't noticed, but it was endearing. "You should tell him not to blow our cover," you smirk at Billy.

"Oh, I plan on it," Billy leans into you, "Let me tell you a secret, (Y/N). I've always liked you two together, and I think you have always liked one another; maybe you were just too blinded by the Vegas lights to see it... So, I'll keep your secret, because you two deserve to be happy." His hand squeezes your shoulder, and he clinks his glass with yours before leaving you to go stand with Sam so they can watch the floor together.

As you walk the floor looking for a group of tycoons to mingle with, you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn to see Ginger who is now leading you across the casino floor.

"Hey, girl! Wanna work a table together? Maybe if we put our heads together, we could pull in more money." She is oddly pleasant in her tone of voice, but the way her nails grip your arm gives you a different vibe; however, you don't feel you have much choice in the matter. You are swept off to a table far away from the center of the casino, far away from Sam and Billy.

Unexpectedly, Ginger is nice to you and even jokes with you as you hustle all the rich men gathered around the roulette table, getting them to spend all of their money. When that's over, it's like a switch flips.

She drags you aside away from everyone except a few bouncers, and begins her tirade, "It's you. I know it's you." She's doing her best to remain calm with all of the donors around, but you knew she was high; she was always on something anymore.

"Ginger, what are you talking about?"

"You- your perfume! I smell it... in my bed, on Ace! I know you're sleeping with him!"

You can tell she's getting worked up, and you really don't want her to start yelling. "Now, we don't want things to get out of hand. You know I spend a lot of time with Sam; I've been helping him babysit Amy more since you guys have been more separate. Isn't it possible you smell my perfume around him because of that? You probably smell it on Amy too, right?"

Ginger is frustrated and confused, unable to make sense of things with all that junk in her system, "Yeah, yeah, I guess that makes sense," she pouts.

"Yeah, see? It's okay, everything's okay," you try to calm her down, resting your hand on her upper arm.

"No! Don't touch me!!" she shouts.

"Ginger, don't get excited; we don't wanna ruin the event."

"I don't care what you say; I don't trust you, and I don't trust you with my husband!" she sneers at you, "I have my connections just like your 'Saaam,' and if I find out anything is going on with you and him, you'll be nothing more than one of those holes in the desert these guys like to talk so much about. You're nothing but a whore as it is."

Her face is inches from yours. She had insulted you and threatened your life in a single statement, and clearly she had decided Sam was too personal a name for her husband, since she chastised you for calling him that. You decide to do your worst; you doubt she'll remember this interaction anyway.

"This coming from the woman who can't seem to shake her pimp."

Thankfully the bouncers nearby saw how heated things were getting, and they came over to break it up. They even called Nicky over talk Ginger down. It's pretty bad that even the casino staff knew about Nicky and Ginger, and that bringing Ace over would just make it worse.

But word quickly made it back to Sam about what Ginger had done to you, and so a few days later, he sent her to Beverly Hills with Amy; besides, he only needed her home for that one night at the Tangiers.

• • •

Despite all of his efforts to run a clean joint, it all came crashing down when Sam got word that the FBI had heard all about the casino and the Midwest bosses from that grocery store tap back home. Luckily, they couldn't really bring any heat down on Sam, because he didn't know much; he had been put in Las Vegas to run the casino, and he was even working on getting his gaming license which looked good on him.

Nicky, however, did get a lot of heat. He already had the attention of the Las Vegas police for a number of crimes, and he was the liaison between Las Vegas and and the Midwest bosses.

Sam had already been trying to pull away from Nicky and that meant also pulling away from the gangster business that had made him so successful as a handicapper.

Thankfully with Ginger out of town, you got to be with Sam when he found out about all this. There isn't much he can do, but he knows it's a possibility his whole casino could go under.

In order to cheer him up, you invite Sam to your place for a few days, so he can use your home as a getaway to just relax as much as he can. Despite everything going on, you both actually have a pretty good time. Sam only takes the calls he absolutely has to take which mostly meant Billy, and you both enjoy cooking together, showering together, making love together...

Unfortunately he can't stay for more than a few days or people will start to realize he isn't home, and any calls other than to Billy needed to come from Sam's house, especially any calls to Ginger. And so this morning you head off to Sam's place, so he can call the hotel in Beverly Hills to check on his wife and child.

He gets on the phone and cheerily greets the hotel receptionist before asking to be put through to Ginger's room. His tone quickly drops when he questions, "𝘔𝘳. and Mrs. Rothstein?"

You give him a concerned look as he wraps up the conversation and slams the phone down on the hook. He lets out a frustrated sigh and rubs his chin before he says, "She checked out of the hotel with another man and my kid."

"It's not Nicky, is it?" you ask.

"No, it's not Nicky, I know it's not Nicky; he's got too much heat on him to leave Vegas." That could only mean one thing: Lester.

Sam immediately gets back on the phone calling the police, the FBI agents he'd been in contact with, even Nicky, to try to find where Ginger and this pimp had taken his daughter. The FBI is very gracious in helping track down Ginger and Amy, quickly getting back to Sam with an address and phone number for where they are.

After a phone call with Lester that didn't really go anywhere, Sam is feeling helpless about what to do. He's so furious with Ginger, but he needs her to bring their daughter home. He sinks down into the couch when he looks at you desperately; he doesn't know what to do.

You quickly rush over and curl up next to him, taking the man in your arms, rubbing his shoulders for comfort. "How do I get her home? I just want Amy safe; she's not safe with that pimp, and clearly she's not safe with her mother anymore either."

"You're not gonna like to hear this, but I think Nicky is your best bet to get her back," you suggest.

He simply nods his head as he realizes you're right, then he picks up the phone to call his friend.

• • •

The next few days Sam and Ginger are walking on eggshells. It couldn't be more obvious that Ginger doesn't want to be home, but Sam had to know that Amy is safe. Since Ginger has to be home, Sam even tries being sweet to her again. He had tried to cuddle with her a few times, something they hadn't done in years, but she would just reject him each time, typically leaving the room. Sam is at his wits' end; he doesn't know what else to try with Ginger, what other approach he could take.

One night as Sam is about to leave the casino to head home, you follow him out to his car, "just to talk," you tell him. You hadn't seen him in days and you miss him.

"Hey, baby," Sam says wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"Hey, honey. I missed you," you smile at him.

He hums, "I miss you too, and I'm sorry you're in the middle of all this... It's not fair to you."

"It's okay, Sam. You're the one who's in a tough spot here. I'm just here to support you and love you and... make you feel better..." you trail off as you squeeze his thigh, your fingers gracing past his crotch.

"Oh..." Sam says, giving you a cheeky look.

You slide your hand back and forth over the front of his pants, getting him hard, while you lightly kiss at his neck and ear. "You've just been so stressed lately, sweetie; let me help you relax."

When his breathing becomes heavy, you know he's ready for more, "Baby girl, I need your mouth on me, now." He lets out a groan when you open his pants and stroke him through his underwear.

You don't waste much time before you're going down on him, kissing his leaking member before taking it in your mouth. He looks down at you and tries to keep his breathing even; all this came on pretty suddenly so you've got Sam very worked up. He takes your hair in his hands, forming a make shift ponytail to keep your hair out your face. He also likes to watch your face bob up and down on his cock.

You hollow out your cheeks and Sam savors that intense sucking feeling. Between that and your tongue pressing against his tip, he can hardly contain himself. You wrap a hand around the base of his member, pumping what you can't take in your mouth.

Sam's hands push you down making you take as much of him as you can, and his breathing becomes labored, letting out little moans as he climaxes in your mouth.

You take down what you can and lick up any of the rest. You look up to see Sam giving you a look with raised eyebrows.

"I didn't want you to make a mess..." you say with a raspy voice as you wipe your lips.

He simply stares at you, as if he was still trying to make sense of what just happened, before he grabs your hair and pulls you into a rough kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. When he pulls away from you breathing heavily, he says, "Baby, you have no idea how bad I needed that. Thank you." He softens up and pulls you back towards him, this time laying your head in the crook of his neck.

Sam leaves you at the Tangiers and at home, walks into a nightmare: his kid is tied to her bed and his wife is nowhere to be found. Despite the flood of panic and anger that he feels, he keeps his wits about him and calls you to come get Amy; with you is the safest place for her right now while Sam searches for Ginger. You only see him for a quick moment, before he rushes out the door, leaving you to pack Amy a bag and take her to your house for a few days.

Sam knows Ginger is at Nicky's new restaurant; he had called before he left the house. His tires screech to a halt as he rolls up to the place of business.

After a run-in with Nicky at the door and a quiet altercation in the corner booth, where Sam definitely threatened Ginger's life for what she did to Amy, Sam managed to get his wife in the car. On the ride home, oddly, all Sam could think was, "Where does Nicky get off asking 𝘮𝘦 to be civil, when he's the one that always gets heat brought on us?"

It's probably just a temporary distraction from elephant in the room, or car, in this case.

Sam has to admit: he's at his wits' end with Ginger. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about leaving her or kicking her out. But when they walk into the house, and he sees the apologetic look in his wife's eyes, whether honest or manipulative, one thought crosses his mind, "She's the mother of my child."

How could he walk out on her? He had promised she'd be taken care of, and even though he really only meant financially, his big heart wouldn't allow him to hurt her.

She doesn't care what he does; she won't be bothered as long as she gets the money she's promised.

"Come on, honey, let's go to bed," Sam says softly, taking his wife's hand. They take a few steps together before the man stops and turns to her; he places his hands on her sides, seeing if she'll hug him. When she does, sadly, it leaves Sam with a shred of hope for their relationship.

• • •

Sam had been exhausted, so he went to bed with the promise that Ginger would meet him there after she gets a shower. However, when Sam wakes up, seeing the time on the clock and the other half of his bed empty; he's immediately filled with suspicion.

At 3:03 A.M., he finds himself sneaking down the hallway--sneaking... in his own house. He shakes his head and quietly shuffles down the hallway towards the living room, where he can hear Ginger's voice moving at a rapid and excited pace.

"I don't care- I don't care!! I want that fucker dead! I want him dead! And that little slut too!! Sleeping in my bed- No! No, I will not calm down... I want a hit on that bitch, that way he can 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵! The same way he hurt me!" Ginger snarls and sobs into the phone.

Sam's heart sank. The thought of losing you--no, he couldn't think about that right now; he simply springs into action, grabbing the phone from Ginger's hands. "Who's this?" he demands to the person on the other end of the line, before slamming the phone down only a second later as Ginger leaps up, practically attacking Sam by pounding her balled up hands against his chest and arms.

"You want me dead, huh? You want me outta the picture?!" his voice booms as she starts to wrestle with him, crying and screaming. "Come with me, come on!" He gets her flailing hands undercontol and drags her down the hallway; Ginger's feet come out from under her, and he just keeps dragging her, both of them yelling at each other.

"I hate you!!! I hate your guts!" Ginger shouts at Sam from where she's laying on the floor of their walk in closet, her face red from crying.

"I know, you evil bitch! What did I ever do to you, huh? I tried to love you and look where it got me..." He slaps a duffle bag down on her lap.

"What's this?" she asks.

He follows it with a pile of clothes, gorgeous, expensive fabrics hitting the floor, "Get your shit, and get out," Sam growls, fire and pain in his eyes.

"You can't kick me out, you can't put me out on the street with no money!!!" She jumps up and starts grabbing expensive clothes.

"Money's all you care about, huh?" he questions, bending down to a shoe box under his clothes; he pulls out all that would fit in his hands, bringing it over to her on the floor. "Is this enough?? You'll probably blow through this in a week!" He dumps the cash in her lap, storming off from her to rip more of her clothes off hangers.

"You can't abandon me!! You told me I'd be taken care of! If you kick me out, I'll go take all my jewelry out the bank!!" she threatens.

He grabs her set of keys, taking her house key off the ring, leaving her with car keys and her bank keys. "And I will not stop you," Sam says, almost calmly.

He knew the key to his millions was still in his desk drawer upstairs, she'd only be leaving with the key to what's hers. He'd been feeling unsure about walking out on her, but Sam made his decision the moment Ginger threatened your life.

• • •

For the next week, you and Sam were waiting for the ball to drop and for Ginger to come storming through that door. But in another way, Sam didn't care; he had you over all the time, even when people came over. He started to put his hands on your waist or even kiss you in front of others. It made you so nervous the first time he kissed you in front of Nicky, but Sam knew what he was doing. Nicky couldn't run to anyone about it, because what Nicky had done was worse in the eyes of the Midwest bosses: sleeping with his best friend's wife, their precious "Golden Jew."

But that isn't the reason Nicky's here right now.

"Ace, they took the bosses in. Arrested every single one of 'em. The FBI knows what's going on, all of it, but they ain't got nothing on me or you, because we don't go in room where they count the money. That doesn't mean they won't question us though."

And boy did they. Sam was already irritated that his name was in the paper every time Nicky went to court for some crime, but now it was coming out that him and Nicky were both being held for questioning for the crime bust in the Midwest.

Nicky pretty much refused to give them anything, but Sam had a reputation with the law and a relationship with the FBI out here. They had helped him get his kid back after all. So, he didn't give them any new information, but he didn't mind confirming certain things they already knew, as long as it didn't incriminate him.

Because of his cooperation, the authorities left Sam alone after a little while. Most of the attention was on Nicky and what his connections were to the Midwest bosses and the casino. Somehow Nicky got himself out of it without getting arrested; Sam had to wonder if it was Nicky's rambling or his threats that did the trick.

Weeks went by, and it was clear that the casino was going down. It wasn't for trying though. Sam fought so hard to keep his precious establishment running, but the place had been riddled with scandals. And even with the bosses facing trial, the powers that be decided to get rid of the whole scam; Sam losing The Tangiers would just be a necessary evil to them.

Sam decided it was a better time than ever to leave the business behind. Besides, he'd never been into crime the way Nicky was; he'd just been pulled into this because he was a money maker.

So as Sam walks out of the casino for the last time, locking the doors to the completely empty building, he lights a cigarette and heads over to his car with only one thing on his mind: going home to you and Amy. Unfortunately, he won't make it home as soon as he would have liked, as his car goes up in flames from a car bomb that must've been rigged while he was inside the casino.

Sam had planned for this kind of thing though, and he had the manufacturers of the vehicle place a special metal plate under the passenger seat, giving him a few valuable seconds to save his life.

You get the call during Sam's ambulance ride to the hospital. At first you're devastated--why would anyone want to hurt your Sam? Before you could find to a conclusion, you quickly snap out of it, getting Amy into the car to get to the hospital.

"Mr. Rothstein-"

"I told you, I don't want-

"Mr. Rothstein, we think it's important that we run this test," the doctor speaks over Sam. Must be an important test for him to interrupt Ace Rothstein.

"I'm fine!" your boyfriend groans, "My arm is burned, but I feel fine."

"But sir, it's possible the adrenaline in your system-"

"Sam Rothstein!" You cut the doctor off, storming in with Amy on your hip.

"Hey, baby!" he holds a hand out towards you.

"Don't you 'baby' me. I know you're not arguing with this doctor, refusing medical advice!! You don't just have yourself to worry about here, you have me and Amy- and I swear to God, Sam Rothstein if you die on me, you'll have more than heaven and hell to worry about! You'll have me to answer to," you finish your rant with a stern look.

His face drops for a moment before a little smirk forms, "You're sexy when you're mad."

Ignoring him, you turn to his doctor, "Run any tests you need to. I'll deal with him." You pat the doctor on his tie.

"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Rothstein," the doctor says as you walk away, giving them room to do what they need to do.

"Oh, we're not married... yet," Sam explains, scrunching his nose cutely at you.

"Well I'm not gonna be the one to tell her that," the doctor says under his breath.

As they wheel Sam out of the room to take him for some tests, you hear Amy's voice, "Why are you mad at daddy?"

"I'm not mad at daddy," a little chuckle leaves you and you hug the child close to you, "I just love him, and so I had to make him listen to the doctors."

• • •

You pick Sam up just a few days later, perfectly fine, except for some burns on his arm. He sits in the passenger seat of your car with a pile of things from the hospital: his coral pink suit in a plastic bag, burned in a few spots from the bomb, a folder with some information about caring for his burns, a packet full of bandages and prescription ointment, and a large yellow envelope.

"Now, don't be mad," Sam starts.

"What did you do?" you glare at him for a second before turning your eyes back to the road.

"I, uh, got a real estate agent to start looking for new homes for us."

"Sammy, why would I be mad about that? We practically live together already!"

"These homes--they're not in Las Vegas."

"What?!" you practically give him whiplash, pulling the car into a random parking lot. "You wanna leave Las Vegas? Sam, I grew up here..."

He looks down at his lap and back up at you, "I know," it comes out so quietly, "I just don't think we're safe here anymore... I'm not in the business anymore, I'm but afforded the same protections as I used to be. What if they come after you next? Or Amy? Right now, I know enough people that we could get out quietly..."

