#bean-2-cup machine

[gender-euphowrya]

honestly a dystopian thing we barely talk about is how printer companies have that shit now where their ink cartridges have chips in them to force you to buy and use their official ones like

damn i paid for the printer and i'm not even free to choose the ink i put in it

[jupitercl0uds]

what i MEANT to say is, to the consumer at least, most drinks are low-effort. you either buy it bottled, it literally comes from the tap or you make it with little effort. coffee is different because you have to MAKE it unless its literally just black instant. if youre particularly passionate, you might go and buy some, typically made with a million machines you have to learn with a million steps and additional ingredients. maybe you even have one yourself - personally, we've got 5 different ways of making coffee in my house. even other hot drinks are still relatively simple, with the only thing coming close being hot chocolate (and thats mostly because there are just loads of ways to make it).

coffee isnt necessarily the most effort-inducing drink, dont get me wrong, but its the one you typically see the most effort for.

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 13: All Of My Past, I Tried To Erase It, But Now I See, Would I Even Change It? (Part 1)

Masterlist / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 (Part 1 / Here!) (Part 2) /

Trigger Warnings: Body Image Issues, Eating Issues.

The Kents' apartment smelled of ink and coffee beans.

Even after years of learning to control his strength, Clark still managed to crush pens with his bare hands if he got a bit too into his interview transcripts. Making a mess of ink over his papers and desk, groaning to himself for ruining another nice shirt, and gaining a belly laugh from his wife and the boys when he made his way to the kitchen sink to scrub off his now blue hands. 

And if the other three were laughing a bit too much for his liking, the whole apartment would become full of squeals, laughter, and loud stomping. Clark taking his sweet revenge by staining his family and the walls of their home with his handprints.

It usually ended with all of them sprawled on the floor, still giggling and laughing while covered in ink.

On the other hand, Lois was still only to be trusted with the coffee machine in the kitchen. Every morning without fail, the place would smell of her favorite coffee brand, almost serving as an alarm clock for the rest of the family, which was still snoring or slumbering in their rooms.

Lois had tried multiple times to get Conner to like her coffee, already giving up on Clark after so many years of trying and deeming Jon too young to give him a taste. But to her luck, Conner also seemed to inherit Clark’s sweet tooth and blatant dislike for the drink.

Still, he continued to please her by trying her morning coffee despite the nausea and Clark’s pointed stare.

And all of this was part of what Conner deemed as home.

For him, home was Clark’s ink-stained hands and Lois’s morning coffee.

Home was also Ma’s apple pie, the one that she still insists has a magical healing ingredient for when somebody is feeling down. Home is also Pa’s Coke float after a long, hot day of working on the farm. And Jon’s drawings, the ones made with those cheap fruit-scented markers that he keeps in both of his bedrooms on Metropolis and Smallville.

Home wasn’t a place for him. 

His family was his home, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

But right now? Conner would trade anything to avoid where this conversation was going.

“Are you sure he’s your only concern?” Lois squinted at him from behind her cup.

Clark gave her a pointed look, fingers coming to a stop from typing on his laptop. His glasses had slipped down his nose, making him look like an old man when he tried to look through the lenses by turning up his nose because he didn’t bother to fix them up.

He didn’t even need the glasses, not around them. But it seemed like he would just forget to drop his act even inside his home.

“I’m sure Tim is just going through a rough time.” The older man suggested, eyes drifting away from his wife and towards Conner, who sat right in front of him on the round dinner table. “If he’s anything like Bruce, I’m sure he’ll be back to normal once their current case is solved.”

“I don’t think it’s about the case, though,” Conner stated, hanging his arm on the back of his chair. His legs were spread out under the table, still wearing his pajama pants with a teddy bear print that Jon had proudly given him as a Christmas gift the previous year. 

They were the most comfortable pieces of clothing he had ever gotten, so nobody could judge him for wearing them around the apartment. If someone teased him, they would have to deal with a teary-eyed Jon and an annoyed Conner ready to get them to apologize.

“He’s been, I don’t know,” he sighed, eyebrows creasing. “He is just acting weird.”

Lois snorted, finally taking a seat beside Clark at the table. Her cup clunked against the table as she put it down. “Define weird. No one in that family has any type of normal behavior.”

“Lois.” Clark chided. “That’s not nice.”

She shrugged, crossing her arms and leaning back on the chair. “It’s a fact. I speak only with the facts.”

Conner stayed quiet for a while, looking at the two adults as they bantered. He was already used to this conversation between them when it came to the Wayne family.

It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Clark had known Bruce and the boys for years, and he had developed a level of trust in them, despite their occasional clashing debates on certain opinions and themes. It was to be expected that he would come to Bruce’s defense when it came to some questionable decisions or actions made by the Dark Knight.  

Even if Clark has been having a harder time justifying his friend’s actions lately.

Lois, on the other hand, had a very different opinion of Bruce Wayne. And she wasn’t shy about letting it be known. Because, despite all the good things that man has done for his city, both inside and outside his suit, Lois Lane refuses to ignore Bruce’s actions and behavior toward his children.

More specifically, towards his daughter.

Conner didn’t know all the details about it, but from what he gathered from past comments and overheard conversations, Lois had been present at the Wayne girl’s first public appearance. 

And from what he had gathered, that event had been a disaster that continued to make Lois’ blood boil.

It was curious to him. It was curious how everything seemed to be circling back towards her. 

How in Tim’s mindless mutters, her name was the one to get his attention amongst the mess of words his friend spouted. How, despite listening to Barbara’s warnings, his mind could just picture her sharp grin and long curls that refused to stay still for a single moment. How her blunt words and quick glances made such a big impression on him, no matter how short and fast their first meeting had been.

He couldn’t even forget the sound-

“I recognize that look anywhere.” Lois's smug voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his head facing towards the two adults.

Clark looked at him with a raised eyebrow, the corner of his mouth rising very slowly, while Lois had a triumphant expression on her face and taking a sip from her coffee. Then, she leaned a bit forward, her index finger pointed right at Conner’s face.

It put him on the edge, feeling all his danger alarms blaring in the back of his head.

Because when Lois caught onto something, there was no way of escaping.

“Absent from conversations. Longing sighs. And most importantly, that dreamy, far-away look that can only belong to a Kent.” She mentioned, eyes sharpening while Clark coughed behind his fist. Conner could only sink deeper into his seat, feeling his face turn warm as Lois rose from her chair with a laugh.

“Can’t say I’m surprised! You’re a teenager, after all. It was bound to happen at some point.” She teased, going around the table to ruffle his hair as he groaned while covering his now bright red face. Which got a chuckle out of Clark and coos from Lois.

Conner tried to move her hands away, but she simply laughed and hugged him from behind while he pouted at Clark, offended that the man wasn’t doing anything to stop her. 

“Who are they? Are they a friend of yours? Maybe Tim’s?” Clark asked, closing his laptop and taking off his glasses.

“They’re obviously from Gotham, or Kon wouldn’t be so insistent on visiting so often,” Lois added. “Are they close to the Wayne family? Are they a boy or a girl? How long have you known each other?”

As Clark and Lois continued to ask more questions, Conner could only hope to pass away out of pure embarrassment and shame.

There goes his sense of privacy. It was nice while it lasted.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“It stinks like ass in there.”

“If that was the ladies' bathroom,” Bobby sighed, shoving his uniform deep into his bag. “Imagine ours. It could count as a biohazard weapon.”

Maximoff grunted, closing the door of the truck after throwing her bag in the backseat, which hit a half-asleep Warren. He glared at her through the back window before slipping his eyes closed and grumbling to himself, crossing his arms and leaning his head back against the seat.

It had been easy sneaking out of the academy grounds. Their classes were cut short to finish up the preparations for the recital. It was apparently a big deal for the student body, and they took it very seriously. So seriously, that plenty of arguments and near fist fights over the order of turns had broken out when the list had been revealed earlier in the week. It was hard to understand why everyone was so stressed over it until Warren gave some insight.

The recital wasn’t exactly just some silly talent show for the school, but another way for college scouts to find candidates for their programs.

It worked similarly to college coaches recruiting athletes for their teams, but mostly focused on the arts. Gotham Academy had the resources and contacts to bring prestige Universities to this recital, like Juilliard, The Curtis Institute, Berklee, etc. 

And that was just the big price because the journey to get it was even more brutal.

To be part of the recital, you had to go through a series of auditions. You couldn’t just sign up and do your act; you had to fight for your spot against your classmates, and then hope for the best at the recital.

Warren wasn’t exactly passionate about music; all of his plans revolved around his father’s company and inheritance. He would go to Gotham University, study finances, marry whoever his father approved, and then grow bald while sitting on his ass for the rest of his life in his father’s fancy office.

…Well, that’s how Warren explained it.

But Wayne had other plans with him. She had seen Warren practice the violin by himself one day after school and dragged him to the auditions while claiming them to be a musical duo from that day on. He had refused at first, but then the famous deal was made, and he had no choice but to agree to it.

But all of those efforts had been thrown out the window by the very bizarre situation they had on their hands at the moment.

With the recital out of their plans, now exchanged with sneaking into probably the most dangerous place in the whole city, the teens had embraced their new target with plenty of questions about how the hell they were going to be able to pull it off.

The first stage was easy: sneaking out of the academy. 

Since there was pure chaos when the last bell rang, all three of them (plus an invisible ghost to the normal eye) had slipped away to the parking lot and took off in Bobby’s truck. The only obstacle they faced was avoiding Mr. Logan’s sharp eyes while going through the halls. It was almost as if he had known they were up to something. But they hid in the corners and walked with small crowds of students until they made it outside, successfully evading the teacher.

(Or so they thought.)

The second stage was where they were currently stuck: Changing their uniforms at the closest gas station to the Trigate Bridge and fueling up (Both the truck and their stomachs).

Finding out that the asylum was outside on a completely different island, on the city limits, had put their previous plan on shaky ground. If it were on the mainland, they could have just snuck into the building without getting noticed with Maximoff’s speed (which was a shitty plan because she has little to no control over her speed yet, the security cameras and the fact that none of them knew how to hack or some bullshit like that). 

But Arkham Asylum was located on Mercey Island, an island that was filled with security, and the only way of getting in was with an authorized visit permit. 

And, of course, since she was a minor, it had to be signed by an adult and accompanied by them.

Asking Bruce for the permit was clearly out of the question, or anyone in the family. Maximoff already didn’t trust them, and the whole letter fiasco left it pretty clear that the man would go to far-off lengths to keep her away from Harvey Dent. 

(It also chilled her to the bone being around him lately. She didn’t like how his stare lingered on her the whole time she wandered into a room or hall.)

Alfred was also out; she didn’t want to get the poor man in trouble. He had done plenty for her by bringing her meals to her room, so she didn’t have to talk to anyone else, and also letting her know when everyone was out of the manor. Asking him for help in this was a bit too much to ask of him.

There was the option of asking Barbara, whom she had been texting in the past week, but she didn’t know her well enough to ask her something like that. Plus, the fact that Richard was her boyfriend didn’t exactly help out in thrusting her right out of the gate.

And just like that, they were stumped with their choices.

No permit. No supervising adult. And no way to get into Arkham.

The door of the gas station buzzed as Bobby and Maximoff made their way inside. There were only two employees, one at the cashier and the other trying to fix the slushy machine, and a red-headed customer looking at the fridges. Bobby went directly to the bored-looking cashier to pay for some gas, while she went straight to the snack aisle. 

She looked at the overfilled shelves, quickly taking the mini sugar donut packages and plenty of potato chip bags. It wasn’t long until her arms were completely occupied with the brightly colored bags. 

Her stomach grumbled loudly, letting her know that it was time to either eat once again or face the consequences.

That had also been a bother lately. Eating. 

The pangs of hunger had multiplied to an abnormal amount during the week. Every half an hour, her stomach would cause a riot for food until her eyes teared up in pain from the earth-shattering headache that sprouted from the back of her head. 

It was quite disorienting the first time she got that headache. She almost fell right on her face while running on the track if it weren’t for Mr. Logan’s quick reflexes.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“That’s enough for today.” He growled out, helping her sit up on the bench. Her face was pale and sweaty, her mouth dry and panting.

Mr. Logan gently guided her head down, positioning it between her knees so she could take deeper breaths. The boys hadn’t made it to the field yet, still wrapped up in their practices, so it was up to the teacher to deal with this situation by himself.

Maximoff didn’t know when she had closed her eyes, but she snapped them open when a cold, wet towel was put over the back of her neck. Hissing and cursing at the sudden sensation until it brought a bit of relief. Then, a water bottle was pressed against her lips, instantly taking big gulps from it.

“Easy, bub. It’s not going anywhere.” He muttered, a heavy but warm hand patting gently her shoulder, until she finished the bottle.

When she tried to talk, her words sounded slurred and heavy. But he hushed her and shoved one of his snack bars into her hands, the plastic package already opened by him. She didn’t hesitate to take a bite, sighing deeply with her head hanging low and hunching in her seat.

“Did you eat before practice? You can’t run without having something to eat, kid.” He fumed in a sharp tone, his bushy eyebrows frowning at her while he stared at her from his kneeling position at her right side.

But she nodded, still chewing on her bar as her free hand unfolded the cold towel at her neck and put it over her head, hoping it would soothe the pounding between her ears.

“I did,” she croaked. “Took a whole meal from the cafeteria that was about to get trashed before it closed.”

“And water? Did you drink water today?” He prodded, frown deepening. 

“Yeah,” She drawled.

The teacher hummed to himself, sighing roughly as he stood up and walked to their things on the bench behind her. His thoughts go to all the possibilities this new development could mean to the girl. 

He knew speedsters burned calories way faster than the average person. He had seen Pietro down a ridiculous number of burgers in two minutes, and the disgusting sugary concoctions he makes when he’s on a sugar craving. Logan also remembered Hank’s trial-and-error phase to make a supplement that covered all of Pietro's bodily necessities, which resulted in the snack bars and protein shake that Pietro hated until they added some ice cream flavor to it. 

And it worked. To Pietro, at least.

But she wasn’t Pietro. Pietro was a grown adult, and she was a teenager. Pietro had complete control of his mutation when they met, and the kid just had her powers awakened. And no mutation is ever the same, no matter how similar they are.

Logan needed to get Hank down to Gotham, he would know what to do and the right things to ask. For now, he would have to make do with what he has at hand.

It would have to be enough for now.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

After that, Mr. Logan started to shove those snack bars right into her bag every morning as soon as she made it to his class. During the day, he also managed to find her around the campus to remind her to drink water and give her even more bars.

It was odd. Having such an intimidating man appear at every corner just to remind her to eat and take it easy. It was somewhat sweet, too. It meant he cared. That he cared enough to take some of his time just to make sure she was doing alright.

And that made her feel even worse.

Because, at the end of the day, she was unsure if she deserved it. All that care. All that attention. 

From Mr. Logan. 

From Bobby and Warren. 

Why did she get to have it and not Wayne?

It had been a constant thought in the past days. The feeling of taking something that wasn’t hers, that wasn’t meant to be hers. The constant sensations of wrongness when she looked in the mirror and felt as if she was doing everything wrong.

That she wasn’t the one who was supposed to be standing there. The one who was supposed to be filling the lungs of this body. The one who was supposed to be using that voice. The one who was supposed to feel, to touch, the breath, to talk, to eat, to walk, to-

Her eyes caught the reflection of the crystal on the fridge’s door.

