#(i appreciate having (another) excuse to take a break to work on these instead)

[crystallizsch]

Tsum Prefect....pls🥺👉👈

ANON. PLS. how dare u,,,, MORE TSUM BRAINROT????????

jk jk here she be :3

anyways i assume you’re talking about yuusha bc of my most recent tsum post hngdhsfjdhk and i just went beyond the ask bc this was on my mind even before 😭

I JUST CAN'T PULL THEM APART CAN I THIS IS A CURSE

anyways im including these four too bc ive been neglecting yuuna

these tsums just give me so much life omg

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ sending them suggestive pictures while they're at work

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Sigma

content: nsfw, female reader, spanking, sexting, oral sxx, masturbation, semi public

It's not unusual for DAZAI to tap away on his phone during work hours, so no one — except for Kunikida, who still hasn't given up on glaring — pays it any mind when his smirk widens at his screen. What remains a secret, however, is that he's not looking at some funny tweet but instead at your tits, the blue lace of your bra making for a pleasant contrast in colour.

He's awfully smug about the whole ordeal, really; also, who is he not to play along? He definitely sends you not only some appreciative words back, but also a picture of his own, featuring either his hands — he does know that you're quite fond of his fingers, after all —, his face — because you can never complain about that! —, or his by now half-hard dick, pressing against his trousers, even though taking soft nudes borders on workplace indecency. Oh, and your pictures are definitely saved and stored away on his phone for later usage.

[new message from Dazai] “someone's needy, harassing me during work hours! just kidding bella!! you're so cute xx stunning too! how am i supposed to listen to kunikida any longer when you're so so pretty? :( ill call out sick, be there in 20 x”

CHŪYA really doesn't expect to see anything but a picture of a dog you saw outside or of a particularly pretty flower when he spares a brief glance at his phone during a Port Mafia meeting. It's already disrespectful, though he doesn't plan on anyone noticing the miniscule action — that is, until he all but chokes on his coffee at the photo of you, legs spread wide, two fingers deep inside of yourself, wearing not only his favourite lingerie set, but also one of his ties.

He tries hard to ignore the way everyone stares at him when he, all too abruptly, excuses himself to the bathroom, his face bright red. In the safety of a stall, he really can't do anything but shove his trousers to his knees, one hand immediately closing around his dick while he types your number into his phone with his free one — and while he might snap at you, oh so flustered, he's also so damn turned on that he can barely focus on anything but the sound of your voice and your photo.

“Fucking Hell, babe—, God, with how Mori was looking at me, I bet he knew what was up. Fuck—, send me another one, please, I'm so damn close, ah—”

Business meetings aren't RANPO'S favourite way to spend time. They're awfully boring, making him huff and sigh when he has to sit through them — though this one gets a lot more interesting the moment he clicks on a text message from you. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of your panties, pure lace and hiding not even the slightest bit just how wet you are, thighs glistening, though that's about all the physical reaction he's going to show. The fact that his dick strains against his trousers is no one's business.

He is, however, quick to text you back, amusement dripping from his messages, and if Fukuzawa wasn't already watching him with sharp eyes, he'd sneak away to the bathroom to call you. For now, you'll just have to do with sexting — this meeting is going to go on for a while, especially if he won't soon start contributing, and he's unfortunately got better things to do.

[new message from Ranpo] “having fun without me? youre so mean. at least send me more pics im dyin g here... maybw bend over or— ooo i know, we bought that toy a while ago, right? why don't you use that one for me, doll....”

FUKUZAWA sucks in a sharp breath the second his eyes fall onto your form clad in nothing but one of his yukatas, and even though he attempts to remain calm, he's already blushing, arousal churning low in his stomach. Really, he was just trying to take a miniscule break from all the paperwork he's facing — besides, the cat ringtone signaling your message did sound rather urgent! —, though now he's not certain whether he can focus on it again.

He ends up typing “This is most inappropriate.” in response, though he never sends it, instead replacing it with a “You look stunning.”, only to never send that one either. In the end, he just quits work a little earlier that day and hurries home faster than he'd ever want to admit, cheeks still flushed with arousal when he joins you in bed, immediately slotting himself between your pretty thighs, long fingers spreading your folds apart and into your cunt to prepare you — only to realise you've long done that yourself. How convenient. He might reprimand you a little afterwards, though both of you realise it's not to be taken seriously. When he's honest with himself, he rather liked that photo — and he'll definitely keep it.

“That was awfully inappropriate. Darling, you know I enjoy getting to hear from you during the day, and yet — what? I didn't mind you wearing my clothing in the slightest. I was worried about someone from the Agency seeing the picture. In fact, wear my clothes again whenever you feel like it. Please do. You looked quite irresistible.”

It's almost unfair just how seemingly unbothered FYODOR is. When checking his phone during a Decay of Angels meeting, aware that you know not to contact him except for important reasons, he merely glances at the photo lewdly depicting your raised skirt and the curve of your behind before putting it back into his pocket. Really, it's downright adorable that you're attempting to tease him — you should know better by now, darling.

While he doesn't bother with a response, he certainly makes sure to pay attention to you when he returns home. And, oh, the next time you want to toy with him, he sure hopes you remember this very moment, of you bent across his lap, his hand coming down ever so often on your butt, on the soft skin of your upper thighs, making you cry out with every slap. The marks, at least, will serve as a nice reminder, especially when you keep forgetting to thank him for every hit.

“There we go, dear. Ah, ah — don't cry now. This is what you wanted, is it not? My undivided attention — and you certainly have it, now. Which number were we on again? Tell me, darling, or we will have to start over, I'm afraid.”

The second SIGMA spares a quick glance at his phone, only to stumble upon a rather revealing picture you just sent him — and, God, 'rather revealing' is an understatement when he's able to see just how wet you are, thighs spread for the camera —, his face heats up significantly, earning him some odd looks from the other men he's currently in a meeting with. In a desperate attempt to regain professionalism, he clears his throat, trying to simply continue, but it's as if every thought has been erased from his mind and was replaced by you.

When getting home that evening, he's calmed down considerably, cheeks still warm with the memory of you being this bold, though his sudden calmness might just change when you expect him in that exact same position, legs wide apart, the smile on your face teasing — and who is he not to end up on his knees in front of you, tongue flattening against your cunt while both of you let out breathy moans? In the end, he's all but begging you to return the favour.

“Ah, God, I'm close. At least finish me off, please—, you were really cruel today, dear. Make it up to me? Please? Oh, fuck—”

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[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Jazzprowl mecha! >:D

Previous chapter

Under the cut⤵️

Jazz thinks Prowl is fucking weird.

With space around him and aliens and fucking teleportation and all that crazy shit...Prowl's weirdness isn't too obvious at first. But once Jazz stops marveling at the view outside the window, his attention shifts completely to his new companion.

And. Well.

"'Your plates are so squarish.'"

Prowl takes a break from reading something on his tablet and raises his eyebrows in surprise

"They are."

Jazz moves closer curiously

"No offense okay but isn't it... Hmm. Stupid?"

He raises one hand and lightly slaps the edge of his palm against the center of Prowl's chest.

"What's the point of making armor this shape? And with so many wide gaps? All the strikes will go straight through. It's kinda dangerous. "

Prowl purses his lips in confusion.

"Excuse me? As if your armor makes more sense."

"It does."

"You...wha...you know what. Humor me, explain what you mean."

Jazz shrugs.

"It's round. And the gaps are...uh. What's the right word. They're thin? It's very hard to grab with your teeth or get under with your tentacles. See? You are. Dude, no offense, but you're like, really grabbable."

Prowl just silently opens and closes his mouth for a couple seconds, trying to think of what to say in response. Finally he decides to focus, but not on the part Jazz might have been expecting

" You... were built to fight the Quintessons?"

Jazz nods

"Course I was. Why else?"

Prowl looks....Very worried and somehow sorry for Jazz.

That's weird.

Jazz lets this detail just linger in his mind. He's not sure what conclusion to draw from it yet. And it's very likely that his poor knowledge of the unfamiliar language is setting him up. He's not sure.

------

Prowl has wheels. Jazz gives himself a mental smack for not paying attention to them in the first three seconds, but it doesn't matter now.

Because Prowl has freaking wheels in his shoulders and Jazz has a bunch of questions in his head.

Why the fuck does he have wheels??? In a place like this??

Prowl looks up at him.

"Something wrong?"

Jazz reaches out his hand mesmerized and spins one of the wheels.

The wheel spins.

What an amazing world.

Prowl looks confused again

"Jazz?"

"What are they for?"

Prowl faintly twitches one of his weird little wings.

"To drive."

Jazz spins the wheel again

"But you can't drive them! I mean, they're...uh."

He tries to find the right words in his head to say "inside your shoulders" but. Shit. He doesn't know how to say it so he accepts his linguistic defeat and helplessly twitches his horns.

"...They're on top."

Prowl tilts his head, clearly missing the point, and turns one of his legs around

"I've got another ones here...?"

Jazz instantly squats down and. Yep. There are wheels in the legs too.

Prowl moves his foot away before Jazz can spin that wheel too.

"I can just show you if you want."

That's a great idea. A fantastic one. Jazz is hellbent on seeing how it would actually work, because all his brain offers him is "fall on your back and awkwardly drag yourself along the ground?"

Prowl doesn't fall anywhere.

Instead, he suddenly ALL starts moving and freaking folds into himself? Jazz isn't sure what exactly he was expecting to see, but watching another mech fall apart like lego sure as hell wasn't that????

Not falling apart, he realizes a moment later.

Is it reassembling? Into something else???

A second ago, Prowl was standing next to him, and now there is a

Is that a fucking car???

Jazz can't say anything more clever than a loud "HAH???"

It is indeed a car. The design is very odd and Jazz can't recognize the model, but it looks like something vaguely race-y?

He pats the roof of it.

"That's so cool!!!"

The car somehow manages to look awkward and moves away from him sideways like some weird metal crab.

What the- what the hell-

------————————-

Prowl's mech has an amazing face.

Not that Jazz is staring, but he can appreciate the amazing attention to details. The eyes, the nose, even the lips. Who and why would make a mech with such lifelike face? That ..would make sense if Prowl had to appear in front of a camera, wouldn't it? Maybe he's some kind of celebrity like Blurr?

Jazz doubts it. Prowl doesn't strike him as someone who's used to attention.

But it's a good face, yeah.

Prowl valiantly ignores his staring, but after ten minutes gives up

“What?”

Jazz shrugs. He's been doing that a lot lately.

"You have a really cool face."

Prowl chokes on air and looks confused again. If you look closer. What is this face even made of? It looks metallic but it bends??? Literally...how?? How does it work?

Jazz is taller than Prowl, so he has to bend down to get a closer look. He wants to ask if the mech's face was modeled after the pilot's, but. Shit. How do you put it into simple words ?

Man. Okay. Uh. Appearance. How do you say "real?" True-positive? Wait, no, true and false are from English, this new language must contain one state word for true and false at the same time.

Prowl watches Jazz's struggle with the patience of a true buddhist monk.

What word even summarizes the state of being true or false? Hot and cold is "temperature", heavy and light is "weight" and then..

Jazz fumbles his fingers helplessly.

"What's the word for. You know how."

He claps his hands hard, and then again, barely audible.

Loud and quiet.

"Sound-positive, sound-negative, right?"

Prowl nods.

"But if I speak. I-mouth-positive."

He claps once more, quietly, barely audible

"I-mouth-positive. Sound-positive. Word-question?

If I do “quiet” but say “loud”. If I do one thing and say another, that's called-?

Prowl twitches his little wings.

"Ah. That would be veracity-negative."

Jazz makes happy finger guns.

"Yes! This..."

He points to Prowl's face

"Appearance-veracity-positive?"

He could probably phrase it more...accurately. Jazz chews his lips in concentration and tries to elaborate

"Appearance-veracity-positive-you?"

Prowl tilts his head

" Uh. Yeah? That's what I look like. I didn't change anything. It's..."

He pauses uncertainly

"Why are you asking me that?"

Jazz gives a thumbs up

"How do you say 'impressive'? Something like "eyes-positive-emotions-positive." Or it would be "good." Good sounds kind of cheap.

Jazz decides to add a couple more positive modifiers on top just in case. He's always been generous with compliments.

Prowl's wings bounce up funny.

One of the passing lilac aliens whistles.

_______________________________

Prowl thinks Jazz is fragging weird.

Okay, to be fair. Prowl has never had to be anyone's guide to interplanetary interactions.

He'd heard that races making contact with the rest of the galaxy for the first time tended to be weird. It's alright. He can understand that. Which of course doesn't mean it's any easier for him to be at the center of it all...everything.

Jazz is clingy. Friendly. He's definitely never been off his planet before, so everything around him surprises him.

Prowl's obviously “surprising” too, but there's this weird familiarity in Jazz's attitude towards him.

Prowl thinks it's because they're both mechanical life forms. It's the only guess he has that makes sense. But Prowl realizes pretty quickly that Jazz only looks like a Cybertronian at first glance. It's the details. Small and disturbing details.

Jazz was built to fight the Quintessons. His entire body, his entire design was made for it.

Now that Prowl knows that, he's starting to see it. Now that he knows where to look, he can't stop noticing.

All the plates are either round or streamlined and sharp.

He has no face, but his head is shaped in such a way that it would be very hard to grab onto. Or to hit it.

Prowl's processor involuntarily tosses him numbers.

Every bend and edge. Every detail. The visor isn't just curved, it's arched at the most perfectly calculated angle to take hits. His chest plates have the perfect ratio of thickness and curvature so that any direct hit ricochets or slips without going through the plate directly.

And Prowl is scared to even begin to analyze the structure of those legs. He originally saw their design as something similar to Empurata's. But no. The Empurata had always made it their goal to humiliate and diminish their victims. The limbs that the Empurata created were simple and often horribly, impractically awkward.

Jazz's legs are an engineering marvel and Prowl honestly almost wants to take a closer look. They bend at...how many? Five? Six places?

He leans forward quietly, pretending to want to change his posture, trying to get a better angle. There's at least one more joint under the front plates. Seven then?

Huh.

Jazz snorts

"Like what you see?"

Prowl flinches and quickly looks away. Idiot. Just because Jazz’s head is pointed in the other direction doesn't necessarily mean that's where his gaze was pointed as well.

"I apologize."

Jazz chuckles

"Hey, don't be sorry. You're giving me a reason to show off~"

Prowl gives up. Okay. Maybe it's just that Jazz's weird openness is contagious.

"Your legs are pretty..."

"Cool," Jazz offers

Prowl nods diplomatically.

"Unusual. I think cool too."

Would it be too weird to ask exactly how many joints are in them? Perhaps yes, that's personal medical information after all.

Jazz takes a few joyful little leaps

"They let me walk on walls."

"I have to admit that's impressive."

______________

"Can I join you?"

The little furry alien folds their arms across their chest and says something that...sounds disgruntled. Jazz honestly can't understand a word of it. He just saw the aliens playing something remotely resembling cards and he got curious. He doesn't remember having a fight with any of them yet.

The alien stares at him expectantly for a couple seconds and then waves one of their limbs and switches to a language familiar to Jazz

"No. Go back where you came from."

Uhm. Rude.

One of the lilac creatures smiles guiltily

"We don't play with robots."

Jazz stiffens

"But I don't..."

His attempt to explain is interrupted by the furry alien

"I don't care what you say. Whatever's underneath the metal, whatever scientific nonsense you come up with. This..."

He gestures toward the entire Jazz’s mech.

"...it's a machine. We don't play with machines. It's an unspoken rule. So go back to your corner and stay out of our way."

The lilac alien folds his limbs in embarrassment

"Hey, there's no need to be so rude."