"Oh, Sam..." You cup his face in your hands, "I'm sorry I reacted like that, I'm scared too, and now I have a kid to worry about. I know she's not mine yet, but if anything happened to Amy-" You have to stop yourself before you cry.

"Here," he says, grabbing the yellow envelope, "I gave some pictures of some houses, and there's one I really like."

Instead of driving your boyfriend home, you sit in the car looking at pictures of beautiful homes, and daydreaming about where how you'll arrange the living room, where you'll put the bed, Amy playing in the backyard.

"Hey, look at this last one," he tells you.

"Is this the one you like?"

"Yeah," his face has a happy, soft smile as he thinks about moving into this house with you; he just knows it's perfect.

"Hmmm... San Diego, huh? 4 bedrooms and a mother-in-law suite. Sam we don't need 4 bedrooms," you look up at him.

He gently places his hand on your belly, "We might."

Your heart just melts... Even if you aren't sure about kids, clearly the thought makes him happy.

"Okay so there's a pool and a lot of grass, maybe we could put a trampoline there..."

• • •

Boxes are scattered all around your new home; you picked the one in San Diego, of course. It's completely perfect.

The movers had dropped off all the big furniture and help you set it up; Sam even got them to help set up Amy's trampoline, and he was so thrilled to surprise her with it. But it will be a few more days before the decorators can come to paint, unpack, and lay out the rest. Nothing but luxury for Sam Rothstein and his "wife."

Right now, Sam is dropping Amy off at the neighbor's house for a play date, so she can get to know the kids in the area. Of course, you two had been sure to meet with this couple first to scope them out, making sure they are safe for Amy to be around.

The plan is to get some unpacking done when your man gets home, but you thought it might be nice to spend some quality alone time together in your new home.

"Honey, I'm home!" Sam chimes at the front door; it makes him so happy to be able to say that. Sam stops at the door to look around for you.

You saunter down the hallway, wearing a black trench coat and bright red high heels, "Hey, sexy!"

"Mmmm," Sam moans, "I think I should be saying that to you. What's this, baby?"

You stop just out of his reach and untie your jacket, holding it open to show off a new set of candy red lacy lingerie, "Just a little..." you turn around and drop the coat to the floor, revealing a big red bow at the top of your ass, "house warming present." You throw him a sultry look over your shoulder before walking into the kitchen, heels clicking loudly on your new porcelain floor.

Sam pulls his jaw up off the floor and quickly follows, watching as you crawl up onto the marble-top kitchen island. He walks over, appreciating your body by rubbing his hands on your sides, eyes roaming the red fabric hugging your frame. You rake your hands through his hair, and pull him into you, landing his face right between your breasts, which he seems very okay with judging by the way he closes his eyes and starts kissing at them. He wraps his arms around your waist, trying to pull you off the counter.

"Oh no, sir, Mr. Rothstein, you're not taking me to that bedroom. If we're gonna break this house in, we're gonna do it my way. What's that thing you like to say?" You look up acting like you're trying to remember, "There are three ways of doing things around here: the right way, the wrong way, and the way that I do it..."

You practically yank him up onto the counter with you, his legs fumbling with the bar stools to help get him up there. Before Sam can even get his bearings straight, you have his back pinned against the marble, your lips taking his in a passionate, sloppy kiss.

Sam pushes you off of him, breathing heavily, "Damn, baby girl, where's this coming from? Not that I'm complaining."

"Well, my sexy, rich sugar daddy just bought me a nice, new house, and I just wanna thank him," you nuzzle into him.

"Sugar daddy, huh? Is that all I am to you?" he gives you a loving look, both of you smiling at his joke.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Moneybags..." You sit up and stretch a leg across his lap straddling him. As you grind your hips back and forth against his hard on, you both let out some light moans and hot sighs. His belt buckle makes some clinking noises as you unhook it before swiftly tugging it from his belt loops and dropping it to the floor.

Zip! You open his pants and pull them down just a few inches so you can return to grinding against his member through a much thinner layer of fabric. When Sam's fingers snake towards his groin so he can further please himself, he's met with a harsh smack on the hand.

"All the pleasure you feel is gonna come from me, got it?" you tell Sam.

He raises his eyebrows, surprised by this change that's overcome you, but down for the ride--literally. The pressure of his hardness against your clit is a great warm up for you, so you keep at it until Sam has a couple of wet spots on his underwear: one from you and one from his pre-cum soaking through.

At that point, you move off of him enough to pull his pants and boxer briefs down to his upper thighs, his erection springing free. You crawl back on top of him, pinning his wrists to the counter just above his head while you kiss him. You pull away, stroking his chin and swiping your thumb across his lips.

"Ready, baby?" you ask, kissing his cheek lightly.

"I- uhhh, yeah," he breathes out.

"Cat got your tongue, silly?" you giggle.

"No, I just, I've never -uh- had a girl top me quite like this," he explains.

"Oh, um, should I stop?" you ask innocently as you grind against his dick again.

"NO- no. I, um... You shouldn't stop."

The way Sam is fumbling through the conversation tells you that he probably likes the treatment he's being given, and so you move your hips against him a few more times before moving your panties to the side and guiding his member to your entrance. Your boyfriend let's out a low groan when he feels that warm wetness surround his sex; you think that's probably his favorite part of making love.

You start by setting a leisurely pace, knowing Sam will want more, but, gosh, the tease is so satisfying too...

"Please, baby," Sam breathes.

"Please what?" you play dumb.

"Go faster... Please, baby." So predictable of him.

"Mmmm, you mean you don't like when I take my time with you?" You speed up juuuust a little bit, but not nearly as much as he would've liked.

"I thought I was in charge in the bedroom," he groans.

"Well, we're not in the bedroom are we?" You lean down to kiss him, pinning his hands down again, next to his shoulders this time. You continue to hold them down while you pick up the pace, leaving Sam feeling a bit helpless as he can't touch you.

You take a little break from all the bouncing to slide back and forth, achieving a new kind of friction. Sam curls his hips up into you, clearly enjoying the sensation.

"Let me touch you, please?" Of course you're going to give in, but not without hearing him beg a little more. No one has this kind of control over Sam "Ace" Rothstein; no one but you. "Babyyy... Please, you know I like to hold you."

He gets nothing but silence in response, oh, and your hips working even faster, which only serves to make him more needy. "(Y/N), please... please, baby, I wanna hold you so bad."

You let go of his wrists and intertwine your first with his for a moment before his hands move to your face to cup your cheek. Afterwards, his palms smooth over your chest and arms; he's looking up at you: your pretty face, soft skin, the way your hair bounces along with your breasts as you ride him.

His hips become less tame the closer he gets to his climax. He's a man who just can't help himself; he likes to be in on the action, even if he isn't on top.

You lean yourself back, placing your palms on the cool countertop, giving him a great angle to attack your g-spot. Sam's hands roam your thighs until you find your rhythm with the changed position, but once he knows he's hitting the right spots, his fingers dive in to stimulate you from the outside as well. One hand pinches and rubs your nipple while the other sets a dangerous speed on your clit.

Despite you trying to have so much control over him, Sam just knows exactly what buttons to push on you, and you're cumming in a matter of seconds. The way it snuck up on you causes you to bend forward as your orgasm pulses through you.

The man beneath you takes advantage of this by pulling you flush to his chest, bracing his feet on the counter top, and railing up into you as fast as he can. You turn into nothing but a noisy mess as he uses your body to get off.

"Fuck, baby, I'm cumming..." Sam finds his release before he even realizes it; he just feels so tangled up and lost in the pleasure of being with you.

A few seconds later, you both find yourselves lying on the kitchen island, completely limp and trying to catch your breath. Sam lazily rolls onto his side, rolling you onto the marble counter beside him. Goosebumps litter your skin as the cold countertop comes in contact with you. You both lay on the counter, staring at each other before you both brsk out into giggles.

"I can't believe you let me fuck you on this thing," you laugh, patting the marble, "and I can't believe you let me fuck you... Like that. I wasn't being too much, was I?"

Sam tucks himself back into his pants, zipping them up and buttoning them before wrapping an arm around your waist. "What? You being a little dominatrix? No, I don't think it was too much," he nuzzles his nose against yours and gives you a few soft kisses. "But," he starts, "the only woman allowed to have me like that is Mrs. Sam Rothstein..."

"Well, uh- that's not me..." you say, a little confused.

"It could be," he says in a low, soft voice, "Whaddya say? You wanna marry me?"

"Sam-" you start to feel overwhelmed for a few reasons: 1. He literally just proposed to you, but 2. "You're still married, Sam. I couldn't be your wife even if I wanted to!" Tears start to form in your eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey, shhh..." he says, pulling you into a cuddle, "You remember when I flew back to Vegas last week to go close the sale on the house there?"

You sniffle and look up at him, "Mm-hmm."

"Well I ran into one of the judges that used to come by the casino all the time, he was a big spender, but we treated him real nice. He told me he had heard everything from his friends on the force, everything about Ginger and the car bombing. We talked for a while, and he told me to stop by his chambers before I left the city," Sam fishes in his pocket for some folded up papers, "and he gave me this."

He hands you the papers to unfold and look at. "Oh... Oh, Sam! He granted you a divorce. Why didn't you tell me??"

"I wanted to surprise you..." He smiles that charming smile.

"Well, I'm certainly surprised," you hug him by nuzzling into his chest, "I didn't even know you were considering this yet."

"I've been considering it for years, honey," he whispers, kissing you on the temple, "ever since I told you I love you."

You both pause to simply take in the other person for a moment: Sam's clothes all disheveled and your still in your lingerie, cuddling on the stone counter.

"You know I think you're perfect, right? If there was just one thing I could change about you, it would be your last name. So, whaddya think, princess? You wanna try Rothstein on for size?"

The tears quickly return to your eyes, "Yeah, yeah- yes!" You grab his face and start kissing him over and over.

He can hardly pull you off of him for all the kisses, not that he wants to. However, when you decide you're done loving on your fiancé, he apologizes, "I'm sorry I don't have a ring for you right now, but ummm," he reaches for his little pinky ring; it's gold and pink to match his outfit for that day, "you can wear this for now." He slips the piece of metal onto your left ring finger; it doesn't fit that well, but you're honored to wear it.

Sam sits up, sliding off the counter. He stands at the edge of the island, pulling you towards him and wrapping your legs around his waist. He cups your head in both his hands and kisses you softly. "Wanna go to 'break in' the bathtub, Mrs. Rothstein?"

[intheticklecloset]

Lift Your Spirits (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

So much cuuuuute! Oikawa is really growing on me, I have to say. I didn’t care much for him at first but I’m beginning to really like him as time goes on! Also ticklish Oikawa is just as adorable as ler Oikawa is flustering, so that’s a bonus. Enjoy this cute fluff fest! ^^

27. “You haven’t said stop this whole time. Do you like this?”

31. “This is so embarrassing!”

33. “Don’t wiggle your fingers at me like that.”

You’ll notice for some of the numbered prompts I didn’t use the exact quote, but a variation thereof. This was to help prevent repetitiveness as well as maintain believable story flow. They’re still in the fic, just perhaps not word for word.

~

Iwaizumi: Where are you? (read)

Iwaizumi: Home sick? (read)

Iwaizumi: Dude I know you’re reading these (read)

Iwaizumi: Answer me (read)

Iwaizumi: I’m assuming you’re dead (read)

Iwaizumi: K, I’m coming to get your body for burial after school (read)

*

Iwaizumi growled in frustration as he knocked on Oikawa’s front door for the second time after having received no answer the first time. It was one thing for his friend to leave him on read, but to be physically at his residence and be ignored? When Iwa knew the jerk knew he was coming? That was a step too far. He pulled out his phone to call the setter, then thought better of it. If he wasn’t answering his texts, why would he answer a phone call?

“Toru!” he yelled finally. “I know you’re in there, you piece of crap! Don’t make me bust down the door. I’ll do it!”

There was a long silence. Resigned, Iwa stepped back, reared up his leg, and was just beginning to kick when the front door finally opened, and rather than bust in like a movie detective to save the day, he unceremoniously sprawled into Oikawa’s living room, barely catching a glimpse of his friend before he disappeared into his bedroom.

Oh, that was rude.

“Oikawa!” he snapped, getting to his feet, closing the door, and bounding after him just in time to see the setter flop down on his bed, facing away from him. “You’d better have a good reason for being an extra special jerk today. I hope for your sake you’re delusional with a fever.”

“I’m not,” Oikawa mumbled. “Just didn’t want to buy a new door.”

“The heck is going on with you?” Iwa demanded, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. “If you’re not feeling well I’m sorry, but you could have at least sent a puking emoji or something instead of leaving me on read all day. What is your deal?”

“Sorry.” The setter’s normally snarky, arrogant voice was gone, replaced instead by a quiet, submissive one. “I just want to be alone.”

“That’s it? Seriously?”

“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge. You can have it. Since you went to so much trouble.”

Iwa frowned. This was not like Oikawa. At all. He hesitated, then sat on the end of the bed, trying to catch a glimpse of his friend’s face. He saw the blotchy red splotches and tear-streaked cheeks for only a moment before Oikawa buried his face in his pillow, but that moment was enough, and Iwa immediately felt horrible for yelling at him.

“Hey,” he said, gentler this time. “I’m sorry. I should find out what’s wrong before snapping at you like that. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, but Iwa could take a hint. “Okay. Well, if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

Another long silence. For a few minutes Iwa sat quietly, content to just be there while his friend went through whatever it was that was bothering him. He was about to offer to split the pizza with him when Oikawa spoke again.

“We lost.”

Iwa glanced down at him, and all of a sudden everything made sense. They’d played and lost against Karasuno in the prefecture championships, then sat and watched as the wingless crows then went on to defeat the reigning champions to go on to nationals. It had been unexpected and aggravating, and though the team was upset, Oikawa had done his job by remaining as positive as he could, picking everyone up and encouraging them to practice even harder for next year.

But since he was a third-year…

“Oh.” Iwa gently placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. The team captain had probably not had a moment to himself since the defeat to mourn, and that’s what was happening now. Iwa berated himself. He should have known. “I understand now. I’m sorry, Toru.”

“I expected to lose to Shiratorizawa,” Oikawa muttered into his pillow. “But not them.” Meaning Karasuno.

“I know. Me, too. But…it is what it is.” Iwa squeezed him gently. “Not that it makes it any easier.”

Oikawa groaned, lifting his pillow over his head to hide his face, curling up even further. Iwa knew he was likely crying again, but he didn’t say anything. He knew his friend hated being emotional in front of anyone, even him. So he continued to silently rub his shoulder, letting him have his moment.

Another few minutes went by before Oikawa shifted again, this time blindly reaching for Iwa’s hand and removing it from him. Iwa thought the setter was tired of physical contact and started to pull away, but to his surprise, Oikawa gripped his wrist harder and moved it downward, placing Iwa’s hand on his side and then resuming his earlier position.

Iwa had no idea what that meant, or what to do, so he just sat there. Awkwardly. Waiting for Oikawa to say something.

He didn’t.

Finally, after an excruciating minute, Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow in confusion and gave Oikawa’s side a gentle squeeze. But when the captain tensed up and gripped his pillow even harder, he removed his hand and frowned. “Toru, I want to help you. But I need you to communicate.”

His first instinct when his hand was moved to a new location was obvious, but memories of their younger years together prevented him from following through. He had vivid recollections of a screaming, thrashing, cursing, angry Oikawa and didn’t want to push his friend to that state of mind from the one he was in right now. For that matter, he didn’t want to push him to that state of mind. Period. He’d stopped tickling Oikawa years ago for that very reason.

So he was surprised when his friend let out another groan and said in a muffled voice, “I can’t. It’s too embarrassing.”

“What is?” Iwa asked, confused.

Oikawa gripped the cushion over his head. “Just do it. I don’t mind.” When the silence stretched on again and nothing happened, he lowered his voice so Iwa could only just hear him. “Please, Hajime.”

Entirely lost but not wanting to ignore the obvious plea, Iwa squeezed his side again gently, then switched to poking up and down its length. Oikawa tensed, but didn’t move. “Tell me when to stop,” Iwa said, then turned his fingers into a claw and started digging softly.

This time Oikawa jerked and let out a choked sound, but giggles started to slip through now and then, too. Iwa was astonished that the setter wasn’t fighting him. This was definitely different from the reactions he used to get.

Curious and encouraged, Iwaizumi shifted so he was kneeling on the bed rather than just sitting on it, gently rolling Oikawa onto his back and grabbing both sides, squeezing softly. Oikawa kept the pillow over his face, but louder, clearer snickers could now be heard, and he still wasn’t fighting.

Iwa grinned, unable to help himself. He’d never gotten to tickle his friend before; not really, since Oikawa had always hated it, and Iwa had never wanted to make him angry. Now, though, he’d asked for it. Iwa straddled one of his legs and reached for the pillow.

“Let’s see that smile,” he teased, pulling at the cushion. Oikawa fought for only a moment, then let it slip from his hands, only to then cover his face with his palms. “There we go. Much better.”

