#even better when they both help each other

[night-raven-tattler]

Just... Just Mc asking Jamil, Trey, Idia and Sebek to do the "painting your nails with your s\o eye color"

I'VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH THIS AND WOULD BE SO CUTE IN YOUR WRITING (。´��⊂)

-🌙

Hello 🌙! This is an adorable request and Mx Tattly lives for this kind of romantic fluff. Thank you for your request!

Nailing that new look!

Characters: Trey, Jamil, Idia, Sebek × GN!Reader (romantic, separate)

Warnings: minor chapter 6 spoilers, mentions of food in Trey's part, implied body issues in Idia's part

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Trey was hard at work, his hands kneeding into the dough and his arms flexing with strain

Despite his physical effort, he was in high spirits, smiling to himself as he looked at the dough in his hands- or, better said, his hands in the dough

His nails were, for the first time in his life, adorning nail polish

But not any nail polish, but one the color of your eyes

Cater was there when you showed Trey a thread on Magicam that showed a cute trend, lovers painting their nails with the color of each other's eyes, and how much you seemed to enjoy the idea

But you didn't dare to ask outright - maybe Trey wasn't comfortable with that kind of thing, which you respected

Yet, the moment you were gone, Trey turned towards Cater and asked him to help find nail polish that matched your eyes and his eyes...

Trey's smile grew even fonder at the memory as he finished with the dough, putting it aside to rest

He was working on some rolls he could hopefully greet you with later...

"Someone's been in a good, spoiling mood lately."

Your voice rung pleasantly in the wing and in Trey's mind as you took a bite out of his rolls

"They're my favorite flavor, too. How did you know?"

Trey grinned as he saw you wipe your mouth the cream with a tissue, his eye color complimenting your nails quite nicely

"I guess I was really lucky this time, huh?"

You huffed in amusement at his answer, both of you knowing he was not honest

But he was smiling in content with the way you almost seemed to show off your nails whenever he looked at you

And you also looved very pleased with yourself when he reached to wipe some cream off your face with his thumb, his nails clearly showing off the color of your eyes

Despite it being a trend, it was like a secret between the two of you

A discreet exchange of words of love between the two of you

『••✎••』

The Scarabia boy didn't really keep up with trends, and internet culture memes usually flew over his head

But you never cared about that, and always explained things to Jamil in group settings so he wouldn't feel too out of the loop

Yet, he kept hearing you talk about this one trend with your friends, a trend you yet had to explain to him, which made him curios enough to look it up himself

As he was reading the first article that popped up, a small devious grin started adorning his face

The master of always being one step ahead of you was cooking up a new way to surprise you...

A usual, silent cuddle session in the evening turned into him taking your hand and bringing it to his lip

His lips on your knuckles brought a small stutter to your heart, making it forget how to beat for a second

You could swear Jamil was a cuddlebug the moment every window and door was closed, and he seemed to get high off of the feeling of having you all to himself

"Your hands are very different than mine."

If your entire attention weren't focused on Jamil, you almost would've missed his words

"Really? How so?"

As to show you the differences, Jamil brought your hands in front of you, putting his palm and aligning his fingers to fit yours

His hands were more calloused, his fingers were quite longer, and his nails were well taken care of

"...When did you start painting your nails, love?"

He smiled at your, a mix of affection and mischief

"Only recently. I felt the need to try something new. Something... different."

It was a peculiar color choice for nail polish, and it didn't go with his general aesthetic at all

"Maybe we should paint our nails together. What do you think?"

His question caught you off guard, but you excitedly accepted his offer

Jamil was a very skilled person, and he definitely knew how to do nails properly

Much to your surprise, he simply reached towards his nightstand and took a small bottle out of his drawer

"You have the color picked and everything, huh? You little..."

Your tease died on your throat when you saw the color of the polish, and suddenly it clicked into your mind

You looked at Jamil, affection and admiratyion and amusement all dancing in your eyes together

"How did you know...?"

He only gave you a satisfied grin, making you blush slightly

Jamil has his way of always surprising you, if always catching you off guard in one way or another, but this was beyond what you expected

Jamil was always so thoightful, so careful with you, and it made your heart swell

...and the payback in kisses almost infinite

『••✎••』

The Shroud family was forced to carry a curse, a punishment extending through generations for the mistakes of just one reckless Shroud

The overly fast blot dissolution leads to his trademark fire-like blue hair, and the blue coloration of his lips, his nails and fingertips

Looking down at his hands and seeing that blue can be hard sometimes, seeing that blue and the weight he's been forced to carry

But the first time he looked down and saw a differently color he kind of jumped until he remembered what happened

He saw every single one of the Magicam videos you sent him, and he has been aware of the trend way before you were

"You can't say that this isn't a bit cringe..."

He pouts as his left hand is receiving a much needed manicure from you while he does his dailies on his phone

"Maybe a little bit, but you still agreed to it."

Your smooth hands hold his gently as you apply the nail polish of your eye color, while you already have that golden hue adorning your nails

Idia grumbled to himself a little bit, his hair glowing more pink the longer you held his hand

Once the first hand was done, you let it go and pushed it towards him

"Careful to not smudge it. What do you think?"

Idia took a few moments to examine his newly painted nails, trying to will his brain into not finding it weird to not see his natural, blue tinted nails

Now they carried a color he could only describe as full of life, as full of something other than dread

And, somehow, they made his hands look more... appealing, like he didn't see the same weirdly long, boney fingers attached to a palm way too narrow

Of course the color of you looked weird on his fingers, but it was the kind of weird that was quirky more than anything

He pursed his lips, his hair turning more pink as he struggled to find the words to say

"...This is the kind of cringe I can get behind."

His voice came out as more of a mumble, a small admission instead of his sigh of defeat whenever you got him to do something coupley like this

You offered him a small smile, pulling his phone out of his other hand and resting it on his lap as you worked on his other hand

"Glad to hear that."

『••✎••』

"Why would I want to paint my nails in the color of your eyes?"

His question sounded rude to some, even as if he was questioning why he'd want to indulge in something so silly

But by this point in your relationship you knew Sebek well enough to know he was simply genuinely confused by the trend you just showed him

"It's a form of... showing devotion, I suppose. We paint each other's nails as the color of each other's eyes to show that, no matter what, we carry a small part of the other with us at all times."

Sebek let those words sink in before he nodded

"So this is why you want to do this with me?"

You nodded as both of your cheeks grew rosy at the small proposal

"I also thought it would be really cute, you know..."

You added, and Sebek mumbled something about "not needing to do cute as a guard", but he loved to see you happy, so he relented

The next day, you were in town, shopping for the nail polish

And, to your surprise, you had to help Sebek make the difference between crimson and emerald... huh

Once you picked the colors, you were ready to leave, yet...

Your eyes lingered on a certain color, a shade of lime that came close to yellow, vibrant that reminded you of a certain heir

"Hey, Sebek."

Sebek hummed at you when you caught his attention, looking down at the bottle you picked up

"This shade is close enough to Malleus' eye color, don't you think?"

It took a few moments for him to catch on, and he was... taken aback by your consideration

And the two of you left the shop as he sung your praises for your observation and quick thinking

Sebek was the type of person who enjoyed symmetry, a clean and neat look

Belief that lately has been contradicted by his mismatched nail polish

When anyone asks, he gets slightly embarassed and stuttery, but to him it's a proud display of devotion

The eye color of his liege adorns his left hand, the hand with which he yields his sword, his baton, his magic

And your eye color adorns his right hand, the hand you always hold when he's busy so he isn't preoccupied, the hand he reaches towards you in moments of danger to push you behind him, offering you protection

[yapileon]

@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 3

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader pt. 1 — pt. 2 2670w, it's kinda angsty, be warned<3 r gets nicknamed: "Diablilla" aka little devil in spanish as an endearment term "Skrulla" aka goofball/silly in norwegian for a mischievous child

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

You lean your head back against the metal locker, a smug smirk tugging at your lips. Your eyes meet Pina's and you can't help but choke back a snort. 

You had called the forward in the morning, asking her to come pick you up since you wouldn't be able to walk to training like you had done for the past years. 

"You owe it to me after that whole mess you started about my phone wallpaper yesterday," you huffed. While you weren't actually mad at Pina, you were sure as hell going to milk every favor you could out of her. 

"Sure," she agreed without even needing a reason. This team was a family. If you needed a ride and she could help you out, she would do it, no questions asked. 

“Do you have space in the trunk for…” you trailed off, unsure if you could trust her now. If she said no, then your plan would fail.

“Sí, Diablilla, now tell me the plan,” you could hear her chuckle through the phone like she had read your thoughts. And just like that, you became partners in crime.

The both of you arrived at the training centre giggling like children, clutching at each other's arms from how much you were laughing. You had underestimated how mischievous Pina could be for a good joke. Coming up with an ever better plan than the original, you both go straight to work. 

The locker room is slowly filling, everyone realizing what you had done, most people figuring out Pina was in on it too with the glances you kept exchanging. Hushed whispers were heard around the room, everyone waiting for Mapi to come in. Pina had a phone propped up to capture it all.

You were doom scrolling your fan account, posting some more memes when the door opened again. You knew she had to arrive soon, almost everyone else was here already. 

Silence. 

You looked up to see Mapi walking in, smiling and in a good mood like usual, with Ingrid trailing behind. You bite your jersey to hide a smile you can’t camouflage. 

Mapi stood frozen, looking at her locker. Something was occupying her chair. The cardboard cutout of her doing her lion pose you owned. Fake Mapi was flexing and showing her teeth like an animal ready to fight. She burst out laughing, wheezing and letting herself fall on a chair. 

It was the cue for the whole team to explode. Pina’s voice shot up, barely hearable over the laughing. “Say hi for Instagram, Mapi!” she was moving around so much you were sure the video wouldn’t even be good.

Alexia had been standing on the side of the room, an eyebrow raised, “Of course it’s you two.” she spoke, shaking her head disapprovingly. But even serious Alexia couldn’t hold back a smile. 

“I gotta admit kid, I didn’t think you’d actually bring it,” the centre back wheezed, wiping tears away from her eyes. 

The joyful energy was only made more electric by Ingrid, who leaned into the joke. Ingrid looked alternatively between Mapi sitting on the chair and the cardboard. She posed, mimicking being deep in thoughts. 

"Mmh, which one is my girlfriend?" she had said, grinning. 

“Pina! Get this on the video!” you shouted, gesturing to whatever was about to happen, the woman happily nodded. 

She slid down next to the cardboard, throwing her arm around the fake Mapi "This one!" she exclaimed, sending everyone toppling over.

Mapi gave her a shocked look, still laughing. "Oh I see how it goes, everyone prefers that pale copy now" she feigned annoyance. Ingrid kissed the cheek of the cardboard while Mapi pouted, voice shaky as she added, “what does she have that I don’t?”

“This one doesn’t argue when I’m right.” Ingrid answered, the Norwegian might have become your favourite person in the world right now. The look on the Spaniard’s face was priceless, you could have rolled on the floor.

"El León stole the spotlight!" it was Jana who had chimed in. She was next to Pina and Patri, all three of them waving for you to get closer. You jumped to their side, hovering over Jana’s shoulder to look at the phone. 

They had posted the video seconds ago on the main Barcelona account and it was already shaking up the internet. As the team calmed down and finished getting ready, thousands of comments popped up, requesting more videos. So the four of you obliged. 

You posed Mapi and the cutout next to each other taking a picture and doing a poll in the story, which read “Which is the better Mapi?” You knew social media, you knew how to bring in numbers. 

Jana and Patri took the fake Mapi to the field while Pina and you ran to get some footballs. Both of you laughed when the cardboard had deflected a shot, still careful to keep it intact as you wanted to bring it back home safely. You all screamed “AND SHE DOES IT AGAIN, SAVING THE DAY!” zooming on it and then on Mapi, who watched with the biggest smile on her face. Mapi grabbed the phone to take selfies with the cutout. Everything was posted on the account, this would be the first thing fans ever got to see from you, and you weren’t disappointed. This was a masterpiece of an introduction to the world. 

In this moment, the bond that you had with this team felt invincible. Feeling more alive than you ever had previously. For some minutes, before Pina had arrived to pick you up, you had doubted. Maybe they wouldn’t find it funny, maybe it would make them realize how childish you really were. But even the older, more mature players had laughed at your banter. Pina had treated you like a little sister, Mapi and Ingrid played along. There was a warmth in their teasing that made you feel at home. 

So much so that you didn’t even try to argue with Alexia when she clapped, asking for everyone’s attention. “Everybody calm down, training now, chaos later.” she said firmly. 

When she saw you grinning, she approached, “Yes even you, Diablilla” she joked, ruffling your hair. “Show us what you can do, besides being a trickster.”

So you hopped off, starting to stretch, warming up your muscles. This left you some time to reflect on the whole situation. You inhaled deeply. The first training session that you had had with the team had gone well, but you were aware it was a chill one, to ease you in the team. Pere had warned you today would be “intense”, as he had said exactly. You felt ready for what they were about to throw at you. You could feel yourself getting more focused, though you were still up for a good joke if the opportunity was there. The team was currently doing sprints to activate their body before doing drills and scrimmages. 

Caro groaned after the last set, “Why do we even do this?” She was clutching her sides, trying to find her breath again.

‘So we can outrun the refs when they try to card us.” you mumbled, sprints weren’t your favorite exercise either. 

Except it seemed you did not say this as low as you intended. You looked up to see most of the team staring at you. Most veterans seemed shocked, the younger players not so much. In the corner of your eyes you could see Jana and Salma holding in a chuckle. 

“What?” you remarked, in disbelief, blush creeping onto your cheeks. Alright, it’s true that it wasn’t very smart of you to admit you were prone to getting cards so much you had to learn how to run away from the refs. 

“Dios mío!” Alexia exclaimed, putting her hand on her forehead, “Irene! You’re going to teach Cariño how to behave, sí?” she added with a sigh. 

“Not fair! Why is Caro even complaining,” you were interrupted by Irene trying to drag you away, but you persisted, “like she didn’t run at 32 km/h during the 2023 world cup?” you grumbled. 

Caro raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a proud expression. “You’re a fan now? I thought you only liked defenders.” she replied, voice full of playfulness. 

“I keep myself updated on statistics.” you attempted to say, trailing off knowing the team would, once again, never let you live that down. 

Salma came up next to you, “So you know statistics on everyone here?” she smirked, barking out a laugh when your eyes widened in horror. 

“Sorry! Can’t hear you I’m too far away getting ready for the drills,” you walked off with Irene, miming not being able to hear. 

“This isn’t over Diablilla!” screamed Vicky, “we’ll get all your fangirl secrets out of you later.” 

Oh, Vicky, if only you knew. 

As you made your way next to the other defenders, you let out a breath. Determination taking over your cheeky eyes, you touched the tip of both of your boots with your fingers. The last of your rituals, this meant the game was on. 

