#Forward Multiple Emails

[exopelagic]

okay I severely misjudged spaghetti guy he’s actually just really cool

[kneworder]

been having a meltdown the past few days i finally got back in the country but my bag didn't come with me and it contains four months worth of clothes but significantly more importantly every single christmas gift i've bought while abroad and lufthansa has been dicking me around for days. like why did you send my bag to a different state. why has it been there since 2:30pm yesterday. like i'm literally genuinely begging you we have to do christmas a day early bc of my brother's flight home and i have two dinky gifts i fit in my carry on one of which is a gag gift like fuck you guys for real i just want my bag!!!!!!!!!!!

[the-bluestreak-cat]

I’m so excited about my five cheese ziti

[nope-body]

.

[xiaq]

Story time: Amazon can go fuck itself, and other genteel thoughts.

Good evening. I’m angry.

Up until now, I’ve purchased the majority of items I can’t thrift from Amazon because it’s easy and cost-effective, despite the moral qualms I have about the company. Previously, support was simple. If an item was damaged or a package didn’t arrive, you hopped on chat/the phone, provided proof, and they gave you a refund or return label.

But some shitstain from on high has introduced a new “incident report” process when something goes wrong. You submit your details, you wait 72 hours, and then they give you a refund. This would also be fine. If it fucking worked. But I have, at this point, irrefutable evidence that this is not actually how the process is intended to work. It’s meant to drive you so far up the wall that you either die from a stress-induced heart attack, or rage quit, and they get to keep your money.

In the last several months, I’ve had to submit three incident reports for damaged and undelivered items (I’m also encountering a lot more issues with item delivery, but that’s a different story).

ALL THREE TIMES, the process has taken weeks rather than days because ALL THREE TIMES they conveniently “had no record” of multiple incident reports I submitted despite the fact that I had confirmation emails each and every time.

Now, I’m a petty bitch, so even though the hours I was spending checking in, waiting on hold on the phone, being passed from agent to agent, was not worth the $10 and $20 refunds I was trying to get them to honor, I wasn’t going to give up. This last time, though. Oh they really tried.

So. My item isn’t delivered. I submit an incident report on the 12th and get my confirmation email of the submission on the 12th. I haven’t heard back by the 14th so I call and check. Shockingly, they have no record of my report. I submit another one, get another confirmation email. I call back the next day to check they received it. They have not. I beg them to let me forward the confirmation emails I have. I ask what else I can do different. They tell me to submit a new report and hang up on me. I submit another report. I receive another confirmation email. I call the next day. Can you guess? They have no record of it. This time, I ask for them to stay on the line with me while I submit a new report and confirm it’s been received. He confirms receipt and promises I will receive a response by the 21st. I record this conversation because I have a suspicion.

Hello. It is the 21st. Have I received a response? No. I call back. THIS ASSHOLE, who I’m pretty sure is reading this shit from a script, says, (are you ready for this) “There’s no record of an incident report, you’ll need to submit one.” I insist that I had confirmation in writing and verbally. She insists it does not exist.

So I tell her. I now have four confirmation emails. I have a recording of an Amazon support person with their credentials assuring me with the product number stated, that they’ve received my report. I also have been recording this conversation. And if she cannot assist me, I will be posting those emails and both recordings to every social media platform I have, filing a BBB complaint, and checking with my lawyer to see what options I have for legal action (do I have a lawyer? Of course not. But she doesn’t know that).

Immediately, she is backpedaling. “Oh, let me check again, maybe I missed it.” Less than 30 seconds later she’s back on the line. “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, I do have your report here. I will process a refund now.” Shocking. I am shocked.

IT SHOULD NOT TAKE THIS MUCH EFFORT TO GET A COMPANY TO HONOR THEIR PROMISED LEVEL OF SUPPORT.

Jesus Christ.

B and I will be finding different local places to purchase items we tend to buy via Amazon now, because I have every intention of ending our Prime membership. It looks like between Costco and Target we should be covered.

Anyway. No point to this except to rant. Thanks for reading if you got this far. I’m going to go lay under the weight of my dog and try to get my heart rate down.

[tinkcantwrite]

apologies ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

bucky x fem!reader

summary - the thunderbolts* team’s mission goes wrong and you’re worried out of your mind when you don’t hear from bucky. but you shouldn’t worry because he makes it up to you in his own way ;)

warnings - 18+ mdni (you are responsible for the media you consume), oral (f receiving), p in v, dirty talk, little bit of fluff

notes - post thunderbolts* – reader and bucky already have an established relationship !!! and as always ty @luvemmdubb for beta reading ilysm

word count - 2.5k

You swore on everything good in this world that Bucky Barnes was going to drive you up the damn wall.