The setter was still hiding, but it was harder to cover up his wide smile completely, let alone the blush that had spread to his ears. “Nooo,” he whined in a playful kind of way that reassured Iwa he was feeling more like himself now. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Why?” Iwa wanted to mess with him a little more, but decided that could wait for now. He skittered up and down his friend’s ribs, smiling at the soft chuckles he got in response. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to laugh when you’re feeling sad.”

Oikawa’s groan sounded more like a whine this time.

“I’m surprised you’re not telling me to stop.” Iwa didn’t want to accidentally jinx it and ruin this whole adorable situation, but he couldn’t help but be honest. “Five years ago you punched me in the face for doing this to you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

Iwa couldn’t help but grin. “Have a change of heart about it, Toru? Do you like it now?”

The dark red blush coloring his friend’s cheeks was answer enough, even before Oikawa whined even louder and pleaded, “Shut up.”

“Aww.” Iwaizumi couldn’t help but giggle, too, as he moved to straddle his team captain completely. “That’s so cute.”

“I said shut up, Iwa.”

“Why should I?” The ace teased. “Since you like it now I think I’ll tickle you a little more. I have a lot of time to make up for, don’t you think?”

“Shut up—” Oikawa was so flustered that for a moment he removed his hands from his face to glare at his friend, but the effect was lost for how huge his smile was, and he immediately covered up again. “Don’t tease me.”

“Hey, now, I want to see that smile.” Iwa pouted, reaching forward to pry Oikawa’s hands from his face, pinning them to either side of his head. He smirked at how red the setter’s face got in response. “When did this happen?”

“What?”

“When did you start liking it?”

Oikawa bit his lip and glanced away. “I’ve always liked it. I was just…afraid you’d find out by tickling me when we were younger, so I…got violent. I didn’t mean it. I was just panicked.”

“Did you think I’d tease you about it?”

“You are teasing me about it.”

“No,” Iwa insisted, gentle but firm. “I think it’s cute that you like it. There’s nothing wrong with it. You’re always so good at lifting other people’s spirits. Let me lift yours now, okay?”

Oikawa nodded, and Iwa smirked, sitting back and raising his hands in front of the captain’s face, making them claws again, opening and closing them while lowering them slowly.

“Don’t wiggle your fingers at me like that,” Oikawa muttered, blushing so hard he was practically purple. “If you’re going to tickle me, then do it, you jerk.”

“You’re the jerk,” Iwa shot back before digging his clawed hands into Oikawa’s ribcage, vibrating violently, making the setter sputter and finally start laughing. The sound was music to the ace’s ears. He grinned. “But I’ll let it go for today.”

[justasimplesinner]

Please for the love of fuck give me a happy ending to the riddler/scarecrow breaking hcs that may or may not start off with the reader running into them again and being understandably pissed. I just want to throw a vase at Eddie. I can have a mature conversation with Johnathan with some raised voices and some crying from both parties but I want to throttle that green goblin lookin motherfucker. I want to see fear in that man's eyes as I curbstomp his stank ass for living in my head and never paying rent. Cause that shit broke me no pun intended.

I'm a soft bitch I need someone to put a bandaid on the hurtie and kiss is to make it feel better.

ugh, you fuckin' softies. continuation of this post

Arkham Knight!Riddler getting his happy ending hcs:

like i stated in the previous post, you two may have not been together anymore, but that didn't mean he'd leave you alone. you were the last bit of his sanity, at this point, he didn't know how to live without you. he was constantly lying to himself and you about the motives behind his calls and visits, but truth was, he was just trying to cling on. he couldn't let you go, you were his raft in the middle of the fucking ocean, if he let you go, he'd... he wouldn't survive that. he didn't know how

but it doesn't mean that this whole thing sat well with you. fucking bastard, neglects you for years, treats you like the very dirt he walks on and now has the gall to fucking invade your private space? ruin you completely? it's like it didn't matter if you were with him or not, he'd still find a way to fucking destroy you. and you, on one hand, genuinely wanted out. you wanted him out of your life, because you had only one and you didn't want to live it in misery, you didn't want to just suffer and take it like a good puppy. you weren't even sure he realised the extent to which he fucking hurt you, because he was constantly focusing on himself and no one else, because selfishness was his coping mechanism and he wouldn't change

it was only logical that at some point, you'd have enough. you didn't want to fucking live like this. he didn't have a right to just sit there and do nothing and yet simultaneously do damage. he was a grown fucking man and it was time he made a grown fucking choice

– Well, well, well, look who decided to finally show up-... – you didn't give him the chance to finish, your fist connecting hard with his nose, or maybe it was his cheek, though you hoped it was his eye so it'd hurt the most. You didn't really know, you didn't really care, you've had fucking enough. You knew he was there, in your house, before he even opened his yapping mouth, and you didn't fancy being greeted in your only safe (or, apparently, not-so-safe) space by a fucking insult from the man responsible for all your current misery.

You didn't feel a pang of regret, quite the contrary, his stumbling form and widened eyes gave you this weird feeling of satisfaction. You kind of understood why Batman did what he did, beating Ed's ass was just too rewarding.

– I've had fucking enough of you and your stupid charade! – you didn't plan on beating around the bush anymore, it was time he was fucking faced with the consequences of what he did.

He didn't have the time to recover from your last blow before the first thing you could grab collided with his shoulder - a vase, apparently, and it shattered into small pieces upon impact. Great, now he fucking ruined your favourite vase, too, as if your life wasn't enough for him!

– You have no right to fucking invade my house and treat me like shit even after I've dumped you! – with every word, with every step you took forward, he took one back, eyes wide in genuine fear as he tried to back away from you, maintain a safe distance, as if anything could save him from your wrath now.

– If I mean nothing to you, then why the fuck are you even here?! Why the fuck do you insist on getting me all tangled up in your stupid games?! I'm not gonna fucking sit here and take it like an obedient pet just because you can't get over the fact that we're not together anymore! – you raged on, and you had no intention of stopping, you watched him back away, you watched him stupidly bump into the side of your couch and fall on his stupid fucking ass. He deserved to fall on the floor, not on a set of nice, comfy pillows. But he had no way out now. He had nowhere to run, not when you fucking rounded up on his shock-still form.

– I-... – he dared to try and interrupt you and it was truly the last straw, it was all you needed to have angry tears blur your vision and your hands clenched in fists again.

– You never even fucking apologized to me for anything either! Did it ever fucking occur to you that if, instead of tormenting me and calling me an idiot, you just fucking said you're sorry, pushed your idiotic pride aside and genuinely fucking said you're sorry, then I would've taken you back?! That maybe we wouldn't be here, in this fucking situation, if you just weren't selfish for once and apologized for all the shit you did to me, all the pain you've put me through-

– I'm sorry. – it was so quiet you almost didn't hear it. So shaky and breathy, so fucking... guilty. Heartbroken. So utterly pathetic. Just like he was, just like he looked. Just like you wanted him to be, but now that he was, you hated it. You hated his glossed over, wide eyes, the shame in them, the guilt, the pain. You hated his arms, slightly risen in a protective manner because he expected another blow. He deserved another one, but... it's like he was just a child then. Just this small, broken boy that was afraid to admit he was wrong, that was afraid of the punishment that awaited for him. And all over again, he made you want to pull him close to your chest and kiss it all better, make it so he'd never experience this pain again. And you hated yourself for it.

you've destroyed the fucking dam then. you haven't heard this man apologize to you once in your entire life, and suddenly, you were swarmed with sorries, with regrets and sorrows and his tears. suddenly, he remembered every smallest thing he ever did that made you upset, and he apologized over and over, for everything and anything, and you thought he was going to suffocate with how he was crying and rambling on your couch

god, he wasn't fucking worth it, you knew that, but suddenly, he was in your arms again, and you were soothing his shaking form, again. you were back there to ground him, to comfort him, to make him feel loved, even if he didn't deserve it. you were there to listen to his - probably empty - promises to change, even though you knew he most likely didn't have the power to change at this point, and god dammit - you believed it. or wanted to believe it. you wanted to believe that maybe you were important and that maybe he will put the effort in changing for you this time as you kissed him breathless and let him cling onto you for dear life. you wanted to believe that he deserved a(nother) second chance and that there was still hope for him as you clung right back. you missed having him right there, in your embrace. despite everything. and maybe you were just plain out stupid, or maybe he truly made a promise he, for once, intended to keep. and honestly? you weren't sure if you were ready to find out

you also apologized for throwing a vase at him. he wasn't mad. if he was, you'd throw another one. he had no right to be mad

Arkham Knight!Jon getting his happy ending hcs:

Jon genuinely thought about seeking you out, hoping that maybe that would give him some closure, that it would make him able to work and function properly again. but he realised how stupid, how selfish and disgusting that was. he swore to himself he won't even fucking force you to look at his ugly mug again. he had no right to come to you, expecting the person he pushed away in order to work to help him get back to work. he didn't fucking deserve to even breathe the same air as you

he kept tabs on you though. he had to know where you lived now, where you worked, and knowing where you were at all times would be ideal too, but he didn't dare go that far as to have someone stalk you. it's not out of some creepy obsession, it's actually out of... concern. sounds ridiculous, especially since he hadn't expressed any concern for you for the past few months, but he... he really didn't want to ever hurt you again. even accidentally. even if you were to be collateral damage. he needed to know the places he could target and the places he couldn't, he needed to know when, where and on who he could test his freshest batches and when, where and on who he couldn't. he hurt you enough. he destroyed your mind enough. he wasn't about to subject you to your worst fears too

but a reunion was inevitable, it seemed. one way or another, fate was bent on bringing you two back together. and so, he missed the fact that you changed your jobs and started working at Ace Chemicals, front desk actually, passing around exactly the information he needed about the company, it's building and resources

You genuinely couldn't believe your fucking eyes. You couldn't believe his cheek. The gall he had to be standing right here, in front of you, in his tattered, dirty "glory", milky eyes seeming wild behind the mask, as if he didn't expect you to be here. As if he hadn't planned it all.

– What are you doing here? – you didn't even have the strength to get angry at him anymore. You just resigned yourself to the fact that he was going to haunt you every single day for the rest of your life, be it in person or as a fleeting thought in your mind. You weren't allowed to get rid of him. You weren't allowed to forget.

– I could be asking you the same question. – his tone was hard to decipher. As if it was emotionless, but at the same time wasn't. Like there was something behind it, something he didn't want you to see. Something he himself wasn't ready to face.

You were already too exhausted mentally to give a shit.

– I work here. – you sighed, using that mocking tone he always used on you whenever you asked "stupid" questions. Funny, how one day he tells you there are no stupid questions and that you can always ask away, that he will always listen, and then treats you like an idiot when you do.

And yet you still loved his sarcasm, loved his quips and biting remarks. This was who he was, and you did, after all, love him as a whole.

– I didn't know that. – you were actually ready to believe that, what with how he was still standing there, practically in the doorway. He didn't round up on you yet, he didn't corner you like you were his prey. Actually, it seemed he thought you were the predator, like he was... scared to come closer.

Maybe that was better for the two of you. Who know what you'd do if he started to come at you like he owned you and this whole place.

– Oh, didn't you now? – you couldn't allow him to know though. It was his turn to get the cold shoulder for once. Not that he cared enough to be hurt by it. Not that he ever cared. About you, about anything. Anything but his work.

Jesus, fuck, you couldn't break down in front of him. You already did in the past. Way too many times. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

– You shouldn't've gotten a job here. – he seemed to feel as if he had it anyway – I work with chemicals on a daily basis and you know I'm planning to gas the entire city, it is only logical for me to take advantage of having a huge chemical factory right in the middle of it. It was obvious I'd come here sooner or later. – every word he said, he took a step closer to the desk. Every word he said, he beat you down into the ground harder. Obviously, you were in the wrong. Yet again. Always your fault. Why would you distract him from his goal yet again? Why would you meddle? It seemed that even if you didn't want to, you proved to be an inconvenience, a chink in the chain that was his research. It didn't matter what you did, it was never going to be good enough.

You two weren't compatible, after all.

– Yep, I'm stupid, I get it. Go on, psychoanalize me too, tell me how I did it knowingly just because I wanted to see you again. – you couldn't stop yourself from snarling at him. As always, he only came to you to break down what you've so carefully built back together. It was always that way, if you really thought about it. Every time you were starting to get used to his absence, starting to truly live on your own, he suddenly appeared, acted like everything was fine, acted like he loved you, and you believed it like the fool you were. You believed it and then he left you alone again. You believed it and then you woke up to an empty bed again. Every single time.

Maybe you really were a fucking idiot.

– And did you? – or maybe he was one, because this comment only resulted in riling you up more and yet he dared to fucking ask.

– I fucking hate you Jon. – you weren't ready to believe that what he just did at your words was flinching. That it hurt enough for him to physically move away. – If I wanted to look at your face again, I'd just turn on the news.

– I don't want to hurt you. – that was bullshit. He never did anything else. Hurting you was what he was best at, and he prided himself in it. – But I need access to the vast supply of chemicals your workplace has to offer. – even when you two fucking argued, it always came down to his work. Even when you told him you hated him, all he offered back was that he didn't care and came here just to get shit done. He didn't even fucking care enough to at least say he hates you back.

– You don't want to hurt me? That's a new one. – you were really tempted to just roll your eyes and go back to work. To ignore him, like he always did to you. But suddenly, you realised just how close he was. Practically leaning over the desk. His scarred face hooded and covered in a mask, hidden away from you. That face you wanted to stare into every time you woke up, that face you wanted to be the last thing you saw every day you went to sleep. That face that you wanted to kiss better, to make him know. Make him know you didn't mind. Make him know he was still handsome as ever. He never believed you, and you saw that. You saw that very clearly in his milky eyes. It's like they were fogged, like his mind was surrounded with fog and blurred reality with imagination, like there was this barrier between the two of you.

It wasn't there at first. But then he changed, and you didn't really know who he was anymore.

– I'm sorry. – it felt like pity. Like he pitied you. Like he was saying it just so you'd shut the fuck up and move out of his way at last.

And maybe it was better if you did.

– Save it. I won't get in the way of your plans, don't worry. I'm not getting paid enough to sacrifice myself for this place either way. – you were gathering your things, leaving the computer on, the information unguarded. You could use a day off, anyway. To cry in peace or whatever.

No such luck apparently, since Jonathan immediately had you in a grip, his fingers flexing against your arms.

– No, (Y/n). I'm sorry.

you really weren't ready for that conversation. not at all. you would never be ready for that. seeing Jon apologizing, hell, seeing him crying, genuinely crying in front of you, over you, wasn't something you ever expected to see. Jonathan, despite being a skilled psychologist, never really talked about his emotions. he was always hellbent on talking through yours - well, at the beginning he was, until the whole "spiralling into his obsession" thing started. then, he stopped, because he didn't have time for you. or, as he now explained, didn't have the courage to face how much he's hurt you. you really wanted to fucking punch him then, when he told you that he knew. that he knew all the time what he was doing, and yet never stopped, as if he purposefully sabotaged your relationship so you'd leave him. you knew he had his problems and you couldn't blame him for that, but you could blame him for running away from them. you could blame him for treating you like shit since he woke up from his short coma after the incident with Killer Croc. hell, he took the blame full on

you've never heard him so... bare. so raw. so vulnerable. when he apologized to you, thanked you for everything you ever fucking did, for always helping him, for sticking by him for that long, for enduring him and showing him how it feels to be loved, he was but a broken man. for the first time in... assumably ever, Jonathan didn't hide behind any walls and just... let the words flow. both of you knew that wasn't enough to compensate for what he did. nothing will ever be enough. he will never give you back everything that he took from you, and your heart will never fully heal. even if you two got back together, he wouldn't resign from his research either, and more likely than not, it was all going to end exactly the same, with him hiding away from you because apparently, acting like he didn't love you saved you from the heartbreak, and you having to mend your broken heart on your own, alone, knowing you will never get all your lost time back. you will never get back the time you spent crying in your home because you knew he wasn't coming. and yet, you - like the idiot you probably were - dived right back in. because you fucking loved him. and maybe it was stupid, and maybe his arms clinging onto you as you kissed him for the first time in months were stupid too, but if being stupid meant being happy, even for just one moment, you were going to take it

Jonathan still had a lot to make up for. you didn't think he will ever manage, honestly. but you were excited to see him try

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh wow WOW cuties LOL i was not expecting this fic idea to keep me up in my sleep and occupy all my waking thoughts BUT thank you so so  much for you words of support!! hehe well....here we goooo i hope that ya’ll are ready teehee--also tags will be added as they come! You can read part one here

Two 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, jeongin in this fic is my bb and i will protect him, sexy and smart jeongin tho still hehe 

CWs: mentions of death, people dying/killing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of getting drunk, hungover, and vomiting, a bombing. 