You threw yourself in all the tasks the coach had you do. While your inexperience showed on certain drills, your will to do well still pleased the team. In some ways, having spent so many years studying everything about that team helped you on the pitch. You could guess where Alexia would try to do a backward pass, or where Aitana’s ball control might be more problematic to intercept. You tried your best to mirror Mapi, bending your knee lows, trying to push attackers on the side you wanted. An interception you made earned you a wide grin from Mapi while Ingrid had her thumbs up toward the sky to congratulate you. A shy smile creeped on your lips.

You were putting up a solid fight, having done a few successful tackles during a particularly difficult scrimmage. Maybe it’s how you ended up messing up so bad. The confidence rushed through you when you decided to slide tackle Caro. She was doing a solo run, and you were feeling mixed, split between not wanting to lose if she scored an equalizer and wanting praises from your teammates. It was childish, really. Almost shameful. You weren’t here to be praised, you were here to work. But she was running, and you were shoulder to shoulder with her. It felt like the right timing, so you slid. The adrenaline rush was so strong that you didn’t use your brain enough. You knew she was a master at feints, but still for a second you thought you had it. 

You sensed the wet grass brushing against your skin, until the grass was replaced with a training cone you collided with. You froze, your whole body burning, watching in horror as Caro continued her run, chipping the ball over Cata, making her team come up to 2-2. And that was your fault, if you had accessed the situation for longer, you wouldn’t have dived head first into an unnecessary tackle.

Ingrid jogged over to you, “You alright, Skrulla?” reaching her hands to help you stand up. If your ears weren’t ringing so bad from the shame and confusion, you would have asked the Norwegian what it meant. 

You shrugged, wiping the grass from your shorts in embarrassment. 

You knew you didn’t do a good job hiding it when the green eyed woman added, “At least it wasn’t my back this time?” She was smiling brightly at you, so you forced out a laugh, the emotions stuck in your throat. 

You shook your head, going back into position. Any positive feeling from your earlier exploit long gone. You tried to brush it off, but you were so frustrated with yourself and still had half the session to go through. So you pushed yourself more, hoping to erase the bad memory. 

It didn’t work though. By the time training finished, you were exhausted. Letting yourself flop on the ground, you clutched at your chest in pain. Little by little your abilities on the pitch had faded away, each pass connecting less and less, your timing getting worse. Everyone could see it, and some of your teammates gave you questioning looks. You couldn’t deal with the attention on you, so you jumped up and made a beeline for the lockers. 

You showered quicker than you thought possible, but by the time you were done, multiples of your teammates were around you. The buzzing of the room annoyed you more than it ever had previously. 

You look up to see Ingrid and Mapi whispering, throwing glances at you. So, like the child you are, you grabbed your cardboard cutout and fled. Waving off a very confused Pina who thought she’d drive you back home. 

As you walk, you can’t help but feel increasingly stupid. You know you shouldn't be nearly as bothered with that tackle as you currently were. It was so stupid. But it was so badly timed and you were ashamed about it. Sure your teammates were nice to you, and you all laughed together, but with that awful move you had just pulled? There was no way they'd ever trust you on the field. How could they trust you if you couldn't even slide tackle an opponent? Why would Pere give you any minutes if you messed up so bad when there was no pressure on you. 

By the time you reached your dorm, you could feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them with your sleeve, throwing yourself on your bed.  

That was the down side of your brain. The obsession over football, that one singular process who made you apart from other players but was also your downfall. The way you’d obsess over every single one of your flaws, needing to perfect them all. Needing to have as much information on players. You’d drive yourself crazy and sleep deprived watching footage until the birds would sing outside, signaling you it was early morning. It wasn’t healthy. But it was all you knew.

You had grown up with coaches who had screamed at you that the difference between an amateur and a pro was when they stopped their drills. An amateur does it right once and stops, a pro keeps going until they can’t get it wrong. So you just kept pushing. In some way, you hoped your brain would ease off having finally made the first team. It hadn’t.

You rolled over, looking at the fake Mapi, still deep in thoughts. Your eye caught sight of a black mark on it, making you jump in a hurry. Had you damaged it while walking back home? Or when Pina and you were using it for shooting practice? Frowning, you leaned closer trying to figure out what had happened. 

You gasped when you saw it.

You have the potential to be one of the greatest.

— Mapi 

You let the tip of your fingers brush over the writing. Your idol hadn’t only signed the cardboard without you even asking, she had written this. You felt a tug at your heartstring, and promised yourself to thank her profusely tomorrow. 

For now, the only thing you could do was calm down. You inhaled deeply, feeling the rise of your ribcage, and exhaled softly, trying to release any tensions in your body. Maybe it was fine, maybe nobody would be mad at you, maybe you’d be able to fix it during the next training. 

You needed a distraction, so you pulled out your phone to check the latest post from your fan account.

TacklerCulers

tacklerculers: Did you know? Attackers that trip in front of Mapi León are actually just nervous to be close to her.

barcafan11: @TacklersCulers Are you going to talk about the new signing we saw on the official barça page today?

alex1aa: I’m really disappointed, Barça does not need a clown.

b0nmat12: I hope she’s just a social media person and not a player, otherwise we’re doomed for the Champions League.

Your stomach twisted when you saw the comments. You threw the phone at the wall and buried yourself into the blanket on your bed. The weight of failure still crushing your chest.

[beforetimes]

planning a modern/fame timebomb au in my head where jinx is a celebrity recovering from addiction after a public meltdown who's lost contact with most of the people she knew when pre-breakdown/pre-fame. and in completing her recovery program she reaches out to ekko to offer a direct apology for anything she might have said/might have happened in the depths of her addiction, but doesn't hear back from him.

following this she decides to go out and sign up for a program to help at-risk kids like herself—after reflecting in therapy and realizing that a lot of the issues that lead to her being in such a volatile state of mind was because of the lack of support she had in childhood when dealing with losing her family [haven't planned what would work as a stand-in for the powder factory explosion so lets skirt past that for now] she decides that she wants to be that support for other people that she didn't have herself, after spending about a year trying to get better.

basically, she signs up as a volunteer to this big brother/sister-esque outreach program after a few months of anonymously donating to see if she can help someone in person rather than continuing to isolate herself. which is where she meets isha, who immediately imprints on jinx and insists on following her around. and jinx, who is unused to being at the centre of someone's attention without larger expectations that come with her status as a celebrity attached as caveat, starts relaxing by the very nature of her interactions with isha not being as loaded as others. like, this is just a kid! she doesn't know about jinx's issues or how she freaked out and lost it on stage/on a set/made headlines before disappearing from the public eye and ending up here. all isha sees is someone with cool blue hair and nails she wants to try her hand at painting.

after a few months of building a rapport with isha through this community mentor program, jinx accidentally bumps into the last person she really expected to see here—ekko.

ekko is also very surprised to see her here, because the last time he saw her, she was freaking out on him because he wouldn't enable her self-destructive behaviour, their final and most explosive fight resulting in their subsequent falling out where jinx threw a lot of shit back in his face and he did the same and they decided not to contact each other. well, besides jinx's attempt at an apology, but he didn't reply to that.

he sees her here and they both freeze because, like? what do you even do in this situation? they haven't seen each other in a few years at this point, maybe two or three at the most. enough time that it feels so entirely awkward to even try to act like nothing happened while also knowing that it would be equally nerve-grating to try and acknowledge the history between them.

of course, this stand-off is interrupted by isha, who sees jinx frozen in the hall and immediately stomps over to drag her away because they had been working on a painting together that she's been waiting to finish all week.

and jinx eventually relaxes because ekko doesn't say anything and neither does she, even though she wants to know what he's doing here in the first place. but the day ends without any further interactions between the two.

eventually, after asking around, jinx learns that ekko was the one who set the program up a few years prior, a tentative friend in the program telling her that the community didn't really have a lot of resources on hand and that a lot of the program was personally financed by ekko and he did a lot of work to try and uplift the people and community without demanding financial support in return, like most state-funded programs tend to do.

jinx is just, like, in awe of the fact that this childhood friend grew up to do something so great before being overwhelmed with guilt over the fact that she had been so wrapped up in her own world that she hadn't even noticed.

of course, this doesn't really change things because they're still not talking to each other, but weeks pass and jinx feels like they've gotten into a steady pattern of avoiding each other.

what she doesn't know is that ekko has been subtly watching in on her and isha's little hang-out sessions and is just in awe that this girl who had only a few years ago been so unsure of herself and in so much pain had managed to heal to the point of being able to help someone else and make a good positive impact on isha's life in a program he created.

so, after a while, jinx gets a reply on that email she had sent him nearly a year ago where ekko just asks if she wants to meet for lunch. which she replies to, after a lot of back-and-forth, by saying yes absolutely.

and then the romance unfolds further from there, yadda yadda yadda. haven't decided how this will ultimately end or where vi will play a part or anyone else but i thought that the bare bones concept i had in mind was worth posting here.

in my head maybe ekko's second, scar would be a friend who had seen the majority of the fallout and would be warning him away in the background while ekko was sort of caught up in being both happy that jinx seemed to be doing better while also conflicted on whether or not he wanted to forgive her because their last fight was like, super nasty. awful stuff said

maybe if anyone has ideas for how vi / cait / anyone else could be worked in, you can leave that below?? none of this is super set in stone! just rambling. ^_^

[twirlyleafs]

Falling apart, alone.

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: The season has been brutal, everyone could see it. Everyone could see Lando struggling. You could see it too, you just didn’t know how to help him when he so clearly didn’t want your help.

TW: bad mental health, anger, helplessness.