"I'm just stating facts!"

"You could have done it politely..."

Prowl raises his eyebrows and moves away, making more room for Jazz on the bench.

"Kicked you out?"

Jazz sits down next to him and confusedly begins to play with his own fingers

"They wouldn't even let me explain."

Prowl taps him on the shoulder.

"It's hard to explain anything to them. They think you're a soulless machine just because you look like one."

Jazz snorts

"Well, that's just stupid."

Prowl shrugs

"They think you don't have a soul, so you shouldn't participate in their social interactions."

Jazz twitches his horns angrily

"That's..fucking idiotic."

"Well yeah" Prowl picks up "how can they judge whether we're sapient or not?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Where's the evidence that they themselves have more 'soul' than mold?"

"Ye..Wait what?"

(..What the hell??)

Prowl frowns.

"I should probably be more...sorry. You're new to this topic and...I'll try to explain in an unbiased manner."

Jazz nods awkwardly

Prowl pinches the bridge of his nose

"In general. We don't really meet their standards of ''alive and sapient being'' and they don't meet ours. Because of that, we...don't get along."

Jazz senses that something doesn't add up. Something dramatically big and obvious. But Prowl already looks annoyed, and Jazz is uncomfortable stressing him out with another game of charades. Probably should hold off on discussing such complicated topics until he's talking better.

____________

Prowl finds himself mentally reevaluating Jazz.

He no longer thinks Jazz is just weird.

Jazz is terrifying.

When their transport is attacked by a bunch of Quintessons, Prowl's processor tells him they're totally screwed.

The monsters have the numerical advantage, the ship is full of tiny, fragile organics, and Prowl only has one random tourist on his side who's in space for the first time.

When Jazz excitedly jumps up and asks to be let "outside to have some fun" Prowl's processor says it's suicide. If you squint and tilt your head, the stats numbers add up into a neat little ship that goes down swiftly and surely.

Then he has no time for statistics. Because one of the organics opens the airlock for Jazz and before Prowl can say anything his space tourist is already out the window.

Frag.

Frag, frag frag frag frag frag frg

"Jazz wait!"

Prowl climbs out onto the roof of the transport just in time to see Jazz tear a limb off one of the Quintesson monsters.

The sight is...creepy.

Jazz obviously doesn't have enough strength to just yank it off, so he sort of grabs the tentacle with his hand and then very quickly rotates his forearm a bunch of times literally twisting it off. The monster screams and wriggles and tries to rip Jazz's arm off, but he just lets it clench its teeth on his plates.

Prowl is in pain from just looking at this.

The monster clenches its jaws.

Its teeth cut furrows in the armor.

Jazz doesn't even twitch.

Things only get more interesting from here on out.

Earlier, all Prowl had was Jazz's word. Jazz said his job was to fight the Quintessons. Prowl automatically assumed that to have a job like that, Jazz had to be at least somewhat good at it.

This? It's not "good". It's a killing machine.

And Prowl is, just a little bit, fascinated.

Jazz tears through monsters with more than skill. No.

Prowl's processor is speeding up, analyzing the data.

These moves aren't just devastatingly efficient. They're habitual.

Jazz rips off limbs and locks jaws. Jazz knows exactly where to strike and for how long that strike will knock the creature down.

At one point, he just takes a moment to jump on top of one of the monsters and Prowl can have the pleasure of watching the sheer panic and confusion on the face of the usually inexpressively furious creature.

Quintesson twists and twitches and struggles to throw Jazz off, but he doesn't seem at all bothered by the constantly moving and shifting surface. He's clinging on tight as a damn insecticon. In a way that Prowl himself, with his angular legs, probably never could.

He also doesn't seem to react to pain whatsoever.

Either so used to it or unable to feel it at all? Prowl's not sure.

Jazz takes dozens of hits. He's been dropped, scratched and bitten. His plates are full of fresh grooves intersecting older ones, but they go completely unrecognized.

It's creepy. It's unnatural.

Three monsters at once try to squeeze Jazz into a circle, and Prowl curses himself for not thinking to ask for Jazz's comm. There's no sound in space, making screaming impossible, so Prowl just pulls out his rifle and shoots one of the Quintessons.

The creature twitches in agony and loses all interest in the battle struggling to shake off the sudden source of pain.

Jazz smacks one of the remaining monsters in the face and quickly bounces back to a more comfortable distance from the huge teeth and looks toward Prowl. Spotting a rifle and happily making finger guns again.

Prowl looks at the fresh teeth marks on Jazz's hands and thinks...wow...that's some wild dangerous alien slag.

Then he looks at the angular visor and the little moving horns and bouncy movements and corrects himself. Not slag. And not that weird. Probably.

The weirdest thing he's seen was organic life and he highly doubts that anyone or anything can overtake it.

[monstersholygrail]

I’m making a nest from the twigs the birds give me. Then I’m carving big wooden eggs and leaving them in the nest. How do the bird hybrids react?

Tell me, wise one, of the bird sluts.

That’s the the best thing anyone’s ever called me omg

You appreciated the nesting gifts the all male Bird Hybrid Colony gave you more than you could possible portray. So you tried to do the next best thing. You crafted a beautiful nest from all the twigs and decorations you had gathered after every class over time.

When it was done you placed it carefully in your office. Always wanting to remind yourself how thoughtful your class was. But something was missing. The nest needed eggs now so you made some wooden eggs to go inside it.

You hadn’t thought anything of it then. And you still didn’t think of it when you sent one of the bird hybrids into your office to get a CD for the next dance you were going to be teaching.

The bird hybrid’s eyes widen upon seeing unattended eggs in your nest, not realizing they weren’t real. Excitement fluttered in his chest and he released a series of loud chirps to alert the others that someone had finally done it! One of them had finally gotten their mate to lay eggs. But it wasn’t clear who.

They return with your music quickly, handing it to you and leaning in to nibble affectionately at your neck. So proud of you for laying such perfect eggs. Their feathers ruffle as they face the colony who’s equally as excited, all of them wanting to see and care for the eggs.

One of the bird hybrids excused themselves to the bathroom, the urge to care for the eggs too great. So they go to your office instead, settling on top of the eggs to keep them warm and make sure they’re able to hatch. But they don’t want you to worry. You already did the hard work, now it’s their turn to do their part.

It happened so flawlessly that you barely realize what’s happening throughout the class. One of the bird hybrids would excuse themselves to the bathroom, they’d be gone for a period of time, and then just as they’d return another would excuse themselves.

“What did you guys do, stop at a bird bath on the way here?" You joke as you begin to notice how many of them are going to the bathroom.

The bird hybrids didn’t know whose sperm had been lucky enough to create eggs for you to lay. But no matter who it was they all love you, their lovely mate, just the same. So they all wanted to help care for the eggs. They hadn’t realized how strange their behavior must’ve seemed though.

Looking to investigate what’s going, realization dawns on you seeing a bird hybrid laying on top of wooden eggs.

“Aw, guys, those aren’t real,” you say sheepishly. Feeling bad for having to break the news to them. One of the bird hybrids wraps their arms around you from behind, nuzzling into your hair and lovingly grooming you.

“What do you mean, mate? The eggs are right there,” he rasps in your ear, his hardening cock grinding into round bottom, already looking to fill you with more of their cum and lay more eggs. You moan, feeling his length teasingly slide between your thick thighs

“I-I made them out of wood. Humans don’t lay eggs. We have to get pregnant,” you rush out breathlessly, your body buzzing with arousal as you subconsciously meet the hybrid’s thrusts.

The other bird hybrid gets up and checks the eggs himself. Seeing you were right, all their feathers ruffle in frustration. Realizing they hadn’t been successful after all.

“Well then I guess we’ll all just have to try again and again. Filling your tight cunt with our seed till one load sticks and takes root inside of you,” he growls in your ear.

Then in a flash they’re throwing your clothes off, revealing your perfectly plump body to them. Their mouths water as their claws grab at your supple flesh. Bending you over your desk they present your soaked pussy to the colony and they all watch as you clench desperately around nothing.

The bird hybrids practically fight and claw their way to get to you first, but when one of them finally sinks deep inside you, the other watch eagerly as you cry out, your body spasming. Each of them takes their time, thrusting inside your pulsating pussy with a firm precision. Their aim to breed you clear in every snap of their hips. Before the next one gets to you with the same goal in mind.

You’re a wreck as they brutalize your fat cunt, filling you up again and again with your cum. You can feel it gush out of you and onto your thighs with each plunge of their cock, only for them to fuck what they can back up inside you and replace the load with their own.

Helpless moans and cries of pleasure leave you. You try your best to writhe against them, either trying to gain a brief break or to jerk back and meet their thrusts. But either way none of them plan on letting you move. Their claws digging into your wide hips and slamming you back on their hard lengths.

You explode over another one of their cocks, roughly clawing at your own desk to help ground you. Their love and care for you brought them to each make sure you came multiple times on their cocks, the way you clenched around them always bringing them to finish. Sagging against the desk you wait for the next to come.

But instead the bird hybrids, having been satisfied they’d managed to breed you, come up and start cleaning you up. Nibbling and kissing at your soft skin. While others nuzzle and whisper in your ears how good you were for them and how perfectly your belly is gonna look all pregnant.

The bird hybrid from earlier grins at the fucked out state of you. He crouches down, his wings flapping happily as he sees your belly already rounded full of their cum. He pushes down on it, chuckling as some spills out of you causing you to weakly moan.

“Looks like it’s beginning to take root already. But if it doesn’t there’s certainly no harm in doing this all over.” His eyes look up and down your form, already hungry for more of you.

Letting you know he is ready to have you in every possible way, spilling his hot semen deep inside your cunt until you’re finally all good and bred. Not willing to stop until they’ve don’t just that.

[totallyxtaurus]

Depollute me, gentle angel pt.2

Summary: Sylus is away on a business trip while you sink deeper into your depressive episode. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader Genre: Angst, some fluff (maybe, hopefully!) Trigger Warnings: depression, mental health struggles, anxiety, self-neglect, and hints of suicide. A/N: I hope this doesn't feel too rushed! I'm still trying to figure out a good pacing of how I should break these up without them being too long or too short. Posted too quickly or not quick enough, so any advice would be very welcomed and appreciated! I hope I did Sylus justice with his responses, I just took what I would want to hear essentially. But, Hozier's Wasteland, Baby! album is so Sylus coded. I got so many ideas for other fics, so stay tuned! And again, please please please take sweet care of yourselves! 💗

Prev

The chime echoes through the apartment, and for a moment there’s nothing. No footsteps, no shuffle of movement inside. Sylus exhales, fingers softly tapping on the doorframe while he waits. He already knows. He had known the moment communication stopped, when his calls went to voicemail, when even the short, tired texts faded into silence. At first, he assumed you were just busy, needing space. But the longer he waited, the clearer it became—if it were up to you, you wouldn’t come back at all. He began doing his own investigation, looking up the traits you portrayed usually compared to these moments of time and he found his answer. So, he started paying attention. Comparing your usual habits to these stretches of absence. Watching for the patterns. Having Mephisto follow you to your therapist’s office had only confirmed what he already suspected.

As advised, he gave you time—three days, exactly. Then the calls began, gentle and steady, each one a quiet pull back to him. Each time, he waited for you to let him in, to say something. But instead, he got excuses. Busy with work. Out with friends. His personal favorite: just sleeping. It’s almost amusing, how you seem to forget he has your location. He always knows where you are. 

Sylus toys with the key in his hand, should he, or shouldn’t he? Would this cross a line? You had given this to him for an emergency, wouldn’t this be considered one? It has been a full week without hearing from you. He never lets it go this long but work held him up so he couldn’t do his usual routine. He continued to ponder the ethics of his decision until he heard it, movement. A sign of life behind the door that still won’t open up for him. That’s it, he decides and inserts the key. 

As the door swings open, a gust of stale air hits him, thick with stillness. His eyes immediately scan the space, searching for the life he just heard. But as he steps inside, it’s clear- the main rooms haven’t been touched in days, especially the kitchen. He moves toward the bedroom when the bathroom door suddenly swings open. 

Both of you freeze, staring at one another in shock. 

For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking in the hollowed eyes, the tangled hair, the way your clothes sit wrong on you—looser in some places, clinging in others— like they were meant to fit differently but now just hang, like an afterthought. His chest tightens—not in disgust, never that— but in a quiet, constrained ache. He swallows it down, he knows letting you see that pain won’t help. Instead, he inhales, careful, and controlled. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, he hears it. 

Get out 

The words reach him, but his mind trips over them, grasping for meaning. 

For a second, all Sylus processes is the sound of your voice—hoarse, unsteady, faint, as if it took all your energy to speak at all. His mind is still trying to catch up, to piece everything together. But that’s when he really sees you. The way you stand there stiffly, eyes shining with unshed tears, flickering to anything that isn't him. As if meeting his gaze would break your resolve. The tension in your jaw, arms crossed tightly over your chest, shoulders hunched forward, as if you’re shielding yourself from him. And then he sees it—fear. Shame. They were there all along, laced with the exhaustion and neglect. Deeply settled, lingering long before he walked in the door. He had been so focused on finding you, making sure you were safe, that he hadn’t realized—you didn’t want to be found. Not like this. 

The tightness in his chest twisting further, a quiet reminder of his mistake. Instead, he exhales in that same rehearsed way.

"Sweetie," he tries again. His voice was low, full of gentleness. Less of a greeting, more of a reassurance. He’s not going anywhere. 

You just shake your head, a silent refusal, as if willing for him to disappear. Your stance is firm, guarded. But Sylus isn't someone who retreats at the first sign of a challenge. Especially not when it's you. 

"I know kitten, I know you don't want me to see you like this. And I know you think that pushing me away will make everything easier for you, for me. But it won't, it hasn't. You don't have to do this alone." 

He sees the tears start to fall, a quiet surrender that he takes as a response. Without hesitation, he continues, his voice softer but unwavering.

Taking a small step forward, slow yet deliberate as he speaks, "Just focus on me for a second, okay? Forget about everything else, it's just us. Can you breathe with me, my love?" As he demonstrates with measured, even breaths. Never forcing, just offering, hoping it will bring your attention back to the present instead of whatever thoughts you're trapped in.

He notices the way your hunched shoulders drop, relaxing slightly, and how your clenched arms finally loosen their grip on your body. He continues to encourage you, taking slow, careful steps closer. 

"You don’t have to do anything big. I’m not here with any expectations. Why don’t we just sit down? We don’t have to talk, I’ll just sit with you, if that’s okay." His voice is soft, low, coaxing. 

Sylus notices the immediate shift in your demeanor as you register his close proximity-the shield coming back as your body goes rigid once again. You close back in on yourself and take a step back. 

You should go. I stink and I'm sure I look horrific; you mutter as your hand comes up to your face to shield it. His heart pangs, but he doesn't let his expression falter. He can't afford to let you see how much it hurts him that you're hiding from him like this. He takes another small step closer, never pushing, just allowing the space between the both of you to remain as it is. He doesn't want to make you feel trapped, but he wants to show you, prove to you, that he's not leaving.

"Kitten," his voice steady and carrying a weight of reassurance deeper than words can convey. "I'm not leaving. If I wanted to, I would. You know I don't do things I don't want to. But I'm here, for however long you want me around. I'm yours." 

You scoff, shaking your head, still refusing to meet his gaze. "Why?" you ask, voice cracking. "Look at me, smell me, Sylus. Jesus Christ I'm disgusting. Why would you want to stay? Are you nuts?" 

"It's been suggested," he cuts in, his tone remaining gentle yet firm. Finally, you look up at him, and the anger in your gaze takes him by surprise but he holds his ground. 