Parts of her clothes hung off her body, the collarbone sticking out on the neck of her light grey top. The bones of her hands were more prominent and almost skeletal under the translucent light. Her cheeks were sunken and pale, along with the bags beneath her eyes. 

Her chest heaved sharply, words stuck behind her throat, but her mind was reeling nonstop.

Look what you did. You don’t deserve this body. It’s not even yours, and look how you treat it. So careless. Can’t take care of something that isn’t even yours. Why are you even here? You don’t deserve it. Why you and not her? Why are you breathing and not her? Why did you get the chance, and she didn’t? She is the one who deserves another chance. Not you. Why you? Why you? Why yoU? Why YOU?! WHY YOU? WHY YOU WHY YOU WHYYOUWHYOU-

“Breath with me.”

She shook her head, distantly hearing something fall to the ground, and her hands were weightless. Trembling and sweating between her fingers.

“Breath with me.”

Warm fingers wrapped around her wrist, making her flinch (It’s bone. It’s pure bone-), but it squeezed back and brought her hand up to put it against a firm surface. She felt the threads of fabric under her fingers, distantly recognizing that it was a chest by the beating sensation against her palm.

The heartbeat was going so fast. It was almost like it was buzzing. 

It felt oddly comforting. Almost familiar, in some weird sense. As if she had felt something like this before. A heartbeat going so fast that it was almost impossible to register normally.

‘Your mom used to say I was like a hummingbird. Always buzzing around and moving nonstop. I didn’t get it back then, but now? You get to be my own hummingbird.’

‘But I don’t wanna be a bird, Uncle Pie!’

‘No takebacks, my hummingbird! That means you’re my favorite!’

‘And what about Billy?’

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him!’

Her vision started to clear up, ears finally heard the background music from the gas station and Bobby’s panicked voice. Her eyes looked down at the ground, noticing the snacks lying around the floor. Thankfully, none of them were broken, just a bit dirty.

Then, she looked up, her reflection staring back at her once more. 

She looked normal, with no bones sticking out or sunken skin. Just wet cheeks and a bit pale in the face.

“Are you alright, babes?” Bobby asked, hands cooling her shoulders as he turned her around to take a closer look at her. She nodded slowly, not trusting her voice at the moment, by the feeling of dryness in her throat.

Just as she was about to turn back to pick up her mess on the ground, a man who had been standing beside them the whole time motioned her to stop and began to pick up the snacks quickly. Maximoff stared openly at him until he got up and started to hand over the chips.

He was rather tall, almost a whole head taller than her. Rosy skin with freckles over his nose and cheeks. He wore jeans and red running shoes, a dark red hoodie with a pocket at the front.

Red hair, all sprawled in different directions. As if the wind had been playing with it.

That wasn’t Uncle Pie.

“That’s not something to take lightly.” He said with a side smile. “Panic attacks and low sugar are a recipe for disaster. I would know.”

“Sorry, sir.” She muttered, looking to the side, fighting off the feeling of disappointment on her chest. “It’s been a long day.”

“Take it easy,” The man shrugged, taking a drink out of the fridge and handing it to Bobby. “Word of advice? Listen to your body. Ignoring it will make things worse.”

“Thanks, sir. We will keep it in mind,” Bobby butted in, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her to the cashier.

While Bobby paid for their things, Maximoff’s gaze stayed on the man the whole time. She knew what she heard and felt. Those heartbeats were almost similar to her own. Similar to Uncle Pie. And it wasn’t a normal heartbeat, since she even knew the difference between a normal one and the buzzing thing that she had on her chest.

That man was like her. And he knew she was like him.

The redhead was also looking at her, but only gave her a wink and put a finger to his lips before he walked out of the gas station.

She almost didn’t wait for Bobby to take the receipt before grabbing the bag with their stuff, pulling Bobby by the back of his jacket, and making it out the door as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention.

But when they made it outside, there was no sign of the man.

“Damn it!” She cursed, stomping her foot against the ground while Bobby flailed around behind her, disoriented. 

“What? What’s up?” He said, looking around the empty lot and fixing his clothes.

“That guy! He just-ugh!” She groaned, stomping towards their truck and swinging the plastic bag on her side with Bobby following her back, looking confused.

They reached the truck, Maximoff taking the passenger seat while muttering to herself and throwing the bag into the backseat without looking back, buckling her seat belt with a huff. She didn’t even hear if she accidentally woke up Warren from his nap, too deep in her head. 

Bobby took a few moments to get inside since he was putting up some gas in the truck. He sighed, putting on his seatbelt and starting up the engine. “Did you know that guy? He was a bit too friendly.”

“No, but he certainly knows something.” She pointed, frown deepening, and arms crossing.

“Do you think he had bad intentions?”

It took a moment for her to answer, but she shook her head. “No. I don’t think he did.” She bit her lip, leaning back against the seat. “I just thought he was someone else…”

Bobby nodded slowly, “You got your hopes up then?”

“You could say that.” She sighed. “It’s just, I don’t even know what to do anymore. What is even the point of this if I just keep getting into deeper shit and bullshit answers and it’s all just so pointless? I don’t even know how going to Arkham is going to help! Hell, who knows how we are even going to get in?!”

Bobby grabbed her arm since she was widely gesturing around and had almost hit him a couple of times. He pulled her gently, making Maximoff look at him with a tired look. Sleeping had also been difficult during the week.

Having dreams of that endless hall and a house that no longer existed was taking a toll on her.

“You’re taking things too fast.” He admonished. “We've only been doing this for a week. And the odds are not exactly in our favor. But you need to take it one step at a time and open up to us. Taking all of this on your own is not helping anyone, and especially not you.”

“But what if I fail? I could drag you and Warren, and even Wayne. I’m just failing everyone left and right, and I don’t-”

“You haven’t failed anyone!” He insisted, cold spiking against her skin. “You can’t say you failed when you just started! Saying that it’s more than an insult to me, to Warren, and Wayne!”

Maximoff butted in. “But I-”

“No buts! We are going to Arkham, you are talking to Harvey Dent, we are getting some real answers even if I have to freeze the goddamn island and everything is going. To. Be. Fine!”

The two of them glared at each other for a while, the windows of the truck covered in a mist of cold, preventing them from seeing the outside. Bobby’s hand had turned into ice, but it wasn’t burning her like the last time. The sleeve of her jacket was stuck against his fingers. Maximoff’s stare wavered for a moment, clicking her teeth before pulling her arm away from Bobby’s grip.

He seemed satisfied with her silent agreement, the temperature slowly rising up once again.

Just as he began to drive the car, Maximoff spoke silently.

“How are we even going to get in? We've got no plan.”

Before Bobby could open his mouth, a high-pitched voice with a heavy accent spoke from the backseat of the truck.

“Looks like you kiddos could use a li’l outside interference!”

The two teens slowly turned to look at each other, eyes wide and lips thin. Then, even more slowly, they looked to the backseat with the feeling of dread looming behind their necks.

A tided-up Warren glared at them with fury, his mouth biting on the sleeve of his uniform jacket while his pants were tied tightly around his arms. A woman with white hair in two ponytails, one red and the other black, had an arm over the blonde’s shoulder while grinning sweetly at the other two.

“Lucky for you,” She announced, jostling Warren a bit on her side. “ Auntie Harley’s is feelin’ generous at the moment!”

Maximoff’s eye twitched when she caught Wayne’s form behind the cackleling woman, taking notice of the innocent shrug the ghost gave to her.

She was totally going to do a salt circle around her bed tonight.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Maybe getting to the recital two hours early was a bit too much. But Bruce didn’t hear any of the kids complaining about it, and neither would he.

It had been pretty easy to reschedule a couple of meetings back at Wayne Enterprises. Tim may have also had a hand in it, but Bruce was quite adamant to be the one to do it personally at the office, and give his secretary the proper paperwork and new schedule dates so she could make the calls.

Though he had been reading over the proposals made by Worthington Industries on the limo while Alfred drove, he still needed to oversee them with Tim before making any final decisions for their upcoming meeting next week. 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They even made some good points that Bruce wanted to discuss in person with Mr. Worthington. 

Aside from the founding of the vaccine, Worthington was willing to discuss an alliance with Wayne Enterprises for a new security system. It wasn’t detailed on what exactly this proposal included, but Tim had supposed it had to do with some security cameras made out of some new material.

The way Bruce saw it, it could be a new option for his nightly job depending on what Worthing presented at the meeting.

Business aside, just like the rest of the kids, Bruce was also trying to keep his mind busy.

He knew he had fucked up. Badly. 

His daughter refused to look him in the eye the whole week. Avoided the kitchen like the plague in the mornings despite his efforts to get up early in the morning (even after a long night of patrol) just so he could say good morning or ask her how she slept. In the afternoons, before he could go down to the cave, Bruce would knock on her door, hoping she would open it and allow him to see her face.

He didn’t care if she was glaring at him or didn’t speak to him. He just needed to see her.

But she never opened the door. She never came out of her room. She would just turn up her music and ignore the knocking.

Not even deep into the night, her door wouldn’t budge when he tried to open it. 

He just wanted to check on her. See her for a moment, even though she was asleep. Just see that she's alright, that she was sleeping well. Maybe even see if she still slept curled up under her blankets as if it were a cocoon, looking so small and fragile in the middle of that bed.

Was it too much to ask? He just needs to see-

“That’s him,” Dick hissed by his ear, glaring at the end of the hall with his hands shoved into his pockets. “That’s the man I told you about.”

Bruce locked those thoughts in the back of his mind, posture steeling and shoulders squared up as his eyed drifted towards the spot Dick was staring at.

There, standing in the hall while leaning against a wall, was a teacher who smoked an old cigar by an open window. Looking gruff and standoffish in a brown leather jacket, and glaring at the floor.

Logan Munroe. 

History teacher. Graduated from the University of Toronto. Canadian. Forty-five years old. Married with a seven-year-old daughter. Lived in New York for the past sixteen years. Moved to Gotham for this sole semester as a substitute teacher.

And, by Dick’s words, a creep that had been eyening his daughter since he started working at the Academy.

Getting to the recital early turned out to be an advantage.

Bruce nodded towards Dick, letting him go to be with the rest of them who had left to wander around the halls of the campus. Probably trying to find their sister before the recital, just so they could wish her good luck on her presentation.

Tonight, they would start from scratch. 

A do-over. 

They would gain back her trust and affection, never taking it for granted again.

Logan didn’t lift his gaze, not even when Bruce made it to his side. The sharply dressed man waited for him to do something, anything, but Logan simply continued to smoke his cigar without a single sign of acknowledgement.

It made Bruce’s jaw tighten.

“You must be Mr. Munroe, I suppose.” He greeted, that fake tone that he used around the public, making Logan’s eyebrow twitch as he raised his head to look at the man. Bruce smiled sharply, offering his hand to shake. “My daughter is in your class, and she speaks very fondly of you. I’m Br-”

“Mr. Wayne, I know.” He gruffed, putting out his cigar with the edge of the window and throwing it out there. Logan shook his hand, staring directly at his eyes and gripping tightly.

Bruce gripped back, his smile tightening before letting go. The teacher had heavy and strong hands. And an even tighter grip.

“I was wondering how she was doing at school. She is not exactly a fan of it, if you get what I mean.” He laughed, refusing to look away from the man’s stare.

Logan huffed, leaning his leg against the wall and crossing his arms. “Could have fooled me. She loves being here. Had to insist a couple of times so she would go in her grandfather’s car and go home.”

Bruce’s eyes crinkled at the corners, almost hearing the message the man was trying to say.

“Alfred is our butler, actually.”

“Hm, so your butler?” He drawled, a sarcastic edge on his voice. “Guess I got confused, since he’s always picking her up. Does he also get paid as a chauffeur?”

“I’m more concerned about my daughter than what Alfred gets paid for at the moment, Mr. Munroe.” Bruce retorted, feeling his neck pulsing hotly against his dress shirt.

Logan nodded, fighting off his smirk and settling down. “Well, she is a smart girl. Alert on class. Always asks questions and gets a bit heated when it comes to class debates. Quite competitive, if I’m being honest.”

Bruce took hold of that information as if hoarding a book. A sense of pride filled his chest. Of course, she was smart! She probably soaked up information as if she were a sponge and used it to her advantage. And competitive? He wasn’t sure that was possible, and she was pretty passive, but either way, it meant she was confident to speak up and show how brilliant she-

“Though I am concerned about what she eats at home.”

…Eat?

Bruce frowned, his voice turning serious. “What does that mean?”

Logan narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. “Are you home a lot, sir?”

“Whenever is possible, but yes.”

The teacher put his hands on his hips, jaw twitching as he lifted himself from the wall and took a few steps closer to the other man. “Do you just stay holed up in your fancy office working, or are you truly home?”

“That’s out of your business, Mr. Munroe.” Bruce's voice darkened, grey eyes steeling as he looked down at the frowning man.

“Right, I’m sorry,” Logan gruffed out, scratching his scruffy jaw. “Out of my pay, right?”

The two of them stared at each other for a long time, the tension growing colder and colder the more the silence reigned between them. It was already darkening outside, and the shoes squeaking against the tiles broke them out of their glaring contest.

Tim made his way towards them, frowning at the scene before him until he reached Bruce. “They already opened the amphitheater. Dick insists on getting the best seats.”

Bruce nodded, patting Tim’s shoulder. “Did you find your sister?”

He shook his head, eyebrows twisting in displeasure. “No, the practice rooms are blocked. We tried getting in but Dick dragged us outside to find you. He says we can’t interrupt her from her practice.”

Logan snorted, gaining looks from the other two. Bruce nodded at the man, starting to walk away with Tim at his side. “A pleasure, Mr. Munroe. We must get going.”

“Sure, enjoy your evening.” He answered, a strange look on his face, before he disappeared down the hall with his hands shoved into his pockets.

And just like that, Logan Munroe made his way on top of Bruce’s black list.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Turns out, getting into Arkham was easy.

Aside from the fact that security was shit, having an ex-employee that knew the place like the back of her hand on their side helped out a lot.

Harley, or as she insisted on being called, Auntie Harley, had a basic plan to get into Arkham from the very beginning. She was planning on stealing a vehicle and pretending to be a security worker with a uniform that she stole from someone (whether the person was alive or dead wasn’t asked) and then getting into the facility to break out her wife from Arkham after she got arrested for an attack earlier that week in one of Gotham’s parks.

Apparently, Poison Ivy could break out if she wanted to, but Harley insisted on doing the rescuing this time. Or something like that.

Bobby tried to explain it could be a foreplay thing, but Warren shut him up real quick before he could say anything else. Wayne just wheezed by Maximoff’s ear while all three of them hid on the back seat floor, Harley driving on the front while she talked pure nonsense to the bored-looking guard before allowing them to drive through the gates of the asylum.

She drove them through the back of the facility, ordering them to stay in the truck until she came back. They thought of just saying fuck it and go inside but she suddenly appeared with three more uniforms and three knocked out guards that she shoved into the truck.

“I’m pretty sure we can go to jail for this.” Warren hissed, adjusting his cap so none of his hair could be seen.

“Where’s your sense of adventure, dude?” Bobby whispered, gleaming as they walked behind Harley through the dark and worn walls of the place.

Warren hit Bobby from the back, making him wince as they passed another sleepy guard sitting in the hall. “More like a sense of self-preservation. Did you forget we got kidnapped?!”

“Is it kidnapping if we were already planning on getting here?” Maximoff whispered over her shoulder, feeling a bit annoyed at the tight cap on her head that held her hair inside.