Notes: all I want in life is for Lando to be happy ngl I love that boy. Also sorry max <3 ALSO I got an anonymous tip to add summaries so I’m trying that thank u anon!! xx

~~~~

The sun hung low in the sky, illuminating the almost unbelievably blue water and bouncing off the golden cliffs. Your eyes had been caught out the window ever since you got out along the coastline, Lando maneuvering the car along the squiggly road. The blur of golden hues, olive trees and colorful villas had you let out a content sigh.

The break couldn’t have come at a better time. That’s the thought that constantly ran through your mind. This break, a three week break from everything that racing and f1 brought with it, came at the last minute and you couldn’t be more grateful. The season was grueling, both physically and mentally. You’d watched Lando push himself harder than ever, the pride of being on top overshadowed by a desire to do better. You could see how the weight of expectations, both others and his own, dragged him down like an anchor and you felt for him. His smiles had started to falter and the usually bright light in his eyes had been dimmed these past few months, only getting worse with each race weekend. He needed this, time away from the spotlight and the relentless scrutiny from the media. Time to just relax and be reminded that he’s loved, loved and appreciated. Max and P were already waiting for you at the villa you’d rented for the week, a little house tucked into the Italian hills. When Max brought it up as a suggestion you’d immediately accepted, not even giving Lando the chance to decline. Max was his safe space just as much as you were and the more people to support him the better, you thought. You hadn’t told Lando this of course, instead expressing how much you’d always wanted to rent a house on the Italian coast, but some part of you still believed he knew this was mostly for him. For his health.

You glanced over at him in the drivers seat, one hand securely on the steering wheel and the other resting on the console between you. His curls had gotten longer recently, almost dropping down over his eyebrows, and you made a mental note to offer to cut his hair while you were here. If he’d let you. Your heart ached at the tightness of his jaw and you gently reached over to wrap your fingers around his larger ones. Lando immediately glanced over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he flipped his hand to intertwine with yours.

“What?” He asked softly. “Why are you staring?”

“Nothing.” You smiled, leaned over to press a gentle kiss against his shoulder. “I’m just excited. We’re almost there, right?” When Lando nodded you let out a soft breath. “I’m happy we’re doing this. It’s going to be so nice.”

“Me too.” Landos smile had grown, although there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. Something somber. He brought your hand over to press a quick series of kisses against it before focusing back on the road, the silence settling in the car again. Just a few minutes later you rolled to a stop outside the villa, the epitome of picturesque with pale stone walls and green shutters surrounded by cypress trees. The front door opened just as you stepped out of the car, both Max and Pietra slipping out with huge smiles on their faces. You beamed as P skipped down the steps, hurrying over to wrap you up in a hug and greeting you with the type of enthusiasm that made you feel welcome and wanted.

“You’re late.” Max teased loudly as he offered you a hug, P moving to lovingly greet Lando.

“We took the longer route, more scenery.” Lando quipped back, backing away as Max approached him. You stopped to watch them, a smile tugging at your lips when you heard Lando let out a laugh as Max grabbed him in a playful headlock. Maxs laugh was louder, ruffling Landos hair before he finally managed to wrangle himself free. Watching them you felt a flicker off hope. If Max could pull a laugh from Lando after thirty seconds, maybe a week together would really do Lando some good.

The first few days in the villa passed in a haze of slow mornings and lazy afternoons, the four of you enjoying the quiet and each other’s company. Lando and Max made it a routine to take a morning run together while you and P prepared breakfast, all of you eating together on the patio when they got back. The breakfasts usually went on way onto midday, time not really being an issue for any of you. It felt like the rest of the world was on pause and you had all the time in the world. You would catch Lando smiling, the kind that actually reached his eyes and made you believe he might actually be doing better. But those moments didn’t last. It was the small things; the way his gaze would drift during conversations or the way he picked at his own cuticles until he started bleeding. He laughed and joked like normal but there was an edge to it, almost forced, and if you and Max and Pietra hadn’t known him as well as you did you never would’ve noticed. You also noticed how often he’d excuse himself for a few moments, disappearing under the guise of checking emails or answering calls. One evening the four of you were gathered in the living room, Lando absentmindedly rubbing circles on your back as you handed out the cards for the upcoming round of poker. The game started lighthearted enough, Maxs usual trash talk and both you and P calling him out when he tried to cheat. Lando made a rare mistake and before he could think Max called him out for it, teasing him about being off his game. You could see the way Landos jaw tightened, a flicker of something darker flashing across his face before he forced a strained smile. A comment like that was normal, usually nothing anyone reacted to, but it obviously got under his skin tonight and once again the worry settled in your stomach. That night, laying in bed together, you reached out to gently run your fingers through his curls. Lando hummed, opening one eye to glance at you.

”You okay?” The careful question had him pressing his eyes shut again, offering a nod.

”Yeah, of course. Just tired. Are you?” You knew he wasn’t but you didn’t want to push, didn’t know how he’d react, so you just mirrored his nod before shuffling closer. Lando wrapped you up in his arms, pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head.

The days went on like that, a wobbly line between worry and relaxation, until one evening. You and P were already sprawled out on the couch, tucked under a blanket each as you scrolled through the different streaming services.

”Im telling you, the parent trap is a classic.” Pietra declared, reaching over to grab her glass of wine. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

”It’s a classic you’ve already made us watch like three times.” She laughed at that, nudging you back after you softly kicked her. As you continued bickering over the movie for the night low voices could be heard from the kitchen. Max and Lando had been there for a while, preparing the snacks, but from where you sat in the living room you didn’t notice the tension brewing.

Lando stood with his back against the counter, his jaw tight as he watched Max lean against the opposite side of the kitchen island. Max’s brows were furrowed in worry while Landos eyes were dark, angry.

”Im not saying you have to quit.” Max spoke in a low voice, laced with concern. ”I’m just saying, maybe it’s worth it to consider it? Or at least a break, before things get worse.”

”I don’t need a break.” Lando let out a bitter scoff, shaking his head. ”And I’m definitely not quitting. I just need to push through.”

”Push through what? This season? Next? For how long? You’re exhausted Lando, we can all see it. You’re not sleeping, barely eating-”

”You’re exaggerating. Im fine.”

”You’re not!” Max’s voice rose, the frustration he felt breaking through. ”You’re not fine Lan, stop saying that.”

”You’re acting like I’m about to fall apart Max, it’s not that-”

”Not about to.” Max interrupted him, words hard and snappy. ”You are falling apart. I can see it, I know what that looks like. I’ve been there, you know I have. You think I don’t recognize the signs?” Lando visibly stiffened, hands gripping the counter behind him roughly enough to turn his knuckles white. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, voice laced with venom.

”This isn’t like that Max. It’s not the same.”

”Isn’t it?” His voice cracked slightly as Max stared at his best friend. ”I know it’s hard to admit that you’re struggling Lando, especially when you’re under as much pressure as you are but please, you have to let us help you. If you keep going like this-“

”Just because you couldn’t handle it doesn’t mean I can’t.” The words cut through the room like a knife, Max flinching as if he actually got cut. Silence settled in the kitchen, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant giggles from you and P out in the living room. When Max stayed silent Lando felt the need to speak again, although his words had lost their harshness. ”I’m not you.”

”No, you’re not.” Max nodded, voice steady but clearly hurt. ”But you’re not that different. You’re not invincible Lando and pretending you are…it’s only going to make things worse.”

”I don’t need a lecture. I am fine, even if you don’t believe it. I’m handling it.”

”Handling it? You call this handling it?” Landos face flushed as Max raised his voice again. ”Snapping at me, shutting out your girlfriend, acting like you don’t have a care in the world-”

”You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lando interrupted, his own voice getting louder too. 
”I know exactly what I’m talking about!” Max shot back, his frustration spilling over. ”I’ve fucking been where you are, I know what it’s like to feel like you can’t afford to stop, like the weight of it all is going to crush you if you admit you need help but come on Lando, snap the fuck out of it. This, what you’re doing now, its self-destruction.” The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. For a moment Landos expression faltered, the anger on his face shifting into somethings else, maybe fear, but just as quickly he masked it again. With a shake of his head he turned his gaze away, crossing his arms over his chest. Max realized he wouldn’t be able to break through Landos walls, not tonight, and with a resigned sigh he stepped back. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but shook his head instead before walking out. Both yours and Pietras heads snapped up as he walked past the living room, having heard the last couple of sentences exchanged between the two men. When Max’s gaze found your worried one he simply shrugged his shoulders.

”What-” you began, not finding the words.

”I don’t know. I tried, I really did but he doesn’t want help.”

When you slowly entered the kitchen a few minutes later Lando was still standing tensely, bracing himself against the counter. He didn’t look up when you entered and the tension radiating of him was almost scary. When you softly spoke his name, taking a step closer, he flinched.

”Don’t.” His voice was sharp enough to make you pause. Swallowing harshly you forced yourself to stay calm, your voice to stay soft.

”I just want to talk.”

”Well I don’t.” He finally lifted his face, glaring at you. The anger in his eyes should’ve made you back down but the unshed tears glossing them had your heart aching instead. ”I don’t need you telling me what to do too.”

”No one is trying to tell you what to do Lando. We’re just worried about you, you’re not doing well-”

”Worried about me. Right. What did Max say to you? That I’m losing it? That I need to quit?”

”No,” you argued, frowning. ”No Max didn’t say anything to me but we’ve all seen you these past months, not to talk about these last days. We’re all-”

”Worried! Yeah I fucking get it.” Your eyes widened as he raised his voice, not being used to him speaking to you like this. ”You’re all looking at me like I’m fucking crazy but I’m not. I don’t need your help, I don’t want your help, so just fuck off for a while and let me deal with it.” You stared at him, heart slowly cracking open. He was unraveling infront of you and you didn’t know what to do, how to help him, and you felt like the worst girlfriend in the world. The worst friend. His words stung, sure, but you didn’t really have time to think about how he hurt you when all you could think about was getting through to him.

”I just want you to be okay, Lando.” Your words were mere whispers, broken by the amount of concern and sadness you felt. Landos eyes flickered away, the veins in his neck popping as he clenched his jaw. For a moment you had hope he might say something, anything, but he stayed silent. You felt your throat tighten, the tears pressing behind your eyes, and you realized you didn’t have anything else to say. Nothing that he would listen to anyway. Instead you whispered how much you loved him before turning and walking away. The living room felt colder when you returned, the sympathetic expression on Pietras face as you sunk down in the couch enough for the tears to start flowing. As you curled up against P your thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess. You felt helpless, as if no matter how hard you tried it was never enough to reach him. He was slipping further and further away and you didn’t know how to pull him back. Maybe it wasn’t just him, you thought, maybe it was you. You replayed the moment in the kitchen, voice soft as you tried to get through to him only for his anger to snap back at you. You’d never seen him like that, so defensive, and it had left you shaken. But more than that, it left you questioning yourself. How could you stand there and call yourself his girlfriend when you couldn’t even get him to listen to you? What were you doing wrong? You wanted to be his anchor, his support, the person who helped him shoulder the weight he carried. But right now, it felt like everything you did only pushed him further away. Now, with P’s arms around you, unsuccessfully shielding you from the cold reality of the evening, you couldn’t stop the creeping sense of failure.

”I don’t know what to do.” You whispered, shoulders shaking with sobs. Pietra and Max exchanged glances over your head, somber expressions on their faces. Neither did they.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Behind the Scenes

Label Mature 18+

Summary You’ve never been able to contain your jealousy when it comes to Austin. So when he shoots an intimate scene as Feyd Rautha with his female co-star, your jealousy simmers just beneath the surface, before burning behind the scenes.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 jealous passion • make it better • oral on fem • claiming • P in V • sex against a mirror •orgasms• cream pie 🔗Master List

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 💭Plot inspired by @psycheetamore 💕

Behind the Scenes

You had never doubted Austin’s love for you—not really. But being in a relationship with someone so effortlessly magnetic, so achingly handsome and charming, came with its own share of insecurities. His fame was undeniable; his talent, unmatched. But what haunted you the most was how he managed to flirt without even trying. 

The way he held eye contact just a second too long, his easy smile, and the way his voice dipped into a tone that made every word sound like a secret—it wasn’t deliberate, you knew, but it still drove you crazy.

Especially when it came to other women.

Especially when those women were stunning celebrities who practically melted under his gaze.

Lea Seydoux is no exception. You’ve seen her work, admired her elegance and wit from afar, but now, watching her with him on set is unbearable. You can’t help but feel like an outsider—like you’re watching two people who fit better together than you and Austin ever could.

The scene between them is intense. Austin, fully transformed into Feyd Rautha, stands behind her—Lady Margot—his knife pressed against her throat as he whispers into her ear. His menace is undeniable, his brooding presence intoxicating, and you can’t deny how convincing Austin is in the role. But when she leads him to the next room to continue the scene, something inside you twists.

He follows her through the doors as she sits on the bed, the scene unfolding like a deadly dance. She perches on the edge of the futuristic bed, her movements precise, calculating, the perfect Bene Gesserit.

“Kneel,” Lea commands, her voice laced with quiet authority, and Austin obeys without hesitation. He sinks gracefully to his knees, his sharp, predatory energy tempered into dangerous submission.

Your eyes narrow as they lean toward each other, their faces inches apart. The tension between them is unbearable, the kind of chemistry that makes your envy uncontrollable. You can’t tear your eyes away. It looks like they are about to kiss—a slow, inevitable collision—until Lea breaks the moment with her next line.

“Put your hand in the box,” she says, her voice low, her French accent only adding to the sensual edge of the scene.

In her lap is cradled the prop of the “Jom Gabbar,” the iconic Bene Gesserit pain box. In her other hand, she holds a needle poised near his neck. The camera zooms in, capturing the dangerous intimacy between them, the way Feyd’s defiance melts into reluctant obedience as he extends his hand.

“Cut!” the director finally calls, breaking the spell. But the tension between them is too real, too raw, and even though the cameras aren’t rolling, it doesn’t stop.

Austin grins at something Lea says, her fingers lightly brushing his chest. The inky darkness of his black out smile makes the gesture both unnerving and magnetically attractive as she leans in closer to playfully tease him.

The ease between them lights a fire in your stomach. The kind of fire that burns and sears and leaves nothing but jealous ash in its wake.

By the time the filming for the day ends, you are brimming with resentment in Austin’s trailer, your thoughts racing, your chest tight with the weight of everything you’ve seen.

He emerges from the shower, his hair damp and slicked back. A towel hangs low around his hips, exposing the sharp lines of his torso, every muscle carved and glistening. The pale body paint of Feyd has been rinsed clean, but the intense persona lingers.

“You’re mad,” he says, tilting his head as he studies your expression. His voice is low and commanding. “Let me guess. Lea?”

“Don’t say her name like that,” you snap, crossing your arms. “I saw the way she was touching you, Austin. The way you were looking at her.”

He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe, every bit the picture of arrogance. “I was acting, but perhaps my talent is something you can’t discern yet,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery, the smirk on his lips daring you to argue.

“You weren’t acting when the cameras were off,” you shoot back, your voice laced with frustration and something sharper—hurt.

His smirk deepens, infuriatingly slow. “You’re jealous,” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like a quiet taunt.

“Of course I’m jealous!” you blurt, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, watching everyone throw themselves at you? And you—you just… let them.”

His eyes flicker, cool and unreadable, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gestures toward the chair beside you. “Sit.”

You bristle at his tone, crossing your arms. “No.”

“Sit,” he repeats, his voice sharper now, and it isn’t a request, Austin is being uncharacteristically insistent.

Instead of obeying, you turn your back on him, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this,” you say, your voice laced with frustration and defiance.

Before you can walk away, you feel him move behind you, his presence looming, suffocating. His hands come to your shoulders, firmly stopping you in your tracks. Slowly, his fingers slide down your arms, sensually grazing your skin in a way that makes your breath catch.

His voice is low and commanding as it brushes against your ear. “Don’t walk away from me,” he whispers, the edge in his tone unmistakable. “Not when you’re unsettled like this.”

You try to shrug him off, but his grip tightens as he steps closer, his chest brushing your back. His hand slides up, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at the full-length mirror in front of you.