You sat at the counter of the kitchen in the New Avengers building as you ran a hand through your hair, staring at the tablet in front of you. The team had gone out on another recon mission, something about having to run surveillance on a warehouse used by, yet again, another group of mass weapons dealers. When they had left, Bucky had pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead, reassuring you that it was going to be quick and easy. Simple and nothing out of the ordinary.

You should have known better than to believe that.

Grainy black and white security footage replayed in front of you, reliving the combat that had broken out between the team and men at the warehouse. To put it kindly, the team had sort of gotten their asses handed to them. From what you could tell of the footage, your team had been caught off guard and out numbered. They had tried to fight but it looked like they had taken a really bad beating. 

Shortly after the security footage had cut out, presumably by a stray bullet, Val had called you, telling you an extraction team had gotten them out and that everybody was alive. Bob had appeared from whatever alcove he was hiding out in and rubbed a hand over your back, offering you an awkward yet comforting smile. You had smiled up at him, squeezing his hand in thanks before he retreated back to wherever he had camped out with his current read. 

You glanced down at your phone. Nothing. It had been hours now and Bucky still hadn’t let you know he was okay. You’d take anything at this point: a text, a call, a fucking email. Hell, you’d even take Morse code.

The two of you had talked about this on multiple occasions, agreeing that if anything went awry on a mission that the other wasn’t on, you’d check in as soon as possible. It didn't have to be this huge paragraph, it could be a simple “hey” or one singular letter or one of those silly emojis Bucky had taken a liking to after you’d shown him how to get to them on his phone.

But exactly 5 hours and 28 minutes later (not that you were counting or anything) and you were still in the dark. Not a single smiley face cat or a lone thumbs up. Nothing.

The pit that sat in the bottom of your stomach felt like it weighed tons, pressing down on you as if trying to smother you from the inside out. You had full faith in the team, knew they were skilled and could handle their own when it mattered most but anxiety still gnawed at you, chipping away as the minutes continued to tick by into hours.

You continued to stare at the footage on the tablet, waiting for something to change, some notification to pop up saying ‘Hey the team is just dandy!’ even though you knew it wouldn’t.

Your head whipped around at the sound of several pairs of boots on tile. The door to the floor slid open and the – now disheveled – New Avengers stepped out. You winced as you took them in, the cuts and bruises and exhausted faces plastered on them all.

Yelena was the first to see you, waving sheepishly at your glare. When you simply raised a brow in response, she cleared her throat, waving a hand behind her at Bucky to motion him forward.

“I think she’s mad. Make her not mad,” she mumbled, twisting her head behind her but never letting her gaze slip from you.

Beside her, Ava snorted softly as you shoved off of your stool and slowly stalked to stand in front of them. Bucky pushed forward from behind the group. Alexei muttered something about how scary you were when you were quiet like this, to which John responded by shooting him a look.

Bucky tilted his head with a hesitant smile, pushing hair and dirt from his tired face. “Doll, look we –”

“Nuh uh,” you tsked, shaking your head. Glancing at the group behind him, you pointed to the side towards the hallway. “All of you go get cleaned up and get some rest. Val is expecting you first thing in the morning for mission reports.”

They nodded, the group dissipating in quiet mumbles and sympathetic glances back to Bucky as the other four turned to go to their rooms. Bucky moved to go as well but your hand darted out, grabbing his metal arm. “You don’t get to leave just yet.” Without looking at you, he closed his eyes and groaned inaudibly, turning on his heel to stand in front of you. You blinked up at him, your glare hard and unwavering.

“Look. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, okay? We were supposed to be in and out. Just go in, get the layout, get an estimate of how many people were inside, then come straight back, but we weren’t ready for an ambush.” Bucky tried to explain, hands situated on his hips as he looked down at you, daring to meet your eyes. “They knew we were coming, I don't know how, but they did. And after that first shot it all went to hell and I got sidetracked and I'm sorry I didn't call.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, tentatively stepping towards you. Your gaze softened momentarily. You swallowed, rolling his words over before nodding.

“I know. But you can’t just not tell me. I had to hear it from Val that you were okay. And I know that you had more pressing matters at that moment, I am well aware of that, but Buck, you said if shit like this happened you would let me know.” You chewed on your bottom lip, arms crossed, turning your head away from him to look out at the city below you.