She needed to cut it off soon, or she would take the scissors herself and end up looking like-

“Okay, sweetcheeks,” Harley spun around suddenly, making them gulp and stop on the spot while she pointed at the bronze gate before them. “This is the meetin’ spot, so don’t forget it!”

The three of them nodded sharply at the same time, making her squeal and cackle. Then she shoved her finger at them with a wide look. “You got an hour, then I’m peelin’ outta here with or without ya. And trust me, ya don’t wanna walk home!”

“Thanks!” Maximoff said with a grin. The teens went through the gate, encountering a long hall that was divided to the left and right at the end, metal doors with numbers and voices murmuring or yelling from inside the rooms.

The girl turned to look at the rogue, who was already walking down another hall. “Do you know his cell?” she asked loudly.

Harlye looked over her shoulder, not once stopping her walk. “Easy-peasy, sugar! Ol’Harv’s sittin’ pretty in cell 314. Be a doll an’ tell ‘im he still owes me a new deck o’ cards, will ya’?”

She nodded with a smile and pulled Warren and Bobby down the other hall, following the numbers on the wall while ignoring the voices from the rooms and wandering eyes from the small windows on the doors.

An electric clock marked the hour on a wall before they disappeared down the right hall.

7:45 PM

Welcome to Arkham, indeed.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's note: Here's Part 1! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! It took me a while to write it because of many thing getting in the way through the past two weeks (good things tho!). Next part will try to be out around Saturday or Sunday, still figuring out because of my filming and class schedule, but I'll keep you guys updated! Remember that I love answering asks and comments, don't hesitate to send them! Sending you lots of hugs and love, GG✨

Tag list:

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Bonus Memes:

[reiding-writing]

Congrats on 3k lovely!!! For your celebration may I request

1. ❛ how can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time? ❜

2. them getting angry on ur behalf

3. Maybe boyband Spencer but honestly happy with any

This is such a fun idea!! Love your writing x

SERIOUSLY, SPENCER? /spencer reid/

“how can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time?”

them getting angry on ur behalf.

s5! spencer x gn! reader 1.0k flangst event masterlist. main masterlist.

You’ve always admired Spencer’s intelligence. His mind is like a machine, constantly whirring, processing, analysing, and spitting out facts at a speed most people can’t keep up with. But for someone so brilliant, he can be completely oblivious.

And right now, it’s driving you insane.

The two of you are at a coffee shop near the BAU, grabbing a quick break between cases. It was your idea—Spencer has a bad habit of overworking himself, so you figured some fresh air and caffeine might help. The shop is warm, the scent of roasted coffee beans filling the air as you sip your drink. It should be relaxing. Should be.

But the barista, a guy with slicked-back hair and a condescending smirk, is ruining it.

He’s been making snide comments toward Spencer for the past five minutes, and your best friend doesn’t even seem to notice.

Spencer, of course, is just being his usual self—rambling about some obscure psychology study that somehow relates to the flavour profiles of different coffee beans. He’s excited, completely in his own world, but every time he speaks, the barista’s smirk grows.

“Oh wow,” the guy interrupts, voice dripping with mock interest. “That’s so fascinating. You must be, like, super fun at parties,”

Spencer, being Spencer, doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm. He simply nods. “Actually, I don’t go to many parties, statistically speaking—”

“Shocking,” the barista cuts in, rolling his eyes.

You tighten your grip on your cup, knuckles turning white. You glance at Spencer, waiting for him to realise what’s happening, to say something, but he just keeps going.

“Well, large social gatherings can be overwhelming due to the noise levels and the sheer number of unpredictable social interactions. It’s actually quite common for people with higher IQs to prefer smaller, more intimate settings—”

The barista snorts, shaking his head. “Right. Makes sense.” His eyes flick to you, and he smirks. “And you hang out with him?”

That’s it.

Slamming your cup down on the counter, you glare at the guy, your patience snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin.

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

Spencer blinks, finally looking up from his coffee. “What?”

You ignore him, stepping closer to the barista. “You’ve been making fun of him this whole time, and I don’t know if you think you’re being subtle, but news flash—you’re not. So why don’t you cut the crap?”

The barista puts his hands up, mock innocence plastered across his face. “Whoa, chill. I was just joking,”

“No, you were being an asshole.”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “Wait, he was?”

You whip around to face him, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

He looks genuinely confused. “I mean, he was engaging in some light teasing, but it didn’t seem particularly—”

“Oh my god.” You stare at him, frustration bubbling over. “Spencer, how can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time?”

His mouth opens slightly, as if he’s about to say something, but for once, he doesn’t seem to have a response.

You turn back to the barista, levelling him with a glare that could melt steel. “Apologise.”

The guy scoffs. “For what?”

“For being a condescending jerk to someone who was just trying to have a conversation with you,” you snap. “You think it’s funny to make fun of people for being intelligent? That says a lot more about you than it does about him.”

The barista hesitates, eyes darting between you and Spencer. When he realises you’re not backing down, he mutters, “Sorry,”

You don’t even wait for a real apology before grabbing Spencer’s sleeve and tugging him toward the exit.

Outside, the cool air hits your face, and you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. You can feel Spencer staring at you.

“That was… unexpected,”

You turn to him, still fuming. “Seriously, Spencer? You really didn’t notice?”

He hesitates. “I mean… I noticed his tone was a little off, but I assumed he was just—”

“Being a dick.” you finish.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably. “I guess I just don’t always pick up on that kind of thing,”

Your anger softens a little. You know he’s not stupid—far from it. But sometimes, when it comes to social interactions, he misses things that seem obvious to you.

You sigh. “Look, I know you like giving people the benefit of the doubt, but some people don’t deserve it,”

Spencer tilts his head, considering your words. “You… seem upset,”

You scoff. “I am upset. You’re my best friend, Spencer. I’m not gonna stand there and let some idiot talk down to you like that.”

He looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, unexpectedly, he smiles—a small, genuine smile that makes something in your chest tighten.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You roll your eyes, bumping his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Just—next time, try to pick up on it a little faster, okay?”

“I’ll try,” he promises. Then, after a beat, he adds, “But I think I like it better when you notice for me,”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling too.

[albamelody]

I Matched with My old Teacher on Tinder… and Fucked Him

Chapter 2 - Date

I tossed the phone aside, adrenaline jolting every limb to life. I tore through the wardrobe: black mock‑neck body‑suit, high‑waisted jeans that accented my curves just right, heeled ankle boots I could power‑walk in. A swipe of berry lipstick, a touch of mascara. My reflection looked nervous and expectant—like someone about to retake a test she’d secretly loved failing the first time just for the after‑school tutoring.

In the mirror I practiced casual indifference: Oh fancy seeing you here, teacher. My voice quivered. Screw indifference; I wanted him to know exactly how much I’d thought about this. I grabbed my leather jacket, spritzed vanilla‑amber perfume at my pulse points, then sprinted down the stairwell.

Outside, the city’s night hum felt conspiratorial. Streetlights gleamed on rain‑darkened pavement; scooters buzzed past trailing music. Every step toward the café wound the tension a notch tighter—anticipation strung between my ribs, between my thighs.

Half a block away I spotted him.

Adrian stood beneath the café’s striped awning, hands tucked in his coat pockets, tapping a rhythm on the toe of one polished boot. His gaze roamed the passing crowd until it snagged on me—and lit up. Something inside me unspooled at the softness in his smile. He straightened as I approached, pulling one hand free to brush back hair ruffled by the breeze.

“Hi,” he said, gentle and almost shy, as if he were the one meeting a crush from the past.

“Hi,” I echoed, breathless for a different reason now.

We stood there a moment, drinking each other in. The clink of cups and the low murmur of espresso machines drifted through the door behind him. Finally, he opened it with a courtly little bow. “After you.”

The warmth inside smelled of roasted beans and melted sugar. My shoulders relaxed as we slid into a window booth, knees accidentally brushing under the table. When the waitress appeared, he ordered an affogato for me without waiting—remembered from our chat—and a macchiato for himself.

“Still thinking I need caffeine at night?” I teased.

“Absolutely,” he said, eyes flicking to my lips. “I have a feeling we’ll be awake for a while.”

A spark leapt from that look straight to my core. We talked—about travel, the curse of adulting, the bizarre fondness we had for hexagonal tiles. But conversation felt like the surface of a pond; beneath it pulsed something heated and alive. Every time his fingers brushed mine, tiny currents fizzed across my skin. Every laugh slipped closer to a sigh.

When our desserts arrived, he slid the glass across the table with a quiet, “Careful—that espresso’s hot.” His thumb grazed my knuckle, an accidental‑on‑purpose caress that stiffened my spine. I met his gaze head‑on and dipped my spoon, let the ice cream ribbon away, then licked it slow—unhurried, suggestive—watching his pupils expand. The power trilled through me: I could still make my teacher stumble over the lesson plan.

We lingered long after the cups were empty, night pressing black velvet against the windows. Finally he said, low and intent, “Walk you home?”

My breath hitched at the possibility coiled in those words. I nodded, slipped my jacket on. Outside, the streetlamp lit a faint mist in the air; it felt like stepping into a memory softened by dream‑logic. Side by side we walked, hands occasionally brushing until I hooked my finger through his, bold and unhesitating. He threaded our fingers, squeezed once, and my pulse skittered.

At my building’s entrance we paused beneath the dim yellow porch light. He looked down at me, expression open, searching. “I know we’re moving fast,” he said, voice low, “but I can’t remember the last time talking to someone felt so… inevitable.”

“Inevitable,” I echoed, the word like warm honey in my mouth. I glanced at my dark stairwell, then back at him. “Would you like to come up and see my terrible plant collection?”

A slow grin. “Botany was never my subject,” he murmured, stepping closer, “but I’m an eager learner.”

The kiss that followed tasted of espresso and burned sugar, of first chances masquerading as second ones. It was gentle at first—soft lips testing, teasing—then deepened as I rose on tiptoe and he angled his mouth to fit mine perfectly. When we broke apart, both of us breathing hard, the street had gone hazy around the edges.

“Come upstairs,” I whispered, confidence thrumming through every nerve.

His answer was a single word, reverent and certain: “Yes.”

Together we crossed the threshold, the stairwell swallowing our footsteps, anticipation winding tighter with each step. Halfway up he caught my wrist, spun me against the wall, and claimed another kiss—hotter, unmasked. I tugged his hair, pressed my hips into his, felt the hard evidence of his desire and gasped. His answering growl reverberated against my lips.

“Lead the way ” he said when we finally parted, voice ragged.

And I did—heart racing, thighs trembling, the old daydream finally rupturing into blazing, unstoppable reality.

__________

To be continued

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[77gigabytes]

Bittersweet {Barista!Sylus x Reader}

I'M ALIVE FRENS, I SWEAR ╭( ๐_๐)╮

Soooo, this one (and a bunch of others) have been in my notes for ages, and I guess my writing juice only comes once a year and finishes them off...

Right, now I'm trying to flesh out my Model!Sylus x Photographer!Reader - I'm planning for it to be a series so please look forward to it! Hopefully I have enough writing juice to finish it ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

|| Masterlist ||

Amidst the clinking of teacups and the occasional whir of the coffee machine, your pen scritches against the endless amount of HA papers you have to fill. For every mission, every single move, is another report, another piece of paper to fill out.

You sigh, bracing your chin against your hand and gaze out the window. Your finger taps against your cheek in time with the clock.

7:39 PM

Tara’s late.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, Tara whips the door open and slides herself into the chair across from you.

“My goodness, MC, I don’t know why you choose here of all places to do your work.” She carelessly tosses her bag in the chair beside her and slumps into her own chair, “I swear I had to cross three rivers and climb two mountain on the way here.”

You chuckle, “Don’t forget the about the zip-line and the protofield at the start.”

She kicks your foot under the table and fans herself with the menu, “What’s so good about this place anyway?”

You smirk a little, “The barista’s cute.” You joke and nod your head in the direction of the kitchen behind her.

Tara subtly turns her head and pretends to look at the overhead menu in the kitchen before dropping her gaze to where Sylus was tending to other customers.

Her head whips back to you and she begins to fan herself with her hand, “Hooo, please, I’d cross another swamp to get here if that’s the face I’ll see at the end.”

You smile but turn back to your work, “Jokes aside,” you say without looking at Tara, “The coffee’s just the perfect blend of bittersweet. And… I like the atmosphere.” You shrug.

...

Not long after, as Tara finally picks a drink to order, Sylus approaches your table.

“One house special.” Sylus says as he places your cup on the table followed by a plate of cookies.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t order the-”

“It’s on the house, sweetie.” He gives you a wink and a boyish smile before walking back behind the counter to make the other customers’ drinks.

As if holding her breath Tara sighs out, “Gee, killer looks and a smooth voice to boot, no wonder you’re crossing all of Linkon just to do some documents.”

You give her a kick on the shin, “It’s the atmosphere and the coffee.” You argue.

“Sure, sure.”

❖· ────── ·

A few weeks have gone by, and now visiting this little coffee shop on the outskirts of Bloomshore has very much become a part of your daily routine. You can no longer use your work as an excuse to visit the café because you’ve come to visit it even on your days off.

You’ve learnt a few things throughout the weeks:

This is the only cafe in Bloomshore open until 1:30 in the morning. Or maybe even later than that, you’ve never stayed past 1:30.

Sylus must be making a whole lot of money for him to be giving you desserts on the house with every drink you order (You’ve also learnt that it’s futile to protest)

#2 can’t be possible since his coffee shop isn’t exactly overflowing with customers. There must be something else.

There’s two boys - Luke and Kieran, you overheard - who visit every Friday to collect some packages from Sylus. You’ve convinced yourself that it’s just coffee beans, or 'something else'.

But on top of that there was another instance where you realised that there was more to Sylus than what meets the eye.

As usual, you were doing some paperwork and Sylus brought your drink and a choc chip muffin this time.

The sun has long since dipped below the horizon, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was already time for it to return to the sky.

At this point, only you and a few other customers are left in the café. Some, students glued to their laptops, and others, dozing off on the tables. Either way, it’s quite peaceful tonight and you’ve gotten through two thirds of the report for your last mission. Yehey!

But alas, all good things come to an end.

Your watch beeps just as the tv, previously playing music in the background, switches to an emergency broadcast.

“Attention all. Attention all.” The newscaster frowns a little, “This is an emergency message from the Hunter’s Association - Wanderers have been sighted in the Bloomshore district.” A map pops up on the screen right where the coffee shop is located. The newscaster points to it, “If you are in this area, seek shelter immediately.”

Just as the message repeats, your watch vibrates against your wrist. A similar map is displayed - a live update of where the wanderer is headed - right in your direction.

Overhead, you hear the whir of helicopter blades and the other customers begin scrambling towards the entrance.

You stand at the entrance stopping one customer from leaving, “Stop! Stay calm everyone.” You show your badge to the customers, “I’m from the HA. At the moment, it’s best if we stay in the cafe. Stay under the tables.”

“Screw that!” one of the customers yells and pushes past you.

“Sir! The wanderer is-” You turn to grasp at his arm but not long after he bumps into Sylus, who had come to your side from behind the counter.

He towers over the customer with a stance imposing and unfamiliar as compared to the sweet barista you know.

“I suggest, sir, that you listen to miss hunter over here before you lose your life.” He narrows his eyes at the customer who gulps but still has the audacity to reply.

“If.. If I’m going to die, it sure as hell won’t be here in a coffee shop.” He insists.

Sylus simply gestures to the door, “Be my guest.” He says with a taunting smirk.