“Look at yourself,” he says, his reflection towering over yours, his eyes locking onto yours in the glass. His hand stays on your chin, keeping you in place. “Do you see what I see?”

You swallow hard, your heart racing as his words settle over you. The intensity in his eyes, the dominance in his stance—it’s Feyd, unmistakably. But somewhere beneath the surface, there’s still Austin, the man who always seems to unravel you with a single glance.

“Do you think I would let anyone ruin what is mine?” he asks, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand moves from your chin to your waist, pulling you back against him. “Answer me.”

Your breath catches, your reflection betraying every crack in your composure. The line between Austin and Feyd blurs, their edges indistinguishable in his gaze. “Austin, stop it. You’re not—”

“Not what?” he interrupts smoothly, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low, almost dangerous, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

He trails a finger down your throat, slow and deliberate, the weight of his touch making you swallow hard. It’s as if he’s still lost in the scene, his intensity blurring the line between acting and reality. Instead of a knife, his hand moves lower, settling over your chest, his palm cupping your breast, his fingers kneading it gently.

“Is this what you want?” he rasps in your ear, his words dripping with wicked intent. His eyes lock onto yours in the mirror, his piercing gaze daring you to look away.

His mouth presses against your neck, and when his tongue flicks out, you catch it in the mirror—his slow, deliberate lick up the column of your throat.

He makes sure you see it, makes sure you feel every inch of his dominance as his tongue drags along your skin in a way that leaves you trembling.

Your breath comes out in a shallow gasp as he presses closer, his body aligning with yours, the hardness of his need for you unmistakable.

“Tell me,” he whispers against your ear, his voice like a dark secret, “—Tell me that you want me to kneel for you,” he rasps, smooth and tantalizing.

His lips brush the shell of your ear as he lingers, letting his words settle deep in your chest.

“Austin—” you manage, but his name comes out more like a gasp, stunned and unsteady. Your mind spins, caught between disbelief and the undeniable heat coursing through you.

Austin steps around to face you, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes dark with intent. His hands slide up your sides, grazing the curves of your breasts before lifting your shirt up and over your head.

Your breath hitches as his tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe along the valley between your breasts before his hands slide up cupping them. His lips close around one nipple, sucking gently but firmly. The heat of his mouth sending a jolt through you, your body responding instantly.

His eyes flick up, catching yours, watching every shift in your expression as he works, his tongue teasing one sensitive peak before moving to the other, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive.

Then slowly, deliberately, he sinks to his knees before you, his movements fluid and commanding. Your eyelids flutter as you feel him hook his fingers into the waistband of your leggings.

With practiced ease, he slides them down along with your panties, the cool air of the trailer brushing against your heated skin as you step out of the fabric.

Without hesitation, his hands cup the back of your thighs, pulling you flush against his mouth. Your knees nearly buckle as his tongue meets you, hot and insistent. All you can do is watch in the mirror, your reflection a blur of flushed skin and trembling limbs as he devours you hungrily. The obscene, wet sounds of his movements fill the room, his mouth working you over with a precision that makes your head spin.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, gripping tightly as your mouth falls open in a silent cry. He flicks his tongue against your clit mercilessly, the rhythm relentless until the pressure inside you builds into something you can’t contain. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping your waist as he looks up at you. The sight of him, his face buried between your legs too much to bear.

Your voice chokes off, your body shuddering as the wave of your orgasm crashes over you. He stays with you through it, his mouth slowing but never stopping until the last moan fades from your lips. Then, with maddening calmness, he wipes his face along your thigh, his teeth grazing the soft flesh there as he nips at you, leaving a faint mark.

Standing slowly, he towers over you, his presence consuming as he turns you, pressing you face-first against the full-length mirror. The cool glass against your heated skin makes you shiver, but his body is there behind you, warm and solid.

His hand slides down, loosening the front of his towel before letting it drop to the floor. You barely have time to process the sight of him before you feel the insistent head of his cock slipping against your wetness, poised to enter you.

“Now,” he says, his voice low and raspy, the hunger in his tone unmistakable as your eyes meet in the mirror. “Let me show you exactly who I belong to.”

His hands grip your waist firmly as he thrusts into you, hard and powerful, the force of it stealing the air from your lungs. You moan, your palms pressing against the cool glass for balance as he sets a relentless pace in you. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating—there’s something darker, more commanding in his movements, and you savor every second of it.

“Tell me how much you like it” he rasps his hips snapping harder with each deep driving thrust, his body unyielding as he pushes you further into the mirror.

“Yes, F—Austin,” you moan, your voice breathless, trembling under the pressure. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

His abs flex with each thrust, his body relentless as his thighs clap against the back of yours the sound echoing in the space.

His hand tangles in your hair, tugging with just enough force to pull your head back. “Look at yourself,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Watch what I do to you.”

Your eyes flick to the mirror, the sight of him behind you—his body moving with raw power—sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over you. The intensity is too much, the rhythm of his hips, the pull of his hand, the way his cock hits that perfect spot inside you again and again.

Your body trembles as you close your eyes, giving in to the overwhelming sensations as you cry out, your release washing over you in waves. He doesn’t slow, his movements coaxing every last contraction from you as his grip on your waist tightens, lingering as you orgasm completely.

His pace falters slightly as his control slips, his breaths turning into deep, guttural grunts thrusting harder and faster chasing his release until you feel the unmistakable twitch of his cock inside you.

A groan rips from his chest, low and primal, his hips pressing flush against yours as his release spills, filling you completely. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring himself in the intensity of the moment as the warmth of him come spreads between you. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his features softening in pleasure before his piercing gaze finds yours in the mirror again.

He slows his movements, pulling back to slip his satisfied cock from you, and his hands slide to your hips, steadying you as he turns you around to face him. His breaths are uneven, ghosting against your lips as his piercing gaze roams over your face. He takes in every detail—the flush of your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, and your eyes filled with pleasure.

His thumb brushes along your jawline, the roughness of his touch grounding you further as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“You’re even jealous of your own reflection,” he teases, his voice still rough from exertion.

You laugh, the sound soft and breathless as your hand rests gently against his jaw, your thumb brushing over his skin.

“I can’t help it,” you murmur, your voice filled with honesty. “You’re so special to me, Austin. Sometimes, it scares me.”

His grin softens into something warmer, more vulnerable, as his hands slide up to cup your face. “And you’re special to me,” he says, his voice quieter now, the rasp fading into sincerity. “More than you’ll ever know. No one else could ever make me feel the way you do.”

You lean into him, your cheek resting against his chest as his strong arms wrap around you, holding you close. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothes you as you let his words sink in, grounding you in the connection that only the two of you share. In his embrace, everything else melts away, leaving only the undeniable bond between you.

⚔️ End 🎬

🔗 Master List

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly. @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @psycheetamore @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @thejoywillburnoutthepain @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @missjadesfics @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @ifuckindontknow @jjubilee-fluff

[avatar-anna]

Three days had passed and Harry hadn't left your tiny apartment.

He kept saying he should probably leave, and you insisted there were things you had to do, but neither of you actually made it past the threshold of your door. No one said goodbye, or even bothered to shrug back into clothes. For three days, you ate, drank, and slept with Harry.

"You're making it hard to leave," he murmured, his voice low and content as you placed tiny kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere you could reach, really. It was how you used to wake Harry up when you were together, and when morning number four rolled around, you couldn't help yourself but lean across the bed and kiss his soft, sun kissed skin.

At first, you kept up the pretense of being unattached, of sleeping with Harry merely because you knew each other well enough physically. "This doesn't mean we're back together," you'd both whisper, or something to that effect, before blurring the lines of your non relationship once more.

"You're not making it any easier to kick you to the curb," you mumbled, one hand reaching up to caress his stubbly cheek. The fine, short hair that seemed to grow in the last few days.

Harry smelled good, like he usually did with a mix of the soap in your shower. It messed with your head in a way that was dangerous, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So he didn't leave (again), and you didn't tell him to go(again). You and Harry stayed in bed for most of the day, only bothering to get up when hunger was too apparent to ignore. You managed to whip something up from the meager groceries you had, not having gone to the market recently, and sat with Harry at the little dining table by the kitchen. The balcony would've been a much nicer spot, as it looked out over the neighborhood square you stayed in, but it was too public, too many keen eyes would've spotted Harry immediately.

"Part of me wishes I hadn't seen you at all," Harry confessed later in the day. You were back in bed after a brief stint in the kitchen where you tried to make pancakes, which promptly turned into kissing and licking pancake batter off Harry as he did the same to you on the kitchen counter, pancakes no longer a priority.

You knew he hadn't meant it to hurt you, but the words sent a pang through your chest, so different from the heat and fireworks and butterflies you usually got from him. Everything was so different now. It was hard to face how much had changed, especially now that Harry was in bed beside you. "I know."

"It's easier to pretend when I can't see you," he said softly, his hand never once stopping as it tracked through your hair, nor did your hand stop tracing patterns in his chest.

"Pretend?"

Harry blew out a large sigh before sitting up in your bed, his arms stretching high above his head. There were hickeys littered all over his body, one on his hip revealing itself as the bedsheet fell and settled just below his waist. You found yourself transfixed by your ex's body, the one you still loved so much the idea of him leaving made your heart hurt.

"Do you still love me?" Harry asked out of the blue.

The question shocked you, but only because you thought the last three days would've made it obvious. You certainly didn't have to ask him how he felt. "Yes."

"That makes it easier too. In a selfish way, I guess," he said, not once meeting your eye. "Knowing you're in as much pain as I am."

Unexpected tears welled in your eyes. You never wanted to hurt Harry. He'd been right to say it was easier to imagine him happy and healthy post break up if you didn't see or hear from him. It was easier to move on if you convinced yourselves that you were better off without each other.

"Harry—"

"I miss you, Y/n," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Harry wouldn't meet your eye, which made all of this so much worse. "I know why we broke up, and I've done everything short of sleeping with someone else to try and move on, but I just—Tell me you're struggling as much as I am. Tell me you don't sleep as well as you used to because I'm not there. Or don't. Tell me this has all just been sex to you so I know there's an end to this—this—"

"Misery?" you finished for him. "I wish I could. I don't know if I'll ever be the same again, honestly."

"Then why—"

"Don't ask why. Please. Not when you know the answer."

It wasn't like you and Harry woke up one day and stopped loving each other. Everything about your relationship had been nothing short of perfect from the very beginning.

Until it wasn't.

"No one has to know this time," Harry said. His tone had taken on a desperate edge, almost making you turn away from him so you wouldn't have to face it, do this all over again. "We can—We can keep this a secret. It'll be just us."

It will never be just us, you thought miserably. "People already know, H."

At the look of confusion on his face, you reached for your phone. You showed him the slew of articles that had already been written. Pictures of you and Harry walking through Rome together three days ago, each one picking you apart or depicting you as the villain in Harry's life.

"I know that's why you're still here. You're waiting for the storm to blow over," you said, unable to meet his eye.

"That's not—After everything I just said, you really think that's why I stayed?" he asked. You'd turned away from him, but you felt his hand on your shoulder, the kiss to your temple as he leaned in close.

"I wish I was the kind of person who didn't care what anyone thought, that I could simply exist in this relationship and not let anyone else in, but—but I'm not. I can't."

"You. Are. Enough," Harry murmured, pressing each word into your skin with a kiss. You closed your eyes, tears leaking from the corners as he curled himself around your body. One leg slid between yours, and you selfishly pulled him closer as he continued to murmur in your ear.

You fell asleep in your ex's arms, the weight of his body on yours more comforting than any blanket. When you woke up, Harry was there, but he wasn't wrapped around you anymore. He sat at the edge of your bed, wearing clothes for the first time since he'd set foot in your apartment.

"You're leaving?" you asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"I'm supposed to go to Florence tomorrow," Harry said, bent over as he tied his shoes. "I've got a dozen messages on my phone asking where I am."

Something in Harry's voice sounded different, distant, just the way he sounded when you initially ran into him. It pulled at something in your heart, something that you'd been keeping at bay since you invited Harry into your apartment—the knowledge that this would eventually end.

"So you're—You were just going to leave? Without saying anything?"

You heard Harry sigh as he rested his head in his hands. "I thought it would be easier. Our last conversation seemed...final."

"I know, but—"

But what? Harry was right. This wasn't going anywhere. You told him you couldn't be in a relationship with him, and he was responding to that. You knew it was coming, but it didn't hurt any less now that the moment had finally come.

"You're right," you said eventually, sitting up in your bed. "We came here separately, of course you have plans. I'm sorry if I kept you."

"You didn't," Harry reassured. "There's nowhere I wanted to be the last few days, but we... we're broken up, and as much as I want to stay, I don't want to keep giving myself false hope."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to touch him, hold him. But he was right. As much as you loved this relationship limbo, that was all it was. Stringing you and Harry along would only hurt you more.

"I'm sorry," was all you could say. For too many things, none of which you could bring up without crying.

"Me too," Harry said.

Harry's lean figure appeared a couple minutes later, his head bent and shoulders slightly hunched, avoiding the few photographers who had been waiting for him to leave the building. You wanted him to turn around. You wanted to see his face one last time, a final farewell. But perhaps for his sake, he didn't, and you watched as he retreated down the street and turned down the road out of sight.

Leaning across the bed, he kissed your forehead, then stood up. "One day you'll realize how extraordinary you are, and you wont care how people perceive you," he said, his thumb caressing your cheek. "And then you'll go and make someone the luckiest man in the world by giving yourself over to him completely. I'm just devastated it wasn't me."

You watched him go from the sanctuary of your bed, knowing the second he was out of sight you'd break down completely. The door closed with a soft clock, and even though you knew you shouldn't, you hurried over to your bedroom window, waiting anxiously to get one last glimpse of him.

On your last day in Rome, you found a note he'd written.

Harry had hidden it in one of the pockets of his favorite of your sweaters, though you weren't exactly sure when. It wasn't very long, and the note itself was no more than a scrap of paper, one you'd nearly thrown out by accident. But you would've recognized his handwriting anywhere, and fond memories of notes you used to find among your things kept you from throwing away the folded paper and opening it instead.

Perhaps in another life. Unless you change your mind in this one, H.

[kzrosa-writes]

・︶꒦꒷ ˚ ₊ ✦ LOVE WAR ; dottore & pantalone x reader

two smitten harbingers fighting for your love and your heart, how do they try to win you over? ; love triangle between dottore and pantalone

likes, reblogs n follows are appreciated! <3

Attracting the attention of a Fatui Harbinger would be considered an accomplishment on its own. But two? That was much more than a miracle. But were you really lucky for attracting the attention of both the Ninth and Second Fatui Harbingers?

Pantalone believes that the best way of expressing love is through tangibility and quantity. As the Harbinger in charge of handling the Northland Bank's operations, he inevitably would have access to a vast amount of wealth. From exquisite jewels and necklaces to luxurious clothing specially tailored for you, Pantalone would provide you with all the splendour Teyvat has to provide. He believes that with each gift, he would be able to express his heartfelt feelings for you. You would often be greeted with a bouquet of flowers by your doorstep when you arrive back at your residence. Whenever you confront him about it, he would tell you that each bouquet is a profound declaration of his love, with each embedded a message an ardent reminder that he would always be there for you.