He nodded, ducking his head. “I know that, doll. I’m sorry, okay?” Bucky stepped closer, tilting your head with his hand to face him. The feeling of his cold, metallic hand against your flushed skin sent a shiver down your spine.

You met his steely blue eyes as you nodded softly. At your nod, his shoulders slumped, tension vanishing from his face. Bucky smiled softly, pulling you into his chest. Your arms twined around his neck, leaning into him.

Bucky rested his chin on your shoulder, nose brushing against your neck, lips pecking your shoulder through your shirt. You rolled your eyes as you pushed him back gently, swatting at his chest. 

“Go shower. You aren’t getting in that bed covered in whatever that is.” You motioned at his shirt which was now ripped and littered with dirt and blood. Bucky smirked, leaning down into you once more.

“I will but you know you like me when I’m all ratty like this.” He smirked harder at the red blooming across the apple of your cheeks. You scoffed, hitting his chest again. 

Bucky grinned, stepping even closer, your chests brushing. He kissed your nose before bending down and hooking an arm around your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder. 

“James Buchanan Barnes I am not doing this right now. I’m still pissed off at you. Put me the fuck down.” Your fist met his back as he laughed, deep and rich, sliding a hand over the back of your knee and giving it a possessive squeeze.

Your vision swayed as he started forward, hauling you towards your room. The door to your room opened and Bucky flicked the light on with his free hand before stalking towards your bed and tossing you down unceremoniously.

You flopped back on the bed among the untucked blankets and sheets with a soft oof, hair splayed around you like a halo. Bucky grinned above you, holding your wrists with his hands as he caged you in. You rolled your eyes, tugging your wrists to no avail.

“I’m still mad at you,” you muttered, meeting his eyes as he moved to rest his knee between your legs.

“I know, but I’m hoping I can make it up to you,” Bucky hummed, low and raspy, as he gathered both of your wrists in his broad metal hand. He ducked his head to your chin, leaving a trail of scalding, sloppy kisses down your neck and towards your collarbone. Your knees twitched at his side as he hovered above you, desperate for connection, desperate to soothe the ache that had begun to grow between your thighs.

In one fluid motion, Bucky had slid your shirt off of you, and continued his path with his mouth over your chest, brushing against the swells of your breasts. He toyed with the edge of your bra with his teeth, grazing your tender skin, sending a shiver through your limbs. 

You felt him smirk into your skin at your shiver, slipping a hand between your back and the cotton sheets beneath you. Your bra shifted forward, loosened by his hand, as he slipped it up and over your arms.

Holding your gaze, Bucky dipped lower, exhaling gently onto your exposed nipples. He hummed against you, before kissing around the now-perked nipple and taking it into his mouth. Working the soft flesh with his tongue, he took the other in his vibranium hand, rolling the bud between his thumb and pointer finger. 

Underneath him you squirmed, a mix of pleasure and need swirling inside you like the beginnings of a thunderstorm in mid-July. You felt it coiling in your belly, tight and hot and consuming, as he worked at your chest, pulling soft, wordless moans from your lungs.

Bucky traveled lower even still, kissing along your ribs, down along your stomach, and across the waistband of your underwear. He hummed as one hand toyed with the tiny silk bow in the center of the lace elastic. 

“You just casually wear these?” He glanced up at you, eyes teasing. You groaned, rolling your eyes, as he flicked the bow with his forefinger, slipping it under the elastic and popping it softly against your skin

“Shut up,” you huffed, face turning scarlet as he slipped the fabric off of you. Bucky inhaled sharply as he nudged your clenched thighs apart.

“Spread your legs for me, doll. That’s it,” he muttered, peppering soft kisses along the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs. Your fingers threaded through his hair as his nose brushed just above where you wanted him most.

You tugged at the ends of his hair and he glanced up. You nodded gently and he smiled, kissing your belly before licking a stripe up your folds. You gasped, back arching slightly as he teased your core with his tongue, darting in and out just enough to make you grind your teeth in desperation.

Bucky pulled back, blowing a puff of cold air against your clit, making you groan his name, the side of your cheek pressed firm into the mattress beneath you. “Taste so fuckin’ good for me.”

He gripped your thigh, hoisting it over one shoulder while bracing himself against the other as he dove into you like a man starved. 

His tongue worked at you meticulously, pressing into your harder with each grunt and whimper you let out. Bucky grunted against you, a sound hard in his chest, that sent a white hot flash of heat down your trembling spine.