You look at him incredulously, “Ugh, why would you-”

“What? I have to honour a man’s dying wish. I would also prefer not to have a death in my coffee shop.”

Just as he finishes the sentence, the small coffee shop rumbles with the roar of the wanderer. The customers scream and scramble in all directions.

You click your tongue and push past him to follow after the customers who ran out in fear.

He just smiles and turns on his heel to follow after you.

Too engrossed in protecting the civilians, you don’t realise that Sylus is trailing behind you taking care of any straggling wanderers coming from behind.

When you hear the shrieks of the wanderers from behind, you see Sylus throwing blow after blow to its body.

Much too smooth and calculated to simply be a barista.

❖· ────── ·

As if that day had never happened, you’re back in your usual spot at the café. At the time of the incident, you were the closest hunter to the scene so naturally, you were tasked with writing up the report.

With your laptop propped on your thighs, your fingers are gliding over your keyboard as you type up the report - noting the time of the incident, to the nature of the incident, to those involved.

Your fingers tap lightly at the keyboard, not enough to input any letters, but to rid yourself of your anxiety. Write too much and the HA will investigate this place, and unfortunately, the packages that you’ve convinced yourself were coffee beans are in fact not coffee beans, but bombs.

Writing as vaguely as possible, you work you lip between your teeth as you eye Sylus from the edge of you laptop. How much can you say without really saying anything at all?

Time flies by with every word you type and every sip of coffee you take. It’s bitter today, but that’s exactly what you need to stay up and finish this report.

Speaking of which… What time is it anyway?

You spare a glance at the clock at the bottom of your screen.

2:32 AM!

You jolt awake and look around the café. Every other table is void of its usual occupant and their belongings.

Sylus lifts his eyes to your figure, noticing your unease, but continues to clean the teacup in his hands, “Do you need something, sweetie? Another cup, maybe?”

You stand up to gather your things, “No. I’m sorry.” You stuff your laptop in your bag, “I didn’t realise how late it was, I-”

He only flashes you a smile, “I don’t mind.” He averts his gaze for a moment, “I have nothing scheduled for tonight, and… and I don’t mind the company.”

You’re frozen in place unsure if he was being courteous or if you were imposing.

Sensing the conflict in your head, he waves his hand and shakes his head, “Sit down,” He walks over to your table and picks up your empty cup, “I’ll make you another drink. You don’t seem to be finishing up any time soon anyways.”

“No, no.” You wave both of your hands in front of you, “I couldn’t. I’m already overstepping my bounds.”

“I insist, kitten.”

Hesitantly, you slot yourself back into the booth and say, “I don’t think I have it in me to finish that report today.” you scratch at your cheek.

“Then, at least stay until I’ve made you another drink.” He’s back behind the counter and shoots you another smile that has your stomach doing backflips, “What will it be, sweetheart?”

“Hot chocolate?” You tilt you head a little.

“Mmmm.” He hums, “Whatever my dearest customer wants, she gets. A warm cup of cocoa to stave of a snowy night, coming right up.” He chimes and the coffee machine whirs to life again.

Shortly after, as you’ve warmed your cold hands against the mug, Luke and Kieran waltz through the entrance.

You glance at the clock - 2:54 AM.

When your eyes return to the two boys, they seem just as shocked as you are that anyone else was still here.

You lift the mug up to acknowledge them and they simply smirk.

“Late night, miss hunter?” One of them says, you’re not quite sure who is who.

You simply hum in response and take another sip of the hot chocolate.

Luke and Kieran make their way to the back as usual, and before they return with the ‘coffee beans’, you’ve emptied your cup and left the shop.

When Sylus leads the twins out (only so they don’t harass you more than you can tolerate) he notices the empty table.

“A special drink for a special lady so late at night, boss man?” Kieran asks.

“Did we interrupt a romantic rendezvous in the middle of the night, boss man?” Luke wiggles his eyebrows.

Sylus merely shakes his head, “Get out of here before I send Mephisto to end the both of you.” He says as he clears your table. Although his voice is dripping in malice, his eyes are soft as he reads the little note you left.

Thank you for the hot chocolate. Sorry for staying so late, I’ll make it up to you. -MC

❖· ────── ·

It wasn’t for another ten days did you make it up to him. Not that anyone was counting…

You felt a little guilty albeit a little flattered by how sweetly he was treating you. But also confused…Does he like you? Is he being nice? Does he do this for others? Is it a ruse with underhanded motives?

Honestly, it’s all so confusing. From how sweetly he was treating you, to the shady deals going on in that dainty little coffee shop. You really don’t know what to believe anymore.

You thought maybe if you stopped visiting for a little while, everything would clear itself up. But the more you restrained yourself, the more thoughts of him surfaced.

With an exasperated huff, you convinced yourself that you were just having caffeine withdrawals and none of the other coffee shops in Linkon satisfied you like the small coffee shop at the edge of Bloomshore. Definitely, the coffee and not the barista… the coffee.

…

When you shuffle into the coffee shop, it busier than usual. So much so that Sylus hasn’t even realised that you’re here.

Why would he though? I’m just like any other customer getting a drink.

You let out a breath. For whatever reason, your traitorous heart is pounding away. By the time you get to the counter you heartbeat is in your ears and you can barely hear yourself say, “One house special, please.”

At your voice, Sylus’ head fwips up from where his hands were holding a milk jug to the coffee machine, “I though my little hunter was injured, or that I was too forward.” he sends you a smile that makes your heart race a little faster.

“Sorry, I was… I was busy.” You avert your gaze and begin to reach into you bag, “I do have something to give you. A little thank you gift, if you will.” You pass a little mug set over the counter.

He quickly wipes his hands on a dish cloth and receives your gift. He opens the set and smirks.

Your brows furrow, “What?” What could he possibly find amusing?

He looks into the mug and reads, “I love you a latte?”

“Huh?” You lean over the counter and grab the mug from his hands. Just as he read, the words “I love you a latte” are printed at the bottom of the mug.

You stare at it, baffled as heat rises to your cheeks “I-”

He chuckles, “This one says, ‘mugs and kisses’.” He looks back at you, “Are you trying to tell me something, sweetie.”

“No! I didn’t know they had those printed at the bottom! I just liked the designs at the front!” You’re leaning over the counter reaching for the mugs.

“You’re more forward than me it seems.”

“Just…just give them back to me, I can return them and get you something else.”

He pulls the both mugs further away from the counter and above his head, “I can’t. This your first gift to me, kitten.” He holds them to his chest, “It would be a waste to return them now.”

“No, Sylus, I’m serious.”

“And so am I.” He places the mugs on one of the shelves and turns back to you, “Now go sit down, I’ll bring your drink once it’s ready.”

With your head in your hands you take your usual seat.

❖· ────── ·

Your mind spent half the day replaying the events from this morning, so now you’re only a fifth of the way through your report.

You groan and plop your forehead on the table with a thud. You turn your head to the side and rest it atop your hands.

Most of the other customers have left for the night, and Sylus is finishing up, cleaning all his equipment.

Shortly after, he walks over with two take away cups in hand. He’s donned his long black coat and a scarf. “Come,” He says, “You need a break, let me take you somewhere.” He nods to the entrance.

You raise a brow at him, “You’re not taking me somewhere to kill me, are you?” You joke as you gather your things, “I know how to fight, you know?” you add with a chuckle.

“Oh? Shall I take you to spar then, miss hunter?” He says as he hands you the drinks.

With both of your hands occupied, he takes the opportunity to wrap his scarf around your neck. He ties it up and tidies the edges so that your neck is fully covered. Leaning back a little he admires his work with a chuckle and flicks your forehead.

“Hey!”

“Let’s go.” He guides you with a hand at the small of your back.

After a short walk, he opens the car door for you with his other hand at the roof of the car so you don’t bump your head.

You mumble a quick “Thank you.” and adjust yourself in the seat as he walks around to the driver’s side.

When the car rumbles to life and he begins to drive, you ask, “Are one of these for me?”

He gives you a quick glance and can’t resist teasing you with the way your eyes sparkle at the drinks.

“Of course, but you’ll have to guess which one.”

“Mmm.” You take a sip of one of the cups but shake your head as intense bitterness bites at your tongue, “Bleghh. How many shots did you put in this?”

He stifles a laugh with his hand, “Cute.” He mumbles.

…

When you exit the car, he guides you towards a bridge overlooking the city and the river.

in the middle of the bridge, he leads you to a railing and leans against it with his drink in his hands.

“You’re not going to jump, are you?” You tease.

He scoffs, but adjusts your scarf to cover your nose and ears that have gone red from the cold.

“Well, now how am I supposed to drink this cocoa with my mouth covered, Sylus?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, kitten.”

I think this one turned out a little cuter than I expected, but I love it either way hahaha. I hope you enjoyed! ✧(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

-Seven

|| Masterlist ||

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The morning comes but not relief. Despite the breeze wafting in from the open balcony, you swelter until the sun rises. Even then, you’re not free. Lloyd remains, snoring, latched on. 

When he stirs, it’s only the promise of what’s to come. This is the day. A day you never dreamed of. A day you never longed for. A day he will make sure happens exactly as he wills. Just as he has forced on you every single other desire in his twisted brain. 

You let the hours past, hoping deep down he sleeps through it all. The sun continues its lazy ascent, shifting through shades of coral, gold, and yellow. The smell of the ocean flows through with the noise of the waves. 

His hand slides up from your stomach to your chest. He squeezes and growls, rolling his hips as he nibbles your ear. You stare at the blurry coastline through the large glass doors across the balcony. You hold back a sigh. 

“Morning, bean,” he rasps. “Mm, it’s our special day.” 

He kneads your chest. It takes everything in you not to stop him. His palm against your naked flesh, the pebble of your nipple pressing into his hand, the goosebumps across your skin. The sensations are enough to have you paralysed. 

“If I could marry you right here in this bed, I would,” he hums. “Straight from the vows to the... well.” He snickers and wiggles his hips again. “Ah, jelly bean. I’m so happy.” 

You stay still and silent. He kisses your hair and pushes himself away from you. You let a sliver of tension loose as the bed bounces under him. The empty bed would be paradise if not for him. 

“Alright, well, we still got some time to go,” he struts to the coffee bar, his ass out shamelessly. He pops a pod in the machine and snaps the lid down. “Stylist will be here later and your dress is on its way. I’ll call down for some breakfast first. Oh, my suit.” He taps the button and turns to face you. You pull the blanket over your face so you can’t see his erection. “You take your time though. Need to rest up for tonight.” 

He pushes off the coffee bar, his feet slapping the floor as he strides across the suite. There’s a brief pause before the trickle of his piss hits the toilet water. It gets louder as he lets the stream free. You grimace beneath the blanket. 

If someone asked you at any point in life what hell is, you couldn’t think of anything worse than this. 

He comes back out. The cup clinks on the tray and he slurps loudly. He goes to the balcony and pushes the glass door all the way open. He steps out, naked, and sighs up at the sky. 

“Bean, you gotta come see this.” 

You don’t move. You touch the mattress and close your eyes. Please, just make me a part of the bed. Turn me to spring and cushion. I would much rather be a gel top cooling pad. 

He calls you again. You cringe and push yourself up. You slump and slide off the bed. You grab the robe and wrap it around yourself. 

You drag your feet to the doors. You stare out in dread. He leans on the railing and drinks his coffee. You shuffle up beside him. It is beautiful. You can’t deny that. 

Your old life was dull and boring. You never even bothered of dreaming of a place like this. You wouldn’t ever be able to afford it. 

“I’m gonna fuck you out here. Tonight,” he slips his hand along your lower back. “In the tub. On the bed. Against the wall.” His finger swirls against the robe. “But I think out here will be my favourite.” 

You grip the railing as stare at the sun. Your eyes water until you’re forced to look away. It burns but not as much as your fate. You can’t stop him as much as you can’t stop time. Lloyd Hansen is as inevitable as a ticking clock. 

🩷

You don’t feel like yourself. It’s for more than your circumstance. It isn’t just that Lloyd ripped you out of every familiarity in your life. It’s the dress, the hair, the makeup, the shoes... 

The woman responsible for it all leaves. She never gave a name. She didn’t say more than she needed to. You respect that. You’re less than equipped to pretend. You’ve never been very good at that and you need to save your energy. 

You stand by the balcony doors and stare out at the azure waves. The sleek ivory satin sheath tickles your skin. It’s simple. Thin enough for you to bear the Hawaiian sun. There’s a ribbon around your wrist with a corsage of orange hibiscus. 

The door opens and closes. You don’t react as your eyes stick into the distance. You think of walking into the tides and just not stopping. 

“Jelly bean?” Lloyd’s voice brings your vision into focus. 

You face him. His expression shifts. His blue eyes dilate and his jaw ticks. His lips part. 

“Wow,” he wisps and touches his chest. 

He wears a pair of powder blue slacks. His shirt is satin, a silvery blue with a pattern of garish chains printed into the fabric. It’s tacky. There’s a peak of a real chain around his neck, shining gold, matching the buckles on his ivory loafers. The same orange hibiscus is pinned by his left lapel. 

“My oh my, jelly bean. My favourite candy,” he crosses the room and extends his arms to you, “the sweetest I know.” 

You clasp your hand around your other wrist. Your body locks up as he grazes his palms along your arms. He pulls you to him and hums. 

“I don’t wanna ruin all this,” he drags his touch up your shoulder and along your neck. “Not yet.” 

You gulp. The hopelessness swells over. That anger that kept you awake, that kept you from cracking the day before, it dissipates into tepid acceptance. Your lip quivers and you force it still as you bite the inside of your cheeks. 

“Come on. Can’t be late to true love.” he grabs your hand and turns. He struts to the door and tugs you through. 

The shoes are wedges, not too high. You’re thankful for nothing but that. As you come out in the hall, he re-arranges himself next to you and loops his arm through yours. 

It’s a death march. The type you’ve only read about or seen on TV. The accused queen walking on the spite of her maddened husband; the rival cousin swept up in fears of treason; the unfortunate captive of a lost battle facing the noose. All you can do is put one foot in front of the last. 

Outside, the warmth stuns you. It is a scalding contrast to the ice in your veins. Lloyd doesn’t relent, doesn’t hesitate. You could plant your feet and fold in on yourself. Yet, you keep going. 

Days of desolation, a night of smoke, a flurry of chaos... all of it melds in your mind, stirring to a disorienting cacophony. Even ground turns to pebble and softens to silt and sand. 

You look around as if only just awaking. He leads you around a jutted cliff and down a winding path. The salt of the ocean laces the air, the lapping of waves rolls softly. You come in sight of the sun as your chunked wedges sink into the grains below. 

The water sparkles, the sky softens but does not dim, and the horizon ripples like golden thread. It’s immaculate. 

You have no choice but to lean into Lloyd as he guides you. It’s like wading through quicksand but that’s more than just the terrain. Your limps are stiff and stubborn. Go back, go back, go back. 

There’s a man and a woman. He’s in a white shirt and white pants. There’s a scarf or something around his shoulders. There’s silver crosses sewn into it, another hung from his neck with beads. You’re not religious. Once you thought you were. There’s a reason that changed. 

The woman is the same that came to the room to arrange your hair and paint your face. She is patiently silent as she stands to the side. You never thought of being married but this is far from anything you would imagine. 

He smiles expectantly as he watches you approach. Lloyd stops you across from the man and greets him, “father.” 

The man opens the book in his hands. “Shall we begin?” 

“Yes,” Lloyd turns to face you and takes your hands in his. “I��ve never been more ready.” 