"You just don't get it," you emphasize, your words sharp and full of frustration. "What's there to get?" he wonders but doesn't dare to speak it. "Sweetie," he says tenderly, "if this is you at your worst, then I've suffered far worse than this. You think I haven't smelled, or hit rock bottom before? When I did-or if I do sometime in the future, would you leave me? Would you push me away" 

"Don't be ridiculous," you say, your voice tinged with exasperation. His lips quirk into a soft smirk, his eyes never leaving yours.  

"Can I hold your hand?" he whispers, watching you closely, waiting for your response. You hesitate, then barely nod, just enough for him to catch it. He takes your hand in his, lifting it gently to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the back of it.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the way your face scrunches up, a grimace of discomfort, but the smile on his lips remains warm and unwavering. 

"How about this," he continues, "I'll make you something small to eat. You don't have to finish it. Just one bite. No pressure."  

You pause, your mind working through his offer. Until, after a moment, your shoulders sag in defeat, and with a sigh, you agree. Your hand still secured in his, he leads you to the kitchen, placing another kiss on the top of your head before turning to the fridge to pull out what little food there is. 

"After we eat, can you shower with me?" The words barely escape your lips, so faint that for a moment he's unsure he heard them. He looks at you, hoping his love for you radiates in his gaze.

"Of course," he replies, his voice steady and sure. "Whatever you want, my dove." He watches as the faintest of smiles flicker across your face, the kind of smile he's willing to wait for, no matter how long it takes. 

Tag list: @withering-dream @madam8 @t4naiis @sunhooniez

[miihho]

"𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆"

— 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: If you don't want your butler to reach a breaking point and take matters into his own hands by 'disciplining' you, perhaps refrain from behaving like a spoiled brat next time.

— 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rough sex , unprotected sex , brat!reader , overstimulation , bttm male reader , blowjob , smacking , swearing , dirtytalk , praise , manhandling , dirty talk , age gap , virgin!reader , making out , degradation , petnames , non con , public sex.

PART 1 , PART 2

You sat at the long, luxurious dinner table while the maid nervously watched you eat the food prepared for you. As you took a bite, the maid grew anxious, eyes fixed on your every move. Moments later, a displeased expression crossed your face, and the maid seemed to brace herself for what was to come, as if she had expected it.

"blech!" you spat the meal you were eating. "This is disgusting! Make me another one!" you shouted, throwing the plate of food to the ground, shattering it into pieces. You glared at the maid, who nodded and hurriedly began picking up the broken fragments from the floor.

As the maid cleaned, your impatience mounted. "Move faster!" you demanded. Startled, she flinched, causing the shattered glass to prick her skin, blood seeping from the cuts.

You didn't care. The sight of her blood, her pain—none of it mattered to you. You were a just brat after all.

"Hurry up! I'm growing impatient, you vermin!" you scolded, your harsh words causing tears to well up in her eyes. She nodded quickly and, once done cleaning the mess, ran off to get your new food.

"He wants another dish." the maid announced to the weary chefs. It was the fourth meal you had dismissed.

"Again? What does that brat even like?!" one chef groaned, exasperated. "He's just toying with us. He enjoys seeing us suffer because he has all that power," another chef complained.

The butler, Kyzer, heard their conversation as he passed through the hallways. The chefs and maid flinched when he entered the kitchen. "S-Sir Kyzer!" bowed the maid.

"Oh, Kyzer, what brings you here?" a male chef inquired.

"Pardon me but I accidentally overheard one of your discussion regarding the unfortunate incident with the prince. It saddens me that the boy has, for the fourth time, squandered your hard-prepared meals. I intend to address this matter with him personally, in the hope of curbing this unacceptable behavior." Kyzer declared, his words resonating deeply with the maid and the chefs.

"Kyzer, we appreciate it, but you don't have to do that! We can handle him... I think?" another chef responded, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.

"I must. I don't want your hard work and efforts to go to waste," Kyzer said firmly, his resolve clear.

"K-kyzer, you're so kind to us!" one of the chefs exclaimed, clearly moved by his actions. "I just don't understand why M/n can't be more like you—polite, kind, and well-mannered, instead of such a brat!"

"Well, he's been surrounded by abundance and luxury his whole life. His parents never taught him proper etiquette, so I suppose that's why he turned out that way," another chef remarked.

"Hm... Would you also like me to teach him a thing or two?" "

"Yes! That would be wonderful, Kyzer! Please change his behavior if you can," the chefs pleaded, bowing deeply in gratitude.

"I'll do my best. Now, if you'll excuse me," Kyzer said, bowing before leaving the kitchen. He walked purposefully through the grand hallways of the kingdom toward the dining room where you were waiting.

A few minutes later, Kyzer arrived and opened the large door to the dining room. There you were, sitting alone at the long table, surrounded by empty chairs, waiting impatiently for your food with an annoyed cute expression on your face.

You turned to look at him, his long white hair and piercing yellow eyes sending a chill down your spine. "Who are you? And where is that maid? Why is she taking so long? Ugh!" you grumbled, sounding like a spoiled child.

"My name is Kyzer, your highness," he introduced himself, bowing deeply with one hand on his chest and the other arm behind his back. "The maid is in the kitchen, and it takes time to prepare a new dish for you, your highness." he explained, maintaining his respectful bow.

"Then make them cook faster. I'm getting impatient here!" you demanded, scrutinizing Kyzer from head to toe.

"I'm afraid I cannot your highness. I'm here for other reasons," Kyzer replied, straightening up.

"What?! How dare a lowly butler like you defy my orders?!" you exclaimed, shocked by his refusal. "What even is your reason here?" you demanded, glaring at him.

"You."

"W-what?" you responded, disbelief evident in your tone.

"I'm here because of you, Your Highness," he said, his yellow eyes boring into yours.

You felt a twinge of nervousness under his intense glare, but you weren't one to back down. Crossing your arms defiantly, you retorted. "Me? What for? If it's something insignificant, you get out of my sight!"

"Oh, Your Highness, it's far from unimportant because it's about you."

"About me!? Just what are you trying to say?" you replied while staring at him with perplexity and fury.

He was starting to get on your nerves.

"It's about your behavior and manners, Your Highness. They need to change—"

You snapped, standing up abruptly and grabbing a wine glass. You threw it at him, but it missed and shattered against the wall instead.

"Don't try and give me lessons about behavior and manners, it won't work on me you imbecile!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the grand dining room. As you met his gaze, you flinched at the intensity of his icy glare fixed on you.

You were slowly getting on his nerves.

Somehow, you felt a twinge of regret for your actions, but what was done was done, and there was no turning back. "I'm giving you a chance. I'll let this slide for now!" you scoffed, striding towards him and 'accidentally' bumping his shoulder as you headed for the door. "Tell the maids to clean up the mess." you ordered, but he said nothing.

Weird.

Just as you were about to open the door, he grabbed you roughly by the hair, eliciting a pained sound from you. He threw you to the floor, and you landed hard on your backside, hissing in pain.

"What the fuck are you doing!? If my parents hear about this, your head will be cut off!" you yelled, staring up at him, though part of you wished you hadn't. Behind those intense yellow eyes, you sensed something ominous lurking. Something telling you that something bad was about to happen.

"This is your last chance."

"Change. Your. Behavior."

You chuckled, "And why should I?" you raised an eyebrow, smirking defiantly.

"People are suffering because of you. Your crude and mean comments, your filthy mouth—they need to be purified. And I know you didn't receive proper etiquette, so I'm willing to teach you." he explained.

"Purified!? fuck off! They deserve it. I don't care whether I hurt their feelings or not, they're lowlifes! They don't deserve to be treated the same way. And those chefs and maids? They're just servants, working for us. They're poor, probably came from the gutter, ew! They don't deserve special treatment like us royals!" you retorted venomously.

And then he finally snapped.

As he walked towards you, confusion clouded your expression. "What are you doing—" but your words were cut off as he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you onto the table. You struggled to pry his hands away, but he was too strong.

"Get your dirty hands off me!" you shouted at him, but he ignored your protests. With a swift motion, he threw you onto the table, and you cried out in surprise. Landing with a thud, you quickly placed both palms on the table, using it to support your weight.

As you tried to regain your composure. He forcefully stripped off your pants and underwear, leaving your lower body exposed. Your eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. "Stop! What are you doing with those filthy hands of yours!" you cried out, feeling utterly vulnerable and violated.

You found yourself facing away from him, your exposed backside vulnerable and humiliating. As you attempted to look back at him, he forcefully shoved your head to the ground with his hand, preventing any movement. Struggling to rise, you found yourself pinned in place, utterly helpless.

"S-stop this instant! Someone could walk in here at any moment, you idiot!" you pleaded desperately, but he only inched his face closer to your ear.

"Count." he whispered.

"W-what?"

Smack!

"Wah!" you gasped in surprise as the sharp stinging sensation of his hand striking your exposed ass jolted through you.

"I said, count." he repeated.

"H-how dare you tell me what to do—"

Smack!!

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he delivered a firmer blow to your backside, the sensation igniting a mixture of pain and arousal that pulsed through your body.

"If you don't count, Your Highness, it'll only get worse and harsher," he warned, caressing your slightly reddened ass. "So please do as I say." he urged, his voice soft yet commanding.

Smack!

"O-one," you stammered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Smack!

"T-two..."

Smack!

"T—..three." you breathed out, your face pressed down onto the table. Each smack sent a jolt of sensation through you, a mixture of pain and a strange, exhilarating—....pleasure?

He seemed to be truly enjoying your reactions, relishing in the cute gasps and flinches you let out. A smile spread across his lips as he gently paused the spanks, caressing your ass for a moment before resuming with renewed vigor.

Smack!

"f-four!"

As the spanking continued, it eventually came to a halt when you ceased to respond. Sensing your exhaustion, he removed his hand from atop your head, understanding that you had no energy left to fight. Your rear end was now red and throbbing, you had lost track of the count. With gentle care, he soothen your reddened cheeks, offering a moment of relief and comfort.

"How many was it, Your Highness?" His voice was tender as he sought to ground you in the moment.

"I... I don't know," you murmured weakly, your voice barely audible over the echo of pain.

"It's 26, Your Highness," he informed you, his fingers coaxing your face to meet his gaze. As you turned to look at him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire. Your flushed cheeks, those endearing hiccups, those captivating eyes, those cute lips...

Fuck... Every aspect of you stirred an undeniable attraction within him, you were turning him on.

He gazed at your lips, inching his face closer to yours, slowly, deliberately. You tried to turn away, but he held your face firmly in place. He was so close, close enough to feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, close enough to taste your plump lips...

Knock, knock!

The sound jarred him from the moment, a surge of frustration coursing through him. Damn it, he had forgotten they were at the dining table.

"Your Highness, your food is ready," the maid's voice came from outside the door.

"Now, if you cause another disturbance, you'll face another punishment. You don't want that, do you?" he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an unwavering intensity.

"F-fuck you... L-let me go and get my pants! T-this is an order," you demanded weakly, still exhausted from the pain and the effort of keeping your screams contained so the maids wouldn't become suspicious and barge in.

Kyzer was going to follow your orders, but his eyes darted down to your shaft, which was standing up confidently. "Are you sure, Your Highness? You're quite... hard down there. You wouldn't want an uncomfortable erection, would you?" he taunted, his hand lowering from your ass to your shaft.

"N-no, it'll go down. Stop!" you stammered, but a moan escaped your lips as he touched you. "Look at this cute little cock, so pretty, just like its owner," Kyzer murmured, beginning to stroke you. You let out a loud moan and quickly covered your mouth.

"Your Highness, may I come in?" the maid called from outside, oblivious to what was happening inside the room. Kyzer continued to stroke you slowly, the deliberate pace heightening your frustration.

"H-hurry up!" you ordered, your voice strained with urgency.

"You want me to hurry? Then beg for it, Your Highness," he smirked, his hand engulfing your tiny lil sensitive cock.

You were embarrassed and humiliated at this point. You, a prince, begging for something? It infuriated you, but the thought of your reputation being ruined drove you to comply.

"P-please hurry up, please let—hng!...M-me cum." you begged, your teary eyes locking with his mischievous yellow ones. He licked his lips, clearly enjoying your submission.

"As you wish, Your Highness," he said, his pace quickening as he stroked you up and down, causing your back to arch off the table.

"Mmhp!?" you moaned, drool seeping from your mouth as you tried to stifle your sounds with your hand. He began to tease the tip of your cock with his index finger, swirling it clockwise.

"Your Highness, please let me hear those beautiful moans... Please let me hear how good I’m making you feel," he whispered. Lost in the pleasure, you obliged, moaning louder, no longer able to control yourself.

"That's it," he breathed, his lustful eyes fixed on your flushed face. Drool was seeping from your mouth, your cheeks were a deep shade of red, and your eyebrows were scrunched up in pure ecstasy. The sight of you like this almost made him cum in his pants. "That's a good boy." he grinned, his own arousal evident as he continued to bring you closer to the edge.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Your Highness?" Kyzer's voice dripped with seduction, his smile widening as he saw you lost in pleasure. "Fuck... You're so adorable when you're messed up." His face flushed as he leaned in, licking the tears streaming down your cheeks. The sensation made you shiver, and he grinned, quickening his pace.

"Nngh—!... Ahh! I-I'm gon' c-cum!!" you cried out, your body trembling as you threw your head back.

"Cum for me, Your Highness. Be a good boy and cum for me."

"A-ahh~!" Your cute little cock spurted, painting the marble floor with streaks of white as you panted heavily, sweat glistening on your skin.

"Well done, Your Highness. I'm very proud of you~♡" he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "I knew you could do it." He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Your Highness? Are you there?" the maid called from outside the door, her voice filled with concern.

"Let's get you dressed up, yeah?" Kyzer said softly, his voice a mix of amusement and authority. He retrieved your discarded clothing, his touch gentle but firm as he helped you back into your garments. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he adjusted your clothing with meticulous care.

You were still trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure making it difficult to stand. Kyzer's hands were steady, though, guiding you through each movement as he redressed you.

"Remember, Your Highness," he murmured, his lips close to your ear, "I will change your behavior. This is just the beginning." He smirked.

Once you were fully dressed, he took a step back, his eyes scanning you with satisfaction. "There you go, presentable as ever." He straightened his own attire, ensuring he looked impeccable before turning towards the door.

As he opened it, the maid stood waiting with your meal. "Your food, Your Highness," she said, bowing slightly.

Kyzer gave you one last meaningful glance, his eyes lingering on yours. "Enjoy your meal your highness." he said smoothly, before stepping aside to let the maid through.

[rosenclaws]

Hi! 👋

I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could submit a request?

The reader is a shy artist who is a friend of Wades. She carries a sketchbook with her everywhere to sketch new pieces, but she doesn't show her work to people unless it's to Wade.

She and Worst!Logan become friends and slowly develop feelings for one another, but they won't say anything to each other because they think that the other wouldn't want them. Until Worst!Logan finds her sketchbook by accident and finds the book is filled with sketches of him. Worst!Logan confronts her about it, but she's a stuttering mess, and they end up confessing to each other. And please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or a makeout session. Your choice lol.

Thank you and have a good day! 😊

Hidden Feelings and Hidden Sketches || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, wade making suggestive comments, make out sesh towards the end, reader gets drunk and logan helps her out. Logan also calls the reader sketch. It got kinda suggestive at the end I apologize sldfjka

a/n: Hi!! This idea is adorable omg I love it, I hope it was fluffy enough for you I have to admit I'm not great at writing pure fluff. I also hope wade is funny because I am not funny so its hard to write his dialogue sometimes. I also altered the plot a little so i hope its okay

You never quite understood how you and Wade became friends. He was possibly the biggest extrovert you have ever met and you were the exact opposite. He saw you once at his favorite diner with your sketchbook and he jumped into the seat across from you.