“Buck…” you exhaled, voice quivering. Bucky looked up from where he was situated between your legs, face flushed with something raw, almost primal, tongue stilled inside of you. “Need you,” you gasped, “Now.”

Bucky laughed lowly against you, sending a tremor through you once more as he sat back, resting on the backs of his thighs. “For somebody who was mad at me just a little bit ago, you sure are needy now, aren’t you, doll?” 

You attempted to glare at him but it was lost on him as he tugged his black shirt over his head. Bucky leaned up over you once more, pulling your head up as his hand cupped the back of your head, capturing your lips in a kiss. This time, a more gentle kiss, more sincere. 

He stood from the bed, slipping his belt off and stepping out of his battered jeans. Despite having seen him this way dozens of times before, you still blushed, biting the inside of your lip as he tossed his boxers down beside his jeans. 

Bucky situated himself back between your legs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone as he toyed with your clit with his fingers. His head hovered near your ear, the scruff of his 5 o’clock shadow tickling your cheek as he uttered filth into your ear, sucking at the skin just under it as you whined. You grasped at his face with your hands, pulling him into a deep kiss, opening your mouth as he teased at your lips with his teeth.

On top of you, you felt Bucky’s hand move from between your legs. You gasped into his mouth, eyes fluttering as his tip nudged at your entrance.

“Let me make it up to you,” he mumbled, resting his forehead against yours. You nodded, half conscious eyes blinking up at him, brimming with a mixture of need and anticipation.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, moving to rest his head in the junction between your neck and shoulder as he pressed into you. You gasped, thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he sunk into you completely. 

“Fuck…” he mumbled, ragged and tense, as your hips bucked up into his. “You can get mad at me anytime you want if this is what it takes to apologize, doll.”

You whimpered at both his words and at the way Bucky lifted his hips, sliding out of you and pushing back in. Slowly but surely, his pace sped up, ramming in and out of you. An amalgamation of moans and grunts, sweat and sex, heat and intensity, filled the space around the two of you. Your bodies connected together in soft thuds, matching the pace of the need thundering through you both.

You tensed around him and he groaned, lips attaching to the tender spot underneath your ear as he braced himself against your arms. 

“I’m sorry baby,” he panted beneath thrusts, punctuating each word by hitting that spot inside of you, “I’ll call you next time, I fucking swear it.” 

You whined, as Bucky filled every inch of you, babbling back at the praises that tumbled recklessly from his mouth. You gasped, hands spasming underneath his vice-like grip as you squeezed around him, body tightening suddenly. You blinked, stars swimming across the horizon as he continued to rock into you, riding out your high as you relaxed back into the bed underneath you. 

Bucky came undone, panting into your shoulder and pressing deep into you with one concluding grunt. He stilled, remaining inside of you, before holding himself over you on his forearms. You blinked up at him blearily, exhaustion taking over your face.

He smiled at you lazily, face flushed and glowing in the soft light. “Am I forgiven now?” 

You laughed weakly, reaching up to push a strand of hair away, plastered to his temple by the light sheen of sweat that coated his face.

“I dunno. I think you should try apologizing again.”

[iwatcheditbegin]

Honestly it would still suck it I didn’t have tix regardless. But I think what’s eating me is the fact that I didn’t even get a chance to try. I was stuck in treatment without any access to electronics when both the announcement and sale happened.

[vibeswithdivs]

you don’t mess around - OP81

If you had to describe your job in three words, they’d be: pressure, precision, and absolutely no room for mistakes.

You managed the money that kept McLaren running. Not in the sense of counting coins in a dusty room — no, you lived in digital dashboards and currency exposure spreadsheets. On any given day, you could tell someone how much was in the Swiss account, how the yen was affecting the Singapore deal, and whether a facility payment was going to clear before a supplier had a panic attack.

The job was about timing. Liquidity. Predicting the unpredictable and safeguarding the team’s future — all while juggling numbers with razor-sharp accuracy.

Which is why when a race car driver wandered into your high-stakes, number-heavy corner of the building on a calm Wednesday morning, you stared at him like he’d stepped into a Bond film by mistake.

He paused just inside the glass doors — tall, hoodie-clad, faintly windblown from the chilly British air outside — and looked around with a furrowed brow.

Definitely lost.

Your colleagues peeked over their screens, some wide-eyed, others frozen mid-email. In this room, the loudest thing was usually someone’s keyboard when they were panicking before a deadline.

You were about to go back to calculating rolling cash positions when he spotted you.

He smiled.