Word count: 5.2k 

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE

The road was long and winding, pitch black, desolate, quiet and foreign. In the backseat of the car, Chan had slumped his head over on Jeongin’s shoulder and bobbed with the motions of the road. His nose would twitch in his sleep, and he would make little grunts of nonsense words. He had worked himself up after the banquet, and actually hadn’t stopped his “love confessions” until you told him to shut up or you would shut him up. 

Your partner’s glasses were illuminated from the screen of his laptop which he tapped quietly away at. You too felt drowsy, but sleep would be for later once you had properly arrived at the safe house, or safe hotel, or safe hole in the ground...whatever it was. 

“You hear anything from Carroll?” You slung your arm over the seat and lowered your voice. 

“Nothing yet.” His eyes flicked around the screen. “It’s almost like it’s too quiet. I’ve already told her that we have the prince and that he’s safe, but..nothing.” 

“You don’t think...they got targeted too?” 

Chan snored lightly on his bodyguard’s shoulder, and he didn’t dare to move an inch. 

“I sure as hell hope not. But...that would explain why things have been so quiet. If this was a larger scale attack...I don’t know what this could mean then.” 

From the darkness of the outside world in the car windows, you passed a forest of pines and oher types of stoic trees making up the mountainside. 

“Well, I think that we should be optimistic for the time being.” 

Jeongin nodded. He looked to be a mess: blood had splattered at his white shirt collar and in specks on his neck. His cracked lenses however, didn’t keep him from his work. He had pulled his tie loosely around his neck, and had also provided his jacket as a pseudo-blanket of sorts for the prince. The prince, had offered his own jacket to you seeing as you only had your dress, but you had been managing just fine. You accepted it, but only because it could soothe his chivalrous ego. He had a hard night already, so you saw it best. 

“Two, where are you taking us?” You called to the mysterious driver. 

Ever since meeting him at the hotel, he had been nearly silent the whole ride. 

The man cleared his throat, “As far away from here as I can. I don’t know of any safe houses so...I’m just trying to remove us.” 

“I can find one for us if Carroll doesn’t get back to me....which she should...” 

Jeongin was not one for speaking of his mother as anything other than his boss. Since he had been assigned to be your partner a few months ago, he had never referred to her as his mother, nor did he ever seem to harbor any emotion for the stern woman. Both of them had been a bit allusive to you, but that was simply how it was in this line of work. You didn’t know things about the people around you, and you didn’t need to ask. You had wondered if he had worried about her, or thought about her when you were on missions. The young man had trained rigorously, and had passed each exam from the academy with flying colors. After considering it for a while, you figured what immense pressure he must've been under: son of the woman in charge, a master at infiltration, espionage, manipulation, cybersecurity, and a million more things; he had to prove himself and more. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, but you almost did wish that you had known more. 

Two fiddled with the radio, settling on a station that played some kind of country-western type music. 

“What’s your specialty Two? How’d you end up a part of this shitshow?” 

The driver laughed, then hummed along with the music for a moment. “This has been my gig for few years, but I’ve never been a part of this unit before. Carroll always saw it best for my services to be used in other places.” 

“You have a specialty?” Jeongin asked while still typing furiously. 

Two scratched the back of his head. “I do a little bit of everything. But...let’s just say that I’m good at making friends. That’s why Carroll likes me.” 

“--You know her personally?” Your partner quipped, but the edge to his voice didn’t sound like judgement, but rather caution. 

“We’ve had a few meetings.” 

“Hm.” 

You kicked off your heals to massage your aching toes. If only they had attacked at a time when you had the proper footwear. 

“You said we could also call you J?” You sprawled over the back seat in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. Still, the plastic seatbelt buckles poked into your back. 

“Yes. You can call me J.” 

And that was that. No “What’s J stand for”, or “where are you from”, “where’s your home base,” “how did you rank at the academy?” You added questions to the list of things that weren’t allowed as well. 

Jeongin tore off his glasses with an exasperated sigh to rub at his tired eyes. Chan made a happy little noise, presumably because he had found a cozier spot on Jeongin’s shoulder. He had now gotten the chance to sleep off his drunken stupor that may or may not had contributed to his sudden confession, and the reason behind the two pitstops you had taken for him to retch on the side of the road. 

If he was a prince, he might’ve also been one mess of a prince. In all of his grace and confidence, the pleasures that he partook in would often get the best of him at times too. 

You gave up on trying to get some sleep, but rather sat up to watch that paradoxically handsome and misshapen prince. Just like this: sleeping, vulnerable, with some kind of lopsided smirk on his face, he was much less than the regal figure that you had painted him to be in your mind. For maintaining appearances the whole day long, you hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see him like this before. His façade faded, and you surmised that maybe he really was different from the way that he let on. 

“I’m so fucking tired.” Jeongin yawned. 

“Get some sleep then. I’ll stay up to watch things.” 

“That’s just it. I can’t sleep even if I tried.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Can you pass me some hand sanitizer or something? There’s...blood on my hands.” 

Your partner’s voice cracked slightly. It was then when you realized that this had been the first time that he had fired at real people. 

“I’ve got a water bottle? Is that enough?” 

“Yeah. It’s fine.” 

He splashed the liquids around while wiping his hands away, then flicked the remnants of water away. 

“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.” 

“How do you mean?” 

Chan’s coat draped over your shoulders, and you pulled it in closer around your arms. The night had been cool, and the AC blasting in the car didn’t make it much better. 

Jeongin licked his lips. “Nothing was supposed to happen tonight. We made sure of it. No one was suspicious, we ran background checks, we checked the whole area...” 

“Hey,” You attempted to turn your tone softer, “We couldn’t have seen it coming. They just rolled up out of nowhere, there was no way that we could’ve stopped it--” 

“--Innocent people died tonight. If they were out for the prince, or maybe they weren’t, why so much collateral damage?” 

“Obviously they don’t care.” 

“Bastards.” Jeongin took the last bits of water to slug. “We’re gonna fucking find out why they did all of this.” 

Two shifted in his seat, “Any word? Hate to mention it, but I’m getting kinda tired. It’s past three already.”  

“Fox?” 

He clicked around, then shook his head. “Still nothing.” 

Chan snorted a bit in his sleep: an action which woke him up. 

“Wha-what? Where are we? Are the there yet? What time is it? Fuck...my head feels like it’s splitting...” 

“We’re finding somewhere, your Highness. We’ll be there soon.” Your partner motioned for you to hand him another water to give to the disorientated prince. 

Chan nodded while he rubbed his temples. “Shit. Please tell me that I just made this all up. That it’s some kind of fucked up nightmare...” 

You threw Chan’s coat back to him. “Unfortunately, no. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can.” 

“Who the hell were those guys?” Water dripped down his neck in a way that you pretended not to notice. “They were wearing crests. I couldn’t tell, but weren’t they red?” 

“Very observant, your Highness. F?” 

The younger man bit his lip, “I’ve already tried finding where the crest is from, but I can’t find anything that resembles it within our database. I was able to see one up close. It looked like a heart or something like that, and a diamond. I’m guessing that it could’ve been maybe a spade? Like the kind that you see on playing cards? Still, since we’ve never seen it before, we can only assume that they must be a new group.” 

Chan nodded, but anyone could tell that the information had flown right over his head. He licked at his wet lips, then sighed. 

“Bee, You okay? Fox? I suppose that I should ask you both.” 

“I’m...fine.” His sudden concern came as a surprise, and your partner looked just as shocked. 

“I-I’m fine too. No holes in me or anything.” Jeongin suppressed a laugh. “But you’re not, your Highness. How much did you have to drink?” 

“Oh...enough. I guess that I lost track at some point. Those kind of things are boring anyway.” 

“Fox? You’ve got that locale?” Two clicked the turn signal. 

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one. Sorry, It’s about an hour from here.” 

“Locale?” Chan cocked his head. 

“A safe house. Or something like that. We need to lie low while we wait for instructions.” 

“No one has said anything...? Not even...my father?” 

Jeongin shook his head gravely. “No.” 

The young prince fell silent, and you watched as worry fell over his clouded eyes that were lined with bags. Normally his expression was anything but strained, but in this moment, you saw doubt sweep over him like the darkness on the road ahead. You leaned the farthest you could from your seat to grab at his hand behind you. 

“You’re safe with us. Nothing is going to happen to you.” 

His hand was warm, maybe a little clammy, but it was soft, like that of a prince, naturally. Still, it was strong and veined. Chan’s thumb rubbed soft little circles into your own skin, muttering, “Thank you.” For once, his eyes which would normally devour you like some kind of rare dish held you earnestly. I trust you, they said. 

“Two. Let’s switch.” Jeongin slammed his laptop closed. “I’ve got it from here.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was quiet. As most of them where. It was even a bit stereotypical: a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods on nearly all sides. It had a little overgrown garden, and a shed that looked like it held either all kinds of gardening equipment, or the real thing that sheds were meant for in your business: ammo. It had a white painted porch with cracking paint, as well as porch swing with rusting chains. In the early morning the windows were are black, but still faintly reflected the massive array of sparking stars above your heads. The only thing less antique about the home was the touch keypad on the front door. It beeped with a little tune, then flashed the insignia of the agency: a ticking clock. 

“Two, can you find a generator or something? Get the electricity up and going?” 

“Can do,” He said, then disappeared. 

Two was mostly a quiet man, a feature that gave you both reasons to trust him and to be suspicious. Besides him being a bit smaller in stature with thin legs and characteristically round cheeks, there was something different about him that you couldn’t place; something unexpected. You wished once again that questions weren’t on the list of things that weren’t allowed. 

“There should be clothes around here somewhere.” Jeongin padded his way through the dark rooms. “You shower first your Highness.” 

Chan tripped over his feet as he spread out his arms to find his way. You giggled lightly at the action. A man really was stripped down of any and all sense of composure when his life had been threatened and he had to have his bodyguards pat his back while he had gotten sick after one too many royal drinks. 

The lights flashed on, flickering at first with the sound of the lightbulbs waking up after a long sleep. The interior design of the place was exactly as you had expected: it was a family home with a fireplace and several chairs and couches covered in dust. Bookshelves were full with the strangest assortment of reading material and board games there held a thin layer of grey dust too. The kitchen was small and cozy: it had all the necessities. A stained glass chandelier hung over the wooden table for eight, and was decorated with glass hummingbirds and pink flowers. In odd corners of the house, children’s toys had been sitting untouched. A family must’ve been living there, and you wondered what must’ve become of them. 

Two returned with spiderwebs caught on his dress coat. “Water should be hot in about thirty minutes or so I think.” 

Your partner crossed the room, raking a hand through his snowy white hair. “I’m gonna try and make the calls again. See if I get anything. If not, we’ll have to...begin Operation Cheshire.” 

It was the phrase that you had hoped neither you nor your partner would have to say. 

Chan slumped down in one of the upholstered chairs, throwing dust into the air as he did. Compared to the rest of the room, him and his designer clothes seemed comically out of place. “Wha-what’s that?” 

Two pinched between his eyes, and your chest shook with an unsure inhale. 

“It means that we assume the worst. HQ got taken over and we’re all at risk. Information about us could be accessible to anyone. Essentially, we go into sleeper mode until we can reconvene with other agents...if there are any more. We dissapear. Next, we work on getting you back home, no matter what it takes.” 

“HQ?” What are you talking about?” Chan toyed with his diamond set cufflinks. “HQ? Like whoever manages the bodyguards??” 

“Your Highness...” You and your partner exchanged knowing glances. “We’re more than bodyguards.” 

“What?!” 

“We’re operatives. Agents. We work for an intelligence agency that specializes in a bunch of different things...protecting royalty if needed.” 

“What the fuck?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Chan slapped his leg. “Fuck! No one tells me anything!!! I get that I’m a fucking prince but I’m not fucking useless!” 

The memory of the confidential file reemerged in your memory: the promise that you had made to His Majesty The King after he had requested a “special hire” to watch over his son. The file itself had contained a several thousand words or so that you hadn’t bothered to read, but rather skimmed till you got to the signature part. Carroll had simply nodded before you put your pen to the paper. 

“It was for your saf--” 

“--My father did this, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Some kind of sick way to keep tabs on me? See what I’m doing?? God! The man never trusts me. If the thinks that I’m that much of a disappointment...this is just--” 

“Your Highness, it’s been a long day, you’ve been through a lot, just take a shower and get some rest. Alright? We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” Two stepped forward with his hands folded in front of him. His interjection was unlike his previously quiet presence. 

The prince sighed, tapping his tragically expensive shoe on the hardwood. 

“Fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

Chan’s eyes grew dark with an authoritative air that you had seen before. His façade had slipped over him like a cloak. He rose, buttoning his jacket, then tweaking his sliver brooches decorating his neck. 

“Fox. Bee. Two. Thank you. Good evening.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Chan knew that it was you at the door when you would knock two times, then pause, and knock twice more. In your hands, you held a cup of warm milk. For a prince, even he couldn’t reject the beverage to help him fall asleep at night. You had seen him order it at hotels on more than one occasion. Jeongin had found a nearby store to get food for the morning. The two of you had suddenly found yourselves as now both his bodyguards and his servants. While you waited, you hoped to God that Carroll would compensate you for the extra work. 

The door creaked open, revealing your prince modestly dressed in plaid flannel, hair dripping slightly in wet strands. You had never seen him as simple as this before: no princely persona or cold exterior to upkeep. He looked...normal. 

“What is it Bee?” 

“I thought you might like some...well, this.” You provided him with the cup. “I know that it’s nearly morning, but you should still try to sleep in. We’ll take care of things. 

He took the ceramic mug from your hands, fingers barely brushing against yours for mere moments. 

“Thank you.” He hushed with a thankful smile. “Would you like to come in? We could...just kind of...sit for a minute.” 

Behind him, sun peaked at the horizon, a splitting of red piercing the navy deep of the night. The colors muddled, blurred, a bit like the color of blood fading into the deep fabric of one’s formal wear. It was desolate, but still beautiful. 

“To be honest,” His eyes fell, “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

You had saved the biggest room for him. It smelled of mothballs and other old things like sheets that had rested in a dark room for much too long. Still, there was a kind of familiarity to it all and the way that the matted rugs and brass vintage lamps lit the room with a soft yellow light. The full sized bed creaked once you had sat down. In his golden halo, Chan’s brown strands appeared to be softer, and not as prim and staged. 

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I realized that there are things that are out of my control. You know more than I do, and I accept that. I trust you...a-and Fox.” 

You rubbed your hands into the jeans you had found in the cupboard. They had dirt and grass stains from work in the garden you presumed. 

“It’s okay. I understand that you would be scared. It’s okay to be. I...get scared sometimes too. I know that it might look like it, but I fear...for my life too. So does Jeong--Fox.” 

Chan’s voice cracked. “Is someone out to kill me?” 

You sighed, sensing his hesitation. “I don’t know. But we will know soon.” 

The prince stared down at the white bubbles in his milk, then swirled around the liquid to watch the way that that it moved. 

“I don’t think I’d like to die. Would be pretty unfortunate, don’t you think? I feel like I’ve got so many other things to do. A kingdom to manage, people to govern, much more bottles of Scotch to drink, parties to attend...” 

His eyes met yours, and you could see the very fragility of the life that he spoke of right in them. He was right in that dumb speech of his. He really was just a person. 

“...I like to think that I’ll get married someday to someone that I love. I actually would really like to do that.” He chuckled. “Lame, right? Someone like me who always bounces around. Wouldn’t take me for one?” 

“Mm. No. I think that from what I’ve observed of you, and I’m trained to observe, I think that bouncing around...means you’re looking for the right thing. And, I guess that it’s fun too.” 

Chan chuckled, “You’re good at observing.” 

You paused, remembering Lee Minho from earlier. 

“Were you looking when you were talking to that man at the banquet? He was very handsome.” 

The prince placed the cup down. “He was. I don’t know. He just seemed kind of interesting. The kind of mystery that only a stranger has. I would’ve liked to have talked to him more now that I think about it. Maybe it would’ve been worth my time.” Chan twisted his back to crack it. “I don’t know if you saw but he had some really nice fucking thighs.” 

“Ahhh. Nice thighs. Didn’t know that you cared for that.” 

The two of you laughed together a bit like old friends. It felt nice. 

“...Bee. I should also probably apologize for how I acted back before we got in the car. I was...drunk, scared. I said some things--” 

“--That you were in love with me?” 

“Yeah...that. I realized that...I’ve been...unfair to you. You don’t deserve the ridicule. You’ve only ever been helpful to me and--” 

“--Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” You shrugged. You had met hundreds of guys like him before, at least you thought. 

Chan sighed as if he was gathering himself. “Bee. I did mean what I said.” 

“What? Ch-your Highness, you don’t mean that.” 

He laughed, “It’s alright. You can call me Chan. And...yes. I did. You’ve got a kind of mystery to you too. Frankly, I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“This...this is inappropriate.” You shifted, the rising off the bed. Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t know why. Maybe he was just too damn charming. But, he was like that with everyone. 

He rose too, hastily following you on your way to the door. “Bee, wait.” 