Dottore, on the other hand, believes that gifts are meaningless if the sender doesn't truly mean their actions. A gift could be so luxurious, but what use is it if the sender lacks sincerity? That's why he believes that the best way of expressing his love towards you is through his actions. Albeit small and subtle, it's the little things he does and the genuine effort he puts in that builds and strengthens your relationship and connection. Dottore isn't materialistic by any means, he prefers to make his love known through his deeds and actions. Are you struggling with your work? He would bring you your favourite drink to encourage you, and perhaps he would try his best to help you out, regardless of his lack of knowledge and skills in that field. Being the Fatui's lead scientist would mean that he has a good memory, and he would use it to remember everything about you. He picks up on the smallest things that you would mention during your conversations, and he would surprise you with simple acts that can easily bring a smile to your face. You would often be shocked, and mostly touched that he would remember such a miniscule detail about yourself. Dottore believes that actions speak louder than words, and therefore does his best to show you just how much you mean to him.

Unlike Dottore, Pantalone believes that words can be just as powerful and impactful as actions are. To him, words hold deep meanings to him. In the past, Pantalone had prayed endlessly to the gods, desperately seeking comfort and answers to his misery. He had never received the answers he had been longing for, and that was what caused him to believe that words are indeed equally important as actions. He had always craved reassurance, comfort and solace from the gods, looking for a sign that everything will be alright. But it never came. Pantalone uses this pain as a means of healing his own past, by offering you reassurance and words of comfort. Pantalone believes that words have the power to make or break people's spirits. Even a simple encouragement can lift spirits, even if it's just a little. Without a little push, some may not even move at all. That's why Pantalone loves to shower you with affectionate words. Hearing his smooth, soothing voice comforting you with sweet words will never fail to make your heart flutter. It's all part of Pantalone's charm. Whenever he notices a slight shift in your mood, he would ask you about it and try to make you feel better. Pantalone would never fail to make you feel special; he will always provide you with the comfort you need.

Dottore is not a sentimental person by any means. He's very closed about his true feelings and doesn't let people get close to him. But with you? It's different. There's just something about you so lovable that even the cold and apathetic Doctor can melt from your warm smiles. As Dottore struggles to explain his emotions through words, he prefers to spend his time with you to show you his feelings. He would always be there for you when you needed him. Despite his busy schedule, he would make time for you, enjoying your presence and basking in the comfort of your touch. Whenever confronted by you, Dottore would use the excuse of taking a break from work to spend time with you. But if he is really busy, you would receive attention from one of his Segments. His Segments are equally as enamoured by you, and they would be more than happy to spend time with you. Dottore says it's the least he could do if he can't be there for you when you need him.

At the end of the day, you would be showered by their affections and attention regardless. Both of them have their ways of showing you their appreciation and love. It's only a matter of who wins your heart at the end of the day. Would actions really speak louder than words? Or will the temptations of sweet words and opulent riches win you over? In the end, the choice would be yours to make.

— masterlist ・ navi ・ request rules

[oaksgrove]

No Surprises.

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x female!Reader

synopsis: What starts as Simon’s small act of kindness—leaving flowers on an abandoned grave—takes an unexpected turn when he learns the dark truth about the man buried there. A chance meeting at another grave, however, leads to a connection he never saw coming.

warnings: mentions of death, grief, murder (briefly described, not graphic), guilt, emotional vulnerability. Mostly fluff with humor and a touch of angst.

word count: 1367

a/n: Inspired by a hilarious, and slightly dark, Twitter thread that I stumbled across (this one) and written while listening to Radiohead—so, yeah, heavily inspired. This spiraled into something bigger than I planned, but I loved how it turned out!

Simon visits his mom pretty often. At least once a week when he isn’t on deployment.

He would buy her bouquets and her grave was the most well-taken care of all Southern Cemetery, it frequently resembled a solid third place at Chelsea Flower Show.

But the guy next to her didn’t have much luck. His grave was abandoned and never received flowers, the only readable information about the man was his name and that he died on christmas day at age 33.

There was something unsettling about the headstone that Simon couldn’t shake. Maybe it was the way the chiseled name seemed to fade quicker than the others around it, or the date etched so starkly—Christmas Day. It felt like the grave itself bore a story too heavy for time to carry.

Every week, as Simon walked past that abandoned grave, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Not for the man, but for what the man represented—a life wasted, forgotten, abandoned by time and loved ones. It was as if Simon could almost hear the echoes of the man’s lonely final days, a voice in the silence that reminded him of his own lost moments, his own griefs that had never been healed. He was doing it for both of them, in a way—he was making up for something he couldn’t even name.

No one ever left him flowers and each time he passed the grave, his eyes lingered on the wilted weeds and worn stone, an ache settling in his chest.

The feeling was eating Si alive.

He thought of his mother, resting just a few rows down, her grave adorned with flowers he could no longer place there himself. Maybe, just maybe, this stranger’s memory deserved a similar kindness… when he looked outside the iron gate and saw the pop-up florist and had an idea.

That's how Simon started buying flowers for a deceased man he had never met. And after some time Simon even started adding little touches—fresh soil to the base of the tombstone, cleaning the headstone when the rain left stains, sometimes even rearranging the flowers into a new arrangement.

Simon didn’t know why he cared—it wasn’t like the man would notice. Still, an odd sense of duty settled on him, as though he’d become the custodian of a memory long forsaken.

It was like he was making the world better, one bunch of flowers at a time. He did this for quite some time, but never told it to a soul. He knew it sounded weird, kinda lonely but he came to think about him as a friend. The loneliness of it all gnawed at him. He wondered, was he doing this for the stranger—or for himself, to fill some silent void he couldn’t quite name?

As Simon approached the grave that week, the familiar pang returned, sharper than before. He stood still, the wind teasing the edge of his jacket. The flowers in his hand felt weightier than usual, as though the guilt he carried seeped into their petals.

“What am I doing here?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. But no one answered—not the man beneath the stone nor the ghost of his own regrets.

He wondered if there was a hidden connection between them, something that drew Simon to him. Maybe they went to the same school, or maybe both supported Manchester United football club or whatever. So he decided to google his name.

Finger hovering over the enter button, he hesitated. It was silly, he knew, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to unearth something better left buried.

When Simon first Googled the man’s name, he found nothing.

But, just like Price says, “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”

The days had passed, and curiosity gnawed at him until, one night, he gave in. With a few beers in a pub with the 141 clouding his judgment and hours of searching through online records, he finally found a Newspaper article.

His pulse quickened. When the article loaded, Simon froze. The words blurred together at first, the screen swimming in his vision.

‘Family Tragedy Ends in Suicide on Christmas Day.’

“Murdered her…” he whispered aloud, his mouth going dry.

The words clawed their way up his throat, and the details stood out like jagged shards—murdered his wife and in-laws on a Christmas night. His hands shook as he scrolled, the bedroom suddenly feeling too small. The man he’d been honoring wasn’t a victim but a villain.

His wife didn’t leave him flowers because he murdered her on christmas day. After murdering his wife he also killed her parents and then jumped in front of the only train passing in Piccadilly Train Station that christmas night.

His stomach churned as he read on, his hand trembling against the mouse. By the end, he wasn’t sure if the nausea came from the man’s actions or the realization that Simon had spent years tending to the grave of a killer.

Simon’s heart sank while reading all the news, he felt like a terrible person and felt so sorry for his wife and parents. He felt he needed to do something to soothe the guilty and that's the situation he found himself in, he wouldn’t buy them flowers for almost two years but he was going to apologise.

After searching where they were buried he bought them flowers and drove to the Blackley Cemetery.

The smell of damp earth and fresh-cut flowers hung in the air, mingling with the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional distant crow. It was quiet, reverent, a sanctuary—and yet, under it all, a gnawing sadness.

Standing in front of their graves, Simon’s hands trembled. The flowers he’d brought felt heavy, like a physical manifestation of the guilt he hadn’t even known he was carrying.

What right did he have to apologize for a crime he never committed?

The flowers became more than just a gift; they were a ritual. With every petal he placed, Simon felt as though he were piecing together something broken—not the strangers’ lives, but perhaps his own. And when he laid that last bouquet at the foot of the victims’ graves, it was less an offering and more an apology whispered through the blooms.

Kneeling before the graves, Simon fumbled with the bouquet, his fingers clumsy and unsure. He cleared his throat, but his voice cracked anyway. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, the words escaping like a confession.

The headstones didn’t respond, their silence deafening, but Simon kept going. ‘I didn’t know. I should’ve…’ His words trailed off, swallowed by the damp air, leaving only the faint rustle of trees to answer him and a nudge on his shoulder.

‘Hi,’ she said, her voice calm but mildly woolly. ‘Why are you leaving flowers for my aunt and grandparents?’

Simon was startled. He turned, finding a woman standing a few feet away, arms crossed but her expression more puzzled than angry. His throat tightened. ‘I, uh… it’s complicated,’ he stammered, his face flushing under her steady gaze

Her eyes were full of something he couldn’t place—curiosity, disbelief, maybe even a little amusement. The words he’d rehearsed in his mind felt silly now, but he said them anyway, rambling about flowers and apologies.

Simon shifted, glancing from her face to the graves. “It’s… a long story, one I’m not even sure makes sense.”

She tilted her head, lips quirking into a half-smile. “You know, weird as it is, those are usually the best stories. So, how about you tell me over coffee?” Her face softened, the tension easing as he listens, there was no judgment, only a quiet understanding that unsettled Simon more than anything.

He blinked, surprised. ‘I, uh… yeah. I’d like that.’

As they walked away from the cemetery, the weight in Simon’s chest lightened. Maybe it was the fresh air, or maybe it was the odd sense of peace that seemed to hang between them now. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something had shifted. The ache in his chest had faded, replaced by a soft, unfamiliar warmth. It was as if, in trying to make the world a little better for a stranger, he’d found a piece of something he’d been missing too.

[sugarverse]

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝘾𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.2k

mentions of: yeah its just sex,, uhhhh ya get together at the end but it’s pretty vanilla and i think this might be one of my fav writings for iida so far ehehehe this story was so fun to make. I plan on making a pt.3 and I’m going to postttt soon idk :P

part one

moodboard here!

You tied a cute bow in the belt of your robe once more, walking over to him and fixing the glasses on his oh so cherry red face. “Tenya..?” You ask, sitting on the side of the table next to him. You glance down at the sketch, seeing how far he had actually gotten. It was pretty impressive for someone who is a beginner when it comes to realism, or art itself really. “Do you want some help?”

His jaw was slack, staring up at you now that you were so much closer. Whatever perfume you had on almost made him faint, and there was nothing he could really formulate besides a very quiet, “Ex..excuse me?”

“I said, Do you want some help..?” You tease, leaning down so your faces were only a few inches from each other. You reach for his tie, slowly sliding your hand down his chest. “I wouldn't want you to fail just because your model was a distraction..” You lean closer, gripping the end of his tie as ruby eyes glancing down at your pretty plump lips.

Did you mean help help him, or draw it yourself? There was no way he was reading into this wrong, right? Did you see his hard-on the whole time?? He gave a long blink, trying to keep his head on straight. “I w..would love-” Before he could finish the sentence, you tug on the tie and press your lips against his. He melted into you, hands placing themselves onto your hips softly almost as if you’d break if he did touch you.

He had yearned for this for so long. There was no way you felt this way all this time and he never picked up on it. The thought only made him deepen the kiss, his hands moving to hold your face in his palms. You let his tie go with a smile, giggling at his eagerness to kiss you back. You place your hands on his shoulder, feeling him stand but refusing to let his lips leave yours. It felt like fireworks were going off around the two of you, only pulling away when you both needed the air.

Tenya was once again standing with crooked glasses, red faced, and this time slightly out of breath. “Y/n I.. Why didn’t.. How did I not..” He panted, after what was only a few seconds, he crashed his lips against yours before you could even respond to his stuttering. You whimpered in response, attempting to untie the tie the best you could with your eyes closed. He helped you, loosening it and letting his hands tangle themselves behind your head and into the kitchen of your hair the best he could. He just wanted you closer. Closer than he already was.

You pull away from him, feverishly leaving kissing along his sharp jawline. He sighed, hands going back to your waist patiently. He rubbed your sides up and down as you kissed down his neck, letting out a breathless whine at the missing feeling of your warm lips against his.

“Why haven't we ever k..kissed before now if this is how you ..f-felt..” He sucked in a sharp gasp once you kissed the right side of his neck. Bingo. You bit down on that spot listening to him groan in your ear, gripping your hips a little harder.

You open your legs slightly so he can stand between them, his body involuntarily pulling you towards the edge as he takes the step towards you. “Because I can't lose you.. I never thought you'd feel the same..” You mumble against his skin, leaving open mouthed kisses down to his collar before unbuttoning it.

You could feel the hard-on poke at your thigh, tauntingly moving to grind against him. After all, the silk of your robe was the only thing keeping him from well.. you. He ached, looking down at you with an almost heartbroken look in his eyes.

“Of course I do, I have wanted you for a very long time.. I know I can treat you better than anyone else out there y/n. It hurts so bad when you'd find someone else more interesting than me. I thought I was too..” He paused for a second, groaning as he grinded against you subconsciously. “A square, if you will.” He chuckled nervously at the admission, feeling you nipping at the most sensitive part of his neck as he let out soft moans and grumbles.

You pull away to look at him, fixing his glasses from earlier with a small giggle. “There's nothing wrong with liking books, or wanting to follow the rules..” Manicured hand began to unbutton his collar and down his shirt.

“And I just never thought you'd go for someone like me. I assumed you'd want a shy girl or somthin’.. I guess we really did make an ass out of u and me.” You tease, giggling once more at your own play on words. You stopped about halfway down his shirt unless this was too much. You didn't wanna be too pushy but God did you want to see those abs.

He let out a small laugh as well, staring down at your gorgeous lips. “I would have told you a lonnnng time ago, y/n. I'm sorry I didn't–” He started, feeling your finger press against his lips to stop him.

“We know now, don't we? Now we move forward.” You wrap your legs around his waist, watching him nod until you move your finger away. “How about I finally help you?” You run a hand down his chest, watching him shudder at the feeling of your acrylics.

He leaned over you, hands moving onto the table rather than on your hips. “If we're going to do anything, I want to do it the right way..” You wanted to pout at his response. He was right, being caught would be absolutely terrible for the both of you. I guess it wouldn't hurt to go back to one of your apartments and finish? Ugh but then the mood is different..

As the gears in your brain worked, Tenya still mindless pressing against you, began kissing you once more. You smile, coconut colored eyes following as he kisses your neck. This time looking for you to gasp or make some sort of noise. His lips smirked against your skin, kissing down to your shoulder and moving the robe off of it. He bit right between your neck and shoulder, causing you to squeal and grip onto his shirt.

Your eyes fluttered, feeling him kiss down to your collarbone. He guided a hand to unbutton the rest of his shirt, the other going back to resting on your waist. He made sure to kiss down the valley of your breasts, not breaking eye contact with you once had he looked up.

“May I?” He motioned to the robe, watching you quickly shrug the silk off of your other shoulder and pulling the tie of your belt. All he needed was to open it up completely. He chuckled at your quickness, letting it pull around your legs once again. He made sure to kiss both of your boobs, finishing with the unbuttoning of his shirt. He used that hand to pinch at your nip, putting the other in his mouth to suck on.

You arch your back into his touch, whimpering as you squeezed your legs around him in response. You could feel him smile, swapping to give your girls equal attention. He felt you buck at such simple actions, kissing down your navel and to where your robe pooled.

“You sound so sweet.. I need to taste you. Wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to go first baby,” You melted at the name, nodding hurriedly. He smiled, going onto his knees and scooping his arms under your knees. He pulled you to the edge, watching you jolt in surprise. You could feel your heart beating in more places than one. The entire time the only thing that had been covering you up was that flimsy piece of silk which he finally moved out of the way, staring down at you for a moment.

This obviously wasn’t the first time he’s been in a sexual situation, but he couldn’t help but freeze for a moment. You were so stunning.. ethereal even. He really didn’t mean to stare, not wanting you to think something was wrong or he was too scared. Just very much in love with the look of you. He finally breaks concentration, looking up at you with a small smile. “You promise this is okay?” He wanted to double check just in case you saw him as he saw himself.. God forbid you did.

“I promise.” You put your pinky out, watching him move his hand from your thigh to interlock his pinky with yours. Without any hesitation, he shoved his glasses up and opened your legs wider. He kissed your clit before starting to suck on it, crimson eyes staring up at you to see what he was doing well vs what you didn’t like as much. Your breathing hitched, hand going to take the glasses and set them on the table so you could grip onto his hair the correct way. You rut your hips towards him, staring down in awe.