Yapping on about your art and if you drew often and that he once tried to paint but the class didn't appreciate his art and asking if you'd paint him naked as a present for his girlfriend. Which you declined very quickly.

He wouldn't leave you alone, talking and asking you all sorts of things. You getting a few words in and him covering the other 98% of the conversation. He left with the promise of seeing you again and disappeared before you could say anything else.

It was an odd experience that's for sure but you liked Wade. Sure enough he kept coming back and a friendship had blossomed. He invited you over to dinner multiple times but you always declined, choosing to meet at the diner instead.

Slowly he got you out of your shell around him. Cracking jokes and sometimes putting him in his place when he went a little too far. You showed him your sketchbook after a while and he gushed over your drawings. Begging you to draw him at his best angles and you would sometimes give in.

When he disappeared for a while you got worried, that is until he showed up with a new dog and a very handsome new friend. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. Wade spotted you and waved but you didn't even notice.

"I know right, he's like a tall glass of rage filled water." Wade sighs as he sits across from you.

"I uh what?" You hug your sketchbook close to your chest as you rip your eyes away from Wade's new friend.

"Oh don't pretend like you weren't eye fucking him the second he walked in here, not that I blame you." Your eyes widen as you start to stutter. Your face heating up as you stare at the pancakes in front of you instead. A loud grunt catches your attention. You can barely meet his eyes as your brain is too busy being embarrassed by what Wade had said.

"You can sit on my lap angel cakes." Wade pats his leg but gets shoved to the side as his new friend sits down across from you.

"Logan this is my friend, be a good kitty and play nice." Logan rolls his eyes and chooses to ignore Wade. He does look at you though, burning a whole through your skull.

"Hi Logan," You say shyly.

"Hi." A few beats of silence pass until Wade breaks it as usual.

"Well aren't you two the life of the party, if you excuse me I have to go relieve myself." Wade stands up and instead of asking Logan to move, starts to climb over the man.

"What the fuck?!" Logan hisses as he grabs Wades shirt and tosses him to the ground. You can't help the laugh that escapes your mouth as your friend flops to the ground.

"So rude." Wade shakes his head and heads off to the bathroom. Silence falls once again as you awkwardly push around the pancakes on your plate.

"What's that?" Logan asks, nodding towards your sketchbook. You grab your book and shove it into your bag.

"Nothing! It's uh, just a sketchbook it's nothing don't worry about it." Logan raises an eyebrow as you panic in front of him.

As if you couldn't feel more embarrassed. You debate on waiting for wade or just leaving to save yourself but Logan makes the choice for you.

"You don't have to stay, not holding you hostage." He sips his coffee as you let out a shaky laugh.

"Not much of a talker." You play with your fork as you look up at Logan. He's much more handsome up close.

"Neither am I." He offers a small half smile and you return it. He's still incredibly intimidating but maybe you can stick it out a little longer. Logan's food comes and the two of you eat in a comfortable silence and when you're done you work up the courage if he'll be here tomorrow. He holds the door open for you as you step outside.

You clutch tightly onto the strap of your bag as you wait for his answer. He lights a cigar and you try and suppress your smile when he says he will be. As you part ways you realize that Wade never did come back from the bathroom.

That sneaky bastard.

-on

The diner uh, meetings as you called them, with Logan were amazing. His grumpy exterior was hard to crack but eventually the two of you started to become friends. Being with Logan started to become your favorite parts of the week. He was more than the tough guy persona he put on. What surprised you the most is that he seemed interested in you too. Well you know as friends.

Logan could appreciate someone who liked the quiet. He never pushed you out of your comfort zone, never made you feel uncomfortable. He was just Logan. Call it what you want but it was only a matter of time before you fell head over heels for that man. Not that you'd ever tell him.

How could you?

He's a superhero. He's gorgeous and grumpy and funny and so much more. All you do is draw silly pictures. So for now you settle on friends. Even if he makes your stomach turn with ever smile. Even if his laugh is the best thing you've ever heard. Friends. That's good enough for now.

-

"Wade Wilson I am going to kill you!" You say angrily.

He had texted you asking you to meet him for coffee and you had agreed solely because you never got the chance to scold him for his little dine and dash.

"Leaving me alone with a stranger!" You slap his hand as he tries to reach for your pastry.

"Ow! That was so five months ago! Anyways I was just trying to help. You know, relieve the sexual tension." You gasp as he makes a very lewd gesture with his hands.

"Besides, you and Logi bear are spending a lot of time together for just being friends huh Boo-Boo." Before you can stop him he reaches for your sketchbook. Keeping it just out of reach as he flips through the pages.

"Give it back!" You plead as you reach across the table.

"Oh. My. God. How come you never draw me this sexy?" He shows you the pages and you fall back into your seat in defeat.

You know what's in there and now Wade does too. Pages and pages of sketches of Logan. You feel like a stalker. It's not your fault! Ever since you met him he's all you can think about. All you can draw.

"Please give it back." You beg but he refuses.

"You'll get it back after you admit to Logan how you feel."

"What!" Your jaw drops as you make another lunge for your book.

"I am a very impatient man and I'm not about to wait another thousand words for the two of you to fuck." He stands up and tucks the book down his pants.

"Ew really?" You groan as you let your face fall into your hands.

"I'm having a get together and you're invited. Logan will be there it's the perfect opportunity." You feel like throwing up at the idea of talking to Logan about any of this.

Maybe you could just steal it back tonight. Or maybe you could never show your face to anyone ever again. Yah the second option sounds better. If only it was that simple. You waited for many anxiety filled hours, the only thing on your mind is getting your damn book back. You knock on the door and it swings open with Wade standing there, a stupid smile on his face.

"Honey badger at 4 o'clock." He hands you a drink and pushes you right towards him. You shoo him away, taking a deep breath and head towards Logan.

"Hi Logan," You say nervously.

"Didn't think these were really your thing." He says with a smile. You laugh nervously and nod your head.

"Yeah well...I thought he'd finally stop asking if I came to one of these things." You joke. Logan snorts and offers you the seat next to him.

"Good luck with that." You sit next to him and swirl around the ice in your drink.

If you're going to tell him then you're going to need a lot of help. Logan's eyes widen as you down your drink in one go, making a face before asking for another one. He's never seen you at a party, let alone drink.

"Why don't you take it easy there sketch."

"It's a party right, why not have a little fun." Logan keeps an eye on you as you drink and drink. As the night passes on he realizes that you might have had a little too much. You can barely get a sentence out by the time the party's over.

"Hi Logii!" Your arms slink around his neck as you stumble into him.

"Come on, let me take you home." He chuckles as he helps you to the door.

"Nooo, I needa get my uh..." You stop and think for a moment.

"My uhhh" Logan hums as he helps you to your apartment. You stay close to Logan as you walk through the night. He's just so warm and he smells so good.

"Got your keys?" You pat around for them and frown. Logan reaches into your bag and pulls them out.

"Right here." He unlocks your door and helps you to your bed. You sigh as your head hits your pillow.

"Oh! my sketchbook. Wade has my sketchbook." You say with a yawn.

"I'll get it back tomorrow, now sleep well." Logan takes off his jacket and lays it on you. He brushes your cheek gently. A soft smile on his face as he leaves you to sleep peacefully.

"Good night."

-

God your head hurt and the sun was way too bright. You crack your eyes open groan as you head pounds. What were you even thinking last night? You wanted your damn book back that's what you were thinking. A loud knock on your door makes you moan in pain. Getting up you swing open your door only to be met with Logan holding your book. Your face pales as you see a smirk on his face.

"Wade gave me back your book." You reach out for it but he holds it back.

"You're a real good artist sketch." To your horror he opens up your book and flips to one of its pages.

Right in front of you was a side profile sketch of Logan. It had been while you were at the park or something. The sun was hitting him perfectly, he had this content look on his face. You couldn't help but draw it when you got back home. To capture him in a moment where everything felt okay.

"I uh..I.." You don't know what to say. He caught you red handed. Your face is on fire from shame and embarrassment as he finally hands over your book. You can't even look at him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper. Shutting your eyes you hope he gets the hint and leaves, leaves you to wallow in pity.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry." He grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

"I'm flattered sketch. I think you really captured me pretty good." You still can't bring yourself to say anything as you hug your book tightly. You can't tell if he's making fun of you or what.

"This isn't funny Logan." You try and push his hand off you but his grip is strong.

"Not trying to be funny." He brushes his thumb over your lips.

"Logan..." Your eyes flick down to his lips and you know he catches you.

"Say it, come on don't be shy. Not with me." Sighing you dig your fingernails into your book.

"I love you." Your voice is barely above a whisper, eyes squeezing shut. You almost hope he doesn't hear it but of course he does.

He presses his lips to yours roughly. You drop your book in shock as you melt deep into his kiss. Wasting no time in kissing him back, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He deepens the kiss as his hands fall to your sides. You pull away much to his disappointment, his lips chasing after yours for a moment.

"I love you too." He kisses your jaw lightly making you sigh.

"You know, those drawings were good but I think you got my lips wrong." You furrow you eyebrows, you thought you got his lips pretty good. After all you stared at them long enough to memorize them.

"Yeah sweetheart, think you need a lesson." He walks you back until you hit your couch.

"Get up close and personal." He winks as you bite your lip. How flustered can he make you?

"Then maybe you can show me more of those drawings."

Well, If it would help make your drawings more, accurate. Then who are you to say no?

"Okay." You run your hands along his arm as you look back up at him. Nerves and excitement swirling around your eyes.

"Don't worry sketch, I'm a pretty good teacher."

[glassrowboat]

Letters For You

Valentine’s Day letters from Anaxa, Aventurine, Gallagher, Jing Yuan, Phainon, Ratio, Reca, Sampo, Sunday

Wrote these for my online friends, so I hope you all have a lovely Valentine’s. Love you all, xoxo

Anaxa

My fellow scholar,

I won't lie and pretend as if I wouldn't rather be spending my time doing something actually worthwhile like studying, but whenever I finally bring myself to put pen to paper in my hectic schedule I find myself unable to use my quill for its intended purpose. I bought it for note taking and truly wished to use it for that purpose, only for me to find myself unable to focus on the words before me as I am stuck thinking of you.

You see, these were originally meant to be notes, so excuse the scribbling at the top. It's all mindless drivel and half-baked theories I'm certain you're already planning to jump at. Your curious mind never rests, just like mine. Which is why I'm so loath to admit that even us scholars need a break.

With that in mind, I ask that you find me at our usual spot to enjoy the current festivities. I'm sure once we're done, it will leave us both refreshed and ready to return to work.

In best regards,

Anaxagoras

Aventurine

Dearest friend,

I already know what you're going to say about the gifts I have left for you. “It's too much or you should save your money on something else, Aven.” To the point I can almost hear the words ringing in my ear in that scolding tone of yours. It's just as bad as the higher ups scolding me for breaking the cornerstone and yet I can't help but want to spoil you.

But I'll be nice. Just this once.

Instead of dinner at another fancy restaurant you'll roll your eyes at, let's just get takeout from your favorite place and we can play dress up with all the clothes I got us. And yes some are for me, too. I'm sure if you dig around a bit you'll find a particular lacy item you and I can both agree has its merits.

Until tonight,

Aventurine

P.S. No overtime. I promise.

Gallagher

Babe,

I'm sure you've already figured out the bag of candy is for you. I even wrapped it up with a neat bow and everything for ya, so I hope you like it. If you want, we can even try making a drink out of a few of them like we did with the cotton candy vodka. Remember that? It was interesting, that's for sure.

We can even have what's left after dinner tonight. I'm cooking. Just for you, too. I was thinking of Clockie Pizza with all those toppings you like, and we could have it at the lounge? I'm sure Dreamjolt Hostelry will have open seats even on Valentine’s Day, knowing how dead the place usually is. I'll even dress up if you want me to. Though it might just be best to put myself in your or Sioban care to choose an outfit. Either way, I'm trusting you here, so don't let me down.

Your man,

Gallagher

Jing Yuan

My darling,

It's a beautiful day out, don't you think? The sky is clear and bright blue, the wind is just right, and the sun as artificial as it might be is perfect for dozing under its shining rays. I even found a record to play a song I remember from days long past. The only thing missing on this perfect day is you. And my work to be done, too.

I take it you're wrapped in endless stacks of paperwork just as I am, aren't you? Even after all the time, they managed to keep you this week. I'm merely lucky I'll have you all to myself once the day ends. The weekend will be ours to enjoy the garden, eat good food, play with our adorable little lion, and each other.

While we may not get Valentine’s Day together between your work and mine, I am happy to make sure we still get to enjoy being together. Besides, choosing only one day to love you when I would rather do so every day for every year you're willing to share with me is far more appealing than showing you appreciation only on special occasions.

Yours,

Jing Yuan

Phainon

My favorite shopkeeper,

Time really does flash by in an instant, huh? It feels like only yesterday that I came to The Holy City with the weight of the prophecy, both bearing a heavy weight on and lifting my shoulders all at once. Back then, I was ready to face the world as a Chrysos Heir alongside the others of golden blood without daring to think anything could stop me. I was going to be the one who takes Nikador's Coreflame, and I'll be the demigod of Strife. It will be a title I wear with honor.

And that is still my intention, mind you, but I've found something else that fills me with just as much conviction as being a hero to the masses. Do I even have to say what it is? It's you.

Ever since we first ran into each other at your shop and you were giving me a side eye (yes, I saw that) at all the questions I was asking about your collection of antiques I knew I would be willing to take a moment to step away from the duty I have sworn to uphold to simply be with you.

So I guess what I'm asking is: will you be my valentine?

Your hero,

Phainon

Ratio

My dear,

Today has already been full of one headache after the next from students deeming fit to load my desk with gifts to dealing with Aventurine texting me about how many roses is “too much.” At this point, all I want to do is go home and fall into your embrace.

Still, I have tests to grade. And from what I've seen of them, it's looking like some of them have finally learned how to pick up a thing or two after I started to use the method you suggested last time. As loath as I am to admit, I never would have thought to have my student role play as great mathematicians from the past to keep them engaged. It worked.

You truly astound me. Always finding new ways to show that creative thinking plays a part in being knowledgeable as well. You put the term genius to shame, my dear.

Sincerely,

Veritas Ratio

Reca

My love interest,

I have met countless actresses and actors who have been praised as if they were Aeons themselves. Looks, skills, the way the camera is naturally drawn to them, why you could name it all! Yet they all pale in comparison to you, my snookums.

No shot is truly complete without your radiance, without your smile, or without just the thought of you lingering in the back of my mind and changing how I see each scene laid out before me. You have changed how I view romance, entirely flipping the genre on its head for me to make something entirely new and unique. You inspired me in a way I never would have thought possible despite all the stories of star-crossed lovers I know. You have simply made me, for lack of a better word, more.

The only thing I could possibly regret about you is not meeting you sooner.

So allow me to make up for all the time we have had apart, my honey bee, by coming to a play with me as my valentine.

Your charming director,

Reca

P.S. I have entrusted the Assistant Director to be in your care today while I am away. She shall take care of you in my stead while I am away, my valentine.

Sampo

Boss,

It's me, your good old buddy, your pal, your bestest guy, Sampo! Now, now, before you go and throw this letter in the trash or worse yet, set my poor heartfelt words on fire, hear me out. I only have the purest intentions for you today, and that is on my honest word as a businessman.

It is Valentine’s Day, after all, and I can't have such a profitable holiday be soured for my favorite customer. That would just hurt my coin purse. So to ensure that doesn't come to pass, I took it upon myself to give you a gift as a show of gratitude for all you've done for me these past few years.