“Chan, you can’t do this. It makes things...complicated.” 

He advanced, slowly, closing the space between you. “It’s only complicated if you feel the same.” 

“I-I don’t.” 

The prince’s hand carefully rose to cup your face, a gesture so gentle that you shied from the feeling. Even this close still he smelled of white roses. 

“Have you ever heard of conflict of interest?” Your breath hitched. 

Chan grinned, “There you go making this complicated again.” 

A wandering hand of yours acting on its own reached to tug hold of his shirt. 

The prince leaned in closer, nearly close enough to breech the gap between his plush lips and yours. 

“What if I don’t mind making things...” He whispered the word, grazing his mouth over yours, “...complicated?” 

“Ch--” 

He pressed his weight fully into you, a smashing of lips met with incessant heat and your back shoved into the door. His tongue easily twisted around yours, and his soft gasps filled up your mouth. It had taken you a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and to decide what to do with yourself. His mouth was blazing, it was as if he was weaving a spell, or perhaps you had made it up for yourself. He kissed you with vitality; like he had never tasted anything like you before and was starving for you. You realized, perhaps you had wondered what it would’ve felt like. One hand squeezed tighter to his shirt, and you kissed back, meeting his heat. 

Jeongin’s voice called down the hall, “Bee? Bee, are you there?” The sound of your bedroom door shut. 

You pushed Chan off you with flat hands on his chest and an amazed smile on his face. 

“This...this doesn’t mean anything.” You gasped, reaching for the knob after a moments pause. 

Chan snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Goodnight your Highness.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

For a man so young Jeongin liked his coffee black, and drank it like an old man too with his nose buried in a newspaper while it fogged up his glasses--or what was left of them. 

“I finally got correspondence from Carroll this morning. She said that HQ experienced some kind of blackout and all the systems went offline. It wasn’t safe for her to contact us on a regular line. They got everything back up and running and everything seems fine, or so they think.” 

Your partner had already made himself comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and a cotton tee with slippers. You never would’ve guessed that he was a trained assassin on the side. 

Two returned huffing in the door from his morning run. He was one of those people. 

��Any word?” He rubbed his face off with a dishtowel. 

“Disgusting.” You sneered at the crude action. 

“Well, we’ve got thousands of miles between us and the kingdom and what seems like a hell of a lot of guys on our tail, but, after I sent Carroll the info about the red crest, she wants us to do some digging. 

“With the prince in tow?” You lowered your voice lest the sleeping royal heard you. “I don’t think so.” 

“It sounds like she’s convinced that the person behind all of this could be someone who attended the charity ball. And, I don’t really disagree. They must be good at keeping secrets if they evaded us.” 

“Hm. You’re right. A high profile event like that, even though its for a good cause it’s always a competition with those snobs. I just don’t know who could order something so cruel...all those people in the same place...” 

“Since it’s a new group, they must still be underground. So, to see who lives underground, you’ve got to go there yourself to find out. Or, in our case, find someone who knows the rabbit hole.” 

Two grabbed a chair, ruffling his deep brown soaked hair. “What does that mean?” 

Jeongin flipped his laptop around. “This is the man that we need to go see. Codename White Rabbit. Or as he calls himself--” 

“--Bun.” You cut in. “Yeah, I know him.” 

Both of the men chimed, “You do?” 

“Yeah, he’s undercover ops for the agency. He’s sort of a jack of all trades. He owns some kind of front out in Egypt. It’s called The Tea Party. Bar up front, but in the back he provides all kinds of information--for both sides. His cut is that for any information he gives to the agency he gets cash compensation. If anyone would know about anything underground, it would be him. As I’m sure Carroll told you, he’s a stickler for meeting in person. He’s one of us. I think.” 

“You think?” 

“He also does...other deviant things. I heard that these days he’s had a couple dealings in some...substances. Black market stuff. Carroll also provides safety for his business in return for his information.” 

“That...sounds illegal. Immoral even.” Jeongin’s eyes widened upon hearing the news about his mother. 

“You’ve got to pay to play you know.” 

“So Egypt then?” Two wiped off the back of his neck with the dishtowel, stretching out one of his toned arms. “I’ve always wanted to go there.” 

“Oh--one more thing.” Jeongin took a rather long sip from his cup. “The King’s counsel reached out to me too this morning. They asked me if the Prince was safe and where we were. I have them loose details of both. They seemed somewhat relieved.” 

Chan sauntered down the steps with a massive yawn, stretching up his arms and shirt to reveal an inkling of his abs. You also pretended not to notice it. 

“Gooood morning everyone. Fox. Two.” He dished out a wink. “Bee.” 

“Morning your Highness.” Jeongin nodded, and crossed his legs. “Feeling well?” 

“Ahhh much better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, staring out the little window over the sink, then took an indulgent sip. “It’s peaceful here. I kind of like that.” 

“Your Highness, we’ve received word--” 

Chan rose his hand to shush your partner, then languidly took another sip. “I’m still enjoying my drink F.” 

A light buzzing resonated somewhere in the house, a bit like the sound of a dryer, and the home started vibrating. Your water glass on the table rippled. 

“Two, did you notice if there was anything strange about the house?” 

The buzzing grew nearer. 

Two looked puzzled, “No, why?” 

The vibrating grew more violent, and your glass shuddered off the wooden table, shattering on the ground upon impact. 

Chan squinted out the window, “Is that a--” 

“CHAN GET DOWN!” You shrieked. 

Within milliseconds the whistling of a bomb screeched through the air, then crashed into the rickety ceiling, splintering wood everywhere and demolishing the furniture. 

You had seconds to act while the matte black bomb hissed with a steam releasing from some seam and ticked. You sprinted to grab Chan’s arm as hard as you possibly good, all in a blur, pummeling your bodies against one of the shattered windows, and hurling yourself out to the morning dew. You had no time to see if Jeongin or Two had made their exit, but looked out, towing the prince so hard you must’ve done some damage to his shoulder. You stumbled to your feet, tripping, and grunting until the bomb diffused, and exploded the cottage altogether. You covered Chan’s head and most of his body with your own as a shield and the shards of wood, metal, and brick came flying. 

“Ar-are you okay?” You patted the prince down in his shock, who stared blankly with empty eyes. 

The prince’s flannel had been torn to shreds with glass, and blood oozed onto the fabric on his arms. 

“Yeah...yeah...I’m...fine.” 

“BEE! Y/N!” Jeongin screamed over the flames to find you. 

“OVER HERE!” You bellowed back, and your partner came running with Two behind him with terrible cuts on his face. 

“They knew. They FUCKING knew.” He panted after reaching you. 

“We have to get out of here.” Two gasped, and blood ran down his face, nearly into his eye. “If they know where we are now, they’ll come to check to see if the damage is done. We have to move.”  

The sky filled with an angry smoke, and the once peaceful forest filled with the colors of orange and red. 

“The car?” 

“Broken windows from the blast but I should be able to get it going. There’s spare parts in the shed. And ammo. A fuck ton of it.” 

“We’ll need it.” 

You pulled the prince to his feet as he blinked wildly at you and your team. 

“Fuck.” Was all the could manage. 

In your complete surprise, Chan’s bloodied and cracked hands pulled your face into his, kissing you with lips that tasted of the salt of blood. 

“I fucking love you Bee. I’ve decided.” 

Jeongin’s jaw dropped in the corner of your eye, so you promptly slapped the prince upside the face. 

“You’re in shock. We need to get out of here.” 

A wrinkled smile danced on the royal’s face, and you might’ve thought that it was a bit charming. 

“Admit it. You love me too Bee.” 

~🌹~ 

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

[suganovakawa]

hey!! if you’d like, I’d like to request an iwaizumi x reader where he’s always seen his crush w long hair but one day they come to school and they chopped it all off and it’s now a over their shoulders?? It’d mean the world to me as i just chopped all my hair off but it’s totally ok if you don’t want to! Have a nice day love

this prompt is the break i needed from abusing hajime thank u for this i finally get to write some fluff for the one person i just keep h u r t i n g

cut to perfection.

✧ ｡ pairing : hajime iwaizumi x fem!reader.

✧ ｡ genre : sweet sweet fluff it’s about damn time—

✧ ｡ synopsis : after secretly crushing on you for some time now, hajime builds the confidence to approach you, after you come to aoba johsai one day with a fresh, short haircut.

✧ ｡ word count : 1.5k

gen masterlist.

— gen taglist ( open ) — @yams046 @janellion @avylee @kac-chowballs

⠀he was the first one to notice. the way you had ended up getting your hair chopped off, perhaps a day before. he blinked, once or twice, when he observed you walking through the school doors. at first, the difference didn't hit him. something was different about you, hajime was just too muddled in his mind to think straight.

reading your actions as you spoke to your friends, his eyes trailed to your fingers, noticing how every few seconds, they'd entangle within the strands of your hair, before returning them back at your sides. the pattern continued for a little bit, and the realization hit him before he could feel embarrassed about watching you for so long - you had cut your hair.

he considered bashing his head into a wall for being so oblivious to the obvious change, just him ogling and staring like a creep for no reason, when he couldn't even recognize the change of hair length. of course, he wasn't close enough to listen to your conversations, but watching you smile and laugh at jokes he had no involvement in, still made his heart aflutter.

he thought about your new hairstyle, comparing it to the last. there were moments he had imagined you with new hair in the past, but now that it was actually real, he couldn't imagine you with long hair again. the way your hair came up and shaped around the contours of your face, watching the revitalized and clean cut ends of your new do moving around the blades of your shoulders with a subtle bounce, signs of its breathtaking rejuvenation.

iwaizumi wanted to go up and compliment you, the corners of his lips protruding a guilty smile as he marveled in your new haircut, admiring it from afar. you two were friends, of course, but something about you scared him to the core. maybe it was a fear of being rejected by you? the internalized panic was in vain, he hadn't even asked you out to go anywhere, nor was he ever planning to; at least, not anytime soon.

"you're being creepy, iwa-chan." the ace jolted out of la la land at the teasing voice of his volleyball captain, the smirk stretched such pompous lips, easy to see. clicking his tongue, oikawa shook his head as he let out a light laugh. "y/n will think you're a creep if you just stare like that. clean yourself up, i think you're drooling a little bit."

"shut up, i was not staring." his lips forming a slight pout, iwaizumi's cheeks tinted a pinkish hue as his eyes slid away from both you and the fellow third year sitting next to him. "don't be saying such things, i'll kick your ass."

"y/n's hair looks really nice today, doesn't it?" ignoring the threat completely, tooru chuckled as he rested his chin on his hands, tilting his head to face you next. hajime's eyes followed his direction, noticing that you had noticed and waved in their direction. oikawa simply waved back, while iwa panicked and looked at his lap. "she got it done yesterday after school, she's been pretty self-conscious of it today, though. she's been so used to having her hair long that this is a strange adjustment for her."

"self-conscious? why is she self-conscious about it?" his head popped back up almost immediately, his face confused. "her hair suits her perfectly. i think she looks... wonderful." he was bashful of his own bluntness, his voice slowly dying down as he realized the words that were leaving his mouth.

"yeah, but you know, it would be better if she actually knew you thought that way. can't just say it behind her back and expect her to read your mind."

"what, are you saying that you went up to her today about her hair?" rolling his eyes, he shook his head and scoffed.

"i did, actually. i made sure to tell her that her new haircut was beautiful." grinning proudly, he nodded his head almost in a bragging matter, his arms crossed loosely after he fixed the sleeves of his uniform. "she thanked me, but she asked me on how you felt about her hair though, iwa-chan."

"she what?" hajime's eyes popped open as tooru simply shrugged. taking him forcefully by the shoulders, shaking him determinedly. "don't you dare give me the silent treatment, shittykawa. what did you say? tell me, what?"

"i simply told her that the only one who can tell her of your opinion on her hair is you, of course." he whined a bit as iwaizumi flicked his forehead with an annoyed glare, shaking his head in disbelief as oikawa rubbed the sore spot. "what? i wasn't going to tell her your opinion for you. stop being such a chicken and do it yourself."

"i'm going to get you back for this." muttering quietly as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, hajime stood up hesitantly. he walked away after tooru flashed him a thumbs up.

"iwaizumi!" you noticed him immediately as he bashfully made his way towards you with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his uniform trousers. his lips were quivering slightly, but you paid no mind to it as your own nerves were running a mile a minute. "how are you?"

"i'm doing alright, thank you." he replied quietly, his eyes finding it hard to maintain on you. your face began to heat up at the awkwardness, but because you had cut your hair, you had a harder time hiding your embarrassment behind the safe confines of your hair. "there's something i wanted to mention quickly, though. before i end up psyching myself out."

tilting your head quizzically, you moved your hair out of your eyes and looked up at him. "what's up?" you asked.

"i think your new haircut looks amazing," he said quickly, as if saying it in anything less than one breath would be the end of him. "you're... very beautiful. beautiful then, beautiful now."

you were stunned, your face revealing genuine surprise as your jaw dropped slightly, your lips parting as your system shut down in an attempt to register everything that was said. hajime noticed your malfunction and reached forward, concerned with your reaction. "y/n, are you okay? was that too much? i'm so sorry, i didn't know how else to - "

"thank you!" you rebooted quickly enough to pull him into a quick hug without thinking, your face glowing in both joy and fluster as your heart light, a smile taking over your lips. "gee, i was terrified you wouldn't like it."

"it suits you perfectly, y/n. i didn't even realize you had cut your hair at first, it was that well-fitting." iwa laughed after you broke apart from the sudden embrace, his hand sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "either that, or i'm just an idiot. it's probably that."

shaking your head immediately, your arms fell at their sides comfortably. "nonsense," you responded lightheartedly. "it makes it easier for me to get used to this new cut, now that i know you like it." realizing what you said too late, your hands made way to your mouth, clasping it shut. "oh that's humiliating..." you grumbled, muffled by the barricade provided by your hands.

"actually, i... i've been meaning to ask you something, too." you lowered your hands and watched hajime smile wider, reaching forward to take you by the hand, a move that not even he thought he had the guts to do. "i could, uh... take you out after school? it wouldn't be much, maybe out to a cafe or something... as like, a study date or just.... a date..." stumbling over his words, he turned his eyes to the wall, unable to keep eye contact with the awkwardness of the situation. "of course, it doesn't have to be a date, i'm just suggesting - "

"i would love to, iwaizumi." his head faced you once more, taking a deep breath once he had a view of your approval grin. "a date it is. i'm free once the final bell rings."

"right, right. me too." letting go of your hand to place his own back in his pockets, he shrugged shyly. "i'll see you after school?"

"after school." you nodded in agreement, your elated action showcasing your excitement. "i'll see you then, iwaizumi!"

"yeah, bye." after watching you head off, hajime silently punched a fist to the air, feeling victorious as he walked back to the others, a large smile spread across his lips as he awaited the final bell.

his smile went away the moment he caught mattsun and makki handing over money to oikawa, who was busy laughing and waving the yen he won in iwaizumi's direction. shaking his head as he made his way over to the three, he looked to the clock and sighed, knowing he'd be stuck with these nincompoops for even longer.

however long he had to wait for the final bell to go off, every second was worth the time he spent with you after school.

[eyeballjazz]

gosh I LOVE whenever you talk about the crews (midnight or problem sleuth) because your ideas are always so unique and detailed but in a realistic way? like they're all very specific but also mundane so it all feels so natural and REAL, it's always so fun! Plus your writing is very pleasant so seeing that "read more" under your replies always makes me go FUCK YES

You said you had fun with the last ask so here's me asking you to share more headcanons you have! Could be domestic, silly, sad, whatever, I'm just giving you an excuse to talk about them whever you feel like it!

#1 and first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH! I’ve delayed replying to this not only because I wanted to cook up a good answer but because your words are so sweet and I wanted to spend longer just reading and rereading them. Thank you thank you thank you!

I got a few little ones and then some big ones for ya:

Problem Sleuth and Hysterical Dame both are from Brooklyn and have harsh Brooklyn accents, though Dame’s is much more pronounced. She sounds like a slightly less congested Fran Drescher. Sleuth, additionally, loves the Beastie Boys and thinks he could’ve been one if he’d had half a chance at it.

Droog loves Sting. That’s it, that’s the headcanon.

Droog is native Italian, from part of Tuscany that is just 1 kilometer from the official bounds for the Chianti region. The fact that he’s not actually, truly, from Chianti haunts him and makes me laugh a great deal.

Now for a big one:

What war did they all serve in?

This one I’ve gone back and forth on. While I love studying war I’m not any kind of expert nor do I have any relation to military culture. But, because I write Intermission stuff as period pieces (the adults all live in a pseudo 40s and 70s mash up, all the kids live in the early oughts and that’s why none of the StabDads knows how to work a computer despite all their kids being online constantly) the setting of mid-20th century America requires there to be some war that people are living during/living through the aftermath of. I have a whole thing about the 20th century being one long war but anyway.