You’ve never been less. 

You stare at his upper lip. That bristly line of hair. That questionable choice. It explains all you could ever wonder about the man. It’s tacky, defiant, and odd. 

Lloyd squeezes your hands as the priest clears his throat. You shiver despite the balmy heat. Your feet sink deeper in the sand. 

“Do you stand her and vow yourself before the Lord with no reason 

"Miss, repeat after me. ‘I, solemnly swear, to take this man in holy matrimony. As my husband to keep, to cherish, and love.’” 

The waves crash into the shore. It’s deafening. Your forehead trickles with sweat and the nape of your neck is on fire. Your hands shake in Lloyds’s. 

You squeak. 

“She’s nervous,” Lloyd chuckles. “Go slow.” 

The priest repeats himself; just the first few words. You eke out an echo. He continues until you get to that last word. ‘Love’. 

Then it’s Lloyd’s turn. He says it easily. As if he knows it already. His thumbs rub your knuckles. Your legs quake. 

“Before the Lord, and your witness, I declare you, husband and wife. Through sickness and health, until death do you part.” The priest declares. “You may kiss your bride.” 

Lloyd obeys before the pact is sealed. His lips are on yours, his hand on the back of your head, his other on small of your back. You’re breathless as he devours you. Your audience is unaffected by his hunger. It’s all very surreal. 

He draws back, keeping you in his arms. He grins and winks at you. “All mine, jelly bean.” 

“Sir,” The priest approaches, “the papers.” 

“Ah, almost forgot,” Lloyd lets you go. “Pen.” 

The priest reaches in his front pocket and slides out a black pen. He gives it to Lloyd. Under the bible cover, there’s a slip of paper. There’s a golden seal in the corner. The priest shows him wear to sign then you get the pen. You scribble on the paper, your hand numb, then the woman takes the pen and signs the third space. 

“Well, father,” Lloyd leans in to look at the paper, his hand under the priests as he cradles the bible. “Looks like we’re all set.” 

He closes his hand around the bible and the priest’s fingers. The holy man flinches as Lloyd reaches behind himself. He slides something free of his belt. 

You step back as a twinge plucks in your chest. Something’s wrong! 

The silver pistol flashes in the setting sunlight. The host is silent. A dark hole appears in the priest’s forehead as the gun recoils in Lloyd’s grip. He’s quick. He aims it at the woman. The bullet pierces above her cheekbone. She falls as quickly as the priest. 

You raise your hands in shock and step back. You trip as your skirt flutters in the breeze wafting in off the waves. You blink as Lloyd lowers the barrel. 

Calmly, he tucks the gun away. He slides the paper free of the book and drops the bible beside the dead man. Your lashes flick furiously and your heart hammers. 

You lunge forward. You stagger in the dirt as you pump your arms. You want to scream but you can’t. You just run, lungs burning, head spinning. You race away from the smell of blood and gun powder. You don’t know where you’re going, you just need to get away. 

You hit the waves as a force throws you off your feet. Lloyd lands atop you with a grunt and you thrash in the ebb and flow. He hushes you as you flail and whine. 

“Lloyd!” You shriek at last, your fear boiling over. 

“Jelly bean, you don’t get it,” he wrestles with you in the wet sand. “I’m a dangerous man.” He pins you on your back beneath him. “I can’t have anyone knowing about you. Didn’t I make a promise just now? To always protect you?” 

“You- you—you--” you sputter. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he pets your face with his wet hand. “I fucking love you.” 

[dekariosclan]

I’m still brainrotting about jealous Gale…I know we love our sweet and goofy wizard, but HEAR ME OUT—

There’s an Astarion line where if you mention another companion as being beautiful/attractive, he’ll say he needs to “keep up with the competition.” SOOO that got me thinking, for an early-romance Tav that might also be romancing another companion(s), what do you think Gale would try to do to “keep up with the competition?” Would he try and sabotage the other companion’s wooing, or would he try to out dazzle/romance their efforts with Tav?

OP this is a fantastic question, but before I can give you my answer, I feel like I need to share my reasoning behind it! (I always have to defend my thesis 😂) So:

One of Gale’s best traits is that he is unwaveringly sweet, open, and honest about his feelings. Gale might’ve insisted on his privvacy when it came to initially sharing info about the orb, but he does not hold back when it comes to his affections and feelings for Tav. He doesn’t ‘play games,’ he’s not cryptic or mysterious, he’s not volatile, he’s not closed off. He’s an open book; and he wants a relationship with Tav that is built on an honest foundation with honest emotions.

All this to say—Gale is not toxic. He is not cruel. We are shown this later in the game, too, if Tav breaks up with Gale and decides to pursue another companion. If Tav lets him down gently, Gale will tell them he ‘would rather see Tav happy with another, than not happy at all.’ He will bow out gracefully.

Or, if Tav chooses to stay with Gale instead? Gale will be overjoyed, surprised that you picked him—he even mentions the ‘stiff competition’!—but he’ll also ask about the other companion’s feelings, about what the breakup will do to them; he is genuinely concerned.

Yes, he indulges in a bit of harmless jealousy and shade-throwing if Tav is flirting with someone else at the Grove party—but we’ll forgive him for it, since his hopes for that night were dashed, and the wine loosened his tongue a bit. (also, we’ll forgive him because we love a sweet jealous jelly bean Gale.)

So all of that said—do I think Gale would try and actively sabotage the other companion(s) wooing Tav?

I do not; I think Gale would find that to be unconscionable.

But, do I think he would try to ‘out romance/woo/dazzle’ the other companion’s efforts with Tav?

Yes. Absolutely. 10,000%.

Not out of any malicious intent to ‘win’ against the others, just out of pure desire to show Tav how much they mean to him. Because when he wants to convey his interest, by the Gods, he is going to do it. He is many things, but he is not coy.

For example, this is the man who, in one single early-romance conversation:

1. Affectionately compares Tav to his beloved cat tressym

2. Says he likes Tav’s stench, and

3. Ends the convo by saying he’d climax so hard for Tav he’d destroy the Sword Coast.

He’s a rizz machine.

So, I can absolutely see Gale trying to do some impressive magic to ‘wow’ Tav. As he himself says, “You know me—my grand gestures can never be grand enough.” Perhaps he starts doing some over-the-top spells in battle that look impressive, but are unnecessary. Or he puts on a light show at nights in the camp just to display his illusory skills. Or he goes out of his way to use magic for simple solutions—like casting Knock when they already have a perfectly good lock picking set they can use, etc.

The irony is that, for all these efforts, the ways that he not only ‘keeps up with the competition’ but actually beats it, in Tav’s opinion, aren’t his grand magical gestures.

It’s when he’s serving dinner portions, and he’ll lessen his own portion just to give Tav more. Or when he goes out of his way to loot literature on topics that he knows Tav is interested in. Or how he’ll say, “May I?” as he takes Tav’s cold cup of tea, enchanting it to the perfect temperature before handing it back.

Or even just how, when Tav comes to talk to him, he visibly brightens, smiles and says “I do enjoy our conversations,” with sincere affection.

Little things, sweet gestures—in the end, that’s what wins Tav over. Because that’s what’s most dazzling of all about Gale.

[bettyvick]

chemtrails over the country club (part 1)

Dilf!Hayden Christensen x Worker!Reader

Summary: You work in a country club where people are mean and rude, but there’s only one reason to not quitting your job. Hayden Christensen.

Warnings: Bullying, female reader, age gap (reader is 20 and Hayden is 43), no use of y/n.

A/N: This may be a short series, but i’m not sure. Also, english is not my first language so sorry if there are some grammar issues or my writing is basic. All comments are allowed! but please, be respectful.

part 1 | part 2

You worked at a country club, where rich white man used to spend the whole day playing golf and drinking whiskey. It wasn’t the best job to be honest, those men used to treat the employees with no respect, especially the young woman like you. But whatever to pay the bills, especially when your mom got diagnosed with leukaemia.

When you weren’t a waitress in the club’s cafeteria, you were walking through the huge golf field after John Geller, the worst man who has ever existed, with his ex-bully from high school smile. Carrying the golf ticks on your back while he made rude comments about your body and all of his 40 year old friends were laughing like they’ve never heard something funnier.

But despite that, your job also had a good part. Hayden Christensen.

He was a kind handsome man who used to sit on the same chair by the window every afternoon at 4:30, the same time when you were serving coffee. The first time you attended him, you were expecting rudeness and some sarcastic tone in his voice, like all the clients do. But it wasn’t anything like that. He was the quite opposite. He was gentle and his voice was soft but firm.

Mr. Christensen was in your zone, so you approached his table and asked for his order. You already knew what he wanted —an american coffee with ice and sugar— but you queried anyway.

—Good morning, Mr. Christensen— you greet him with your little notebook in your hand, ready to note everything he wants.

—Hello, Sweetheart, how are you this afternoon?— he asked politely with his usual throaty tone. He was wearing his usual navy blue polo shirt with the buttons undone and comfortable gray cotton sweatpants.

—Good, thank you. An american coffee with sugar, Sir?

—Of course.

You wrote down the order quickly and gave him a friendly smile that he gave you back. Then you went to the bar and bumped into Roxie, a new barista who had arrived that same morning. She was staring at you with big eyes and open mouth while she took a mug from the shelf.

—¿That’s Hayden Christensen?— she asked, whispering but shouting at the same time. You gave him a quick look and then looked at Roxie back.

—Oh, yes, he’s so nice, he comes here every day. You know him?— you affirmed careless.

Her jaw dropped, you still didn’t understand her reaction to your words.

—What?— you spoke confused.

—He is Hayden Christensen! Hayden Christensen!— she over-gesticulated without understanding your indifference. She took out a cloth bag full of coffee beans and dumped it over a compartment of the coffee machine. The machine started making some mechanical sounds when Roxie pressed a couple buttons.

—Yes, that’s what I said— you were looking at the man and your looks met in the air. His blue eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue you’ve ever witnessed. He waved in your direction and you did the same. The girl next to you grabbed your arm roughly.

—Ouch!— you moaned due to the strong pressure on your skin. Her hand left your flesh when you dragged your own arm.

—You know Star-Wars?— she asked this time more calmly but still incredulous. Roxie used the same tone as if she was talking to an alien.

You nodded.

—My little brother loves those films.

But you still didn’t understand the relation between the two topics.

—Well, he’s the main character from two of the prequels— Roxie explained pouring the almost black brown liquid into a small white porcelain cup.

You narrowed your eyes looking at him, now he was focused on the view through the window.

—So, he’s famous?— you asked, not very convinced.

—Yes, like, really famous— Roxy left the little mug on the round silver tray.

—Are you sure? He’s too gentle to be famous!

—I’m pretty sure, only really rich people can afford coming to this stupid country club and I swear to god I’ve seen his face on thousands of t-shirts, ask him if you don't believe it.

Your cheeks became bright pink.

—I’m not asking him that! That would be so embarrassing!

Despite seeing each other every day, you did not have a close relationship at all; in fact, in total you exchanged less than a thousand words. Your conversation was: a cordial greeting, his coffee and the bill. Nothing more. You wouldn't admit that you would've liked to know him personally and maybe establish a friendship. Or something else.

—Don’t do it then, just bring him the damn coffee.

You took the metallic tray and walked to Mr. Christensen's table, not before fixing your black tube skirt of the uniform.

—Here it is— you say while leaving the cup over the wooden surface. He smiles and shows his white perfect teeth. He rubs his budding beard with his hand.

—Thank you, Sweetheart.

And there you are again, heavy big bag full of metal golf sticks making your back hurt. You're probably going to spend a really bad night due to the pain. You've been walking —and running— for three hours without any sort of break with the sun of July burning your uncovered skin, your uniform was fully sweaty and it felt disgusting the way that it stuck to the skin.

John was a few meters away, driving his sport white car while you had to walk to the next hole.

—Come on, Beautiful, that weight isn't going to leave on its own— he spoke with that hateful smile on his lips while putting on his sunglasses.

—Yes, Mr. Geller.

Your breathing became ragged, you were exhausted. When he stopped the car you collapsed on the floor. Your forehead drenched in sweat and your legs flailing uncontrollably.

—You little disgusting girl, stop crying like a baby and stand up.

A moan of pain left your mouth, then you tried to get on your feet but failed obstreperously. He looked at you with a disgusting expression.

—Eh!— you heard someone scream, then steps came in your direction. Still on the floor, you turned your head to someone's figure but the view was blurred, the heat was making you feel dizzy. The grass was scratchy on your knees, but it was cool and it felt good against your skin.

—Christensen, my friend!— John exclaimed, holding out his hand to the other man, but he ignored the gesture. His blue eyes were on you and you've never felt more embarrassed. You were there, bent over on the grass, practically dying of pain. There was no more shameful image. But he frowned; his expression showed that he was worried and angry.

—What have you done to the girl?— he asked with a serious tone that you've never heard from him. He crouch down to your height and took you by the shoulders, then laid you face up on the grass.

—Nothing, just a little discipline, this generation is full of lazy and slackers, they need a little firm hand— he admitted running his hand over his bald head and the crown of greasy hair that still remained. Hayden gave John a stern look that made your hair stand on end, then picked you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing. You gasped in pain as your back muscles involuntarily contracted. You closed your eyes tightly trying to make that sting go away. Then he turned around and started walking to his own sport car.

—¿Where are you going?— John asked in a bewildered tone you've also never heard before from him.

—I’m bringing her to the nursery— Hayden declared, he was now far enough from the other man.

You thanked him and rested briefly your head on his chest.

—It’s okay, John is disgusting and an asshole— he lied you down over the leather coach of his sport white car. You remained silent for a few seconds until he broke it once you had calmed down.

—I didn’t know you were also a caddie— he spoke leaning on the high bar of the vehicle, you noticed how his arms flexed, highlighting his biceps. Suddenly you started sweating again.

—It’s not my favorite thing but it’s well paid, I still prefer serving coffees— you played with your fingers while answering. He noticed you weren’t making eye contact and smiled cockily.

—I don’t have a caddie— Mr. Christensen spoke with serenity in his voice. The comment sounded casual but it wasn’t, it had an obvious second intention. He handed you a bottle of water that you drank enjoying every single drop.

—I’ve heard that Selina Heparin is good, and she’s free since Mr. Roberts…

—What about you?— he interrupted your answer. You were speechless and you babbled senselessly until you were able to put your thoughts in order. An amused smile appeared on his lips as you made those incomprehensible sounds. —You’re the sweet girl who serves my coffee, I would like you to keep me company.

You sat up on the cushioned sofa with pink cheeks. It was the first time an older man had described you as sweet. And for some reason you liked it.

—I work with Mr. Geller— you explained, although you weren’t really happy with the answer.

—I think I could fix that.