He couldn’t help but stare back up at you, strong hands keeping your thighs pressed against his shoulders despite your involuntarily squirming. He swirled his tongue around your bundle of nerves, hands gripping onto your thighs so he could be as close as possible. You tasted so sweet. Damn near sweeter than fruit, only making him want more. Flattening his tongue against you and going back to giving your sensitive spot hell.

You pulled at his navy blue hair, hands gripping onto him as you rode yourself against his tongue. Stuttering out praises through pants and moans, “Ffffuck.. tenya-ah!~” You squeak out, thighs beginning to shake from wanting to close. He slithered a hand from your thigh, teasingly tracing his index finger around your entrance. “Don’t t..tease me!” You leaned forward, hair falling around your shoulders as you looked down at him.

“Please please pl-ngh~!” Your begging was stopped by the feeling of two thick fingers sliding into you as he swirled his tongue around your clit some more. He made sure to curl them, feeling you clench around his fingers drove him insane. Thrusting his fingers into you even faster than his tongue was moving. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, the knot in your stomach starting to tighten. You couldn’t keep quiet even if you really wanted to. You were on another planet.

The face you made when you came could only be described as angelic to iida, he watched as you came undone around his lips. You laid your back against the table as he lapped it up. Almost liked someone dying of dehydration. He slowed his fingers down, sliding them out of you to lick his fingers clean. He lightly placed your legs back onto the table. “You taste divine, you know that?” He asked, unbuckling his belt and tossing his wallet on the table.

You blink up at him, panting and giggling. “I know now,” You stared up at him, messy haired and mouth wet as lustful but loving eyes stared down at you. You took a mental picture, biting your lip to hold back your happy giggles. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sliding the belt off and placing it on the chair behind him. “Let me,” You lean forward, unbuttoning his dress pants hurriedly and unzipping them. It ached being hard for so long, but as many times as he’s imagined this to play out, he was always going to make you feel good first.

“I need you, y/n..” He admitted almost in a whisper, reaching for his glasses so he could actually see you. You tug his pants down, letting out a small laugh to yourself at the red checkered underwear he wore before pulling them down as well. You assumed he’d be big, the man is 6 foot and built like a fucking unit.

What you weren’t expecting was for it to spring right in front of your face. There’s no way that can.. Well, Doesn’t matter if it fits or not. No way you’d miss the opportunity. He let out a chuckle, assumingly at your wide eyes.

“You have me,” You smile up at him with half lidded eyes, changing your expression quickly so you werent the one looking like a deer in headlights. You grab his cock with manicured nails, licking the precum from his tip before siding as much as you could into your throat.

His breath hitched, a small groan leaving his lips. “No sweetheart, I mean I need you. As much as.. I’d l..love you to,” He let out a breathless sigh filled with pleasure, head tilting back.

“Keep.. feeling your mouth, I need you. Awfully bad, I might a..add.” He struggled to speak, moans escaping his lips as he felt you take him completely down your throat for a moment. You pulled away with a pop, smiling up at him.

“Whatever you want, sir..” You tease, sitting up and putting your hands on his shoulders, slowly sliding them to his neck to cup his face. “Give me a few more kisses, huh mister?” You didn’t even have time to lean up, feeling his lips desperately go back to yours. You tangle your hands in his messy hair once more, feeling him lay you down gently.

He pulled your legs to the edge once more, listening to the squeak you let out as he subconsciously manhandled you. He looks over to the wallet he tossed on the table earlier, opening it to fish for a condom that he always carried around. Not that he ever thought he’d really use it.

“You don’t need one,” You see him quickly look at you as if you were insane, vermillion eyes studying your face. “I’m serious! If worse comes to worse I’ll stop by the pharmacy. I want us both to actually feel it..” You sit up once more, pretty brown eyes staring up at him pleadingly. You place a hand on his arm, which was enough for him to go standing right back in front of you.

“Are you sure, y/n? Absolutely positive?” He asked carefully, cock twitching at the cold air of the room. The snow from the skylight had covered it so much the room was practically black if it weren’t for the very dim but few lights in the room. You nod, giving him a reassuring kiss on the cheek.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” You smile, laying back down. Big hands gripped your hips as he lined himself up to you, staring down at your sensitive bud for a moment before slowly sliding the tip into you. You whimper, gasping and letting your eyes roll back as he slid what you could take into you. You felt full, eyes trying to focus on the man in front of you.

“Fuck..” He muttered, leaning over you and kissing up from your collarbone to your neck, holding you close as he started to move gently into you. He knew he was big, and he didn’t plan on hurting you. he wanted it to be the best experience you’ve ever had.. despite the uncommon location. You hug him quickly, whining out and pressing your face into his shoulder. It couldn’t get closer than this.. Or so you thought, feeling him slowly start to fuck you open and press against that spot. Tears well in the corners of your eyes, gasping and biting the pain into his shoulder.

He hissed, making sure to go as slow as his mind and body would let him. He needed to see you completely undone, but your comfortability and adjusting to it would come first. “It’s okay sweetheart, ‘m right here. I got you. “ He whispered into your ear, nipping at your lobe with a small smile. You could hear how passionate he was in his voice, letting your legs wrap around him once more.

After a few more slow thrusts into you, you move from his shoulder and whisper back. “F..Fuck me like you mean it, Ten. I can take i..it.” You mewled out, feeling him kiss from your cheek to your lips before slamming into you. You squeaked, having trouble trying to kiss back. You couldn’t quiet down even if you wanted to. Your nails grab at his back, lightly scratching so you didn’t rip his skin open. Shit, fucking you like this you might not be able to stop yourself.

He shuddered at the feeling, pulling away from your lips to leave open mouthed kisses against your neck. You bite your lip hard, you didn’t know what time it was but you knew there were still people in the building. He slid his hands up to your back, letting his hands hold onto your shoulders from underneath you to keep you still while he fucked your brains out.

You were seeing stars, biting and leaving hickeys all over him to muffle yourself. He gritted his teeth, glancing down at you through foggy glasses. “You take it so good, honey.. Need..Need you like this all the time.” He huffed out, letting out another breathless chuckle at your fucked out expression. “Can I have you?”

Broken sobs of pleasure was really all you could give in return, nodding as quick as you could before kissing him once again. He smiled against your lips, letting a hand slide down to your clit. He only thumbed over it a few times before you came, legs squeezing tighter against his torso. He pulled his hand away, moving both of them back to your hips. He was obviously close too, but it felt so good he wasn’t sure he could pull out exactly in time.

“G-Gotta let me pull out, honey..” You shake your head no, burying your face into his skin once again. “Need.. need to feel.. In me– cum in me.” He began to slow down, trying to think through racing thoughts and how good you felt around him. It wasn't much time to make the decision and professionalism was already out the window at this point. “P.. Please- please tenya~?” You cry out, hugging close to him. If that’s what you wanted, he was going to oblige.

He gave a couple more thrusts, cumming into you and holding you close. Once you pulled away enough, he left peppered kisses amongst your neck and jaw.

You smile, sighing out tiredly before giving him a few kisses on his poor red lips. “You are my favorite human being on the planet,” You huff out, trying to continue but your thoughts were a bit scrambled. “I’m yours. For as long as you want me.”

He quickly responded, kissing your cheek in conformation. “Forever. I want you to be mine.. Forever.” He was sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead and still out of breath himself. His face was red, eyes hanging low from both tiredness and wonderment.

You giggle at his response, taking his glasses and cleaning them with the silk of the robe that was under you.

“Forever it is.”

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot! Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

ALSO ALSO special thank you @urfriendlywriter for some of the smut ideas and the vocabulary, it helped better than fighting a thesaurus lol

thank you @thecutestgrotto and @arlerts-angel for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top photo!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[mehiwilldoitlater]

"Ready... to give up?!" His panting voice cracked his confident Facade.

You didn't need to answer, only cleaning your cheeks from the dust, Take your training rod and rise up again. You preferred to be beaten than admit defeat.

Yuán Fèn's younger siblings couldn't decide if they felt excitement about the match or guilty about making you both fight... Well, it wasn't like you two were really fighting, but now neither of the two of you wanted to back down...

Everything started so many hours ago...

When the two of you weren't training, Yuán Fèn's duty around the Mountain was quite simple: training the youngest monkey. You had the chance to observe him, and what you learned was that he was quite good at it! He was patient and understanding with those who found some difficulty in mastering a few techniques, yet severe and authoritarian with the ones that crossed the line far too much.

That day, on the other hand, was quite an event for his young disciples! It was the day of your first fighting lesson!

You, on your side, were nervous. For them The first time, you would have held a staff and learned the basics of Yuán Fèn fighting skills, a way to finally be more helpful in your mission, but the idea of not being even able to hold a simple wooden rod scared you. You gulped when a strong pat was given on your back; a chuckle escaped from him while you tried to fix your bandages on your hands.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah... a little..."

"You'll be great! I bet you'll be amazing!"

You smiled a little, yet still a little worried.

All those thoughts were put aside when you and Yuán Fèn faced each other while he showed you how a few stances needed to be done properly. Maybe, you thought, the standing in the actual scene helped you against your anxiety, and, all things considered, you weren't that bad at all! Even Yuán Fèn needed to admit you were a natural!

"This is a defensive stance. In case of danger, it will help you."

"Like this?" You mimicked his same pose. He loves a little of your arms, but besides that, he hasn't touched you at all.

"Good.... Good, very good! Let's try it. A few more stances, okay?"

You really were a natural one there. You were sucking in learning writings and reading the scrolls, always asking their meaning and all, but maybe your talent was fighting! The thought still made the monkey a little uneasy, but if it gave you confidence, then why stop you?

And you were getting confident!

"Come on, give me something REALLY hard!"

Ok, maybe too much. He did take your challenge to heart and decided to take the thing to another level...a small fighting session.

"Come on," he said, taking his position. "I thought you wanted something harder..."

"...ah!" You followed him, taking yours.

More than once, his staff hit your hand with the only intent of disarming you, and every time you had to message your hands and take back your weapon fast, even when he was clearly waiting for you to take it back.

More than once you were able to hit him at least once, but he was able to strike at least three more times. And every time he looked at you, waiting for you to give up.

He had cornered you many times, even when he was clearly telling you to take a look at your surroundings, only for you to hit your back against the wooden wall.

You were good, but he was better, and that...frustrated you.

Now there you were, your hands trembling from the many strikes, hickeys ready to form all over your body and your breath heavy. He was painting, but it was clear that he wasn't in as bad a shape as you.

"I... I won't... stand down..."

"You really should... with those hands too..."

You only grasped harder your hands on the rod, attacking again. Both of your staff crashed together, with his feet trying to not let him lose his balance.

You tried to put more force into it, using your body as a weight, but he quickly chose to move away and broke the stall. You tumbled around, falling badly on the dust, coughing and trying to get up as quickly as possible, only to find his staff again pointed at you.

"Okay...you've got some good moves, Y/n...but I'm still stronger here!"

You held your breath...then suddenly kicked his leg with your foot. The sudden attack made him tumble down, with you stopping him by climbing on him, sitting on his waist. Your rod is pointing at him, a satisfied grin on your face, feeling a small victory on you.

"And I'm smarter!"

You waited for another retort, only to meet a shocked face, with a small tint of red on his ears. Only then did you realize in what kind of position you were, especially when you felt his hands on your hips ...

A few seconds of silence, of pure nothing between the two of you... then he raised his hands like he had touched iron hot, and you jumped away, feeling your face melting by your heating.

"NICE FIGHT! GREAT LESSON! GOTTA GO!" You screamed while practically running away from the scene, while your poor monkey was there, on the ground, trying to make sense of everything.

He did the only thing he could do, putting himself in fetal position with his face in his hands, his tails frantically moving around. His siblings, slowly approaching him, decided to climb on him, chirping around and laughing a little.

"What a show, Brother! Such a show!"

[in1-nutshell]

Sunstreakers Toddler Buddy being turned into a Cybertronian?And perhaps the establish a creator-creation bond?

Got to think of a new name for Toddler Buddy...Hope you enjoy!

Hope you enjoy!

Sunstreaker's Human toddler turn Bot

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Slight Angst, Human/ Cybertronian reader

IDW/G1

It was a case of ‘wrong place at the wrong time’.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had to leave for patrol that morning, leaving Buddy at the base.

They were on break from school and was sleeping in.

Sunstreaker himself would have loved to get in another hour of sleep, but duty calls.

Buddy was left in the care of most of the bots in the base.

The more optics looking after them the better right?

…Right?

Out on patrol… Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are driving down the empty road. Sunstreaker: “How much longer until we can go back?” Sideswipe: “Just a couple more miles Sunny.” Sunstreaker grumbles. Sideswipe: “Don’t get your tailpipe twisted. We’ll be back and helping Buddy color their books before you know it.” BEEP! BEEP! The com line was sounding off. The twins both pick up the call. Sideswipe: “This is Sideswipe, what’s—” CRASH! Smokescreen: “Bluestreak get them out of there! Oh! You guys answered.” Sunstreaker: “Smokescreen what’s going on? Is Buddy all right?” SCREECH! Smokescreen: “Umm, okay is subjective right now…” Sunstreaker: “I am only going to repeat this one more time. What is GOING ON!?” Sideswipe: “Geez Sunny let the mech speak. Go on Smokes.” Smokescreen: “I—well they—You know what I think its better if you guys came in an—SCRAP! BLUESTREAK GRAB THEM BEFORE THEY GET OUT THE DOOR! WHAT DO YOU MENA THEY’RE GONE!” BLITZ! The line went dead. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe sharply turn around and burn rubber to get to the base.

By the time the twins made it to the base, there were already search parties looking around for Buddy.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe get the summary from Prowl and Jazz.

Laserbeak had entered in the base not too long after they had gone out and fired a strange looking gun blindly before retreating.

The beam had hit Buddy turning them into a sparkling.

Yes, Sunstreaker nearly passed out at the news, but Sideswipe hoisted him back to his pedes as the other mechs continued.

Buddy was very scared and confused at first, before they found out how much easier it was to inerct with everyone as a bot.

Bluestreak and Smokescreen had done a good job in making sure Buddy was comfortable and held their new servos when things got a bit scary for them.

Buddy kept on asking where Sunstreaker was and that they wanted him to see them like this.

Cue the sparkling chase throughout the entire base before they slipped into a vent that lead to the outside world.

Sunstreaker: “Well, do we know where they are now?” Prowl pulls up a data pad: “We are getting the information now. Wheeljack had the idea of microchipping Buddy before they learned how to walk.” Sideswipe and Sunstreaker: “They couldn’t walk!” Jazz: “Like we said before, they were turned into a sparkling, a NEW sparkling. The little thing could barely walk without falling on their face.” Sunstreaker feels increasing stress. PING! Prowl: “The locztion is set for…” Prowl pauses before showing the data pad to Jazz. The twin get a bad feeling after swings both mech’ door wings stiffen. Sunstreaker: “Well!? Where’s my sparkling!?” Jazz and Prowl look at each other for a minute before nodding. Prowl starts walking away calling several bots to come and follow him. Jazz: “Okay fellas, you might wanna sit down for this.” Sunstreaker and Sideswipe sit down. Jazz: “…Buddy’s location was last seen outside Decepticon HQ.” THUD! Sunstreaker passes out and lands on his face with a sick looking Sideswipe.

With Buddy…

Buddy was lost for a while now.

All they wanted to do was show Sunstreaker their new frame, and now they couldn’t even remember the way back home.

They were by the shoreline when something started flying around.

For a split-second Buddy thought the planes were Decepticon’s they had seen on Teletran-One’s screens.

Buddy’s optics widen as well as their smile seeing the familiar red plane land in front of them. Buddy: “Mr. Powerglide!” Powerglide runs up and scoops them up in a hug. Powerglide: “Geez kiddo! You’re a bit far from home, aren’t you?” Buddy nods feeling bad about running off. Powerglide: “Lets get you home. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are worried sick for ya.” Buddy perks up a bit when the name of the yellow mech is dropped. Buddy: “Okay!” Powerglide: “And AWAY we go!”

All the bots sighed in relief hearing that Powerglide had found Buddy safe and sound.

Today’s events could have gone much worse if the Decepticons had found out about Buddy’s whereabouts.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe where taken into a different room before they could meet Buddy.

Mainly because Sunsreaker kept on pulling ‘Prowl’s’ on every surface he could turn over.

Prowl and Jazz accompany the sparkling to the room.

The door opens. The twins both stand up at the sound of the door opening. Sunstreaker: “Any sign of them? Are they okay!” Sideswipe notices a small frame behind Jazz’s pedes. He nugdes his twin’s arm and points to Jazz’s pedes. Sunstreaker pauses. Sunstreaker: “Buddy?” The sparkling’s helm pops from Jazz’s side. They smile widely. Buddy: “Sunny!” Sunstreaker falls to his knees as Buddy leaps into his arms. Sunstreaker just holds them tightly as they ramble on about their frame and how cool they look.