There was a large scale global conflict that Team Sleuth and the Crew all experienced. The Crew saw more intense, violent conflict while much of Team Sleuth saw less direct action and often sunnier outcomes.

Hearts, Slick and Droog were all infantry men whose issues with authority prevented any of them from moving up the ranks. Clubs was a technician and occasional mechanic, he learned everything he knows about bombs between his years as a soldier and a few jobs working in plastic factories back home.

Hearts was a cook as well as a renowned fighter in his unit. Slick came in and went out buck private despite some award winning violence in the field. Droog was considered for a promotion to officer because of his neat habits and efficient performance but later denied when his more anti-social and unstable qualities showed through.

For both Slick and Droog The War is much more like WW1. They met and became friends/fell in love in the trenches and saw the intensity of suffering and combat on an almost daily basis. For Hearts and Clubs The War is a little more like Korean, they were stationed far from home and were effectively playing cat and mouse with the enemy. Clubs experienced and learned from chemical warfare, while Hearts saw much more guerrilla warfare.

On the Sleuth side, Ace Dick is the only person to have served in as intense a fashion as the Crew. He enlisted young and made the rank of sergeant before retiring to become a detective. Of all of them his time was the most like WW2, in the European theater. Though he maintains his rank in retirement, Ace has relaxed out of the rigidness that made him a good officer. His hard disposition however has not degraded even one iota.

Problem Sleuth had a gay li’l stint in the Navy where he mostly ferried trade vessels along the coast. The action he did see was at the distance of sea battles, so while it was intense it was not as close and personal as the Crew or Ace.

Hysterical Dame did not serve but instead worked as a riveter and community organizer back home to get more women into the workforce as well as to provide for the families of soldiers who had been lost. That picture of Rosy the Riveter eating a sandwich with her piston driver in her lap? That was Dame, just with much more buoyant and gorgeous hair.

Nervous Broad was a nurse and was stationed abroad for most of The War. She saw a lot of very bad and only very occasionally some good. While she was in the medical corps she met Pickle Inspector, who was a contentious objector and refused to serve when drafted. Because of this, he was dumped into the medical corps at the front lines and like Broad saw some very awful things. They both don’t like to talk about what they saw more intensely than the others.

Post war they all assume the roles we’re already familiar with, most of them using the combat training they already received to do their work as detectives and/or mobsters. Broad, Dame and Pickle Inspector all learned to handle firearms (and in a Pickle Inspector’s case a whole sniper rifle) post-war. As a treat.

And, while I really don’t come to fandom spaces for sad things (the world itself is hexing enough) I do have a sad headcanon for Hearts:

His parents had an awful marriage and his father was often abusive to both him and his mother. She, in turn, eventually did away with him but not before long years of hard times for herself and her son. Once Hearts was big enough to help with the manual labor of running their small farm she took his father out during a particularly bad fight. It was a brutal night that would have seen one or the other of his parents gone from the world, but his mother won out in the end and she and Hearts lived better and better once his father was out of the picture. Hearts, to this day, sends money to his mother and believes she is the strongest woman on the face of the Earth. And he’s probably right. She still lives up in the hills of Georgia with her gun.

Momma Boxcars loves Tavros and insists that he and the other kids come spend part of their summer with her out on the farm.

Like Hearts’s mom, Droog’s parents also love their grandbabies. They immigrated to America after Droog put together enough money to bring them over from Italy and keep them living in style in the city. They were not good parents to him, in fact they have a very fraught and often vicious relationship, but they are wonderful to their grandkids and often tell Droog how much more they love Karkat and Arabia than they ever loved him. Again, I find Droog’s pain and inconvenience hilarious, and he’s fine despite all this. He actually thinks of them as ideal parents, being as he is an ideal sort of person by his own metrics.

Again, thank you for your lovely words and for the excuse to gab away about all these clowns, this was so fun!!!

[kaitycole]

dopamine and epinephrine, just don’t mix

Summary: Kuroo thinks back on his relationship with Y/N. How will those memories hold up to reality? 

Pairing: Kuroo x fem!reader, Bokuto x fem!reader (platonic)

Word Count: 5351

Warnings: Angst. Toxic behaviors. Cheating allegations. Adult language.

A/N: A special thank you to @twilightwrites​ for this prompt.

Side note: I know the drinking age in Japan is 20, I realized as I was writing the last paragraph of this that I messed up, so we are just gonna let it slide because my head hurts lol

September – 2013

“Kuroo-san, do you understand what I’ve just explained?” He just nods, the meaning of the words is known, it’s just the weight of them that just hasn’t hit him yet. It not until he’s walking across campus, his feet dragging against the sidewalk, that the weight of his advisor’s words land on his shoulders.

You failed to maintain proper grades to continue not just in this department, but in this university. Your enrollment has been terminated.

Kuroo shakes his head, how exactly would he explain this to his grandmother? She was so proud of him for getting into university in the first place. He really was great at disappointing those he cared for lately.

*                      * The sidewalks are busier than he’s used to, he was always in class at this time and he ends up brushing against a few people as he maneuvers his way to the nearest convenience store. The dinging of the welcome bell draws him from the jumble of thoughts he was having. The cool air from the refrigerated unit, grabbing several cans of lemon flavored chūhai. It was cheap, didn’t taste all that great, but he didn’t care.

There are three empty cans piled next to his foot, his hand tightens around the fourth one, it caves under his fingertips. The blend of alcohol on an empty stomach has Kuroo on the verge of tipsiness.

He hears a soft laugh and feels himself stiffen when he sees (h/c) hair as his mind blanks. It’s been almost a year since he’s seen her, a flash of the malice words exchanged and the sound the door made as it was slammed crosses his mind.

Suddenly he’s self-conscious of how he looks, quickly running his fingers through his unruly hair (not that that would help) and scrabbles to pick the cans up and cram them into his bag. He doesn’t fully hear the name, but enough to know it wasn’t her, making him feel a bit ridiculous.

Dopamine: hormone and neurotransmitter that's an important part of your brain's reward system; associated with happiness and pleasure.

June – 2010

“Can you tell me where Ko-chan is?”

Kuroo turned to see an unfamiliar face staring back up at him. She tucked a stray piece of her (h/c) hair behind her ear, nervously biting her bottom lip, and Kuroo instantly thought she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. So much, that instead of answering her, he just stood there, staring.

“Bokuto-san is this way, L/N-san.” Akaashi said as he walked up behind her.

She smiled at Kuroo, apologizing for bothering him before following Akaashi over to where the rowdy ace of Fukurōdani was. Once Bokuto’s eyes fell onto the girl, he ran towards her, wrapping her into a tight hug, thanking her repeatedly for bringing his extra gym bag all the way to the training camp.

Kuroo waited until Bokuto was alone before he made his way over, trying to figure out how to work in his question. “Bokuto, who is that?” Bo looked over to Akaashi who was talking to this mystery girl before looking back at Kuroo with a sloppy grin on his face. “Why? Interested?”

Kuroo felt his head getting fuzzy, like when he held it over the edge of his bed for too long, “I was…uhm…just wondering.”

“That’s Y/N. We grew up together, but in fifth grade she moved away, just recently moved back.”

That explained why Kuroo didn’t know her even though her and Bo came off extremely close.

“She’s single.”

Kuroo felt his face start to burn, embarrassment covering it as he tried to speak, but all that came out were broken parts of a sentence. “Oh, well…I don’t…bother…just…yeah.”

** Y/N was standing in the doorway of the gym, watching as Bokuto hit down each practice set Akaashi sent his way, he truly had gotten even more powerful since they were children. She rubbed her hands against her arms, trying to warm up, she tensed when she felt a slight bit of weight on her shoulders.

She turned around to see a messy raven-haired boy standing behind her, his oversized red jacket draped over her shoulders. “Rooster boy!”

“Huh?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to really respond.

“Ko-chan told me to call you that.” She smiled up innocently at Kuroo and he felt himself get weak in the knees.

He mumbled something to the effect of ‘horned owl bastard’ underneath his breath which seemed to make her laugh just a little bit. He ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about the state of his hair.

She turned back around, eyes wide in awe as Bokuto slammed another ball onto the other side of the court, Kuroo couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like if she looked at him like that, but blocking wasn’t as flashy as spikes were and he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. He turned around on his heel, getting ready to head back to where the rest of his team is.

“Are you trying to play hard to get?” “Huh?” He looked back at her, she had spun around, a devilish smirk on her smirk.

“You gave me your jacket even though you only have a t-shirt on, but you don’t tell me your name or ask if I want go somewhere to talk.”

“Oh, I thought you wanted to watch Bo play, I…uh…didn’t want to bother you.”

She slipped her arms into his jacket, zipping it up, “nah, I can see Bo play at school.”

“Did you want to go talk somewhere?” “I don’t go places with strangers.” She tilted her head, giving him a knowing look.

He shook his head, “I’m Kuroo Tetsurō, nice to meet you…?” “L/N F/N. Likewise Tetsu-chan!” She grabbed his hand, “c’mon, let’s go!”

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks as his feet moved on their own, following this mystery girl and he already knew that he was gonna have his hands full, not that he really cared.

*                      * December – 2010

“Y/N?”

The two of them were in Kuroo’s room, something they did often on the weekends, sometimes working on school work, other times just enjoying each other’s company. She’s flipping through a magazine, her chin rested on her palms as she looked over her shoulder at the middle blocker, a smile on her face. Kuroo was leaning against his headboard and couldn’t help but forget what he was about to say.

“Tetsu-chan?”

“Are you a carbon sample?” He smirked when she gave him a puzzled look, “because I want to date you.” Her face lit up as she pushed herself up, sitting up while crossing her legs as she faced Kuroo. “Oh! Oh! Oh! I have one too!” She clapped her hands in excitement, “you look sweeter than 3.14!”

He laughed before he shook his head, “no, Y/N, I’m asking you out.”

“You’re asking me out using a science pun?” His face went completely red, cheek burned as he rubbed the back of his head. “…yeah.”

“You’re such a dork!” She started laughing, falling over to the side as her giggles filled the now empty room. When she finally composed her, wiping the tears that had fallen down her cheeks, she smiled up at him, “but I guess that means you’re my dork.” “That a yes?” Kuroo held his breath, worried that she was about to reject him because looking back on it, it was kinda lame, even for him.

She crawled up to Kuroo side, leaning into it as he wrapped his arm around her waist, “it’s a proton positive?”

*                      * September – 2013

Kuroo staggers up the stairs, thankful that he only lives on the second floor of his apartment building. He drops his bag near the door while he kicks off his shoes as he makes his way to the closet in his room.

The apartment is pretty bare for someone to be living there. The furniture that’s there is just what’s needed, the bare minimum through the apartment. A bed and night stand in the bedroom, couch and TV in the living room area and the only reason he had a TV stand was because Kenma almost had a heart attack when he saw Kuroo had it sitting on the floor.

Y/N was supposed to decorate it, that had been their deal when the subject of moving in together came up. The plan was to get an apartment between the universities they had planned to attend and she could decorate it however she wanted, all Kuroo cared about was getting to come home to her. But it was obvious that day never happened, they didn’t even make it searching for apartments together before things fell apart and Kuroo picked an apartment closest to his school.

He’s rummaging through the bedroom closet before pulling out an old tin box, the kind that trading cards come in. Wiping off the thin layer of dust that has accumulated on the top, he slowly opens it, a flood of emotions washes over him.

*                      * March – 2011

“Y/N seems really happy.” Bo said, the three of them had all met up to see a movie that recently released.

Kuroo was happy that his girlfriend and best friend were also close, it made things a lot easier and he didn’t have to worry about them getting along, even if they had technically known each other longer. “I hope she is, I’d do anything for her.”

“What are you two whispering about?” She snuck up behind them, popcorn in hand, placing her chin on Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Guy stuff.”

“Laaame!” She shook her head, walking towards the theatre where their movie was playing, “we’re gonna miss the trailers!”

** “Where to next?” She looked between the boys, eager to keep their night going. 

“I should probably head back, I don’t want to worry my grandparents.” Kuroo glanced at the time on his phone, he knew the movie might run late but he didn’t think they’d be out this late. He felt bad as he watched her face drop, clearly not the answer she was expecting.

“Yeah, it is getting a bit late.” Bokuto agreed with a slight shrug.

Y/N dragged her feet along the sidewalk, her shoulder dropped which caused both boys to share a look.

“Is this about what we talked about earlier?” Bokuto asked, pulling her into a side hug.

Kuroo looked between them, curiosity filling him as he tries to think if she told him anything that was bothering her, but he can’t. “What did you two talk about?” She shook her head, “it’s nothing.” She looked up at him, giving him a small straight smile.

Part of him wanted to ask her again, to get her to open up and talk to him about it because it was bothering her then it bothers him, but he didn’t. He tried to find comfort in the fact that at least she could tell Bo about it, at least she had someone, but it still hurt that that someone wasn’t him.

*                      * May – 2011

It had bothered Kuroo for weeks now that it seemed Y/N was confiding more and more into Bokuto that she was him. He was her boyfriend, he was the one she should be going to, right? Then why was she continuously going to their friend?

His irritation started to splinter into other aspects of his life, tests that he should’ve passed he didn’t, blocks he should’ve made he missed, but the boiling point came when Fukurōdani played Nekoma and she came decked out in Fukurōdani colors, cheerfully talking to Bo and his team. He knew it shouldn’t bug him like it was, she attended that school, but what still pissed him off were the comments he heard as they walked by the team.

Comments from other team members and what seemed like potential classmates of theirs repeatedly saying different variations of how cute her and Bo looked together, what a great couple they’d make and the way that she would hang onto Bo’s side.

The game was long, Kuroo spend half the game lost in his anger and the other half moving on auto-pilot as his body seemed to move on its own. Somehow Nekoma ended up winning, but that didn’t change the way he felt as he practically stormed off the court towards the locker room. He understood how important Bo was to her, that they were best friends and had been for longer than he knew either of them, but that didn’t alleviate the anger that radiated off of his shoulders nor did it stop him from slamming the doors he walked through.

“Tetsu-chan!”

He didn’t stop, just continued to walk down the hallway and toward the main entrance, acting as though he’s the only one there.

“Tetsu-chan!” She reached out, pulling his duffle bag’s strap back towards her.

He refused to turn around, having a feeling that he’d lash out and he didn’t want to do that. He needed space, time to cool down, he didn’t want to give her the ultimatum of him or Bo and he had a feeling if he opened his mouth, that’s what he’d say.

She looked at his back, unsure of why he was so upset, his team had just won, shouldn’t he be more excited? “For someone who just won, you’re acting like emo Bo.”

Kuroo’s eye twitched, just hearing her compare him to Bo so effortlessly was painful and caused his thoughts to spiral. Did she want to be with him? Would she rather be with Bo? He clenched his fist, hating the way he felt and hating himself more for feeling that way. He hated the ugly jealousy that wrapped around his chest, weaving around his lung, making it harder to breathe as it tightened. He yanked his bag strap away from her, leaving her standing there as he stormed out.

** A few weeks went by and communication between Kuroo and Y/N was awkward and basic, simple “hello’s” and “yeah, you?” filled most of their exchanges. It all came down to Bo inviting both of them over to his place and essentially locking them in his room, forcing them to talk to each other.

“Tetsu-chan.” She bit down on her lip, tears filled her eyes, the reality of how distant they had grown weighed down the atmosphere, “are we breaking up?” “What?” His head snapped up, finally looking her. He didn’t want to break-up, he wasn’t even mad anymore, he just didn’t know how to get back to where they were. It felt weird to just try to just back in as if nothing had ever happened.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if creating a wall between them, an attempt to brace herself from the pain that seemed to be coming. She tried her hardest to keep her lip from quivering. “’Cause this is a very shitty way of doing that. You could’ve just called.”

He wasn’t sure what was going on, she didn’t look like she wanted to break up, but she sounded like she was ready for one. What sense did that make? The room almost felt hostile, “so I look like the guy that’d break up over the phone, is that what you think of me?” “Did I say that? No. But it’d be better than dumping me in Bo’s room!”

“I didn’t say I wanted to break up!”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“You hurt my feelings!” Kuroo voice raised a bit louder than it had been, both of them pausing in their spot. The tension immediately disappeared and she slowly walked up to him, an adorable pout on her face.

She threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest, “I’m so sorry!” “It’s fine, it’s stupid anyways.” He rubbed circles on her back, pulling her in closer to him.

She protested, claiming anything that bothered him couldn’t be stupid and demanded that he tell her and he did. That he knew it was rather silly to be jealous of her supporting her school, but it made him wonder if she was embarrassed to say she was with him. That he knew it was important for her to have friends and he was glad Bo was one, but she wanted her to see him as someone she could go to in the same she could to Bo because as lame as it sounded, he didn’t like feeling like the odd man out.

She reassured him that it was nothing like that and told him that she saw where he was coming from. She told him that if the roles had been reversed, she would’ve definitely felt the same way that he had and that they both needed to work on their communication skills because they both agreed neither of them wanted what they had to end.