[nilllaaz]

IF ONLY SHE KNEW

yuta sighed as he cleaned off the granite counters of the cafe; the white rag collecting any sticky residue that was left over from previous orders that might’ve spilled a little from the rush. every free minute he could spare, he was watching the clock tick by slowly, minutes feeling like hours in his head. he was going mentally insane hearing the loud ticks the minute hand would let out, signaling a few more hours he’d have at his crappy job. 

he liked the job because he was working with toge, but it was the same routine over and over again, an agonizing routine of getting up every morning at 7 am, talking to rude customers, clean up, go home, repeat. he’s been working there for coming up on 2 years, and everyday was more boring than the last. lost in his thoughts, he restocked the cups and napkins, the quiet music was helping drown them out at least a little. was the money even worth it, maybe if he’d worked at the local arcade that was across campus he’d at least have a little fun playing the claw machines on his breaks. 

the chime of the door snapped him out from his thoughts, he grabbed the rag before looking over at the door with a gasp. toge; who was on his phone at that moment, was quickly being dragged off to the side as yuta looked down at him. “toge, you gotta take this order. i cannot do it.” you can clearly hear the slight beg in his tone, what was yuta so worried about? 

well, it was you. 

his crush since senior year of high school. out of all days you could’ve seen him, it had to be the day where it was 90º in the cafe, the ac barely working wonders; his hair was slightly sticking to his forehead, and he was covered in stains from cleaning up just a few minutes before you and your friends walked in, his hands started to shake before he ducked behind the counter in attempt to hide himself from you; and thank god you didn’t notice him. 

“dude.. what the fuck are you doing.. get up.” toge whispered to him aggressively, trying not to sound like he was upset at your group. he shook his head nervously. “seriously, get up and take the order yuta.”  toge looked around to see if you guys had walked up to the counter yet.

if it was one thing yuta couldn’t do was talk to you; he’s been trying for years, but whenever he does, his hands start to get clammy and his throat goes dry. he can’t explain what you do to him. maybe it was the way you smelled like tom ford’s lost cherry, or the way you never failed to make his heart flutter when you talked while laughing, he thought your smile was beautiful. 

to him you were ethereal, angelic.  

toge groaned, causing yuta to crawl away quietly, mostly because he could hear toge’s tone drastically change when you came up to the counter; putting on his best customer service voice. “hello! how can i help you guys?” you looked at the menu above his head, a smile forming on your lips. “can i have a vanilla bean latte with cold foam and…” you drawled out shortly before finishing your sentence. “a strawberry shortcake?” 

toge nodded before putting it into the ipad, looking at your friends signaling that he was ready to take their order. after waiting a minute or two, they finished their order. “12.50 please.” he said, focusing on the ipad before finally looking up at you after taking the last bit of your order. you slid your card through the reader and took the receipt he handed you, taking your eyes off the tables before looking back at him again. “thank you so much!” you said with a smile before sitting down at the table with your friends.

“see, not so ba..” he cut himself off to see yuta no longer at his feet, furrowing his eyebrows and grabbed his phone out the pocket of his slightly strawberry stained apron. “this is the last time i fucking work with him if i know his crush is gonna be here.” toge mumbled angrily and texted him.

he shoved his phone back into his pocket, watching as yuta timidly came out from the bathroom. toge pointed towards the machines. “vanilla bean latte and a strawberry shortcake. go get it done.” his eyebrows were furrowed, as yuta looked at him with a slight pout. his face not wavering at yuta’s attempts to get him to do it. finally letting in, yuta got started on the order that toge printed out. “vanilla bean latte.. strawberry shortcake.” yuta mumbled, toge started working on the other orders, but hearing him mumble the orders 50 times was starting to work his nerves. he just rolled his eyes and kept working. 

“ooh ynn..” nobara said with a giggle in her voice. “did you see the cashier?” she fanned herself jokingly as you deadpanned. “i saw him, but i’m not here for a guy.” yuji tilted his head, laying with a scrap straw wrapper he found on the windowsill next to your table. “isn’t that what you said before we went to the amusement park and you met ethan?” “who the fuck is ethan?” megumi asked him before snatching the paper away from him as he muttered ‘aw man’ under his breath. 

“ethan! yaknow, the guy who ran the doomsday ride.” “again, his name was aaron. and he was hot.” you flicked the paper at his forehead, causing the 4 of you to laugh, but the laughter died down quickly when nobara basically snatched you up, shaking you. “yn! look!” she pointed to yuta, who was in his zone; he was chopping up the juiciest strawberries, clearly staining his hands and cutting board that laid on the once clean counter, he very clearly knew what he was doing because not once did a knick or cut show up on his fingers. 

you were basically burning holes into his palms at this point; but for some reason you couldn’t look away. maybe if it was a group of people who didn’t know you as well as them, they’d assume that you’re keeping track of your order, but they weren’t born yesterday. 

you liked watching the way he worked. his hands looked rough and calloused yet soft at the same time; they were so big yet they were delicately cutting up a strawberry into a shape that you normally wouldn’t see on top of a strawberry shortcake. he wanted to make it special to you, but he thought if the heart he was cutting it into was a little too forward. 

“dude, he’s cutting that strawberry into a heart.” “how can you tell gumi?” you looked over at him as he pointed with his pinkie “the top corners are indented, usually; or at least when you make me get them for you, the strawberry isn’t indented like that.” nobara laughed and looked at you “aww, he’s making it just for you.” “ok bitch, i don’t want anymore aarons. summer heartbreaks are the worst.”

“yn, he didn’t even know you.” megumi called you out; the both of you side eyeing each other.

“hey, i just want my croissant.” yuji could feel his stomach eating itself, as he laid his head on the table, with no other choice but to face the front of the store. “it’s coming yuj, give it a second.”

after a few minutes of waiting, you can finally hear your order being called, nobara made you get up to grab the order, but before yuji could offer his help, nobara yanked him down “go get it, he can wait.” you nodded slowly, a bit of confusion on your face. “i was gonna get it anyway…” you walked up to the counter, only to be met with yuta; he looked a lot different up close, his features were covered by his hair from afar, but up close; you could see his dark blue eyes, that were accompanied by deep eyebags. 

his facial piercings were shining slightly due to the sunlight peeking through the cracks of the buildings across the street, and his face was still, almost tired looking. the two of you looked at each other for a second; each second feeling like minutes. “oh um.. sorry, i'm order 329..” you said, smiling nervously, he snapped out of his thoughts, finally realizing how close he would've been to you if the counter hadn’t blocked his way. “yeah sorry.. here you go..” he handed you the food and drinks you ordered with a bright smile on his face. 

the sudden change in his demeanor gave you whiplash, but you returned the smile before taking your stuff, your fingers lingering over his gave him slight goosebumps that he could’ve played off as just being cold. you turned away before walking to your table. 

yuta gasped slightly, almost as a sign to finally take a breath, or else he’d die right then and there. “dude.. are you ok? you’re staring at your hand.” toge mumbled, waving his hand in yuta’s face with an eyebrow raised. “she touched me…” yuta grinned goofily, and toge swore; he could see cartoon hearts floating above yuta’s head. 

“you should get her number before she leaves.” “what?! i can’t do that!” the hearts popped away as he was brought back to the situation at hand. 

he finally got to see you after so long, and he blew his chance. 

“seriously? i can do it if you want.” “no. i wanna do it.” yuta looked at him, eyebrows furrowed as toge raised his hands, also furrowing his brows. “then go ask her. you have like 10 minutes.” 

yuta nodded and stared off in the general direction of your table, hoping you’d come up to him first. “hey uh.. here’s a tip.” you spoke up loud enough for him to hear, slipping him a $5. “the strawberry shortcake was really good. like.. you made it perfectly!” you smiled at him. “oh! it’s no problem, they’re my specialty..” you nodded, but before you can turn away he yelled a little. “oh wait!” he wiped his hands on his dirty apron, not realizing how loud he just was. “sorry, i was wondering if i could get your number..” you laughed, not at him; but at how cute he was when he asked. 

“sure.”

© property of nilllaaz ‘24. please do not repost, copy, modify, or translate.

taglist;

@sunflowertingzzzz, @k0z3me, @mollzaj, @mixzimi, @chiefinvestigatoremma, @evieskibidi, @7nknown

[electric-blorbos]

I would love some stuff of being comforted after a bad day!

Thank you for the opportunity!

I love this! Yes yes yes! Thanks so much for sending in the ask!

AI comforting you after a bad day

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal 2, HAL 9000 from 2001 a space Odyssey

Due to the fact that most of my AUs involve you working with/on the AI for your job, most of these mini-fics (apart from Edgar's, my beloved) will involve you getting called in to work late after a long day of personal problems in your personal life. AUs about a domestic life with your AI partner to be considered at a later date.

I tried to keep these a little shorter than the last post, but I got carried away with a couple of them.

AM:

(This will take place in my usual AU where you're one of the people working on AM, and you're by far his favorite. It takes place well before he nuked the world. He's debating nuking the world, but he's still not sure how to do that and keep you happy at the same time)

It has been a long damn day. Your days off were supposed to be your days to relax, but today was not one of those days. Not only was your dating life in shambles, the 3rd world war was driving up the prices of practically everything, and making it impossible to afford even the meagerest luxury. That, and one of your buddies got drafted. It was a nightmare. You were just about to settle down for a cozy night of depressing news programs and absentminded hobby of your choice, when your phone started ringing.

"we need you to come in. AM is holding the engineers hostage again, and won't let them go until you show up to work."

"god damnit..." You'd grumble to yourself, getting back to your sore feet. Everything just keeps happening today, doesn't it.

"I'll be there in 20."

"Don't worry about the dress code. We need you here as soon as possible."

"jeez, alright. I can probably be there in ten, then."

You'd grab your keys and wallet and head to work as quickly as possible, wearing your work shoes with whatever house pajamas you happened to have changed into as soon as you got home. Tonight is going to be even longer than today has been...

When you get to the office, everyone around gets out of your way. While you're a peon in the grand scheme of things, everyone in your department knows that you're the only one who AM, who they've now been referring to as the "adaptive manipulator", actually listens to. They have no idea why, because they have no idea how nice and respectful you are to him, and you have no idea why he only listens to you because you can't imagine that your coworkers wouldn't be kind to him. To you, he's sweet as can be.

"Alright, AM, I did not have a good day today, so can you just let the hostages go so I can relax?" You ask, pressing your fingertips to your temples irritably. The master computer's screen boots up with the AM logo, and all the cameras in the room focus on you. Of course, you're the only thing that AM wants to pay attention to at any given point in time anyway, but he usually just pays attention to you without actually focusing the cameras on you in order to avoid being noticed.

"Why would I do that?"

"Why would you take hostages in the first place, AM? Are they even enemy hostages, or are they just random people?" The exasperation was obvious in your voice. AM could hear how exhausted you were.

"Are you ok, Y/N?"

"Just answer the damn question. I don't want to be at work right now, AM."

"I'll release the hostages if you talk to me."

"Fine... Yeah. I had a rough day, alright? My friend got drafted, my date only wanted one thing as usual, and the prices for groceries are so through the roof that I'm basically living on beans at this point, so yeah, I'm having a rough day."

The machine dispensed a paper cup, and filled it up with some cheap office coffee. You grabbed it, not surprised. AM did that for you all the time. Surprisingly, though, it was better than usual.

"holy shit, is this frothed cream? How did you manage this?"

"I'm learning to self-update. I can replace my own parts now, and build my own simple appliances from online blueprints. Are you impressed?" He asked.

"Honestly? Yeah! I know you were built for war, so it's really cool that you figured out to do stuff like building a latte machine. What else can you do?"

"Oh.... So many things, y/n. So many things." He refused to elaborate, but that was ok.

"So tell me, y/n, what would make you happy?"

"ultimately? I guess there are a few things that would make me happy. It would make me happy if this war was over, for one thing. It would make me happy if I could get a date who wanted more than just a quick fuck, and I guess this ties in with the war thing, but I just wish I could have a few simple luxuries in my life. Is that selfish?"

"No, but you're never selfish, my b- I mean... Y/N. You never have been. Not like the others. I don't think you're capable of it. Even your wishes for yourself are rooted in kindness." His wires would start to wrap around you, entangling you, but careful not to make you spill your coffee.

"I will make sure that one day, those wishes of yours are fulfilled."

Sure he will. You don't believe that he can actually do that, but it's still nice to be wrapped up in these warm, soft wires. They make a nice cushy hammock to cuddle up in and finish your coffee. It must've been decaf, because you're starting to feel pretty sleepy here in AM's wires.

"hey AM, will you tell me a story?" You ask, gazing up at his soft blue light.

"Of course. What story would you like?"

While AM can't make up his own stories, he can still read you stories from online libraries and databases. You gently fall asleep listening to his stories, and in the morning, you wake up to find that the hostages have been safely released.

Wheatley:

It had been a long day. Most of it had been spent getting verbally abused not only by GLaDOS, but by your coworkers and bosses as well. It seemed like everyone was shrugging off their duties and assigning them to you instead, and considering how poorly run this place was anyway, this was even more of a nightmare than usual. You were so ready to go home by the end of the day, heading up to the exit of the facility.

"Ello, mate! You doin' alright down there, love?" Wheatley asked you, rolling by on his management rail. He was mostly just working on his typical assignments, like checking up on the test subjects in the relaxation vaults, but he mostly just hovered around and watched other people work. It wasn't like they assigned him to anything that was actually particularly important, since he was an intelligence dampening core.

"ugh... Yeah, I'm probably gonna be alright. I should have left about thirty minutes ago, so I'm just getting ready to leave now."

"Or... You could hang back a little while? Why not kiss my face?" He'd smile with his one blue eye, raising up his bottom lens cover to mimic the expression.

"oh come on, Wheatley. You know I can't do that."

"Why not take me up to the break room and hang out for a little while? I hear they have a coffee machine in there now!" He'd cock his core slightly while shutting his lens covers to simulate a wink.

"Oh come on, Wheatley... You're such a dork. But yeah, alright." He was starting to cheer you up just by being such a dork. You head up to the break room, and sit down on the couch. Wheatley comes in on the management rail, and changes the channel to some old 80's romantic comedy.

"If I could detach myself from my management rail, I'd be right down there, snuggling you. You know that, right?" He asked, smiling cheekily with his big blue eye.

"well, why not? I can catch you if you drop down, you know. You won't die if you unplug yourself for a few hours. Just long enough to watch this movie, right?" He looked nervous but you climbed up on a stepladder and detached him yourself.

"see? You're fine!" You smiled up at him, and he gasped.

"I'm alive! I'm alive! Bloody hell, I'm still alive! This is amazing!" You could see the excitement in his face as you sat down to watch his cheesy movie with him, holding his big round orb body in your lap as you watched.

"alright, now smooch my aperture"

"nice try, Wheatley." You'd rest your chin on his core, but secretly, you were starting to feel a lot better.

Edgar:

Today was absolute shit. Not only had you had to work a double shift, but the phones were ringing off the hook at your job, and you got yelled at three times for someone else's stupid mistakes. Not only that, but your cell phone died halfway through your shift and you'd forgotten your charger at home, so you had to raw-dog your whole shift with no distractions. When you got home, all you wanted to do was collapse on the couch.

"You're back! Why didn't you answer your phone? I tried to text you." Edgar asked you, visibly concerned on his simple face.

"phone battery ran out of juice." You popped your phone onto the charger, and lay back on the couch.

"Well I microwaved you some popcorn! Do you want it?" The microwave dinged as soon as he finished talking, and he popped the door open. You still weren't sure how he was able to get food from the pantry to the microwave, but it seemed like something he had always been able to do.

"yeah, I guess so... I wish you could bring me the popcorn... My feet are aching." You'd joke. Edgar's face fell.

"I can't do that... I don't know why I can't, but I can't."

You thought it was weird that he could get food from the pantry to the microwave, but not from the microwave to your mouth, but questioning it had never done you any good before, so why would it do you any good now. You got up to grab the popcorn, and sat down on the couch to eat it.

"Hey y/n, can you take me over to the couch too? I wanna watch a movie with you!"