The answer of how to get Buddy back to normal is still unknown given the machine used to turn Buddy Cybertronian was in Decpticon hands.

For now Buddy was Cybertronian until further notice.

Buddy did miss being able to hide in certain places, but on the bright side they were much stronger and durable.

Just like Sunstreaker!

Speaking of the yellow mech, it takes a long time for anyone to convince him to leave the room without Buddy in his arms or nearby.

He makes sure that Buddy has a shiny finish and buffed frame.

His spark melted a bit when they wanted their paintjob to have the same yellow as his.

It is much easier to handle Buddy being much bigger and the same species, not that Sunstreaker would ever admit it out loud.

Honestly as long as Buddy is safe and happy, the mech couldn’t care what species they were.

[afterglowkatie]

another one | k.m./c.f.

katie mccabe x caitlin foord x child!reader | 0.6k | caitlin sends katie a video that leads to talks of another baby

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of my new little starfish universe. here's a little blurb/small fic to make it all better after that match! little starfish universe is getting expanded 'three becomes four'

Katie and Caitlin were cuddling in bed, Katie’s head laying on Caitlin’s chest. They’d both just got back home after being apart for the last two weeks representing their countries during international break. You’d joined your mammy this camp since it was their play-offs for the euros next year. Two big games that your mammy needed her little starfish there for, you being there always kept her more calm both on and off the pitch. Caitlin, only being available for the first two of the four friendlies lined up, had managed to get to Ireland for Katie’s second match.

‘You’ve been quiet tonight,’ It was natural for the pair to have more of a quiet night especially when they’ve just come back from an international break, just wanting to enjoy each other’s company. But for Katie, to be as quiet as she has been was more on the unusual side. Even on the plane back, Katie was more just watching Caitlin and you together. Katie knew Caitlin was an amazing mum to you, Caitlin was an amazing mum in general.

They’d both gotten you settled down for the night pretty easily, knowing you wouldn’t wake up until the morning. Camp always tired you out like that. Katie sighed, whenever she wasn’t playing or training there was one thing on her mind the entire time she was at camp. 

Caitlin had sent a video of her with a baby while she was at camp, captioned with ‘I want another one’ and it had Katie thinking more. In the back of her mind the thought of having another baby with Caitlin was always there. Now it was all she could think about. But what if Caitlin had just said it in the heat of the moment and wasn’t as serious as Katie was about wanting another one.

Katie sighed and sat up a little, not leaving Caitlin’s embrace though, ‘That video you sent me,’ Katie started off, ‘The one with the baby. Do you really want another one?’ Katie didn’t really want to look up and see Caitlin’s reaction, just in case, so she stayed just looking down at her fingers.

Caitlin’s eyes softened and she brought Katie in closer, if it was even possible. Her hand cupping Katie’s cheek, gently moving her head so Katie was looking at her. You had your mammy’s eyes and whenever Katie allowed herself to be vulnerable, her eyes always matched the innocence in yours. Caitlin thought about you and her life with Katie and she honestly couldn’t imagine not having another baby with her, couldn’t imagine not giving you a sibling just like she and Katie both had. Having a sibling/siblings was the best part of their childhood and they wanted you to have that.

‘Darling, of course I want to have another baby. Especially if it means having another baby with you,’ Caitlin gave a small and soft kiss to Katie’s lips, ‘I couldn’t imagine my life any other way. Multiple little feet running around, seeing Starfish being a big sister, getting to be a mum alongside you. Sounds like the perfect life for me. I meant what I said,’ 

Katie leaned her forehead against Caitlin’s, ‘You really want another one?’ Katie asked again for reassurance.

‘I really really want another baby,’ Caitlin whispered out, arms wrapping around Katie even tighter. 

‘I really want that with you too,’ Katie whispered back, eyes tearing up a little at the thought of extending their little family and going through this process together, ‘Do you think Starfish would be okay with having a little brother or sister?’ 

‘Last camp when she saw Harper with Koby she asked me when she was getting one,’ Katie and Caitlin laughed together at the little memory Caitlin recounted and it definitely helped to settle any of the sudden thoughts she had that you wouldn’t be happy sharing your mummy and mammy with someone else. A thought that now definitely seemed irrational the more Katie thought about it. You would be the best big sister.

‘I love you,’ Caitlin smiled looking down towards Katie.

‘I love you,’

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Price and his marriage problems with you

Angst to comfort 'cause I just can't deal with leavin' it hangin' and being angry at the writer (me) for just endin' it like that Playlist Inspo: Yaur, it ain't a song but a whole ass playlist 'cause we in for a hellavu ride *fire sound effects*

Price just sometimes gets too prideful for his own good, his bravado taking the step forward instinctively when it comes to serious conversations involving you.

Deep down, he always wants what's best for you-- for you and him together as partners.

But that sometimes doesn't get translated in the way you would understand his intent, and this is proven true once again when he comes to learn that you driven home drunk after a night out with your friends.

"You could've gotten hurt."

Price, whenever in an argument with you, would never shout. That to you, speak volumes from the way he positioned himself to a wide legged stance, arms crossed to the way his icy glare seeped into the words coming out of his mouth.

But you've had enough of it.

"Well, you look like you could care less." You huffed out, slamming your front door closed and tossing away your shoes.

"Care less?" He hums, one eyebrow raised as he takes in your disheveled appearance. "Then my texts asking where you were and offering a ride home are just nothing to you?"

"No!"

"Then tell me," he steps closer but you step back. "how does it look like to you?"

This feels like he's cornering you, badgering for an answer he wants to hear and not about how you feel-- but you just can't seem to gather the courage to speak on it, after being denied of such things for so long.

So you bit your lip, backing up so far with your arms wrapped around, that you hit your back on the door-- and you had half a mind to run away from this, from everything, and most of all-

From him.

Price sees the panicked look on your face and feels his hand tucked under his armpit twitch, but his rational brain stops him-- knowing that if he let his inhibitions go right now, he'd see you hurt even more.

"Darlin'," he softly calls out this time, "tell me." But the demand remains the same-- and for a moment this made you believe he'd finally get the point and ask how you feel.

About him. About how this relationship have crumbled into.

"Y'know what John," you scoffed, "you wouldn't understand anyways."

He feels the ire grow from the way his hairs stand on end at your dismissiveness, your unwillingness to give an olive branch and just let him help you.

"Tell me anyways." He insists and you couldn't help how you obviously rolled your eyes at his one insistent dialogue option. Persistent in his ways of getting you to talk.

"And I said," you growled, "you wouldn't understand nor care to anyways!"

"THEN FUCKING MAKE ME!"

He cracks.

You crack.

And something inside both of you does as well.

Like a snap of a cord, the tension in its high rise grow cold.

Silence permeating the area you once found comfort in and called- "home."

Price sees the terror in your eyes and he just fucking knows he fucked up.

Fucked everything up just because he broke first-- snapped too hard at someone who held so dearly, but has now broken himself.

And he's panickily trying to fix it. Fix you. Fix each other.

His deepest nightmare coming into reality, the side of him he tried so hard to keep from you resurfacing, the acknowledgements of his faults getting the better of him as he you stare each other soullessly-- eyes not showing the same spark it did the first time he took you out.

Price knows he gets scary and unreasonable-- its part of his identity and how he deals with the other aspect of his life that he tries so damn hard to keep away from you.

Yet here it is- making its appearance in the worst. fucking. time. possible.

The silence is now broken with a sob coming from you.

You, who is unable to take in the state of the proud John you know and love now look to utterly destroyed from the one sentence leaving his mouth.

And the fact that its now out there, speaking a thousand emotions behind the four words he released in desperation.

You do love him. You love John so much sometimes it hurts to see him hurt you.

You're so damn frustrated with yourself that you can't handle being hurt by the man you love- you feel so pathetic, unable to take his concerns guised in criticism, his messages of tough love behind the formal texts on your phone, his small actions of appreciation from respecting your space and letting you breath after another argument.

"Are we done for John?"

You ask, through hiccups, forcing the matter on hand-- one of which you both desperately avoided for so long.

You wait.

You could hear the air still once again, it taking a chokehold on you, making you more desperate of the deprived oxygen.

You hear him shuffle to you.

The arms you previously wrapped around yourself were now around someone else, a different set now covering your own torso.

"My love," he chokes out, a soft "...Please" is all that he could manage.

"Please what?" You, yourself could barely respond but you knew you had to. He had to as well.

"Don't..." he sighs, head falling onto your shoulder. "...don't say such things."

"Why not?"

He feel him still.

"Tell me John."

He feels your position now. Vulnerable, wounded, and cornered without a choice.

"I'm sorry," he finally says with his chest heavy, "I'm so sorry my love, please."

He grabs your face desperately, hands now cupping your face instead of your waist.

And you could just see- how equally broken this man is.

You never saw Price cry, but that one time he slotted that ring on your finger and finally called you, 'his.'

But this... this is completely different.

From the way his eyes are dilated, not in love, but in genuine distraught. His hands shaky, not in nervousness, but anxiousness. His hands soft, not in care, but of fright.

If this is destroying him, then it did for you too.

Price continues to beg and plead, wiping your tears and dismissing his own. It doesn't matter if he can taste his salty tears and snot-- you just mattered more, and refusing to just stand there and watch you cry.

With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand to his hand softly grabbing it and Price thinks he finally got to you.

But you pull it away.

Instead, you pull in downward and intertwine it with yours, slightly swinging it between you.

"John."

You call out and he opens his ears, replies, anything to get you talking--, "yes my dear?"

"I'm hurt."

He's about to ask why, where, how-- he wants to know everything.

"And I think I'm hurting you... well, more like us."

He shakes his head, disagreeing immediately.

"Darling, no." He fumbles his words, "its me- I'm hurting you, hurting us, and I-."

"No, its my fault."

"No, its mine."

"No, I just sometimes can't take it."

"Then its me! I'm at fault."

But you both insist and it seems endless until you both run out of breath again, yet... your intertwined hands persist. Grip so tight that you wouldn't even think of letting go.

This...makes you laugh, a soft one, and John swear he could hear bells ringing again.

You test it and try to pull away but he doesn't let you.

You giggle again and its infectious that Price couldn't help doing it as well.

"Why..." his chuckles die down but a smile stays painted on his lips, "why were you laughing?"

You shook your head and continue swinging your hands with more energy, "don't know..."

"But," you raised your head- eyes connecting once more, "this is just so silly."

"Silly?" He scoffs, so confused at the how quick the emotions are changing.

"Silly." You insisted but end of sighing, hands slowing down.

"I think," you began with your voice down back to a whisper, "we should be honest and talk."

Price immediately nods in agreement and adds a, "and take a step back?" And he does this literally too, making you chuckle.

Realizing as well at how cold the room has been, contrasting the warmth of your hands.

"yeah..." you mumble and unconsciously reach out for him again. "let's try... again?"

He reaches for you but this time, his grip is soft as if he was ready to let you pull away again.

"Together."

A/N: gonna be makin one for the other boiyos too so... part 1/4? :>> Masterlist for my other works here!

[reason-with-the-underdog]

love how alhaitham can cheer kaveh up (even when he's not there)

so during kaveh's hangout, he gets rather downspirited as he tries to explain why he's driven to do good acts and the source of his idealism, which he attributes to his childhood guilt around his father's death. upon self-reflection, however, he's not sure if that's still the case for why he cares so deeply about altruism... which apparently brings alhaitham to mind (they both use each others as mirrors!)

thus kaveh borrows alhaitham's drowning swimmer analogy, which he uses to compare his idealism vs alhaitham's own egoist philosophy

and as he's talking, kaveh realises that he's misjudged alhaitham & that alhaitham helped him when he was in dire need... which makes him feel a lot better

he goes from being rather morose as he briefly explains his childhood trauma and also how he struggles to separate himself from the many problems that exist in the world...

...to suddenly feeling cheerful enough to get back to work!

so what happened in between? him rambling on about alhaitham ofc 🥰🥰

[jackethockey]

No shame

Summary: You are a sports reporter for the NHL when one day you have to report for the New Jersey Devils. You get told you would be interviewing the star of the show, Jack Hughes. You decide to go to a bar after the game where Jack and some of the team also go. While there, you notice Jack came up to you to ask your opinions on the game. You can't help but find the two of you wrapped up in a conversation about hockey. He offers one day to go out for dinner to talk more about hockey. When the night grows on, he invites you back to his place to keep it going. Once there he can't help but just stare at you with lust in his eyes. This leads to a night you will never forget.

Warnings: smut, sex, cursing, begging

Word count: 3241

“Got no shame, I love the way you're screaming my name.”

The atmosphere in the Prudential Center buzzed with excitement as the New Jersey Devils took the ice for their warm-ups, the smooth strokes of their skates carving circles on the gleaming surface. As a dedicated sports reporter for the NHL, you had been handed the enviable task of conducting an interview with the young superstar, Jack Hughes. Your heart raced as you put on your headset and took your position rink side. The lights grew brighter, and the music grew louder, setting the stage for your encounter.

Jack glided over effortlessly, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours as he leaned in for the microphone. The electricity between you both was palpable, even through the protective barrier of his helmet. You exchanged pleasantries before diving into the meat of the interview, discussing strategy, team dynamics, and his personal aspirations for the season. His voice was confident, yet had a hint of charm that was impossible to ignore.

As you wrapped up, Jack gave you a smile that seemed to light up the entire arena. And then, with a playful wink, he pushed off and returned to his teammates. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. The interview had gone better than expected, but it was his casual, yet knowing, gesture that lingered in your mind.

After the exhilarating game ended in a victory for the Devils, you decided to unwind at a nearby sports bar. The place was packed with fans, still basking in the glow of the win. To your surprise, Jack Hughes and some of his teammates sailed through the door, the sound of their laughter and camaraderie piercing the din. You kept your distance, not wanting to intrude on their celebrations. But fate had other plans.

Jack spotted you from across the room, and with a beer in hand, he navigated through the throng of bodies. He approached with the same confidence he had on the ice, and suddenly, he was standing right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours.

"Hey," he said, his voice a warm contrast to the chilly evening outside. "Great game tonight. What'd you think?"

The question caught you off guard. Here was this NHL phenom, asking for your opinion on the very game he had just dominated. You took a sip of your drink, trying to compose yourself, and shared your thoughts on the team's performance. His genuine interest in your analysis was disarming. You talked for what felt like hours, the conversation flowing as naturally as a perfectly executed breakaway. It was clear that Jack Hughes was not just a star on the ice; he had a charm that extended far beyond the boards.

The evening grew late, and the bar began to empty. As you said your goodbyes, Jack handed you his phone number with a wink, hinting at the possibility of a future off-the-ice rendezvous. With a racing pulse and a grin that wouldn't quit, you walked home through the quiet Newark streets, the echoes of the game and Jack's inviting smile playing on repeat in your mind. Little did you know, this chance encounter was about to rewrite the script of your life.

Days turned into weeks, and the memory of that night at the bar grew stronger with each passing day. You couldn't shake the feeling that Jack's wink and the way he had looked at you during the interview meant something more than just a friendly gesture. As you continued to cover the Devils' games, you found yourself eagerly waiting for any glimpse of him, hoping for a repeat of that electric connection. And then, one evening, as you sat in the press box, you received a text message that made your heart skip a beat:

"Hey, it's Jack. How about that dinner we talked about?"

The anticipation grew as you picked out the perfect outfit and rehearsed conversation topics in your mind. The night of the date finally arrived, and you met him at a cozy Italian restaurant, his eyes lighting up when he saw you walk in. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and the conversation flowed as freely as the wine. He talked about his love for the game, his family back in Michigan, and his hopes for the future. You shared stories from your life as a sports reporter, the thrill of live events, and the people you've met along the way.

As the evening progressed, you realized that Jack was not only a phenomenal athlete but also a thoughtful and kind-hearted person, with a maturity that belied his years. The air was thick with the scent of garlic bread and the promise of something more. With each laugh and shared glance, the walls between interviewer and interviewee began to crumble, revealing the possibility of a relationship that could be as thrilling and unpredictable as a sudden-death overtime.