They walked out of the room together, holding hands and Bo looked excited to see they worked things out, wrapping them both in a huge hug. Kuroo thought he felt confident in what she said to him, but then he saw how she seemed to just naturally gravitate towards Bo even when he was there and that sinking feeling he had weeks ago at their game came back, this time plowing into him like a wrecking ball.

*                      * September – 2013

Kuroo accidentally kicks the box as he staggers to stand up, the memories proving to be a bit too much for him. But something in him made him want to see the task through, to see everything that he was holding on to, but to do that he needed alcohol.

His phone starts to vibrate in his pocket, he takes it out immediately pressing the button on the side to silence it then presses it again to send it to voice mail. Kuroo knows who it is, it’s the only person who would be calling him: Kenma.

He opens the fridge, pulling out what few cans of beer he has before shuffling back to his room, flopping down in the stop that’s still warm from him sitting there just moments ago. He puts his phone on floor near him, glancing at the screen as it lights up from a text notification.

Kenma: Missed Call (4) Text Message (15)

Technically he had no reason to avoid his best friend, but he didn’t feel like he deserved Kenma’s kindness because all he had done lately was mess things up. He didn’t want Kenma to tell him everyone messes up and he can fix things since he knew that it was too late to do any of that now.

He pulls out a small pile of printed photographs, some printed out on the mini polaroid paper from the camera she wanted for her birthday. She was his first serious relationship, between school and volleyball he never really gave dating much thought, but it was different with her. She kept him on his toes, made him want to be better, he really could see a future with her, but he screwed it up and now all he had were these pictures.

Pictures that ranged from dates to study sessions, from volleyball games to random adventures through Tokyo. Looking at them made him wonder if she kept the matching ones? Did she have a box too?

A bit of beer splatters when he cracks open the tab and he frantically wiped the picture across his thigh, drying it but smearing the liquid across the photo. He wanted to believe that he tried hard enough to make things work, that he gave it his all, but when he thought back to that night, her words told him differently.

Epinephrine: surges at panic/emergency; provokes stress response— brings out arousal of extreme emotions like fear and anger.

January— 2012

“It’s really not that big of a deal!” She said for the fourth time within the last five minutes, but Kuroo wasn’t listening.

“It is!” He shook his head, pacing her bedroom, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to control what he said if he sat down, he needed to walk this anger out of him.

“He was the first person I saw, Tetsu.” She really didn’t mean anything by telling Bokuto she had been accepted into her top two choices for college, he literally happened to be the first person she saw after getting the news. They’d been dating for two years and he still got jealous when it came to Bo and she wasn’t sure why.

“You just don’t get it.” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to even out his breathing, he really didn’t want to fight with her.

“You’re right, I don’t. I don’t get why my boyfriend gets so upset when I tell my best friend things.”

“Because you told him first! I should know first!”

She snorted, “this is stupid. I mean honestly you sound like a child.”

“A child, nice.” He grabbed his jacket from her desk chair, shoving passed her as he walked down the hall before slipping on his shoes and going right out the front door.

She followed him, yelling at him to stop, yanking on his arm when she finally catches up. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there as she repeatedly apologized, tightly wrapping her arms around his torso.

“I don’t know why I get so jealous.” He sounded defeated and he was, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t place why he felt so threatened by Bo. Maybe it was because he knew her longer, knew parts of her that he didn’t or maybe it’s because deep down he just didn’t feel like he deserved her.

“I know.” She buried her face into his chest, still hugging him. She believed that he didn’t know why he felt that way, but she was still tired of dealing with it, regardless of how much she loved him.

*                      * April – 2012

It was the weird time between graduation and university getting ready to start, Y/N was over at Kuroo’s, his room now filled with boxes. Things didn’t bounce back to normal the way it did before when she thought they were breaking up, after their latest fight things were kinda awkward. They still hung out, but it was mostly just them sitting in the same room both engaged in something alone.

Kuroo looked over when he heard her giggle, raising an eyebrow before humming.

“Yukie sent the group chat some pictures from graduation.” She handed her phone to him, scooting a bit closer so they could look together.

Most of them were harmless, to be fair they were all harmless, but Kuroo started to question them as they went through them. There were ones of Y/N with Yukie and Kaori and some with various team members. Then they got to ones with Bo and both of them stiffened, neither had mentioned him unless they had to since their last fight. There were ones with Bo hanging on an unamused looking Akaashi, but the one that Kuroo hated was one of Bo next to Y/N, his hand “too low” on her hip for his liking.

He pushed himself off his bed, trying to calm down, but he knew this time he wouldn’t be able to.

“Tetsu, it was just a picture.”

He made an annoyed sound, something between a scoff and a laugh, as he shook his head. “He didn’t have to put his hand on your hip like that.”

She rolled her eyes, “it’s just a stupid pose. Everyone does it!” She flipped through the pictures, zooming in on Yukie’s arm that was wrapped around her waist, “see! Look! Her arm is around me, that make you mad too?” “It’d be different if you weren’t practically begging Bo to fuck you!”

The words hung heavy between them, for Kuroo it was a weight of his shoulders to get the words out but for Y/N, it knocked the wind out of her lungs. They were supposed to look at apartments today, find one to live in together while going to college, but a fight like this wasn’t in the plans. At least not for her, she was hoping that they could mend things and start over since they’d be moving away from Bo.

“W-w-what?” Her face was scrunched up in disbelief, the words still not being fully processed.

“I mean the way you flaunt yourself in front of him in that skirt!”

“Skirt?” Her face went deadpan, “you mean my fucking school uniform?”

28 months, they’d been together for over two years and she couldn’t he said that to her, couldn’t believe that he felt that way. Tears started to fill her eyes, for months she walked on pins and needles, carefully edited her words around him and now she had to hear the person she loved the most say the worse kind of words to her.

“You know what I mean! Don’t twist my words!”

“I’m not and I can’t believe you!” She wiped the tears from her face aggressively, “I have done nothing to cause you to feel this way!”

“I’m just making it up? It’s just in my head?” “YES! Bo is our best friend. Friends, that’s all we have ever been!” She started to look around the room, trying to find the sweatshirt she brought with her, she couldn’t have this fight again.

“Friends don’t act like you two do.”

“Boyfriends don’t act like you do!” She took three steps towards Kuroo to grab her sweatshirt before she turned and walked towards his door. She hesitated, thinking Kuroo would call out to her, but he doesn’t, instead he just let her leave.

*                      * July – 2012

They didn’t get a shared apartment like they had planned to. Kuroo stayed in Tokyo while YN moved to Kyoto, choosing a completely different university than she originally intended. For most of their first semester in university they barely spoke at all, neither really making it a point to reach out. Ironically, if it wasn’t Bokuto they wouldn’t have known how the other was doing, how the other was dealing with the upgrade from high school to college.

Then Bokuto mentioned a Fukurōdani vs Nekoma game, invited both of them and both eagerly accepted. Which lead to a very awkward game, each sitting on the opposite side of Bokuto, who was far too busy cheering on his old team to notice. Bokuto ran off after the game, Akaashi had called, leaving the two to awkwardly walk home.

They get close to her house, both lingering on the sidewalk, kicking imaginary rocks to act as if they had something keeping them outside.

“Y/N, I’m –“

“I think we should break up.”

“Y/N, I –”

“No. I don’t want to hear any excuses anymore. I tried so hard to make this work, but what you said to me hurt Kuroo, it really hurt.”

Kuroo. When was the last time she called him that?

“I never did anything to make you think those things, I wouldn’t do that. I really did love you, but I can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy.”

*                      * September – 2013

It had been over a year and he stilled kicked himself for not saying anything to her that night, for letting her walk away without even trying to hold onto their relationship. But that night he discovered that everything he thought about them was a lie. He thought that he had been trying to keep them together, that he had been trying his hardest to be a good boyfriend, but he was the one who tore them apart. He was the one who got it in his head that she was acting a way that he knew she wasn’t, he knew that Bo was just her friend and what made it even worse was after their break-up, Bo and Akaashi announced their relationship.

Not only did he lose his girlfriend, the only girl he’d ever loved, but she eventually told Akaashi what happened and when Bo found out, he was livid. Even Akaashi hadn’t seem Bo as mad as he was when he called and told off Kuroo for ever thinking that about him and Y/N. Maybe all of this was what he deserved, he had been truly awful as a boyfriend and a friend, but even with that awareness, he still missed her. Still wanted her back, wanted to truly be able to fix things with her because he knew he could be better given one more chance.

*                      * October – 2013

Being back at home isn’t as bad as Kuroo built it up in his head to be. His grandparents weren’t thrilled that he wasn’t going to finish up this semester, but he promised them after some time, after he could clear his head, he would go back.

He picked up a part-time job at a convenient shop, just needing something to force him out of his thoughts because somehow being back at home was even worse than being alone in his apartment. Even though he knew she was hours away, it didn’t stop him from almost breaking his neck to see if every girl passing with (h/c) was her. He hadn’t seen her up close since their breakup, so he didn’t know if she had long, short, buzzed hair, hell he didn’t even know if she had colored it differently.

“You didn’t forget my (favorite flavor) tea, did you?”

Kuroo stops in the middle of ringing up a customer at the sound of a familiar voice. Over the last year and a half, he swore he had heard it several times, but this time he is positive that it’s her. He looks up just in time to see her smiling at someone that the aisle is preventing him from seeing and he feels his heart thump into his chest.

He wants to step away from the register, to tell them to just give him a moment, that’s all he needs with her to try to get her to just hear him out, but there’s a pretty long line and she disappears deeper into the store.

“Kuroo?”

He looks up from ringing up the few items that were placed on the counter and it was her. Her in person, not in his dreams or random memories that flooded his mind when was alone. He wanted to ask her to wait for him, to give him just a few minutes to talk to him, but the person next to her wrapped his arm around her and his heart sank.

“Are you on break from school?” She tilts her head to the side.

“Just thought I’d take some time off, clear my head.” He told them the total price, the mystery man handing him the amount. “What about you?” She clears her throat, shifting a bit awkwardly which isn’t missed on either man. “Bo invited us to celebrate him signing to a pro team.” “Ah. So this is…” The man quickly introduces himself, Kuroo doesn’t bother to catch his name, but the title he gives himself sticks in his mind: boyfriend. He wants to be mad, how could she just move on like that? How could she just forget everything they had and start over with this…guy?

“We should get going, Y/N.”

“It was nice seeing you.” She gives him a small polite smile, taking the man’s hand as they walked out of the store. But she pauses before going through the door and for a brief moment Kuroo holds his breath, hoping she’ll tell him she wants to talk. She doesn’t, instead she shakes her head with a small laugh and follows her boyfriend outside.

That’s the moment Kuroo realizes that he no longer has a place in her life to go back to, that no matter how hard and tightly he holds onto the memories they made, he would never get her back. And that realization shook Kuroo to his core.

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

Interested in more? --> Masterlist

[sisternihil]

Dosed

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary: Spencer is dosed with sex pollen while searching an unsubs home lab.

A/N: the reader is plus size and tall, race is unspecified. Also, not beta’d and the first time I’ve written in a year.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, penetrative sex, hand jobs, vaginal massage and fingering, cream pie.

Word Count: 1.8k 

Why was it always Spencer? Surely he was smart enough to recognize a trap when he saw one.

Yet here you are, looking at his flushed face as he strips off his cardigan and tugs at his tie.

‘Spence, we need to get you to the hospital. You’ve clearly been dosed with something. What did you touch?’

‘It was jus-, uh, I-I, that’ he blurts out pointing to an open envelope on the floor. Bending down to get a closer look Spencer kicks it away.

‘Don’t touch it, don’t breathe it in’

He’s starting to sweat as he unbuttons the second and third buttons on his dress shirt. You’re starting to panic, you have to get him out of here. Your phone chirps in your pocket. Thank god it’s Garcia she has to have something.

‘Mama, please tell me you know what this unsub was making’

‘That’s the bad news kitten.’ Your heart drops in fear for Spencer who is currently seated in the corner of the room, legs spread, and rubbing his hands absentmindedly against his thighs. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s sex pollen like in fanfiction’ Penelope says excitedly. You blink and can’t believe what Penelope just said. ‘What?!’ ‘Yes, it won’t hurt him but he’s going to be uncomfortably turned on for the next 12 hours unless he finds some relief’ her voice trails off at the end and you know what she’s implying. You hang up and contemplate your choices.

Oh god. How could you have gotten into this? Yes, of course, you were attracted to Spencer but you didn’t want to take advantage of him. ‘Come on Spence, we’ve gotta get out of here.’ Heaving him up you can feel the heat radiating off of him. He stumbles forward and catches himself by clutching your shoulder. His face nuzzles into your neck as he whines happily. Did he just sniff you? ‘You smell so nice’ he’s starting to slur and you take his hand guiding him outside and into the car.

‘Y/N, I’m so hot— please do something’ he’s begging and you can feel his words affecting you.

You point the AC directly at him hoping that helps in some way. ‘Spencer, I need you to listen to me. Garcia said you’ve been dosed with something like sex pollen’

‘Sex pollen, I thought that was only in fanfiction?’

‘Obviously not, it should wear off in about 12 hours but until then you’re gonna be—‘

‘Horny like a fucking teenager, I know’ he huffs out. Under normal circumstances, Spencer would be horrified that this was happening but at this present moment the only thing he can think about is how he would look between your thick thighs. It’s not the first time he’s thought about it but you’ve never been so close while the thought ran through his mind.

Glancing over you can see the outline of his cock stiffening in his khakis. You focus back to the road not wanting your stare to linger too long. He’s writhing in the passenger seat trying to find some type of friction without using his hands. Somehow he’s trying to maintain some semblance of decency in front of you. Boldness takes over as you reach past the console and run your palm over his cock.

‘Fu-‘ is cut off by a loud guttural moan. He pushes his head back into the seat and you can see the flush of his skin has spread down to his chest. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he catches your wrist to hold you in place.

‘Is this okay?’ It comes out just above a whisper but you’re trying to find consent in some way. A simple ‘yes’ is all he can get out as he undoes his belt and slacks just enough to pull his cock out. He guides your hand in a few experimental strokes and then he’s fucking your hand and panting out more curses than you’ve ever heard him say. His rhythm starts to stutter and you hate that your focus is on the road because you can only imagine the beautiful faces he’s making. Luckily you’re pulling into your drive just as you feel a sticky warmth coat your hand.

He’s collapsing against the seat and you can see his muscles relaxing. He looks wrecked, cheeks dusted pink, hair mussed and pupils blown wide. You come to his side and help him out of the car and into your house.

‘Oh fuck’ he whispers out ‘What?’ You can hear a slight panic in his voice and you know this can’t be good. ‘You know there are usually a few types of sex pollen, the type that eases after orgasm and the type the gets worse after orgasm’

‘Yea? And what does that mean for you?’

He swallows harshly, ‘I think this is the kind that gets worse after orgasm’

‘Come on let’s get you out of these clothes and into a cold bath, you’re burning up’ you’re pressing him toward your bedroom when he stops.

‘That’s not going to help me’ he grits out. He’s frustrated at having to spell this out for you and the way you’re looking at him with doe eyes only makes him want you more. Spencer closes the distance between you by pressing a hungry kiss against your lips. It’s all tongue and teeth and his hands are gripping your hair at the nape of your neck.

Shock wears off and you respond urging him into your bedroom. You finish the last buttons on his shirt as he toes his shoes off and shrugs his pants and boxers into a pile on the floor. The backs of his knees hit the bed and with a little shove, he’s seated.

You’d always wondered what he looked like underneath all the sweater vests and cardigans. He’s lithe - slim without bones and you never imagined his arms and back were so well defined. You take him in from head to toe and stifle a laugh as his socks catch your eye (one hot pink and one brown argyle) - yep, he’s still Dr. Reid.

He doesn’t falter under your gaze, however. He’s emboldened by it even as he drags you into his lap and into another hungry kiss. Spencer has wanted this for longer than he’d care to admit and he takes his time touching studying every inch of you, greedy to feel you against him, skin to skin.

Standing as you strip down to undergarments, he positions himself in the center of your bed. His cock is painfully hard and leaking as he watches. Skillfully you unhook the black satin bra as your heavy breasts spill out and his cock twitched against his stomach. Before you can move, he’s hauling you on top of him.

Soft, that’s the only word Spencer can think of as he sinks his fingers into your substantial waist. God, you’re so impossibly soft. It’s dizzying how comforting your weight feels on top of him. A moan from your lips as you grind against him brings him out of his reverie. Soft kisses are placed at short intervals down his neck and chest. ‘More. Please.’ he whimpers out as you spread kisses from shoulder to shoulder and gently tug at his hardened nipple. He grabs your hips harshly as you repeat the action over and pushes you beneath him.

Two fingers are pressed into your mouth as he commands ‘suck’. You sob around his fingers as he takes a nipple into his mouth and grazes the hardened peak with his teeth. He’s cupping your sex and massaging gently (you make a mental note to ask him where he learned this later) while teasing your entrance with each passing. ‘Spence’ is all you can choke out before he’s filling you up with two fingers. You can feel the slight burn of stretching as he scissors his fingers inside, pressing against your tight walls, and fuck it feels so good.