I'm sure you've noticed them by now.

Now, I hope you like the roses I left for you. They have a bit of an extra boom to them if you know what I mean. Just not the bomb kind. Though you do always manage to blow my heart away so who knows, maybe it is.

Your number one guy,

Sampo

P.S. Okay you can light the letter on fire now just know that if you do I'll be left with nothing to do but drink at the bar until I'm crying my eyes out all by my lonesome. Orrrrr…you could join me. I would never complain about getting some time in your delightful company.

Sunday

My dove,

This is my first Valentine’s Day away from Penacony, let alone on the Astral Express with a lover I can call my own.

I find myself still adjusting to the sudden change. There's no one watching my every move and expecting utter perfection from me now but me. I still find myself checking my clothes, assuring my feathers are neat, and shining my halo to the point that it shines in the light of the stars surrounding us. They remind me of just how vast this galaxy truly is. How my past choices were a flicker of a flame to everyone else, but to me, it was my last ditch effort at saving a dying light.

Everything is different now.

I find myself mourning.

Only for you to walk in the room and wash each thought away like the oncoming tide to a cluttered shore just with your gaze and a twitch of your lips. It's like I'm hit with a revelation again: that things do in fact get better.

So please, keep smiling as you always do, my valentine.

All the best,

Sunday

[miriadalia]

Things you can comment on the fanfics you love when you have no idea what to say

From what takes less time to what takes more

~show those writers your love, please!! They do it for free T-T and they deserve better

1. Emojis

You know the vibe of the fic you're reading, chose the ones that suit it better.

❤❤❤

💔💔💔

🙈🔥🔥

You may think this is kind of stupid, but trust me, it is NOT for the writer. It shows you've read until the end of the chapter and that you liked it so much that you decided to say it publicly. Your presence means A LOT.

Also, leaving kudos or votes takes literally just 1 second, what are you doing NOT doing that?? 🤨🤨🤨

2. Simple phrases

I loved it so much!!

Can't wait for the next chapter!!

This was just so good 😍

Amazing as always, keep it up!! 🙌🏼

Writing is a lonely work if you think about it. When I'm in a writer's block, just one sentence can hype me up for the rest of the day and give me the spirit I need 💪🏽

3. The emotions you felt

Yes, you DO matter. That fanfic author cares more about your opinion than your stupid ex so you better write to them instead 🧐

The plotwist was so unexpected, I'm shocked 😱

You can't end with that cliffhanger, how am I supposed to wait another week??

Excuse me, I will now lock into my room and cry all night, thank you 💔

I've read some people saying they won't comment how they felt because they feel ashamed or shy. Take it as if you were about to post a tweet or comment on a friend IG's story 👍🏻

4. One piece of dialogue/prose that really amazed you

Oof 🔥 this happened to me a few weeks ago and that comment still lives in my mind rent free. There's no better way to compliment a writer's work than to highlight something they wrote that left a true impression on you.

And it literally takes no time:

[Insert piece of dialogue], oh she didn't just say that, imma throw hands 🤬🤬

[Insert piece of a description], I could really see it with my own eyes, loved how you described it!

5. Hopes and wishes for future chapters

C'mon, you're going to comment this anyway with some of your fandom mutuals or friends, why don't let the writer know that too?? COPY AND PASTE IT ✍✍

I just need Chatacter A and Chatacter B to kiss, how long is it gonna take?? 😩

Watching that scene in [Canon series name] would have been awesome!! Maybe in future seasons 👀👀

I hope [Ship Name] don't break up in the next chapter, they are so cute 😭

6. Character discussion

Okay, we're entering deeper waters here.

But the truth is: if you love that fanfic that much is because the characters really resonated with you. So express your first thoughts without any fear:

[Chatacter Name] is so important to me, like you have no idea. All the things they went through... But they still manage to be a better person ❤

[Chatacter Name] was so forgotten in [Movie/Series Name], I'm glad they're getting the development they deserved here!

7. Scene discussion

Again, you might think the comment section is no place to start "fangirling" over the stuff you liked. But IT IS!! And the writer wants to know your thoughts on their work, especially if your opinion is all positive 💞

This will take more time, sure. But if you're going to write it anyways for other people, COPY AND PASTE AGAIN, hon!

8. How this story is impacting your fan life (or even personal life)

You don't need to overshare, but simple comments like:

Your fic has really changed the way I think about [Character Name]'s decisions, I feel like I can understand them better now.

This story has motivated me to rewatch all the episodes again 😢 the nostalgia!!!

What you did with [Character's situation] was incredible! I've been there myself and I could have not explain it better 😔

... They will be the ones the writer will remember the most, I can assure you that.

9. A simple THANK YOU

At the end of the day, fanfic and fanart creators only have your feedback to rely on when the block or discouragement hits... This is about showing appreciation to someone you may not know at all, but that has brighten your day with their creations and efforts ❤

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 73

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

Well, that could have probably gone better, you didn't expect Pearl to grab you like that and you definitely didn't that punch... And really, what an achievement it is, to anger wisdom incarnate... And It's not like she was wrong, you did get a bit too into it.

Not your wisest (eh) moment though, you gained almost nothing from it except for Santa Perla trusting you even less then before...and a punch to the face.

You walk home to your flat, the road back feels a lot longer but It's not that far away from the garden and you really don't want to teleport around right now. So you walk and as you walk you begin to think.

Things aren't as they seem, Pearl knows it and so do you. You definitely shouldn't have pushed her like that, It's like you were filled with emotion not yours. Maybe it was Pearl's... You are in front of your front door, you were so lost in thought you almost didn't notice.

Mumbo is home, that's another surprise, he sees you and immediately begins panicking, not unusual for Mumbo but you really don't know what he's panicking about.

"Grian!? What happened?"

You tilt your head to the side, what's that supposed to mean? Does he know?

"What do you mean?"

"Your face!? You're covered in blood??"

You are? ...oh! The punch... you forgot to fix that, did you walk around the city with a messed up face? Embarassing. Wait a second...Blood? You raise your hand to your face, there, there is blood dripping from your nose, you didn't notice at all.

"Oh It's... I hit my face. Hard."

"I can see that!?? How???"

For a supervillain Mumbo sure knows how to fret like a mother hen with her chicks... Actually, you don't like that comparison, you are billions of years older then him. He should be the baby chicken and you the mother- wait, no, you hate that too... You should fill his room with chickens.

"Grian!?! How did you hit your face???"

Huh? ... You got distracted, what was he saying?

...

Oh! Right, your nose. You need an excuse!

"I walked into a pole while distracted, I was looking at my phone, don't worry about it."

Wait, you left your phone at home this morning. You hope he didn't notice.

"Don't worry about it!? How- how did you even- how did a pole even manage to break your nose??"

It's broken? You can't tell. It's actually quite hard to see when you have only one pair of eyes and not billions. Still, broken? Just like that? Human bodies are so weak...

...Wait, Pearl broke your nose? Damn, that was a good punch.

"Don't worry, It's not too bad, doesn't really hurt"

"That's not- you can't possibly try to convince me that this doesn't hurt"

He motions wildly at your face, you don't really appreciate it. Then he looks as though he has an idea, then seems to reconsider it before sighing in defeat.

"F-follow me, I think I can help"

You do, you have no reason not to. You wonder where he's bringing you.

This is the secret lab.

The supervillain secret lab.

The supervillain secret lab ehere he works on all of his villain projects, where GRUMBOT is.

You have been here as Mother Spire multiple times but...he doesn't know that you're Mother Spore, you know that he doesn't, so what in the world is he doing dragging what he thinks is a civilian into his secret lair? You could look into his mind for 100% certainty but...eh, you don't really need to, you understand by just looking at him. He's panicking and your civilian persona has given him the impression you won't connect the dots. Still, you'll have to keep playing the part of the confused and dumb roomate.

"Where are we Mumbo?"

He doesn't answer, instead he takes out a liquid before handing it out to you.

"Grian? Can you hold this while I get something to help me fix your nose?"

You nod, he nods back and leaves to find some bandages...

So Mumbo does care about you, quite a bit considering the gamble he has just taken. Good, it might end up being very useful in the future.

And, if nothing else, it will be entertaining.

[futurewdclandonorris]

Silver Springs | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x ex!fem!reader

Requested: yes

Warnings: angsty with a hopeful ending

A/N: This is my first request ever and I hope I managed to fulfill the expectations. I took a little liberty and played with the style and format and just listening and studying the song made me want to write it this way. I'm sorry if this isn't what anon had in mind when requesting this so with that make sure to leave as much details as possible when requesting things if you want something specific. Feedback on this would be very much appreciated. 🥺🧡

You’ve found yourself thinking about Lando more regularly as of late. It has been ten months since your break up and you don’t remember feeling like this at the time. You guess you were in a state of denial, trying to convince yourself that the relationship was worth saving despite knowing that it wasn’t.

Of course, in the beginning everything was like a fairy tale. At first it was so wonderful that every ounce of you was convinced that it couldn't possibly get any better. And then, slowly, inevitably, the house of cards collapsed. Maybe that should've been your first clue, but every time you would stick your rose colored glasses further up your nose and focus harder on all those positive aspects of the relationship.

Time spent with Lando was the best time of your life. He always gave you the best he could offer. Taking you out on dates, vacations, accompanying him to races across the world... He truly gave you that only-girl-in-the-world experience. He was always there, present. Until he wasn't.

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Lando Norris. But there was no way you could've prepared yourself for how it would all end up.

He was a Formula One driver and his life was always going to be busy. The paparazzi, the rumors, the constant pressure of being in the public eye. It all took a toll on your relationship.

But what you didn't anticipate was how much time he would start spending away from you. It started off with a few missed calls and texts, but soon he was gone for days at a time without a word.

You tried to be understanding, knowing how demanding his job was, but it was hard not to feel neglected and unimportant. You tried to talk to him about it, but he always seemed to have an excuse or an apology that would temporarily ease your worry.

As the months went on, you began to realize that the relationship was becoming more and more one-sided. You were always the one making compromises, always the one putting in the effort to make things work.

One night, as Lando was getting ready to leave for yet another race, you finally confronted him about it. You told him how you felt and how you needed more from him. But instead of trying to work things out, he simply brushed you off and left without a second thought.

For the first time, you began to wonder if maybe it was time to let go. Maybe it was time to walk away from a relationship that was causing you more pain than happiness.

It wasn't an easy call. You were still in love with him and a part of you wanted to believed that he loved you too. But you couldn't keep living like that when you knew you deserved more. So, after a lot of tears and internal conflict, you made the decision to end things with him.

He took it calmly. “Maybe it’s for the best. We’re at different stages in life-”

But you weren’t interested in reasoning. You were done.

Few days later as you sat alone in your room thinking about him, you couldn't help but wonder if it could all be different. Maybe if you had just tried harder, fought for the relationship a little more, things could've ended up differently. Maybe you could've been the one he came home to every night, instead of just another girl in his life. But relationships were a two way street and you couldn’t do it just on your own.

Months went by and slowly but surely, you started to heal. You threw yourself into work and hobbies, spending time with friends and family. You had to reduce your social media and tv time, fearing you’d accidentally see something about him, or maybe even search up his name on your own that would ruin all the progress you just made. Mutual friends had to be cut off too. Everything that even had a slightest relation to him had to be eliminated from your life so you wouldn't crumble back into old habits.

Finally, you were ready to try dating again. It felt strange to be putting yourself out there again, going out on dates here and there. And although nothing ever really clicked, it was working to distract and make you forget. Up until now.

He just crept into your thoughts on a random Tuesday. You scoffed, shaking them away. Then little (in)significant things started to happen. Like seeing number 4 everywhere in various combinations. You would turn on the radio and first thing you’d hear would be the song you two proclaimed to be yours one drunk night in a bar.

“Are you kidding me?!” you spat, turning the radio off. It wasn’t even a love song.

Dreams began next and they were so life-like that it was almost as if you had gone back in time. They would be so vivid, reminding you of his touch and sound of his voice. In one of them, you would be back together and he would be holding you in his arms. You’d feel safe and loved, just like you used to. One of those nights you woke up to the sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, but when you turned over it was just you and the void of the bedside he used to fill. Your eyes shifted to a digital clock on the nightstand. In hauntingly bold red it read 04:44 am.

And you really should’ve known better than to turn the tv on on weekends. Not every weekend, you reminded yourself, but really, what were the odds that you would catch him racing that Sunday?

You tried your best to ignore it all. Tried to push Lando back to the farthest corners of your mind. But every time you tried, he came back stronger, like a boomerang you couldn't escape from. It was like he was haunting you, his memory a ghost that refused to be exorcised.

It was frustrating. It was maddening. You didn't want to think about him anymore. You didn't want to care. You didn't want to love him.

When it all became too much, you decided to go for a walk to clear your head. You grabbed your coat and headed out the door, the cold afternoon air hitting you as you stepped outside. As you walked down the street, you realized that you were headed in the direction of the park where you and Lando used to go on picnics and take walks together. There was no point in avoiding going there now. Every part of the town was marked with the two of you in one way or the other.

As you walked through the park, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. You remembered how happy you used to be with Lando by your side, how the two of you laughed and talked for hours on end. You wondered if he ever thought about those moments, if he ever missed you. If he ever thought about you just in general. Your heart felt heavy as you thought about how things could have been different if only he had been willing to put in more effort into your relationship.

A sudden movement caught your eye and you turned to see a man walking towards you, his eyes locked onto yours. Your heart leaped out of your chest and you found yourself frozen in place. But the man who passed you wasn’t him. He might’ve had his hair or his eyes, but it wasn’t him. You closed your eyes and sighed a sigh of relief.

I’m starting to see things now, you thought to yourself, shaking the image away. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that type of encounter just yet anyway.

After a few minutes, you continued on your way and eventually found yourself in front of a cozy cafe. You looked up at the simple yet inviting storefront and decided this was as good a place as any to take a break. You opened the door and stepped inside, the warm atmosphere immediately embracing you like an old friend.

The cafe was quite busy with customers, but despite the crowd it still had an intimate feel to it. The smell of fresh coffee accompanied by the sound of jazz music created a relaxed atmosphere that made you forget all about your worries for a while. You walked up to the counter and ordered a cup of your favorite coffee blend before sitting down at one of the tables in the far corner.

-

He had thought about you a lot that summer. It wasn't just the memory of you that lingered in his mind; it was the way you made him feel. He missed the way your hand fit perfectly in his, and the sound of your laughter that could light up a room. He missed the long conversations you used to have over the phone when he was away, and the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you were passionate about.

He had missed you, more than he was willing to admit to himself. He had tried to ignore his feelings, to push them down and pretend that he was perfectly okay without you. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the memories of your time together.

Sometimes the air would smell like your hair, the wind would caress his cheeks like you used to. He remembered the picnics in the park, the late night conversations, the lazy Sunday mornings spent cuddled up in bed on his weekends off before he would have to pack for another race week. He remembered how happy he used to be with you by his side, and he cursed himself for not realizing how much he needed you until it was too late.

Being without you on tracks was the worst. He didn’t know it would be like that when he had you calling before and after every session, giving him a false sense of security. He was racing for himself, building his career, but  he couldn't focus on anything else. The roar of the engines and the adrenaline rush of it all losing their appeal without you there to share it with him. He had to force himself to keep going, to keep racing, but every achievement felt hollow without you to celebrate with him.

But he never reached out to you. He never tried to make things right, even when he knew he was wrong. He was too prideful, too scared of rejection, too afraid of admitting that he had made a mistake. So he stayed away, hoping that time and distance would heal the wounds.