As you were talking, Jack offered you to go back to his apartment to keep the conversation going. You kindly accept and head off. Jack's apartment was modern and spacious, a reflection of his successful career. You followed him in, feeling both nervous and exhilarated. He led you to a comfortable living room, where a large, plush couch beckoned. As you settled in, removing your coat, the conversation between you flowed as naturally as it had at the bar. However, as the fabric of your coat slipped away, revealing the dress you had meticulously chosen for the evening, Jack's gaze lingered. He swallowed hard, and his eyes remained fixed on you, a silent appreciation of your beauty that made you blush.

You looked up, catching him mid-stare, and asked, "Is everything okay?"

Jack took a deep breath, breaking his trance. "You look... amazing," he said, his voice thick with genuine admiration. "I mean, you know, on the ice, you're all professional and focused, but here, off the clock, you're just... wow."

You couldn't help but laugh at his candidness. "Thank you," you said, feeling the warmth of his compliment. "But, what about the game? Did you think the team played well tonight?"

Jack nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, they played great," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. The energy in the room shifted, the tension could be cut with a knife. He took a step closer, and you realized that the conversation had evolved into something much more personal.

Without another word, Jack offered his hand, and you took it, allowing him to lead you to the couch. As you sat down, the proximity between you was undeniable. You could feel the heat of his hand in yours, and the thump of his heart seemed to match the rhythm of your own. The air was charged with potential, and you found yourself leaning in, eager to hear more about his life outside the rink.

As the conversation grew deeper, you felt the weight of the evening's events pressing down on you. The attraction was undeniable, and it was clear that Jack felt it too. With every shared smile and every brush of your fingers against his, the pull grew stronger. Yet, you remained professional, keeping the conversation focused on the game and the season ahead.

As the conversation grew more intimate, you found yourselves sitting closer than ever before. Jack's hand reached over and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek for a moment too long. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a jolt through your entire body. His eyes searched yours, looking for permission, and you realized that the line between professional and personal had grown blurrier than ever before. You leaned in, and Jack met you halfway, his lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a moment that seemed to defy the very fabric of time, leaving you both breathless. When you pulled back, the world around you had changed. You knew that the dynamics of your relationship had shifted, and there was no turning back. 

The attraction you had both felt from the start had just been given the green light, and the excitement was intoxicating. But with great power comes great responsibility, and you both understood the delicate balance you'd have to maintain between your budding romance and the demands of your respective careers. You sat back, a little dizzy from the rush of emotions, and took a deep breath. "Jack," you whispered, your voice trembling with excitement, "This...this isn't going to affect our work, is it?"

Jack's eyes searched yours, a mix of passion and understanding swirling within. "No," he promised, "it won't. But it's going to make every game a little more interesting, don't you think?" His smile was infectious, and you couldn't help but return it. This was the start of something special, something you had never seen coming. But as you sat there, hand in hand, watching the flickering shadows from the street lamps play across the walls of his apartment, you knew that you were ready to face whatever challenges might come your way, both on and off the ice.

Jack's eyes searched yours with a fierce intensity, his thumb still gently caressing your cheek. He took a deep breath before speaking. "You know, I've always been taught to treat women with the utmost respect," he began, his voice low and earnest. "But right now, all I can think about is how badly I want to rip that dress off you and take you right here." His words were raw and unfiltered, a stark contrast to the respectful demeanor he had maintained throughout the evening. The hunger in his voice was unmistakable, and it sent a thrill through you.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as his hand slid down to grip your waist. His grip was firm but gentle, a silent promise of the passion he was holding back. You knew that this moment was pivotal, that the line between professional and personal had been crossed, and there was no going back. But as you looked into his eyes, all you saw was honesty and desire. You wanted him just as badly.

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you whispered, "Jack, I feel the same way." Your heart was racing, but your voice was steady. You knew the risks of mixing business with pleasure, but the pull was too strong to resist. With a nod of understanding, Jack leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that was as overwhelming as it was exhilarating.

The air grew thick with lust as you both succumbed to the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface. Clothes began to fall away, revealing the athletic physiques that had been hidden beneath layers of fabric. The sound of zippers and fabric hitting the floor was a symphony to your ears, each note bringing you closer to the moment you had both been craving.

Jack's hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. You gasped into his mouth as he lifted you onto his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist. The feel of his bare skin against yours was electrifying, sending sparks through every nerve ending. His kisses grew more urgent, his tongue delving into your mouth as if he was trying to claim you as his own.

You broke away for a moment, panting and breathless. "Jack," you murmured, your eyes locked on his, "I want this. But we need to be careful."

Jack's eyes searched yours, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. He nodded, his voice a gruff whisper. "I know," he said, "but right now, I just can't get enough of you."

And with that, you gave in to the passion that had been building between you, allowing Jack to guide you to a place of unbridled pleasure, where the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his body against yours. The world outside the apartment ceased to exist as you both became lost in the heat of the moment, the line between reporter and player, fan and athlete, forever blurred by the intensity of your shared desire.

With a fiery need that had taken over both of you, Jack positioned you so that you were straddling his lap, your legs wrapped around his waist. You could feel the unmistakable pressure of his hard, throbbing cock through the fabric of his pants, and it only served to heighten your own arousal. The wetness between your legs was a testament to the desire that had been simmering since the moment you had first met. The anticipation was exquisite torture, and all you wanted was to feel him inside you, to claim him as much as he was claiming you. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you closer, as if he could somehow absorb the heat of your want through the barrier of your clothes. Your breathing grew ragged, and you found yourself rocking slightly against him, desperate to relieve the ache that had taken up residence in your core. 

The feeling of his length pressed against you was maddening, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. The connection between you was more than just physical; it was a magnetic force that neither of you could resist. With a low growl of need, Jack stood up, lifting you with him, and carried you to the bedroom, where you both knew the night was about to reach a crescendo that would change everything.

The bedroom was dimly lit by the glow of the city outside, casting a soft light across the room. Jack laid you gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he peeled away the layers of your clothing. The anticipation was almost too much to bear as he revealed your naked body to him, his gaze filled with awe and hunger. You felt exposed, but also incredibly powerful, knowing that this man, this hockey god, wanted you just as much as you wanted him. His own clothes followed, revealing his muscular chest and the V-cut abs that had made your knees weak during your first interview.

As he climbed over you, the heat of his body enveloped you like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night. His cock, now free from the constraints of his pants, stood tall and proud, a testament to his arousal. You reached down to stroke him, feeling the velvety skin and the pulsing vein beneath. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, and he let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine. 

Jack's eyes burned with desire as he positioned himself at your entrance. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the moment before he pushed himself into you, his thick, hard cock filling you up inch by inch. You couldn't help but moan out in pleasure, the feeling of him inside you was more than you could handle. He took his time, savoring every moment, his movements deliberate and precise. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your moans echoing through the room. He began to move with more urgency, his hips thrusting into you with a steady rhythm that had you gripping the bedsheets.

Jack was vocal, his grunts and groans of pleasure fueling the fire between you. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His words only served to make you wetter, and you found yourself screaming his name, the sound of it leaving your lips over and over again. The more you screamed, the more he loved it, his thrusts growing harder and faster, each one aimed at pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Just as you felt the first tremors of an orgasm building within you, Jack abruptly stopped, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Not yet," he whispered, his voice low and seductive. He loved the sound of your desperation, the way you begged for him to keep going. It was a power play, one that had you squirming beneath him, your body begging for release. "Beg for it," he ordered, his eyes dark with lust. And so you did, whispering pleas into his ear, begging him to give you what you needed. The anticipation was unbearable, the ache in your core demanding relief.

Finally, Jack relented, his hips moving once more with a renewed fervor. His thrusts were now punishing, each one pushing you closer to the brink. "Jack, please," you begged, your voice hoarse from the screams of pleasure. And with that, he gave in, his movements becoming more intense, his grip on your hips tightening. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, a testament to the passion that had taken over.

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, the pressure building until it was almost too much to handle. And just as you were about to shatter, Jack's eyes locked onto yours, his own climax approaching. "Cum for me," he growled, and with those words, you let go, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. The sight of your release was all it took for him to follow, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he reached his peak, groaning your name in victory.

As the intensity of the moment began to subside, you both lay there, panting and sweaty, the aftershocks of your passion still rippling through your bodies. You couldn't believe what had just happened, but as you looked into Jack's eyes, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in both of your lives. The connection between you had been undeniable from the start, and now it had taken on a whole new dimension, one that was as raw and real as it was unprofessional.

But in that moment, you didn't care about the consequences; all that mattered was the feeling of Jack's arms around you, the sound of his heart beating in sync with yours, and the promise of a future filled with passion and excitement that could only come from mixing love with the fast-paced world of professional hockey.

[taesanfairy]

love at first sight | p.s

MDNI 18 + 🐧

wc : 1.4k

smut tags : unprotected sex (don’t do it), grinding, phone sex, just sex really. 💌

you were on vacation in japan with your mom, today you were in kamakura, japan. so far it was your favorite place in the world, everything about it screamed you. it was a small town near the beach, the entire time felt like a fever dream, it was so perfect for you.

it had become lunch time by the time you arrived to kamakura so you and your mom walked around until you found a cute ramen shop. when you entered you could see the beach through the windows, it had a cozy type of vibe, and it was warm. even though it was summer you were craving some ramen, and you're in japan so of course you had to get some. to order your food, you had to order on a machine, and then you were seated.

the boy who had seated you gave you butterflies, he was so pretty, almost as pretty as a jellyfish. he had a sharp jawline, fluffy dark hair, very attractive eyebrows, and just perfectness. as you were seated you couldn't keep your eyes off of him, he was exactly your type. He welcomed you and your mom as she told him in chopped japanese we speak english. he smiled at you and then tried to speak to you in english. even his voice was pretty, you were falling hard over a server, in a foreign country. he walked away to work but even as he walked away his eyes couldn't stop looking at you.

when he delivered your food, you ate it fast. maybe it's biased to think it was the best ramen you've ever had since there was a cute waiter but it was really fucking tasty. when you both finished your food the server came over and cleaned the table. when you left the ramen shop, your heart was racing.

walking back to the place you were staying you couldn't stop thinking about him. your mom had been talking about how good the food was but you couldn't help but only think about him. after a while you stopped thinking about him, enjoying your trip.

the next day you had convinced your mom to go again, maybe not fully telling her you want to go for the boy but it was tasty. when you entered the ramen shop he greeted you both with a smile and a wave. he was getting into your heart faster and faster. you both ordered what you had gotten the previous day and ate it until you both were full. when he came to get your bowls he smiled at you, almost flirtatiously.

over the week you couldn't stop thinking about him hoping you could have you anime romance moment but nothing seemed to show up for you. as your mom and you were walking to get some conveyer sushi he passed by you. he took a double look and waved at you, he was about to ride off but he gave you a smile and biked off. like seiji amasawa hehe.

when you went back one last time you asked for his number as your mom was distracted. he smiled at you and wrote down his number and his name.

xxx-xxx-xxxx park sunghoon.

the boy you had fallen head over heels for was named park sunghoon.

when you and your mom traveled back to tokyo you messaged sunghoon. you both used google translate to talk to each other, but it seemed that both people had fallen for the other. You both spent hour and hours talking to each other until one night he confesses to you.

“y/n、 私はあなたが好きです (watashi wa anata ga sukidesu) I like you”. He said over the phone. By this time you were both on the other side of the world (depending on where you live). Even though you had both been speaking to each other your heart still couldn’t handle what he had said to you. it was like a dream, and then you both started going out, online yes but you both knew it was true love.

over time you both fell harder and harder wanting to go farther together, and here you were on the phone with him, but differently this time. Over time you both became better at the opposing language, speaking more fluently together. you  had your legs spread, dripping from arousal. the call had become heated quickly, only over a few sentences about how you missed each other. sunghoon turned on his video camera and showed you what he was doing, thinking about you, his hand slowly gripped his shaft as he was easing the pain of his erection. you whimpered out trying to hold in your noises but you couldn’t help but imagine every inch inside of you. when you turned on your camera you showed how wet you had become over the dirty talk. you could see sunghoon smirking through the phone, proud of what he was making you feel. he gripped his shaft, letting out a low groan and asked you to touch more. you smiled at his chopped english and traced your fingers around your folds, teasing the tips of your fingers to your sopping pussy. he moved the phone closer to his bulge showing you how hard he had become. you whimpered at how big he looked, and how pretty his fingers looked wrapped along his long length. you placed the camera so he had full view of your entire body, you had taken off your shirt to show off your chest. he threw his head back, thrusting hard into his hand. he had cum into his hand, moaning as you messed with your perk nipples. he showed the mess he made as you came close. cumming all over your hand, you showed him and you both took deep breathes.

“goodnight baby, i love you” sunghoon said while hanging up

a few months later, sunghoon got the chance to work in (country you live in), due to his english improving and always wanting to go there. you smiled happily, you were finally able to be with the boy you fell hard for. he wasn’t planning on moving for a few months but he was worth the wait.

(seven months later)

sunghoon exited his plane looking for you, fixing his hair, checking he looked good (please he always does). when he saw you he walked faster, but not running, as an introvert he didn’t want to cause a scene. when he had you in his arms he nuzzled his nose into your neck. you walked him to your car and pulled him into the driver’s seat, seating yourself onto his lap. he groaned at the impact, and the weight on his crotch. His hands made their way to your hips, grinding you into him. he pulled you into a heated kiss, you smiled and pulled back.

“we should probably head to my house instead of doing it here.” you say. He nodded and moved into the passenger seat. as you drove to your house your hands wandered over to sunghoon’s body. you rubbed him through his pants and felt how big his length was. 

when you arrived home you led him up to your room, seating yourself on your bed. you laid down and he pulled you up again. he smiled, but you could see the desire floating in his eyes. sunghoon kissed you again but softly, completely different from earlier. sunghoon pulled you onto his lap and held you, like a glass doll he didn't want to chip.

as you both became hotter and hotter he touched you more. you pulled back and drank in his entire presence, zipper undone, hair messy, lips puffy, and a very visible bulge. he kissed you with more want this time. he lifted his hips so he could take his pant off, your eyes grew at his erection pushing against his boxers.

"i'm not even going to lie to you, i prepped myself before picking you up" you say. he blushes at your words nodding. he removed his boxers as you removed your own clothes. you spread you folds to show sunghoon, and he placed his cock on the exposed skin. you whimper as he brushed against your clit, arching your back. he then entered you, his thickness causing you to see stars. when bottomed out he whimpered, you were so fucked out, the boy you've wanted was deep inside of you. he then started up a pace, fucking you the way he's been waiting for. your high came fast and surprised you, as he felt you pulse around him he rubbed your clit, pleasing you further.

after multiple rounds he set you down and laid next to you. you then both drifted off to sleep, finally together. <3

so the real event was there was a cute waiter. like he was fucking adorable. i met him in kamakura at the ramen shop. i added romance to it but i was like 16 at the time and he was probably 18 maybe 20, yes i went back twice to see him and also passed him on his bike. he was so fine. anyways nothing actually happened but he will forever be in my heart <3