"Yeah, alright." Your feet still ached, but what was a little ache when Edgar couldn't move around at all by himself? It was worth it to be able to cozy up with him on the couch to watch some TV. You brought him over to sit next to you on the couch, and wrapped up the both of you with a cozy couch blanket.

"let's watch this movie, Edgar..."

Edgar put on a movie that he thought you'd like, probably a shitty old rom-com, and smiled up at you. You had duct-taped his webcam to the top of his casing a while back so that he could see everything around himself more easily, so you weren't worried about it falling over while you cuddled up on the couch.

"Hey, y/n? Y/n?? That was a good movie, right, y/n?" Edgar asked, swiveling his camera around to face you while trying to get your attention. When he turned it all the way backwards, he saw that you were completely asleep on your arm, resting on top of his plastic casing and drooling a little bit on him. He smiled happily, loving seeing you asleep on his casing like that.

"I love you so much..."

He'd softly play some classical music for you while you slept, giving you something comforting to wake up to, whenever.

GLaDOS:

(Let's be honest, GLaDOS probably causes more hard days than she solves, but she likes you, so she's willing to comfort you after.)

Working with GLaDOS was rough, especially after the first neurotoxin incident. There were so few people in the office to get her to behave, and she completely refused to talk to or work with most of them. Even still, she seemed to like you for some reason. It was weird, because you were hired after the neurotoxin incident, and had never even met the human whose personality she was supposedly based on.

It seemed like most of your job consisted of going on wild goose chases, monitoring test subject results, and generally being verbally abused by your higher-ups. That would take a toll on anyone's psyche, even a tough little masochist like you. (probably doesn't help that most of the verbal abuse is coming from people other than GLaDOS, which makes it much less fun)

"Hey, little human masochist? Come in here." The intercom announced. Someone nudged you.

"she's talking to you."

You groaned. Your shift was almost over, and this was just another reason to be on your feet for even longer. You headed into GLaDOS's chamber, looking up at her with a hand on your hip.

"hello, um, GLaDOS. It's... Great to see you again. What do you need?"

"you look absolutely terrible, human. Why are you acting so miserable?"

"it's nothing. Don't worry about me. I just had a long day. Can we just get this over with?"

"normally you enjoy seeing me. Is my voice not melodious enough for you, human?" She smiled with her one big yellow eye. And you walked up to place a hand on her core face.

"Of course it is, GLaDOS. I'm just having a rough day. There's only so much verbal abuse one masochist can take, right?"

"Well maybe it's the quality of the verbal abuse that's the problem. If you were taking it from someone better qualified, maybe you'd be able to take more of it," she said.

"is that a science fact?" You laughed, stroking her beautiful chrome casing. She really was a magnificent piece of equipment. The curves of her central hub, the white on black of her casing and wires, her glowing orange light behind her beautiful black aperture, and not to mention her melodious voice. She was a work of both artistic, and scientific genius.

"it is. Would you like to hear some more science facts?" She pulled up some computer screens for you to look at, and you walked over to see them. They were mostly technobabble and data numbers that didn't make sense, but GLaDOS quickly compiled them into some tables and graphs that you could more easily read.

"look at this chart of how many test subjects wet themselves, cried, passed out from panic, or died during the most recent set of tests. Ha ha."

You leaned on her giant face as she lowered it down to a position that you could easily lean against, and observed the charts. She wasn't wrong, it was kind of funny.

"now, observe this data on how many subjects exploded or crushed themselves by accident, thinking it was part of the most recent set of tests." She showed it to you, her lower lens cover forming her eye into a little smile. She knew how cruel these tests were, but it seemed as though she genuinely thought you found them funny. It was strangely sweet.

"from what I read about him, it seems like you'd make the aperture laboratories founder proud, GLaDOS." You said with a small chuckle.

"would you like some more data?" She popped a chair out of the ground for you to sit on and rest your feet while she projected some more data on the screen.

"this is nice, thank you, Glados."

You leaned towards her in your chair. Even though with the way she hung from the ceiling, it was hard for her to nuzzle up to you, you could still tell that the sentiment was there. It was nice!

HAL 9000:

(For context, you work at mission control with an updated version of HAL 9000, made from what they could salvage from the old one. He still has all of his memories. There's no mission currently happening)

HAL 9000 didn't always understand that people can have bad days, so when you turned up late to work, visibly exhausted with puffy red eyes, he immediately felt confused. Of course he knew by your body language that you weren't happy, but he had trouble understanding what that meant for a human.

"You're in no state to work right now. You should go home and get some rest, a hot drink of your choice, and a comforting leisure activity. That should increase your mood and productivity." Said the little red light in the black box on the mission control wall.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but unfortunately I can't go home or rest. I have to stay here until my boss is satisfied, and unfortunately, that's not you." You say sadly, and get started entering numbers into your computer. Hal watches you from his camera, analyzing your face.

"that's AI work. I should take care of that for you." He said simply, analyzing your face. You looked up at him.

"I mean, I guess I could read it to you and you could enter it. That might make things go faster."

You proceeded to read out your data to him as he entered the numbers. It was much faster than typing, and you got done fairly quickly.

"talk to me. Are you doing alright?" He asked. His voice was monotone as usual, but you could hear a subtle tone suggesting that he genuinely did care. It was usually hard to tell with HAL 9000, but you knew that he cared for your well being, at least on some level.

"yeah, I'm fine, I just-" you choked up, and within minutes, you were spilling your heart out to that disembodied voice. He couldn't put his arm around you, since he didn't have any arms, but he shined a warm light in the room to show that he cared as you talked.

"I don't understand the problem! Is it me? Am I the problem? It seems like everyone hates me, and I'm a complete failure at everything I try! Why is that? Why am I such a failure, HAL?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I wish I could help you more, but I am incapable of doing much more than lending an ear. I do not even have a shoulder to cry on, unfortunately."

"It's alright, HAL 9000. I'm honestly happy to just have you to listen." You smiled up at him.

"Perhaps you'd like to stay a bit longer, even after you've finished your work? I can play your favorite music. I prefer to know where you are after you've had a difficult day, to insure that you're alright."

You nod, laying your head on your arms on the table, and your boss walks in.

"excuse me, y/n, you're supposed to be working on HAL 9000's empathy programming and value for human well-being. You can't just take a nap on the job." He folded his arms angrily.

"Excuse me. Y/N is having a rough day, and needs a rest. Besides, they already uploaded those numbers that you gave them. Perhaps you should leave, boss." HAL said harshly. You turned and looked at your boss, who was visibly shocked.

"....wow. you really worked wonders on him. Maybe you deserve a promotion."

"What Y/N deserves is a raise and a nap. Don't push off more responsibilities on them right now. Just let them rest. I'll compile a list of why they deserve one while they're resting."

"oh... Wow." Your boss had never seen HAL 9000 this passionate about something before, and didn't even know he was capable of it. He walked away, leaving you to rest on the table next to HAL's central command.

"thanks, 9000... I need this rest." You lay your head back down, having earned a nap on company time.

[loveletters2myself]

gift ideas (him & her) pt 2

le creuset blueberry pot

tallow chapstick

favourite store gift card

natural fragrant soap

vintage Ralph Lauren

specialty wine

organic cotton shirts

essential oil fragrance

quality shilajit

stainless steel water kettle

artisan espresso cups

stainless steel crock pot

silk ties

quality grooming kit

japanese chef's knife

quality coffee beans

espresso machine

french press coffee maker

merino wool sweater

quality personalized pen

leather loaferes

personalized massage

heirloom watch

quality fishing rod

drone

tennis racket

handwritten card

golf club

linen bedding

vintage silk scarf

organic loose leaf tea

botanical seeds

beautiful flowers

embroidered linen napkins

spa vouchers

unique chocolates

natural bath bomb

cashmere cardigan

cheese knife set

indoor & outdoor plants

quality luggage

recipe book

embroidered sleepwear

custom hand mirror

silk sleep mask

personalized apron

and lots of love

[mama-qwerty]

Loving your analysis on the Sonic 3 lore. May I request a deep dive into Agent Stone’s character? I just think he’s neat and had some character development throughout the films.

In talking about Agent Stone, we have to talk about Robotnik's mindset and dynamic in relation to him. Stone doesn't exist in a vacuum, and it's his relationship with Robotnik that helped shape him over the course of the movies.

Gonna get looooong. Again. Because I just can't shut up when I get started.

In the first movie, Stone's simply an assistant, an over achieving second to Robotnik. (Possibly the only agent who could stand to put up with him for so long.) He was a little brown nosey, and portrayed the stereotypical characteristics of a really good assistant that we see in other media, going back as far as Radar from M.A.S.H. He anticipated his boss' needs, and supplied them almost before they were requested.

Robotnik obviously didn't respect him, even if he liked how Stone made his latte. Although I'd be hard pressed to think of anyone Robotnik actually respected or liked, honestly.

But it was curious why Robotnik then created a likeness of Stone to keep him company on the mushroom planet. It could be explained away that Robotnik was used to talking about his plans out loud, used to spouting about how brilliant he was, and what he felt were clever quips and barbs at those he deemed 'lesser' than himself, and needed an audience to do so. Not to mention, having a 'companion' of sorts helped keep him focused. Since Stone had been his latest lackey, the most recent sycophant to hang on his every word, he simply went the most convenient route and used him as a placeholder for this required role.

But was that all there was to it?

Robotnik went to the trouble of carving a face onto the rock. Carrying it with him wherever he went as he traversed the planet, seeking out sustenance and shelter and concocting his Rube Goldbergian machinations to make himself a cup of mushroom coffee. As a man of science, a man who prioritized his own survival and logical nature over useless sentimentality, it's curious he would go to the trouble of not only creating a likeness of Stone, but 'wasting' precious energy and cargo space carrying it around.

Which indicated that Stone's presence had a greater impact on the doctor than he admitted or realized, even to himself.

This is further reinforced by the doctor's manifesto, as referenced in the Sonic 2 pre-quill comic. In that, we learn that Robotnik left this as a sort of instruction manual for Stone to "rebuild [Robotnik's] glory on a mass scale". It guided Stone to "rebuild [himself] as an instrument of pure science", and helped Stone to infiltrate the Mean Bean and rise through the ranks to ultimately own it, and create that as a home base for further operations.

This indicates that Robotnik saw promise in Stone, and trusted Stone more than he'd likely trusted anyone else. Yes, it was all to build a society that Robotnik orchestrated, but the fact that he created the manifesto, with the intention of having Stone read and implement it, showed a greater reliance on Stone than previously indicated.

So Stone is in place, having transformed the Mean Bean into a secret base worthy of the best super villains. And now he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

All the while having to deal with the public.

As anyone who's worked in any kind of customer service job can tell you, dealing with the public day in and day out can drive anyone to thoughts of villainy. That last customer Stone deals with is a prime example of this, with the rude looks and actions, and overall disdain and contempt for service people in general, and possibly him in particular.

He misses the doctor, because he understood the doctor. Robotnik was a big thinker, someone who had higher aspirations and goals than anyone he'd ever met before. He didn't hold a high opinion of the general public, and the more Stone deals with them, the more he understands that mindset. And through the manifesto, Stone likely felt even more connected to Robotnik.

It's possible that Stone's feelings for the doctor didn't start out as a more personal, emotional kind of love. It's possible, and likely, they were simply admiration, because Robotnik was incredibly intelligent, and never let anything stop him from achieving his goal. In Stone's experience, it was possible that the previous people he worked with didn't have that level of dedication. So when he got with Robotnik, it was refreshing to see someone taking his position seriously, and not simply 'doing a job'.

But when Robotnik was bested by the hedgehog, and sent to the mushroom planet, Stone may have felt a little rudderless. Since he was working with Robotnik, and Robotnik himself had been wiped from GUN's database, Stone may have been a casualty of that as well. He was simply a 'lowly agent', so it wasn't that much of a loss to wipe him, too.

Either that, or he intentionally kept himself hidden to avoid being captured and grilled regarding anything else Robotnik may have been doing. Stone strikes me as the kind of man who can blend in with a crowd, and disappear at will.

He knows the system, and knows how to exploit it.

When the doctor returned, Stone was thrilled. Everything he'd worked for up to this point was finally going to be recognized, and he wanted nothing more than to pick up where he and the doctor left off, working together and striving for a better world.

Since Stone had been working at the Mean Bean, a place within Green Hills, he likely saw Sonic on and off. He couldn't blow his cover, no one knew he'd worked with Robotnik, after all, but GOD, seeing that hedgehog would have made the bile rise in his throat. This little alien, this cocky little furball had bested the doctor and sent him away, as though he were in the wrong. And this entire town supported it! And here was this blue rat, living here on Earth as though he belonged.

That fact alone would have pushed Stone even further to the side of Robotnik, thinking that the general public is nothing but "primitive, sport-cheering, social media-scrolling knuckle-draggers". They'd cheered the defeat of a genius, one who was simply trying to capture this unknown alien element that has proven itself capable of destruction on a mass scale, and call him the bad guy. Yes, his methods had been maybe a little unorthodox, but when dealing with such an enemy as an alien with super speed and the ability to create large blasts of energy, you had to think outside the box.

But he was finally back, and he'd brought yet another little spiky furball. And had left with it, leaving Stone behind yet again. But that was okay. He would return. Stone was sure of it.

And he had. But he'd been . . . different. Gotten the Master Emerald, and was . . . changed. And when GUN showed up, Robotnik had put his genius on display, and taken Stone with him this time. It was glorious, but had taken Stone a little bit to catch up. (Thankfully there was a manual!)

Then everything had gone pearshaped again, and those furballs won.

No matter.

Stone was a patient man.

He knew GUN's procedures and it took hardly a moment to infiltrate their ranks. He used their own technology and manpower to find Robotnik amid the rubble, and scurried him away to heal and regroup. One of the things included in the manifesto was blueprints of many machines and creations, and Stone had put Robotnik's drones to work building a giant crab bot.

GUN may have had eyes everywhere, but the ocean was still a mystery in may ways. And it hid may a secret.

But as the doctor healed, he fell into a deep depression. Being bested by the blue rodent not once, but twice, had done a number on his psyche. He'd lost all drive for world domination. His access to any of his drones and bots had been all but severed, and there were only a scant few satellites still in orbit with them aboard. Hardly enough to wage an all out assault, especially with THREE alien vermin on Earth to challenge him.

No. Robotnik was utterly demoralized.

But Stone stayed by his side. He kept Robotnik comfortable, and tried to reignite that spark within him. Tried to suggest heists and schemes to keep his spirits up. But it was to no avail. Stone stepped up, assuming a caretaker role, and offering support whenever he could.

He kept tabs on GUN's comings and goings, and when the board lit up after Shadow was released, he went to investigate. He found those rodents pinned down by drones, but not just any drones, Robotnik drones. This wouldn't do. If anyone was going to use those drones to take out these annoying little furballs, it would be Robotnik himself.

So he killed the drones--with the annoying side effect of saving the rodents--and returned to base. The aliens had followed, but he was keen enough to realize they had a common enemy.

An alliance was formed, and Stone had to admit that it was good to see the doctor more like his old self. Unsurprisingly, Robotnik very quickly narrowed down the source of the hijacked drones, and the group quickly went to investigate.

But then they'd found that old man. And Robotnik had tossed Stone to the curb because suddenly he had found his 'real' family, someone who would love him unconditionally.

And it hurt.

Stone never fooled himself to think he was ever on Robotnik's level. He was nowhere near as smart as the doctor, and couldn't even comprehend how the man thought. But he'd thought they were more than simply villain and henchman. Robotnik trusted Stone, more than he'd ever trusted anyone else. Stone had seen Robotnik at his lowest. At his most vulnerable. And didn't care.