It was late autumn now and after yet another decent weekend, he decided to fly home for his week off and recharge. Maybe time spent with family and friends would help and stop you from creeping in his thoughts.

As he settled into his seat on the plane, he couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness. His career progressed drastically since your split, but what did it matter? He only had himself to share his success with.

The flight was uneventful, and before he knew it, he was back in his hometown. He stepped off the plane and was greeted by the familiar faces of his family. Their hugs and laughter made him realize he was making yet another mistake. He missed you more than ever, and being home without you will only make it worse.

Lando tried to keep busy by spending time with his loved ones and focusing on his training. But it was like trying to hold back the tide with a broom, he couldn't escape the memories of you. The sound of your voice, the touch of your hand, the warmth of your embrace. It was all too vivid in his mind, haunting him day and night.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he drove out in his car, desperate to find a way to move on. He had no destination in mind, and maybe driving to clear his head wasn’t ideal, but it was the only other thing he loved that he had left. And it was like universe was having a laugh at him, when he turned on the radio it was your song that was playing. He thought of changing the station, but his fingers lingered too long in the air over the button that he ended up listening to the whole thing.

As the last notes of the song faded away, Lando let out a heavy sigh and pulled over to the side of the road. He found himself parked in front of a cozy cafe that he had never noticed before. It looked warm and inviting, the smell of coffee wafting out to greet him. He found himself drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

Without much thought, he opened the door and stepped inside. The sound of jazz music greeted him, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over him as he took in the warm atmosphere. He walked up to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee before finding a seat at one of the tables.

Looking around, he spotted you purely accidentally, sipping coffee and reading a book. His heart skipped a beat as he watched you sit alone in the far corner. You looked beautiful, just as he remembered, with your hair falling in loose waves around your face. He couldn't believe it was you. The one person he had been thinking about for months was sitting just a few tables away from him.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, his heart racing with emotions he thought he had buried deep within. He tried to catch your eye, but you didn't look up from the book. He felt his heart sink as he realized that you didn't even know he was there.

Lando hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Part of him wanted to approach you and try to start a conversation, while the other part of him couldn't bear the thought of seeing you again after all this time. He had hurt you deeply, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to face the consequences of his actions.

But as he sat there, lost in thought, he suddenly realized that he couldn't just sit idly by and watch you from a distance. He had to do something, even if it meant facing his fears head-on. It was now or never.

He got up from his seat and slowly walked over to your table, his heart beating faster with every step. You finally looked up from your book as he approached, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw who was standing in front of you.

-

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Quickly you made a mental check on what day it was. Early Friday evening.

Lando sighed, nerves getting the best of him as he stood before you. “I’m… I came home for my week off.” he said, his voice sounding small and unsure.

“You have a week off,” you weren’t sure if you were asking him, accusing him, laughing at your own stupidity or a secret fourth thing.

He shifted awkwardly on his feet, his eyes unable to meet yours. “You’re saying it like it’s a crime,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I just didn’t expect to see you here on a weekend.” you defended, realizing you were setting yourself for a trap. Not every weekend.

“Were you hoping I was out of the country?” he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm. He knew he was being defensive, but he couldn't help it. Being around you made him feel vulnerable, exposed.

Lando's question hung heavily in the air, his eyes still fixed on you. You felt a pang of guilt, knowing full well that you had been hoping to avoid him for a little while longer. But now that he was standing in front of you, you couldn't deny the pull you still felt towards him.

"I don't know what I was hoping for," you admitted, your eyes finally meeting his. "I just know I didn't expect to see you here."

"Neither did I," he said softly, taking a step closer to you. "But now that I am, can we talk?"

You looked at him for a moment, taking in the sight of him. He looked good, but different somehow. He seemed more vulnerable, more open than you remembered. It made your heart ache for him, but you tried to push the feeling away.

"Okay," you said, nodding your head. "Let's talk."

Lando let out a sigh of relief, his tense shoulders relaxing as he took a seat opposite of you.

“So, how have you been?” he asked, shuffling his feet slightly.

“I’ve been okay,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just trying to keep busy.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between you as you both tried to gather your thoughts. You couldn't help but notice how much he had changed since the last time you saw him. His hair was shorter, and he looked like he had put on some muscle. But it was his eyes that caught your attention the most. They looked tired and distant, like he had been carrying a heavy burden for a long time.

“How are-How are things with you?” you choked out.

Lando let out a small laugh, but it sounded hollow to your ears. "Things have been good, I guess," he said, his eyes flickering towards yours for a moment before darting away. "Work has been keeping me busy."

You nodded, not sure what to say. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of him thriving without you. It didn't seem fair that he could move on so easily while you were still struggling in a way.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. "For everything. For how I treated you, for how I acted. I was a fool, and I should have never let you go."

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not.” he cut you off harshly. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve set my priorities straight.”

“But you did.” you smiled to hide the pain as you said that, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“I was wrong. I was so wrong.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lando could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face, and he knew that he had a lot to answer for. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts before he spoke again.

“I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry.” he said. “I should have fought for you, instead of letting my pride get in the way. I missed you more than I could ever say, and being away from you only made me realize how much I need you in my life.”

You looked at him skeptically, unsure if you could believe him after all the pain he had caused you. But as you looked into his eyes, you could see the sincerity and regret that shone through.

“I don't know if you're ready to forgive me, and I don't expect you to right away,” he continued. “But I had to come and tell you how I feel and to try to make things right. If you’ll let me.”

He looked down as he finished his speech. You sat a few moments in silence, letting it all sink in before leaning over and reaching for his hand.

As soon as your fingers interlocked with his, you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body. It had been so long since you had touched him, and it felt like coming home.

“Lando,” you called, wanting him to look at you. You only continued when he did. “I already forgave you. But as for the rest… I will need some time.” you said softly, not wanting to give him false hope. “But I appreciate your apology.”

"I understand," he said, squeezing your hand gently. "I'll give you all the time you need. Just know that I'm here whenever you're ready."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. It wasn't a complete resolution, but it was a start. You sat in silence for a few more minutes, just holding each other's hands, before you finally pulled away.

"I should get going," you said, grabbing your book and standing up.

“Let me drive you home.” Lando said, standing up as well.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to spend more time alone with him. But as you looked into his earnest and apologetic gaze, you couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"Okay," you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. "Let's go."

Lando walked you to his car, opening the door for you and then walking around to the driver's side. As he started the engine, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. This was the same car he had driven you around in when you were together, and it felt strange to be sitting in it again.

The ride was mostly silent, with both of you lost in your own thoughts. But as you pulled up in front of your apartment building, Lando turned to you with a serious expression on his face.

"I know I have a lot to make up for," he said, his voice low and intense. “But I promise you, I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious about this. I want us to be together again, if you'll have me."

You took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. It was true that you still had feelings for Lando, but you weren't sure if it was enough to give him another chance. You needed time to think, to process everything that had happened between you two.

"I appreciate your sincerity, Lando," you said finally, meeting his gaze. "But I need some time alone to figure things out. Can you give me that?"

"Of course," he said, nodding his head. "I'll respect your wishes. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and gratitude towards him. Despite everything that had happened between you two, he still cared about your well-being. It was a comforting thought, and it made you realize that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the two of you.

"Thank you, Lando," you said, giving him a small smile. "I'll talk to you soon."

With that, you got out of the car and walked towards your building, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. Part of you was relieved to have some space to think, while another part of you was still hopeful for a future with Lando.

As you walked up the stairs to your apartment, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Would you be able to start anew, or would you remain apart forever? Only time would tell, but for now, all you could do was take things one day at a time.

[siriusremusblack]

Ehh..

Ok. Seriously- even if Snape wasn’t a spy for the order or even a death eater to begin with, and just a guy with unresolved traumatic issues in his childhood- why would he be expected to be nice to Harry?

I MEAN. Harry literally took one look at Snape (and Quirrell) in the great hall, felt his scar burn and immediately decided it was Snape’s fault. He didn’t consider that maybe it was another teacher or maybe a student next to him. He immediately thought that Severus Snape was the reason for his scar hurting. There was no evidence to really support that theory other than the burning of the scar.

Not only that- but this student (Harry) repeatedly got in trouble, sassed Sev/talked back, and when Harry did learn that it was really Quirrell that was the one trying to steal the stone and SEVERUS WAS LITERALLY HELPING HIM THE ENTIRE TIME FROM QUIRRELL HIMSELF- he still decided to have that unfair bias towards him.

PLUS, Harry acted similarly to that of James at times (from Sev’s perspective). Strutting around the school as one example- he was also treated similarly to James by the other staff. He’d get in trouble but he wouldn’t receive that bad of a punishment just detentions and he was even rewarded house points.. and not to mention McGonagall breaking the rule of first years not being allowed their own broom for Harry..

Harry also looked very similar to James (his father, for those that don’t know) which was likely a HUGE trigger since James not only Bullied Severus as a child but stalked, harassed, SA’D/S*xually harassed, and almost murdered him. Then there’s the fact that he also had his mother’s eyes, Lily Evans, who was a childhood friend of Sev. One of his only friends until he lost her, twice. Harry looked at Sev all the time with contempt and disdain. He basically hated the man from day one when he originally saw him in the great hall. He had lily’s eyes. Those eyes were the ones staring at Snape with hatred. Everyday. Until Harry finally realized how messed up that actually was in the end.

So yeah. Excuse me, but I don’t see any reason for Sev to even want to be nice to a kid like that. There isn’t any reason to be- especially when he’s dealing with 11-18 year olds on a daily basis, all day. They all have different maturity levels and being a teacher and teaching one grade of students is already hard enough. Imagine teaching multiple grades???? Oh and then there’s the fact he was risking his life for 14+ years (probably closer to 20+ honestly) with barely any actual recognition or appreciation. He was a spy for so long and he had no one. Everyone hated him and for what? Because he was strict? So were the other staff members.

Plus if we also take into account the other aspects of teaching instead of just the actual teaching- that is a lot more work as well. There’s planning assignments, watching over the students, grading assignments and much more- and being a professor you’re always learning the new information that comes in on the subject(s) you’re teaching. There’s also staff meetings. He also had order meetings and death eater meetings. There’s also stocking his potions store, doing detention shifts. We also see that he helps patrol school grounds after curfew so there’s that as well. This man has so many jobs and you expect him to be nice to some bratty 11 year old that immediately decided he was bad? Like what?

And this man is autistic coded (he was based off an autistic man so the likelihood he is autistic is pretty high and practically canon I’d say but that’s my own opinion and a topic for another time) OH and he is canonically extremely traumatized with zero support system and we all know prolonged childhood trauma causes multiple different kinds of disorders that will never go away (but can have symptoms lessened through therapy, which was not made available for Sev.) AND NOT TO MENTION A TEACHERS SALARY IS HORRID. This man does not get payed nearly enough to deal with Hogwarts students, order members, death eaters and the other Hogwarts staff.

GIVE SEV A BREAK ALREADY.

[realwitchieshit]

Fuck It, It’s Fine.

Summary: You find yourself falling off the wagon again, but you’re not sure if you want to get back on.

Warnings: hurt/comfort (sorta), gary mention, cheating (kind of), allusion to smut

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I proofread this once so if there are typos pls ignore. anyway, this fic is the second part of my other fic, “Bad Idea, Right?”. so i would recommend reading that first! thanks for all of the love on the first one, enjoy!

Another month has passed since the last time you and Melissa had met up. She would text and call, acting as though the two of you were friends just asking about each other’s day, and then she would give you some reason to come over. “You gotta come over and watch this new show” this, “I got some leftovers” that, she would tempt you with everything she could think of to get you to come over.

While you did always answer, you had not given in. You would think of an excuse while you talked and when she finally asked you to come over, you’d hit her with it. You could’ve easily put your foot down and told her to stop asking you to come over, but you were sure it would upset her. You still wanted her companionship, but it felt wrong to have any more, considering her blooming relationship with Gary.

Shutting Melissa down wasn’t easy, though. You would put your phone across the room and distract yourself until the urge to call her back dwindled away. This method worked but was impractical as it sometimes took you a couple hours to regroup.

Turning Melissa down in person was even worse. Instead of just having your nice memories of Melissa to fuel the “call her back” fire, you had Melissa in front of you, in all of her stupidly gorgeous glory. She would smooth talk you a bit, like she did when you first began dating, making you blush and let out girlish giggles you didn’t recognize as yours. Then, once she had you all buttered up, she would ask you to come over. You would decline, but then you would see her throughout the day, thoroughly destroying any distraction you had. You almost said yes once, but Melissa had ended up going home early that day.

Today, you believed you were being tested. It was picture day and everyone tended to try and look their best. When you had walked into the gym during your planning period, you stopped in your tracks. Melissa was standing in line on the steps that led up to the stage, her left foot resting on the step higher and her back leaned against the wall. She was wearing a pink top with a black blazer on top along with her signature leather pants and her black boots. Her makeup was done nicely and her hair was perfectly curled.

You thought about turning back and going to your classroom, but then you remembered you don’t have another free period. Plus, if you didn’t get your picture taken today they would use last year’s photo in the yearbook, and that was a picture you were hoping to forget. You sighed and turned back around, walking over to the bottom of the stairs next to Melissa.

She looked up from her phone, lifting her glasses to rest on top of her head and smiling when she realized it was you. “Well, hello, gorgeous.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless. Even after breaking up, she still made you feel like a love struck 17-year-old. The glasses on top of her head made her look even better, the way they pushed her hair away from her face made your heart swoon. You nearly asked her to take you back right then and there, but then you pinched yourself and stared at the wall.

��Hey, Melissa. You’re not looking too bad yourself.” You said, only sparing her a quick glance before going back to the wall. She raised her eyebrow at your odd behavior.

“It’s true, but I don’t think you’ve looked at me enough to really appreciate it.” She teased, leaning in to lightly elbow your arm.

“Don’t be silly, Melissa,” you scrambled to say, trying to cover your ass, “I’m looking at you for a normal amount of time.”

To prove your point, you turn your head to look Melissa in the eyes. Bad move. She was even prettier up close, if that were even possible. She was still leaning over, the close proximity made your mouth go dry and your cheeks begin heating up.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” She asked quietly.

Before you could think better of it, you blurted out, “I want you so bad, but you’re with Gary and I don’t want to be a home wrecker anymore and—“

“Woah, woah there, hon. Me and Gary were never that serious, there was no home to wreck.” She interrupted you. You stared at her for a minute, replaying her words in your head.

“Wait. ‘Was’? ‘Were’?” You repeated, not believing you heard that right.

“Yeah, me and Gary ain’t workin’ out.” She confirmed. You stared at her for another moment until the photographer was asking for the next person in line, which was her.

She put a hand on your shoulder, “Come find me after the kids leave, we’ll talk.”

You continued to stare as she walked over to the photographer and got her photo taken. She winked at you as she left the stage, leaving your cheeks warm. You then head up for your turn, grinning widely for your picture.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on, a mix of excitement and the fear of the unknown causing you to be unable to focus. It was too early in the year to start watching movies, so you had your students get a book from the library and come back to silently read. When the final bell rang, you almost jumped from your chair. You watched as your kids filtered out of the classroom and said goodbye to all of them, waiting a couple minutes before you gathered your things and walked downstairs to Melissa’s room.

The classroom was void of any kids when you got there, only Melissa at her desk. You walked in and Melissa looked up from her phone to smile at you. You pulled up a chair and sat across from her.

No matter what she says, you have to think rationally. You can’t immediately jump into bed with her, she’s your ex for a reason, you repeated in your head.

“You wanted to talk?” You asked, trying to contain your excitement for now.

“Yeah. About us.” She admitted. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

“What about us?”