‘I wanna feel you’ your face flushes at your bold request and he presses a soft kiss to your lips and moves between your legs. Positioning a pillow under your hips and he slowly sinks into you. He can’t remember if his last time felt like this but you’re so fucking wet and warm that it takes his breath away and he steadies himself before creating a rhythm he can’t keep.

It starts slow and fervid, soft moans fill the room as you both adjust to the other. Then something awakens in Spencer and your legs are over his shoulders while he’s buried completely inside of you. ‘Fuck, Dr. Reid you’re filling me up so good’ tears prick the rims of your eyes as he continually brushes against that sweet spot inside of you. His hips start to falter as he brings your legs down to settle on his hips ‘you feel so perfect around me’ and you can feel his breath on your skin as he rests his head against yours.

With his second wind, all you can do is whine as he fucks into you impossibly faster. This pace brings you to the ledge and pushes you over as his thumb rubs assured circles around your clit. You’re clenching around him and leaving half-moons pressed into his back as your eyes close and white burst fill your vision. One, two more thrusts and he’s cumming inside you.

Slowly as he disconnects from you and he sits back on his heels, he spreads you open watching as a creamy white mess leaks out of you. Dragging a middle digit up your slit he collects the mess and fucks it back inside of you. ‘No, no, no. I’m too sensitive’ you squeal clamping your legs together. He brings his finger to his lips, lapping it clean, tasting both you and his self.

Spencer’s phone chimes from the floor and it’s Garcia again. ‘Kid are you still alive?’ She says loudly over the speaker. ‘I think the dose is finally starting to wear off’ ‘So, did you—’ Garcia cuts herself off. ‘I, uh, I have to go Garcia. Talk to you later.’

‘It’s wearing off’ you question covering and pulling yourself up in bed. ‘What happened to this is the kind that gets worse?’

Spencer rubs the back of his neck and looks at you sheepishly ‘I thought it was but I guess that was just my own sex drive.’

You’re covering your face and laughing as he takes the spot beside you. His kisses you like a different man, gentle as he cups your face and it so sweet, you could almost cry.

As nice as this is a shower is better and you opt for it together. You had the rest of the day to spend in bed with him.

[sparkkeyper]

Variations on a Theme

I’ve been working on this one for a while and finally managed to finish it up for the Ace Omens discord prompt - Dancing.

The music I had on repeat while writing the second half was “So Close” from Enchanted. I like to imagine the record they end up with is one of those piano-only arrangements of it.

Also, you can’t tell me that Crowley didn’t jam to every Top 40 since music charts were invented.

(Now on AO3!)

---------------------------

"You mean you've only danced the gavotte?"

Crowley's sunglasses were barely hanging on to his nose as it was, what with the both of them being several drinks into their first bottle of the night. It didn't take many to banish the glasses these days, not when the pair of them were nestled comfortably in the back room of the bookshop, the failed Armageddon several weeks behind them. The demon stared incredulously over the tinted lenses as Aziraphale straightened from where he had begun to slouch with his wine.

"And why is that such a surprise? Angels don't usually dance at all."

"Yeah but you're not a 'usually' angel, you're you!" Crowley waved a hand wildly but did his glasses the mercy of setting them on the end table before they could fall. "You like the...the singing and the harmonizing and stuff. Humans have been moving to music since the Beginning and you really never, ever wanted to learn?"

"I did learn," the angel pointed out.

"Never wanted to learn more than the one?" Crowley amended. "Just the one in six thousand years?"

"It just didn't strike me as something I wanted to try," Aziraphale shrugged and refilled his wine glass. "The humans seemed to enjoy it sure enough, but it looked like such a hassle to attempt."

"A hassle!" Crowley threw his head back and grabbed his hair, and goodness did Aziraphale love to watch him wax dramatic when embroiled in a topic he was passionate about. "Dancing a hassle! Dancing a ha- It's not a job, angel, it's for fun!"

"Yes but in order for one to dance well, one must put in a certain amount of work."

"It's not about dancing well, it's about letting loose." Crowley rolled his eyes, stalking over to the angel's record collection next to the gramophone. "Unless you're in a professional stage company, you're not required to dance well."

"Somehow that sentiment isn't the least bit surprising coming from you."

"Oi, I'll have you know I'm an excellent dancer even though I'm not required to be. Come on, there's got to be something in here you can dance to."

"I don't know the proper steps to anything else."

"Bah, steps!" Crowley waved him off. "Don't need steps. Just make it up."

"I most certainly cannot."

"You most certainly can so. Oh for Satan's sake-" Crowley gave up his hunt and snapped, materializing a record in the gramophone and giving the handle a few solid cranks. "There we go!" His shoulders began moving to a heavy clapping beat that had definitely never been released on 78.

He turned back to Aziraphale, a grin on his face as his hips twitched to the music. "No steps, see? Just freestyle it. Come on, off the sofa, let's see it."

"This hit, that ice cold,

Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold,

This one for them hood girls,

Them good girls, straight masterpieces-"

He made a get-up gesture and Aziraphale rose uncertainly. "I really don't think I know what to do with this-"

"Don't have to, that's the best part. Just move to the beat. "

Aziraphale tried to imitate his friend, he really did, but there was no pattern to follow. One moment the movement was in Crowley's shoulders, the next it was in his hips, and now his feet were acting out a stomp-like rhythm on the carpet. It was a fascinating thing to watch, how dancing seemed to take over his entire corporation. With the gavotte, one's back remained quite straight. There was a level of control and skill to it that Aziraphale had greatly enjoyed: maintaining some parts of yourself in position while moving others. But with Crowley's dancing, the entire line of his body twisted and flowed. A movement that started in his neck might end in an arm, or maybe it would travel up one leg and come back down the other. He made it look effortless, like it took no thought at all.

"I'm too hot! Hot damn!

Call the police and the fireman.

I'm too hot! Hot damn!

Make a dragon wanna retire, man-"

The demon's eyes flicked over his stilted attempts to copy the motions and Aziraphale watched him bite back a smirk. "No, angel?"

"Perhaps it's this century's music - goodness, there's not much melody, is there? - but I really don't understand this sort of dancing."

"Not much to understand, really, but here. We'll step it back a few decades." He snapped again and a new record appeared in his hand, which was quickly swapped out for the one on the gramophone.

Crowley snapped his fingers to the beat, hips moving in time. "Oh, don't give me that look. You can't possibly dislike Bill Haley and His Comets."

"One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock, rock.

Five, six, seven o'clock, eight o'clock, rock.

Nine, ten, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, rock.

We're gonna rock! Around! The clock tonight!

Put your glad rags on and join me, hon',

We'll have some fun when the clock strikes one-"

"It's not that I dislike it..." Aziraphale did his best to imitate the hip thing, and the demon's stifled snort told him exactly how unsuccessful he was at it. "I just don't...connect with this style of dance, I suppose. That's the only way I know how to put it."

"So try your own style. It's not a right and wrong, it's just whatever motion speaks to you." Crowley threw his torso into a shimmy and goodness, what were his knees even doing? Aziraphale gave up trying to copy any of it.

"That's just it! Motions don't 'speak to me'. Dancing isn't...isn't...aimlessly gyrating! It's about form and style - about using form and style to bring the music to life. There's a language to it the same way there's a language to literature. Every kick and dip and bow means something and it's all spoken into being through movement! But there needs to be a form in order for that to happen."

"No no, that's the problem! That's so limiting! So much of the universe is already made up of forms and rules!" Crowley threw his hands up to encompass the heavens. "Laws and etiquette and physics, everywhere! Inescapable! Dancing is freedom! Music is emotion distilled down into pure audio form precisely so you can do what you want with it! How does it make you feel? What does it make you want? You take it and you process it and you feel it and move however it moves you! It's speaking, yes, but in a way no one else has control over! The thing about dancing is you get to be purely you, no matter what anybody else wants."

"I already am me," Aziraphale insisted. "And I like knowing what movement comes next. I like having straightforward expectations to fulfill. That's what's satisfying - completing the steps and knowing you've gotten them right!"

The moment stretched out between them as they both let this soak in. Somewhere along the way, the gramophone had made the executive decision to go silent.

"Certainly can't fault you for that," Crowley said slowly. "Preferring a solid plan. Expectations outlined and all. It's very you."

"Nor, I suppose, could I fault you for preferring more freedom in your movement. You've always had a penchant for finding new ways to express yourself. What with the clothes and the hair and all." Aziraphale fidgeted with the corner of his waistcoat absently. "It suits you, it really does. But not me. If that were my only option, I'd rather not dance at all." He shook himself with a tiny smile and sat back in his armchair. "Ah well. I had a good run with the gavotte, anyway. Got a few good decades out of it."

Crowley pursed his lips for a few moments, then switched the record again to fill the room with a smooth piano. "Can't have that, though, can we? One dance goes out of style and you're done? I don't think so. Come on, angel, get back up." He made a come-here motion until Aziraphale stood again.

"Look, I'm really not-"

"You want defined steps? I'll give you defined steps."

Aziraphale paused, considering. "What sort is it?"

"Easy one. Simple, can use it for a lot of dances. Waltz, foxtrot, all kinds of things."

Aziraphale chewed on his lip. He wasn't anxious to make a fool of himself stumbling over a completely unfamiliar style. But goodness, he missed dancing.

Crowley held out a hand to him. It was a hesitant thing, far enough out to be an offering but close enough in to be passed off as a casual gesture if it went unaccepted.

Aziraphale braced himself and accepted it. "Right. So how does this work?"

"Easy. Here, I'll lead. So you just - hand here... Other hand here..." Crowley positioned Aziraphale's right hand on his shoulder and loosely grasped his left. They stood like that together for a moment, a good distance apart so the angel could look down at his shoes. "And I step like this..." Crowley moved one foot forward. "So you step backwards to match me. Go on, then."

Aziraphale stepped as instructed.

"Right. And then I move here -" His other foot came forward and to the side - "And yours comes back and over along the same route. Yep. Now feet together, like they were at the start. Good?"

Aziraphale made certain he had his balance and nodded.

"Good. Now I step back, like you did, and you come forward this time... No no, leave your other foot there. Right. Now bring your other foot forward as mine comes back and over. Just stepping in a big square, that's all we're doing. And feet back at the start. Make sense?"

Aziraphale pulled in a deep breath. "Simple enough in theory."

"Here, we'll try it again. Back-two. Side-two. Forward-two. Side-two...that's right. Now we just add a bit of a turn to it and that's all it is. Like this... Back-two, side-two-"

Aziraphale clutched at him as they worked their way around the room to the music. (The furniture wisely backed itself up to give them space, twisting physics occasionally to avoid being tripped over.) The problem wasn't the steps, exactly. It was combining the steps with everything else: holding tight to Crowley to keep his balance while still trying to keep enough distance to give his legs room to work, figuring out which foot to have his weight on and when, incorporating the dratted turn into the rest of it, moving precisely in time with Crowley so that they didn't step on each other.

Humans had so many pieces to keep track of. So many parts moving a specific distance at the same time. He'd been in this corporation for thousands of years and usually had an excellent handle on how it operated, but that only made new movement patterns more difficult to master. It took so much work for him to commit such things to muscle memory. Each misstep threw his rhythm off and dammit, there, he was so close to overbalancing them both -

But Crowley kept him in place.

Crowley's palm rested just under his right shoulder blade, guiding the motion of his body through space. Holding him so steady even when he felt himself floundering. Wasn't that always the way? he thought distantly, eyes trained on his feet. Even after stepping repeatedly on the demon's toes (and heels, and instep, and in one spectacular fumble the back of his left knee) Crowley was a solid anchor keeping him upright.

Dancing of any variety did not come naturally to Aziraphale. Angels were built to be sturdy, immovable. It had taken him ages to make any headway at all with the gavotte. But Crowley didn't seem to mind. He chuckled a bit when Aziraphale stepped too early. He murmured advice, a smile on his lips. And his eyes sparkled. Goodness, how they sparkled.

Letting the music wash over him, Aziraphale put his trust in Crowley. Let the demon guide him here in their own little circle. Slowly, slowly, he was getting the hang of the steps - treading on toes less at any rate. It was nice, dancing like this, it really was...

And then Crowley spun him.

He didn't realize what was happening until it was practically over. The motion of Crowley's arm coming up and turning guided his whole body smoothly around and he clicked back into place against the demon like he was never meant to be anywhere else.

Aziraphale's feet faltered to a stop, eyes wide and all steps forgotten.

Crowley froze with him. "Too much?" he asked quietly.

"I - I..." Aziraphale felt like he was still spinning, heart beating entirely too fast. "I don't..."

"Too much," Crowley answered himself, releasing his hold and taking a step back. "Thought I might try mixing it up, but I misjudged. Won't do it again."

"Mixing it...oh. Of course." Aziraphale looked down at the space between them. It was barely two feet but it suddenly seemed so much farther. "This is holding you back, isn't it? This repetitive step. You'd much rather be improvising."

"I...well I didn't say that..."

"Like you said before. You'd prefer to let the music move you rather than be limited to a predetermined pattern. I can understand that even if I can't relate. You shouldn't be beholden to this."

"It's good," Crowley blurted out, making the angel pause. "For music like this. The down-tempo, largo stuff. This is a good way to dance to it. I like it." He swallowed hard and tried for a nonchalant shrug. "I mean, don't ask me to dance like this to Uptown Funk but for this style it's...y'know. It's good."

"Right. Good." Aziraphale fidgeted, hands feeling incredibly empty. "I admit, I'm very much out of my depth here. Angels don't... I don't know what I'm doing.”

"We can stop. No sense pushing it."

"I didn't say... I'll get used to it."

"You don't have to get used to anything you don't want to." Crowley made to step back but Aziraphale, in an instant of panic, stepped forward after him.

"I want to!"

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft piano. Crowley stood frozen, as though his next movement required the most careful consideration of his life.

Aziraphale steeled himself and raised his hands back to their dancing positions. "Please."

The demon looked over the two of them and very hesitantly replaced his hands, as though doing so might scare the angel off.

They stood there for a long time. Not moving, just holding on to each other with the breathless tension of men on the gallows, waiting for the trap door to open beneath them.

Aziraphale pulled in a deep, steadying breath. "I'm afraid it's going to take a long time for me to get this right. All of this. I'm not very good at this sort of thing when I don't know the steps."

"Take all the time you need," Crowley replied softly. "I'm just sort of making it up as I go, honestly."

"It might be very long. I can't improvise as easily as you can."

"I wouldn't expect you to." The demon tightened his grip ever so slightly and Aziraphale suddenly couldn't conceive of pulling away. "No spinning, promise."

"I - I didn't say that." Fingers itched to trace a familiar nervous pattern - straighten bowtie, adjust waistcoat. They tightened in Crowley's hands instead. "Just...warn me before you do. Let me prepare."

"I can do that, yeah." The demon held him so carefully, as though giving him every chance to break away, and started them off into their pattern once more.

The hesitant grip grew more sure with each rotation around the room, and it was impossible to tell if it was one or both of them. Each successful round of the sequence made Aziraphale feel a little bolder. It was the reassurance of a task set and completed: the very ancient satisfaction of expectations met. That desire had been ingrained in his bones since bones were invented and in a way it calmed him. There was so much he suddenly felt unprepared for but at least he could do this. 

He wasn’t successful every time, of course. He still fumbled, still trod on snakeskin shoes. But the guiding hand was back under his shoulder blade and God, did it make a world of difference. It stayed with him through each failed attempt and carried him through to try again. Any wrong positioning of his legs seemed less important when he was sure Crowley would keep him where he needed to be. 

He could see the tension draining from the demon as well. The sense that he was holding something fragile and afraid to break it was melting slowly back into the confident strides Aziraphale had seen from the start. The lines of motion flowed through him the way they had earlier, though more predictably at present. He was still amazing to watch, all moving lines and sharp joints. Aziraphale blamed more than one stagger on it.

"All right if I spin you?"

The angel braced himself. "All right."

"'Kay. Three, two-" Crowley twirled him again and for a single, dazzling moment it felt like flying. It felt free and easy and the most natural thing in the world -

And then he stumbled over his own feet coming back in and nearly collapsed against the demon's chest and drat, now he'd lost all the steps-

"Forward-two, right-two, back-two, you've got it, come on, forward-two -"

Aziraphale clung to the instructions and managed to get back on track within an eight-count, concentrating fiercely on the movements of their feet together.

"That's what I'm talking about. Look at you. Angel dancing something other than the gavotte. Who would have thought, eh?"

"Who indeed." There was a warm fluttering in his chest. So much to keep track of with these human bodies.

He was still going to need a lot of time and a lot of practice. He had a feeling there was a lot of unknown territory ahead regarding the two of them.

But he had Crowley to keep him steady. So they’d be all right.