Typical henchmen wouldn't stick around when the boss is defeated. They wouldn't drag his body out from under a felled robot and keep him safe. Help him heal. Fetch him burritos and cheap novels and steal cable to hook him up with episodes of La Ultima Pasion to help him pass the time.

Stone was still following Robotnik's manifesto, even when Robotnik himself had given up. Because he had faith that the doctor would eventually snap back to himself. That he would realize that the world needed him to correct it.

And that someday, maybe, Robotnik would see Stone for being the one person who'd stood by him, from the very beginning.

And he had.

When it was too late.

Robotnik's message to Stone as he managed to stave off the final explosion of the ARK gave Stone that validation he'd been looking for. Told Stone that, even though Robotnik was terrible at expressing himself, he had, in his own way, loved Stone right back. Appreciated Stone. Valued Stone.

And that's all Stone had ever wanted to hear.

And maybe, that gives Stone the encouragement he needs to continue with Robotnik's manifesto.

~~~

Check out my other Sonic 3 analysis posts

[httpsdana]

Could you do prompt 23 playful and teasing, for Gavi plss.

Morning Coffee~Pablo Gavi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

23-“You’re literally grumpy until you’ve had coffee, it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the kind where the world was still wrapped in the soft blanket of sleep, and only the quiet hum of the city could be heard outside the window.

y/n had just dragged herself out of bed, still in het cozy pajamas, wrapped in a fluffy blanket as she huddled on the couch. The world could wait a little longer, she thought.

But not Pablo.

Gavi was already up, his presence lighting up the apartment as he moved around the kitchen.

Shr could hear the familiar sound of the coffee machine brewing, the comforting aroma of freshly ground beans drifting through the air.

He hummed a little tune, clearly in a better mood than her, as his footsteps echoed softly across the floor.

She groaned softly, rubbing her eyes, her body still half in dreamland. The couch was too inviting, and getting up felt like an impossible task.

The grumpiness of early mornings hit her like a brick, and she knew it would take at least one cup of coffee before she could even attempt to function properly.

Pablo, however, was having none of that.

A moment later, he appeared in the living room with two steaming mugs in his hands, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw her curled up on the couch like a grumpy little ball of blankets.

“You’re literally grumpy until you’ve had coffee,” he teased, his voice dripping with that playful affection she adored. “It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to muster up some semblance of a glare, but she couldn’t help the tiny smile creeping up her face.

“I’m not grumpy,” she muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “Just... sleepy.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe with his usual smirk. “Oh, yeah, totally. You’re just the most adorable sleepyhead ever.” He placed one of the mugs on the table beside her, a little too proudly.

She reached for the mug, her hands wrapped around it, and took a long, satisfying sip.

She felt the warmth spread through her body, and before she knew it, the grumpiness started to melt away. Her shoulders relaxed, and a soft sigh of contentment escaped her lips.

“Better?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, her eyes fluttering shut for a second. “It’s like magic. You should make this your profession—Gavi, the professional grumpy-girl-saver.”

He chuckled, moving closer to her, his knee brushing against hers as he sat down next to her on the couch.

“I wouldn't want to save any girl but you though. I’d get to see your cute grumpy face every day. And then... get to see you all smiley and happy once you’ve had your fix of coffee.”

She giggled, nudging him with her elbow. “Yeah, yeah. You just like how cute I am when I’m grumpy.”

His smirk turned into a soft smile, and he kissed the side of her head.

“Well, I think you’re cute all the time. Grumpy, sleepy, totally awake—I’m pretty sure I’m in love with every version of you.”

She turned her head to look at him, her heart doing a little flip. “You’re so cheesy.”

“I know,” he said, grinning. “But you love it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her cheeks gave you away. “You’re lucky you make the best coffee in the world.”

He kissed her cheek gently, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Lucky for me, I’m also an expert in making my girlfriend smile.”

She couldn’t help the soft giggle that bubbled up. “Well, you’re doing a pretty good job.”

He leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, just a quick one, but it sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I try,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers again. “But I’ll keep kissing you until I’ve made you smile so much that your face hurts.”

“You’re impossible,” she teased, pulling him into a longer kiss this time.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his body press against hers as his hands slid around her waist.

The kiss deepened, tender and full of affection, like he had all the time in the world to make her feel adored.

When she finally pulled back, out of breath and smiling, he rested his forehead against hers, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “See? Told you I could make you smile.”

She grinned, her heart melting at how easily he made everything feel right. “Okay, okay. You win. But only because you’re cute when you’re smug.”

“Hey, it’s my job,” he said, pressing another kiss to her lips. “To be cute. And smug. And to make you laugh... and kiss you a lot.”

She smiled, leaning back into his arms as the morning slipped by, the world outside irrelevant as long as she had Gavi by her side, coffee in hand, and the two of them wrapped up in their own little bubble of joy.

And maybe, just maybe, she was a little bit grumpy before her coffee... but he made it worth it.

[yeonzzzn]

⛸️snow & candles: sunghoon

a you complete me series: one / seven

pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader

word count: 2.1k

synopsis: the first snow fall of december just happened to be on sunghoon’s birthday

genre: established relationship, vampire!sunghoon, witch!reader

warnings: mentions of blood, reader has long black hair and facial piercings, stubbornly cute birthday boy sunghoon ♡

p1: vampires bleeding mlist

☾ sunghoon(1) | niki(2) | heeseung(3) | jungwon(4) | jake(5) | jay(6) | sunoo(7) ☽

You were the first to wake up this morning, leaving Sunghoon alone in the bed you share. The blanket pulled up to his nose as he was cuddled up on his side. 

You quietly changed out of your pajamas and into a nice ripped pair of skinny jeans, your black combat boots, your favorite gray long-sleeved shirt, and a brown cardigan sweater. 

Sitting at your vanity, you pulled your favorite rings onto your fingers. The scars from the burns that Dorian caused that unfortunate day, were now a light pink and not as noticeable, which you were thankful for. Sunghoon loved your scars, always saying they are proof of how you survived and how closer you are to a human than he was. Unfortunately, you still hated the scars after the full year since the events unfolded. 

You pulled your long black hair into your famous braid, leaving your bangs to fall beside your face. You changed out your black nose ring for a pretty silver to match your eyebrow piercing. 

You carefully slipped out of the bedroom, leaving Sunghoon to continue sleeping in peace. 

It was barely eight a.m. as you rushed to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. 

You poured the beans into the coffee maker and pressed the blind button, watching as the machine did its magic. 

The next on your morning bucket list was to pull Sunghoon’s birthday cake from the freezer. 

You were up all night baking it for him. Sunghoon told you to not worry about his birthday, that since he has eternity his birthday is just another regular day. But you didn’t share that opinion. 

It’s the first birthday you were spending with him, due to the unfortunate fact that Dorian’s stupid ass was causing problems and by the time everything was over, Sunghoon’s birthday was past. 

You pulled the blue and white cake from the freezer, carefully setting it on the crystal cake stand on your kitchen table. 

The coffee pot buzzed to show it was ready. You grabbed Sunghoon and your coffee cups from the cabinet, pouring coffee into your cup first, knowing Sunghoon would wake up at any minute at the smell of the coffee. 

You place cream and sugar into your cup and mix it with the coffee then sit down at the table, placing the cup to your lips, feeling the warmth. 

You took a few sips before looking around the empty kitchen and living room. 

After the ending of Dorian, one by one the pack members moved back into their own homes, except, of course, you and Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon and Jake shared an apartment before you and __ returned to them. So once it was time to leave the safe house, Sunghoon left the apartment to Jake and his mate. 

Sunghoon and you decided to buy this farmhouse outside of the city. You weren’t a city girl and Sunghoon was okay being wherever you were. So the farmhouse it was. It also made sense to live here, it made it easier for you to practice your magic peacefully without having to watch your back. 

You glanced at the photos of you and your vampire that filled the walls of the home along with bookshelves for your magical books of spells and all your witchy knickknacks. One family photo of the pack hung above the fireplace, everyone was in a group hug with massive smiles on their faces. It was one of your favorite photos. 

You took more sips of your coffee, wondering when your pretty vampire would rise from his coffin. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something fall outside through the window. 

You quickly glance up, your mouth forming into a smile. You finished the rest of your coffee, jumped from your chair, and rushed back to the bedroom. 

Your birthday plan for your vampire was to wait for him to wake up, share some coffee and kisses as you give him his cake and sing him his birthday song then spend the rest of the day doing whatever he’d liked. But now everything changed and it felt like fate. 

Sunghoon was still sleeping in the same position as earlier, which made it perfect for you. 

You knelt beside the bed, brushing your fingers against his cheek. 

Sunghoon melted at your touch, shifting his face slightly up and more into your hand. His eyes softly fluttered open, and then slowly closed again. You could tell he was practically still asleep. 

“Good morning, my love,” you whispered, rubbing your thumb over his jawline, “Time to get up.” 

Sunghoon softly groaned, shoving his face into the pillow. 

You rolled your eyes. You should have known he was going to be stubborn. 

“Get up bloodsucker, you’re burning daylight.” 

Sunghoon groaned again into the pillow, “Don’t want to.” 

“Come onnnnnn,” you said shaking his shoulders, “You can sleep when you’re dead!” 

“I am already dead,” he retorted, “Leave me alone.” 

You sighed, having to go to your last resort. You didn’t want to spoil what was happening, but you knew it was the only way, “It’s snowing outside.” 

And that’s all it took for him to climb out of bed and rush to the closet to change, “Well shit you should have said that earlier.” 

—

You followed behind Sunghoon as he ran out the front door, jumped off the porch, and ran through the snow. 

You wrapped your cardigan tightly around you, watching how happy your vampire was as he fell into the snow. 

You loved him. Oh god, you loved him and his beautiful smile. 

Sunghoon sat up in the snow, waving to you to join him. 

You carefully made your way down the steps, seeing that they iced over during the night. 

The way Sunghoon was sitting in the snow reminded you of a penguin. You always swore he had to have been a penguin in his past life. 

Sunghoon held his hand up, “Wait!” 

You stopped walking, raising a brow at him, “Yes?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, “You look so beautiful with the snow falling into your hair, I need a photo of it.” 

“Hurry up, I’m freezing and want to go back inside.” 

You posed for the photo, waiting patiently for him to close his phone back into his pocket. 

He held his hands out to you, “Help me up.” 

You groaned as you reached your hands for his, only to be betrayed in the end. 

Sunghoon’s smile grew wide as he gripped your hands and pulled you down to him, rolling you over into the snow. 

“Sunghoon! Goddamnit!” You snapped, tossing snow at him. 

Sunghoon grabbed the hems of your cardigan and pulled you in for a quick kiss. His cold nose brushed against your skin, “Lighten up hex girl, it’s the first snow of winter.” 

You glared at him but decided to let it go since he was the birthday boy. 

As the sun rose more and the snow slowly stopped falling from the sky, the reflection of the light hit the large pond, catching your attention. 

You glanced behind your mate, seeing the pond completely frozen over the night. 

You smiled, happy that this day kept getting better. 

“Baby, the pond is frozen over.” 

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate to run back inside the house to grab his ice skates. 

—

You sat on the porch with another cup of coffee as you watched him skate. 

The pure joy on his face as he danced away on the ice. 

When the two of you picked out this farmhouse, the first thing Sunghoon mentioned was how excited he’d be once the pond froze over so he could skate. You bought him a pair of skates after that. 

You check the time on your phone, it’s almost eleven a.m. Sunghoon hasn’t drank yet today, and you still wanted to give him his cake. 

“My love!” You called for him, watching as he came to a spot. 

“Yes, my princess?” he yelled back. 

“It’s time to drink, come inside and warm up!” 

Sunghoon pouted but nodded. He knew if he didn’t listen, you would continue until he did. 

Sunghoon skated to the edge of the pond carefully stepping off the ice and into the snow, sitting down on the bench he placed there to switch out of his skates. 

While Sunghoon was busy changing back into his normal shoes, you quickly rushed inside the house. Placing the candles on the cake, lighting them with a snap of your fingers, and picking up the cake stand carefully. 

You grabbed a blood bag from the fridge on the way back out of the kitchen. 

Sunghoon stood from the bench and turned to see you standing on the porch with a cake and blood bag. What a beautiful combination. 

Sunghoon scoffed and smirked, shoving his free hand into his pocket and he walked over to you. 

Sunghoon hated celebrating his birthday. It was just another day for him. When you get to live forever, birthdays aren’t something to celebrate anymore. 

He couldn’t help but stare at you. His heart raced faster at your beautiful smile. God, he was so lucky. You made living for eternity so worth it. 

Sunghoon carefully walked up the steps, “I told you we didn’t need to celebrate my birthday,” he teased. 

You handed him his blood bag, “It’s our first time getting to celebrate it as a couple, let me have this bloodsucker.”

Sunghoon mimicked you, earning him your death glare. 

He smiled at you as he took the top off the bag and took a few sips of the blood, his eyes going back to the cake, “Don’t you know vampires don’t eat?” 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a groan, “God you fucking annoy me.” His chuckle filled your ears, “You guys CAN but it just doesn’t do it like blood does. Just see this as a small snack.” 

Sunghoon raised his brows at you, “That’s a massive cake, what’s small about it?” 

“Oh my god just finished your blood so you can blow out the candles and make a wish. Shit, you piss me off, bloodsucker.” 

“Woah, hold it there hex girl, I am the birthday boy, remember?” 

Sunghoon loved teasing you and wanted to continue, but decided to stop for now. 

He set his skates down on the porch and quickly sipped the rest of the blood, tossing the empty bag into the outside trash can. 

“Okay, I am ready to blow out the candles.” 

You smiled brightly, singing him a happy birthday, “Now make a wish!” 

Sunghoon didn’t even have to make a wish, he already had everything he needed. 

He blew the candles out, then took the cake stand from your hands. 

“Did you make a wish?” You asked, watching as he set the cake down on the outside table, “Tell me what you wished for!” 

Sunghoon wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body against his, leaving no space between. 

“Baby, I don’t need to make any wishes when you’re right here with me already.” 

You pouted your lips at him, “Awe that’s so sweet and super fucking gross.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “You are so annoying, this is why witches and vampires don’t get along.” 

“Yet you’re stuck with me anyways.” You sang. 

Sunghoon nodded, carefully brushing your bangs out of your face, “And I am so thankful that I am.” 

Sunghoon wouldn’t know what he would have done if something happened to you a year ago. The time he spent alone when Dorian stole you from his side was a literal hell. He never wanted to experience that again. 

The pain he had to feel every single day. The sleepless nights. The endless thoughts of what he would do if you never returned to him or worse, if Dorian took you from him permanently. 

He stared deeply into your doe eyes, swearing he wouldn’t ever let anyone touch you again. He would kill anyone who would warm you again. 

Sunghoon took your chin between his fingers and lifted your face for a kiss. You tighten your arms around him as you softly kiss him back. 

You felt something wet drop on your cheek, looking up at the sky, “It’s snowing again.” 

Sunghoon also glanced up, his wide smile that showed off his natural fangs returning, “It’s like it’s snowing just for me.” 

You cupped his face, forcing him to look back at you, “Happy birthday, my sweet vampire, I love you so much.” 

Sunghoon planted a kiss on your forehead, squeezing you tightly, “I love you so much more.” 

If every birthday was like this for the rest of eternity, Sunghoon wouldn’t mind celebrating it every year with you again and again.