She sighed, like she was frustrated that you couldn’t read her mind. Melissa hated talking about her feelings and would often not talk about them at all, you had forgotten how irritating it was. You were about to tell her you weren’t here to play guessing games with her, but then she spoke.

“I was an idiot for not realizin’ what I had when I was with you. I wanna try again.” You nearly pinched yourself. You had to be dreaming. Melissa? Being honest with you about her emotions? Hell must’ve frozen over.

There was a silence. You weren’t sure what to say. Melissa had been emotionally unavailable for the majority of your relationship, leaving you fighting tooth and nail to figure out what was going on in her head constantly. This was exhausting for you, and it was the primary reason you had broken up. However, it looked like she had made some progress since she was the one to ask you to talk. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to try again.

“Why now? I thought things were going well with Gary.” You asked.

She shrugged, “Gary was easier, I guess. He didn’t ask how I’m doing, he didn’t notice when I was upset.”

“So, you want me to be your therapist again?” You deadpanned. She huffed, this was obviously hard for her.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I just… You cared for me. Even on my worst days, you were patient with me. I don’t think anyone could make me feel the way you do. I wanna make you feel the way I felt.” Your eyebrows raised in surprise at what she was saying, it was everything you wished to hear from her.

“You mean that?”

She smiled and nodded, “I do, hon. I…I love you.”

Okay, you had to be dreaming. Melissa just poured her heart out to you and on top of it, she said she loved you.

You didn’t hesitate to say it back. “I love you too, Mel.”

“So, you wanna give me a second chance?” She asked, her eyes lighting up with hope. You nodded eagerly, not wanting to pass this up.

“Okay. Well then, how about dinner at my place?”

“Yes, of course.” You accepted her invitation without thinking about it.

She smiled before standing up and coming around the desk to stand beside you. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. You can come over around seven if you wanna help out.”

Now she’s gonna let you help make dinner? You must’ve fallen and hit your head this morning.

The two of you walked to the parking lot together, splitting up to go to your own cars. When you got home, you were barely able to sit still. You had a couple of hours before you had to be at Melissa’s house, so you spent the majority of that time getting ready.

You were on Facetime with Mira, getting her to help you pick out an outfit. You had explained the situation to her and while she supported you, she had her doubts.

“I just want you to be careful, babe.” She said.

You rolled your eyes as you stepped into your camera's view in a potential outfit. “She’s different now, I swear. She talked to me about how she felt, and I didn’t have to beg her to do it!”

Mira scoffed, “Wow, bare minimum. Not that top, it’s too formal for dinner at her place.”

You stepped out of frame again, pulling off the top and hanging it back up. You pulled a black sweater from your closet and put it on.

“The point is, she’s making progress. I can help her become better. How’s this?”

She sighs, “It’s good. I hope you have a good time, don’t forget brunch in the morning, and please, for the love of god, don’t sleep with her tonight.”

“I’m not going to sleep with her!”

You did end up sleeping with her. Dinner was fantastic and in the process of making it, Melissa only griped at you once. After dinner, the two of you talked for a while and before you knew it, Melissa had you pinned against her bed. You fell asleep that night, content and hopeful for the future.

The next morning you woke up abruptly, the sun leaking in through Melissa’s bedroom curtains. You sat up and looked for your phone, needing to see what time it was. When you couldn’t, you leaned over Melissa’s sleeping body to check the time on her phone. You turned it on and relaxed upon seeing that it was only 9:30. A message popped up as you held her phone and you looked at it instinctively. It was a message from Gary.

Good morning, beautiful. We still on for coffee later?

Your stomach turned as you read the text over and over again. You dropped her phone back on the nightstand and got out of her bed, throwing your half of the comforter on top of her. Melissa stirred, watching as you went around the room gathering your clothes.

“Hey, what’s the rush?” She asked, her voice hoarse from a mixture of sleep and the previous night’s activities.

“You told me you and Gary weren’t together. Why did you lie?” You didn’t halt your movements, throwing everything but your pants on the end of the bed.

Melissa sat up, gaze still on you. “What are you talking about, hon?”

You scoffed, “Don’t lie to me, Melissa. Gary just texted you. He wanted to know if you were still on for coffee.”

Her eyes widened and she picked up her phone, reading the text for herself. You rolled your eyes and began angrily pulling your pants on.

“Hon, I was meeting up with him to tell him we’re over.” She said, crawling to the foot of the bed to kneel in front of you.

“Bullshit.” You muttered, buttoning your pants.

Melissa’s hand reached up to cup your face and you jerked back, glaring at her. She dropped her hand, looking a bit hurt.

“Just look. Please?” She pleaded with you, holding up her phone for you to see. You huffed, looking at the phone screen. It was Melissa and Gary’s text messages, she told him she had something important to talk about and he seemed to be none the wiser, asking to go to a new coffee shop he heard about. She wasn’t lying. You felt guilty, all of the sudden. You had lashed out a bit and woke Melissa up for no reason.

“Sorry about that. I thought—“

“Don’t worry about it. I haven’t been the most upfront with you in the past, so I get it.” She interrupted, shrugging. She reached up again and this time you let her, leaning into her touch as she cupped your cheek.

“So that’s all it is? You’re breaking it off with him today?” You asked, she nodded.

“Yes. That’s it.”

You sighed, the anger and frustration that had rapidly built up slipping away by the second. She noticed the way your entire body relaxed from its previously tense state and gave you a warm smile.

“Why don't you let me apologize for scarin' ya?” She offered, a mischievous glint in her eyes as her hand left your cheek to hold your waist. “I’ll make you breakfast after.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at her, “I have to meet up with Mira for brunch at noon.”

“It’s only half past nine, hon.” Melissa raised up on her knees to begin kissing your neck, occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin.

“You’ll make me late.” You protested weakly as she began trying to pull you into bed.

“I’ll be quick.” She promised. You resolve weakened as Melissa sucked lightly on your pulse point and when she pulled away, you huffed. She didn't respond, only looked at you with that shit-eating grin.

"Super quick?" You echoed. This time when she tried to pull you into bed, you let her. She rolled over on top of you, still grinning.

"I'll be so quick, you'll be begging for more."

The biggest lie she ever said.

[earthtooz]

x : BOX OF SURPRISES :*+ﾟ

in which: sampo has something for you and you fall a little more in love with him.

warnings: 1k wc, FLUFF (slight angst), reader is a little mean :,) but it's bc sampo's annoying, gn!merchant!reader, banter, seemingly unrequited feelings, ambiguous relationship?

a/n: need this pathetic sop of a man so badly it's not even funny. anyways, enjoy! pls rb if u liked it :D

“sampo, what is the meaning of this?” setting down the heavy boxes of goods with a huff, suspicion stirs in your gut. 

“did you not see my text earlier? i could have sworn you read it,” he hums, trailing off thoughtfully as he looks at you through his swept-aside strands of hair. 

you look away from the carefree glint in his eyes whilst ignoring the pounding of your heart.

“i’m working, sampo- being an ethical and trustworthy merchant is a hard job, y’know?”

the man laughs, boisterous and loud. a migraine is coming, it's only natural to get one after dealing with its human embodiment. 

“don’t you have other things to do?” you mutter.

“what, other than talking with my favourite fellow merchant?” 

“you mean terrorising.”

sampo laughs again. this time, he shuts his eyes close and grins so wide that he flashes his annoyingly perfect teeth. it’s so painful that he’s so beautiful, if only that could excuse his horrendous personality (you adore him). 

pretending to wipe a tear from his eyes, he sighs wistfully. “this is why i love talking to you, never a dull moment with you, y/n.”

you try not to let his flattery get to you. besides, he probably says this to all of his competitors just to butter them up, breaking their walls before inevitably taking them and distributing their resources to consumers at cheaper prices. 

“whatever, sampo. will you leave me alone now?”

“hey, hey, hey, what’s the rush?” he asks, putting his hands on his hips. you try not to look at the exposed skin that sits above. “the business day is over. don’t you have some time to spare for little old me?”

“the business day may be over for me but never for crooks like you. besides. i need to pack up  and i want to go home, so i don’t appreciate any delays.”

“you think of me as a mere ‘delay’?” sampo gestures to himself, all grandiose and dramatics. “i’m hurt, and here i was thinking that we had a connection.”

there’s a part of you that hopefully yearns for him to expand on the ‘connection’ he so speaks of, but the desire fades as quickly as it appears, replaced with dejection instead. to cross the line with sampo koski would be fatal for your business and you fear that you were already toeing the boundaries. tolerating and talking to him for goodwill was one thing, but going ahead and falling for him was another. 

furthermore, you don’t like the feeling that he knows about how you feel. everywhere you turn, sampo is there, leaning against the wall, looking like temptation itself as he toys with those small blades of his. they’re kind of like boomerangs, but you’re not too sure.

there’s a lot about sampo you’re not too sure about- perhaps if you weren’t a competing merchant, you would have tried to learn them all. 

“you drive me insane,” you murmur, packing up all the leftover goods into a crate.

“let me help you,” he offers, picking up some goods and sorting them without permission. you have half a mind to slap him away, but against the better judgement of your brain, you allow him to assist.

when the crate is filled, sampo walks over to grab another empty box, passing it to you. you eye him suspiciously and the blue-haired merchant is quick to make a comment on your speculatory glance. 

“why are you looking at me like that?” 

“why are you… helping me?”

“what? is it so wild that sampo koski can be of assistance? i have some good in my heart, ya know,” he sings, reaching over your stall to adjust the twisted strap of your outfit. 

sampo winks at you when he meets your gaze again.

you hate the way your body reacts to his fleeting touch, and the way you want more. you want to feel how his hands would fit in yours, or around your waist, or holding your face, or-

“speechless, are we now?” chuckles the merchant. “i normally elicit this reaction-”

shaking your thoughts away, you cut him off with a slam of your crate, defeated by the betrayal of your own wandering mind. “sampo.”

for a moment, shock shines in his eyes, his hair bouncing as he jolts. you also can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to run your hands through it. if he won’t share his heart then perhaps his hair care routine could do, after all, it is unfair to have such luminous hair despite running around all day.

“didn’t you have something for me?” you ask, trying not to let your exasperation bleed into your tone. “that’s why you’re here, no?”

he presses a hand to his chest and acts like he's been shot. “so you read my message and chose not to reply? i’m hurt, y/n, how cou-”

“sampo. please, i’m in no mood to banter. can we get this exchange over and done with?”

for a flash of a second, you delude yourself into seeing a slight furrow in sampo’s eyebrows, expression moulding into something akin to sadness. it’s a face that will haunt your dreams, you think, especially with the way he glanced away from you, doubt evident in his body language as he nods shyly.

it's not like sampo to break eye contact, but he recovers too quickly for you to comment on it and then further shuts you up when he presents an innocently pretty box. through common sense, it looks like a box of chocolates, but because you know sampo koski, you’re a little frightful of the contents inside. 

“wh-what’s the meaning of this?” you ask, eyeing the gift carefully.

sampo pushes it further towards you. “open it and find out!”

“it’s not going to blow up in my face, is it?” 

“do you think so little of me?”

“yes, because you trick people like this, sampo, by presenting a seemingly innocent box of chocolates and then bam- they blow up in-”

“okay, okay, i promise this isn’t one of them ones that go ‘bam’! trust me!”

"okay... i'll trust you on this one."

with a little reluctance, you take the outstretched box, scepticism written all over your face. preparing for the worst, you untie the little bow and gently lift off the cover, melting at the contents within.

chocolates of various sizes and design litter the inside and the cuteness of it is enough to make you melt, the small smile appearing on your face only a tiny indication of the affection growing within you. not to mention, these sweets don’t look like the cheap mimics that the underworld produces. how did sampo get his hands on these, and why would he give them to you?

suddenly laced with guilt at the unnecessary attitude and rudeness you showed him earlier, you look up with a ‘thank you’ and apology on the tip of your tongue, but he’s gone. disappeared into thin air at the crumbling of your heart's walls.

disappointed, you sigh and make a mental note to thank him the next time you see him. resuming your packing up, you’re unaware of the new brightness your expression carries, and how you move around with a little more bounce to your step.

hugging the gift close to you, a certain merchant lays low nearby and watches how enthused you seem by the new gift. sampo concludes then and there that your smile is priceless and he would do anything to be the cause of it.

if only he could tell you.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[sereindreams]

HANDPRINTS || RK800 x Reader ♡

“Oh, what can I do? Life is beautiful, but you don't have a clue. Sun and ocean blue. Their magnificence, it don't make sense to you”

Summary: Your work life had always been stressful, and being a part of the DPD had its ups and downs. In fact, it was mostly downs. That was until you were assigned to work on a case of rising deviants with an old associate and a charming, young android. Suddenly, you couldn't wait to show up at work. Your days were no longer filled with quiet solitude, but of warm laughter and shared breaths. The very thing that betrayed all sense of life offered you a gateway to a new appreciation of the world, and the love for things within it.

AN: Welcome to the self-proclaimed 'sweet and sappy' chapter! Y'all deserve to be fed, and I want some genuine relationship progress between the reader and Connor. I also want to expand upon the reader/Hank relationship dynamic, so you might notice a little bit of that! Also, I seem to be enjoying fucking up the timeline a bunch, so excuse the messy ass timeline of everything, gotta make it better for the plot. (also I'm very fucking sorry for taking so long lmao)

Also also, skip this part if you don't want a rant about my life but again, I'm sorry for taking so long. I've just gotten a new job that has me working a lot that I'm not used to, pair that with a lack of motivation and a lot of school work and then boom, you get chapters that come out monthly. I'm really struggling with existing atm but I'm trying and trying. Again, sorry :(

Word Count: 2.8k

Reader Pronouns: She/Her (AFAB). NO USE OF Y/N!

Warnings: Reader is in pain from her previous injury. The usual DBH crime scene gore is relatively detailed. Please be responsible in your media consumption <3

-

Chapter 4:

When the commotion had settled, you took the opportunity to rest your swollen foot, acting as a throbbing beacon of discomfort. Initially, it had been just a sharp pain that had made its way up your calf, but as time flew past, it transformed into a relentless ache. A low whine escaped your lips, doing your best to muffle the sound by clamping it shut.

Not only did it physically pain you, but it harmed your pride as well. It was a fateful reminder that you were only human, that your feeble body could break and bend, capable of shattering into a thousand, fragile pieces. It taunts you and reminds you that you could never be like an android, capable of limitless things. You were confined to your shell, trapped in a body doomed to fail at some point or another.

Connor, on the other hand, was remarkable, the way that he was able to calculate and perform within a matter of seconds had you awestruck. Your humanity had never left you more vulnerable, more in need to do better in order to keep up with your counterpart. But it felt impossible.

He was just too good, and you were doomed to be left in the dust.

"Detective?"

You hummed, welcoming the vibration in your throat as a distraction from your discomfort. Your body had settled against the slick, alleyway wall, and you had been positioned there for a handful of minutes. Hank, still, needed to catch his breath, as he had roughly stated, voice hoarse with neglect. Your injured food was elevated ever so slightly in the air, pressing all of your body weight onto your uninjured one.

Your face must have been scrunched in torment because it only led Connor to probe.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Don't worry about me, Con" the nickname slid off your tongue with ease, "Just tripped, that's all"

But of course, he didn't relent. Instead, he bent down, and you observed as his jacket tightened around his back, splaying out against his body. Your breathing got tight, watching as his eyes slithered across your form and fingers glided across your shoe. You began to feel a light pressure against the leather, causing you to wince. "Does it hurt when I do this?" he inquired, poking and prodding against you. You nodded, gulping down a breath.

“It’s sprained” he concluded, beginning to stiffen his body straight once again. You sighed. “You should rest”

“The damn thing’s right, Y’know?” you heard Hank mutter. You felt the side of your lip curl upwards instinctively at the thought of the two getting along.

You raised your shining, wrist watch to your face, pouting, “It’s not even noon. I can’t go home now. We still have another case this afternoon”

“Bullshit” Hank called, extending the long, accentuated drawl of your last name. His hands pressed deeply into the leather of his sodden jacket, tightening his arms across his chest, “You’re hurt. Can’t work when you’re hurt. Go home, rest, take some aspirin, and come back in the afternoon”

-

You weren’t sure how the two had won the non existent argument, but you were sure they must have, as you turned to Connor, hands placed firmly on the steering wheel of your own car. In the blazing light of midday, his face was illuminated in a warm, yellow glow. You could feel yourself sinking into the softened leather of the chair, sleep pressing your eyes closed. With each blink, your eyelids became heavier and heavier, as you found it harder to fight against the seeming inevitability.

It remained like that for a while, the occasional tapping of Connor’s fingers on the leather wheel, and the gentle buzz of the radio, filled with static. The warmth from the heater engulfed you and created fog on the windows, leaving your fingers to brush it away. Your distress was somehow idyllic. Even as you pulled into the driveway of your unit, you didn't want it to end. You would rather endure the dull but constant pain of your ankle than have the moment come to a halt.

The driver's side door snapped open, followed by the familiar crunch of feet under gravel. Your door clicked open, and you were met with comfortable silence and warm eyes. "Thank you" you stated meekly. You crept from the seat, placing your hands on the leather to hoist yourself out, and settled your gaze on your house.

Embarrassment shot through you.

What if he didn't like what he saw? What if the house was actually a mess and you were so used to it you didn't realise?

What if it smelt strange?

You paused, overwhelmed by soreness and anxiety. Connor noticed the hesitation in your steps, "Are you still in pain?"

"Yeah"

"May I carry you?"

What. You swore you didn't hear him right, and yet, you broke out in a cold sweat. Your mind struggled to process the offer, the combination of the pain and your own stubbornness wrestled with the faint embarrassment you felt. "Okay" your words shot out, maybe too quickly, as you did your best to mask the blush that had spread across your face like wildfire.

He stepped forward with determination and pressed his hands to your side. In a quick swoop, he had settled his arms under your legs and had hoisted you from the ground, bridal style. The movement had pressed your face into his torso, feeling the fabric of his jacket tickle your nose. To your surprise, he had a smell, a smell of comforting and faint cologne. Nothing that would cause your head to ache more than your ankle, that is.

He had stopped at the door, and before he could ask, you had stated, “Keys are in my right pocket”, before realising. He seemed to pause too before his hand slowly lingered over your hip, making a dive for the inside of your pocket. You shuddered as his hand made contact with your body, only a thin sliver of fabric keeping your skin away from his. With a jingle, he had successfully retrieved the keys.

A moment of rattling was followed by a creak, your door pushing open to reveal your softly carpeted hallway. There was a scuffle of his shoes against the doormat and his head had surveyed the cosy expanse before locating his target. The couch.

Upon entering the living space, his eyes were immediately drawn to the rich, dark tones of the furniture, and the forest green hues that adorned the walls, offering the room a sense of elegance and warmth. The faint lighting above, provided by antique-looking chandeliers and ornate table lamps, painted the ceiling, transparent muslin curtains allowing light to seep through them. It was pleasantly maximalist as if a grandparent had passed the house down to you. His observations prompted many questions in his mind, but he shoved them back down.

A yawn slipped from your lips, your head falling further into the crook of his neck as the weight of your body began to cause you to fall against the couch. His touch was as light as a feather, barely ghosting over you once he had settled you on the plush cushions of your couch.

"I'll get you some ice" he whispered, breath fanning against your cheeks.

“Okay” you squeaked, feeling your words fall short.

You sat there for a few minutes, barely able to make out the rattle from the kitchen, and the clinks and sound of ice. With your head pressed to the pillow, you felt your eyes become droopy. You knew that he had re-entered the room but couldn’t bring yourself to pry open your lids.

His hand slipped beneath your feet again, and your shoes were thrown off quickly. Then, a pillow was placed under your ankle, a quick and painless motion that had admittedly caught you off guard. You had almost called out as the cold ice hit your skin sensitive skin, all your limbs breaking out in goosebumps. Your lips folded inwards on each other, taking a sharp breath.

You were truly mesmerised by his attention to detail, especially as he took the nearest throw blanket and draped it over your body. The edge of the blanket fluttered against your skin. When that had been done, he turned away, "If you need anything else, call Lieutenant Anderson"

Your eyebrows morphed into a frown, your lips parting, "Wait!"

He stopped right then as if prepared to obey your every beck and call. His feet were caught in suspension, body pivoting to meet yours. Even in the doorway, he loomed large, head almost grazing the top of it. "Is there... something you need, Detective?"

Yes. Yes of course, but you couldn't say that. You just wanted his company, even if he didn't care for yours. Hell, you would even walk around for hours on your stupid ankle just so you could hear his low voice and charming quips. "Stay?". Your words were more of a plea rather than a question. You cringed at your own desperation, unsure of what unnatural powers had taken hold of you. Never in your life had you begged for someone to stay. Never in your life had you been reduced to jelly at someone's touch.

And, maybe what's worse is that he obeyed.

You'd like to think it was a conscious decision that he made, not his choice to follow an order but rather to do it because it felt right. But it made you worry, so much so that you had fallen asleep thinking about it, and Connor. And his touch.

The problem arose when your alarm didn't go off, and you found yourself, hours later, sunken in the abyss of sheets on the couch. Your eyes had been glued shut with sleep, and you did your best to pry them open with everything you had. A chill swept across your face, causing your sweltering body to emerge with goosebumps as you pulled it from the blankets.

The house was eerily empty, scarcely different to a handful of hours ago. The blush from your cheeks had settled into something more internally vibrant, a permanent state of bashfulness as the memories came flooding through your head.

He was gone, but the ghost of him sitting cross-legged on the opposite chair still lingered in the air. The patter of rain caused the air in your apartment to become damp, heavy, the windowsills crumbling slowly and admitting defeat against the elements.

It was strangely surreal to know that mere hours ago, he had been so close to you, and you sat alone now. The sensitive feeling you had been overwhelmed with had been replaced with something absent.

You couldn't help but smile wonkily at the thought of his plush skin just barely drifting across your face. The shudder that consumed you under his watchful gaze, the arch of his lip with each passing moment.

The buzz of your phone broke you from your trance, a single message blaring from the screen, "Don't come in this afternoon, just rest. The tin can and I won't do anything interesting without you - Hank'. You sighed, feeling yourself plop back onto the couch and letting the weight of your troubles dissolve. The pain from your ankle was lessened, thanks to Connor's remedies.

-

It didn't take you long to figure out that you'd be well enough to go to work the next day, as the pain had dissipated quickly after another long nap, a cup of coffee and some Advil.

The drone of a headache caused you to adversely believe otherwise, though. It had begun as a creeping murmur, just on the edge of your consciousness, until it began to intensify into a raging storm, much like the outside weather. It hammered relentlessly on the walls of your skull, nausea sweeping past you.

You just hoped and prayed you could find relief in the same way you did the night before. Or perhaps, in a fizzy, caffeinated drink.

As you stood by Hank, shoulders stiffened, you felt the droplets of rain slipping from your face at an agonisingly slow rate. The brief interaction between a man and the lieutenant was the last thing on your mind as your hand planted itself squarely on the counter of the food truck. Letting your eyes wander across the setting, you couldn't help but notice the hockey game buzzing in the background, or the slick layer of oil that seemed to drench every crevice of the van. But the whisper of food was more than intoxicating, your head spinning while warmth flew past your face from the nearest fryer.

The man running the van was preoccupied with the arduous task of flipping burger patties, too busy to notice you eyeing him down, foot tapping against the pavement. It was then that Hank and Connor drifted to you, waiting behind you, and began to converse. The banter began playfully light, at first, as Hank likened Connor to a poodle, always following him around, but Connor flipped the script quickly.

Your head jerked over your shoulder, giving the men a tantalisingly teasing gaze at their physical and emotional proximity.

The apology was something you didn't understand, something you must have missed at an earlier date, but it was innocent and sincere nonetheless. The warmth of affection had spread across Hank's demeanour, offering Connor a half-snarky quip that you could tell was laced with more endearment than he would have liked to let on. You supposed it was easy for him, that way, to protect himself rather than form an attachment or let himself be vulnerable with an android of all things.

And you understood, too.

You understood the bitter sting of rejection and the fear and anxiety that came packed up in a tight little bow when it came to getting close to someone. But it was easier for you to get along with Androids, and that's where it differed for you and Hank.

Humans scared you.

Finally, the man turned his broad shoulders around and gave you an acknowledging nod, passing off the drink with his right hand. You took it gingerly, drawing back as his fingers fluttered against yours, and lowering your head. "Thank you". The drink was explosive on your tongue, teeth tingling at the sensation of bubbles drifting down your throat. The coolness of the liquid was soothing, even on a cold day.

As you merged to the side, allowing Hank to take his own order, Connor’s eyes followed you like a child with a sweet.

You took safety under an umbrella, but it did almost nothing to combat the steady drizzle of rain against your body. Connor placed his hands on the table as if steadying himself, and whipped his head left and then right. Hank slid between the both of you, placing his burger wrapper on the metal table and beginning to devour his meal.

The conversation went slow, much like the rhythm of the raindrops falling around you. Each word exchanged seemed to carry the weight of the moisture-laden air, hanging for a moment before dissipating into the atmosphere. Connor's furrowed brow and Hank's focused appetite set the tone for the subdued interaction. They spoke of small, intimate things, such as Hank's involvement with gambling, or even the calories in his meal. You became conscious that you stood out like a sore thumb between the two.

Feeling satisfied, Connor turned to you with a newfound, almost quizzical expression.

"This morning, when we were chasing those deviants... why didn't you want me to cross the highway?"

Your eyes snapped to him, words leaving your mouth with ease, the answer obvious, "Because I didn't want you to get hurt, or killed"

The concept was so foreign to the android sitting across from you. The concept that someone cared enough to stop him from being in harms way, someone who didn’t just see him as an expense or extra paper work. Someone who wanted him around. To you, he wasn’t a large, expensive paperweight, but a living, breathing thing.

And well, that confused him.

There were no instructions for how to deal with a situation like this. He had been prepared for every nasty comment or abusive behaviour that could be thrown his way, and had prepared each thoughtful response. But he had never been trained for how to respond to someone taking kindly to him.

His cheeks were cast with a light blush, one that could only be detected in certain light as the peeking sun burst on his skin. If you or Hank noticed, you didn’t say anything, content to sit and enjoy lunch in the company of one another.

Undisturbed peace.

-

[sorceresski]

Our First Date - Ruben Dias

Summary: you make a new friend on vacation and spend the best evening of your life together

I’m pretty sure I’m the target audience for this😹

She burst out of the restaurant into the cool night, pushing past someone, not caring to apologize.

“Fuck!” She shouted into the street. “All I want is 24 hours of peace! Don’t I deserve that!” Frustration threatened to spill as her vision clouded with tears.

She didn’t take as many vacations as she would like but that meant she could accumulate them and take them all at once. Which is what she planned doing for summer this year. A 2 week long break away from the four walls of her office building.

That is, if her co workers would respect it.

“Damn, and I thought I was having a bad weekend.” She jumped at the sudden intrusion of the stranger’s cool voice, it was the same person she’d bumped into on her way out. She wasn’t short but I had to look up at him, really look.

Dark hair, brown eyes and sporting a beard, he was handsome. He wore a white dress shirt folded at the sleeves and cargo pants and if she tilted her head a little, he almost looked familiar. Although he had an accent, his English was perfect. He was the first person she’d had to interact with without google translate.

“I’m sorry for my rudeness earlier…I just have a lot going on.”

He eyed her. “I never would have guessed,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m Ruben.”

She stared at his outstretched hand, suddenly realizing she was talking to a stranger on a dark street, save for a distant street lamp, while travelling solo in a country she didn’t understand the language. She shook his hand tentatively, wondering if she should give him a fake name.

“Rebecca.”

“Did you just give me a fake name?”

“What? No, that’s actually my name,” he threw up his hands at her sudden defensiveness.

The waiter who had been standing to the side with her check, worried she was about to dine and dash, took this as his opportunity, “Erm, excuse me…your…” he waved the paper.

“Oh.” Relief flooded Rebecca’s features, finally an escape. She snatched the paper from him and hurried back into the restaurant throwing an “it was nice meeting you Ruben” behind her.

Settled back at her table, she was about to hand the waiter her card when she noticed the stranger approaching her table with dismay.

“Let me pay for your meal,” Ruben said, casually pulling out the chair across from her.

Rebecca watched silently as he gave his card to the waiter instead. She could tell he was a persistent person and arguing with him would just be a back and forth which he would eventually win.

Ten minutes later, they were outside the restaurant again.

“It’s just…” he glances at the shiny watch on his wrist, “7:30. Do you want to do something else?”

Rebecca sighed. “Look, Ruben, thank you for paying for my meal. I really appreciate it. But I’d really like to get back to my hotel room, my friends are waiting for me.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Another lie? What if you send a picture of my ID to your friends?”

She thought about it. She did need to take her mind off work and what’s a trip to Portugal without stupidly running off with a handsome stranger into the night?

“Alright.” She took a picture of his ID and sent it to her sister back home with the message “in case I go missing x.”

“You’re Portuguese?” She asked, handing him back his ID.

He nodded, “I am.”

“Great, then you can give a me walking tour.”

They spent the rest of the evening walking, conversation flowed easily. Eventually they found themselves staring at the ocean, they’d somehow ended up on the beach.

It was chilly and deserted save for a few out of place pairs like them. The moonlight reflected off the water disrupted by the crashing waves.

Arm in arm, they walked along the shore, his jacket draped over her shoulder.

“Don’t you miss Portugal? It’s very beautiful here.” Rebecca asked when Ruben revealed he lived in Manchester. “Manchester weather is awful.” She scrunched her nose and he laughed at the gesture, she did that a lot.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” he shrugged. “It’s work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a footballer.” She slapped his shoulder.

“That’s why you looked so familiar! For Manchester City?” He nodded, amused. “I’ve seen your face on a few posters here and there.”

“And for Portugal.”

Rebecca faked a swoon. “I didn’t know I had a star on my hands.” They both laughed at that.

Soon, they came to a clearing dotted with trees, their leaves swaying in the canopy above.

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a footballer.”

“Don’t say that,” she said. “They can hear you.” He looked at the trees and then at her. “You okay?” And then, not a question, “You really think trees can hear us.”

“Of course not. It’s just something my mother used to say to make us conscious of what we say. But you don’t mean that do you?”

He leaned against a tree. “Okay, I love being a footballer but sometimes I wish I could be a regular guy without someone coming up to me for a selfie or to sign something.”

“No one has approached us all evening.” Rebecca looked around to emphasize her point.

“Because it’s dark.” He deadpanned.

She shrugged. “I would give anything to swap lives with you. You’re doing what you love, well compensated for it and you represent your country at the highest level. Some people can only dream of the life you have.”

He let her words wash over him. “I guess I could practice a little more gratitude.”

They talked for a little bit more until Ruben eventually looked at his watch, “it’s getting late, let’s get you back to your hotel.”

“I never got your number,” Rebecca said when they got to the hotel she was staying in. The exchanged phones to put in their numbers, hugs and promises of a second date when they both returned to England.

A/n: I’ve had this in drafts for almost a month now.

I also didn’t know how to end it🧍🏽‍♀️