It wasn’t a polite PR-smile. It was curious. Warm. Maybe a little amused.

“This definitely isn’t Aerodynamics,” he said, glancing around.

You took your hand off your mouse and leaned back slightly in your chair. “Unless they’ve suddenly decided to start hedging foreign currency risk, no — you’re a few wrong turns deep.”

He took a cautious step in. “It’s… quiet in here.”

You tilted your head. “Not when the dollar drops half a percent during a five-million-pound contract negotiation.”

He grinned at that. “Sounds intense.”

You offered a thin smile. “That’s one word for it.”

There was a beat. Then he added, “I’m supposed to be meeting Zak, but I think I took a wrong left somewhere between partnerships and… whatever room had seventeen monitors and no windows.”

You stood, brushing off your skirt. “You’re about four corridors off course and six floors deep into stress.”

He looked around. “Well, if I’m going to get lost, at least I ended up somewhere interesting.”

You blinked at him. “You’re the first person to say that about this room. Ever.”

He gave a half-grin, toeing one foot on the floor like he was trying to kill time. “So what do you actually do in here?”

You pointed to your screen, where a live dashboard showed inflows, outflows, and forecasts across multiple international entities. “See that? That’s how much is available in five different currencies to fund race weekend logistics without breaking any laws or overdraft limits.”

Oscar leaned slightly forward, genuinely intrigued. “And you just… know how to do that?”

“I know how to make sure no one gets a call from legal,” you said, turning your gaze back to him. “Including you.”

He laughed, a genuine, caught-off-guard sound. “Wow. You guys are the quiet enforcers.”

“Quiet, precise, and very well-documented,” you replied smoothly. “We don’t leave fingerprints — just audit trails.”

That earned a low whistle. “You don’t mess around.”

“No, but people sometimes think we do — right up until they want to order a new hospitality suite and we say, ‘not unless you want to explain that to Finance.’”

He looked impressed. “Duly noted.”

Another colleague passed behind you, giving Oscar a side-eye like he was a Martian. You cleared your throat and took a step forward, suddenly feeling aware of just how much of the room was pretending not to eavesdrop.

“You’re Oscar,” you said, a little more grounded now.

“And you are…?”

“Y/N,” you replied. “I work in… let’s call it future-proofing.”

That made him pause. “I like that.”

“It sounds less terrifying than ‘I manage the operational cash forecasts for a multimillion-pound motorsport empire,’” you added with a wink.

He smirked. “A motorsport empire, huh?”

“You guys play chess with tires. I play chess with the economy.”

He laughed again, and the sound of it — relaxed, amused, intrigued — felt like a weird sort of reward after a morning spent reviewing intercompany transfers.

“You actually like this stuff?” he asked, pointing at your screen.

You tilted your head. “You like driving into a corner at 200kph hoping your grip calculations are right?”

“…Fair.”

At that moment, a harried admin appeared behind him. “Oscar! There you are — Zak’s been waiting—”

Oscar turned slightly but didn’t move. “Got a little sidetracked.”

The admin blinked at you, surprised. You offered a tight-lipped smile and a “don’t you dare start” eyebrow raise before turning back to him.

“Back to the track?” you asked lightly.

“Back to pretending I know what my engineer is talking about.”

You smiled, unexpectedly. “Fake it till you podium.”

He chuckled. “Hey, Y/N?”

You raised a brow.

“I’m glad I got lost,” he said. “Most detours don’t come with financial sass and a global cash position overview.”

“Flirting with the girl who can freeze team spending is bold,” you replied, smirking.

He shrugged, taking a few steps toward the door. “I’ve raced in Monaco. I like high-risk strategies.”

Before leaving, he turned back over his shoulder, grin softening into something more sincere. “I’ll come back. But next time, I’ll bring coffee. You seem like you don’t take sugar, but I’ll gamble.”

You blinked, not used to someone reading you that quickly.

“…Black. No sugar,” you said after a beat.

He pointed, victorious. “Knew it.”

And with that, he slipped out of the room — leaving behind a trail of confusion, amusement, and a string of open-mouthed stares from your colleagues.

You sat down, turned back to your screen, and tried — very unsuccessfully — to remember what currency hedge you were working on.

But all your brain could supply was: He got your coffee order right.

And maybe… just maybe… some risks were worth taking.

[4unnyr0se]

❥ men and their office siren

warnings: fem! reader, office siren! reader, perversion, lewd thoughts, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, mentions of bondage, mentions of breeding, incredibly lewd language, hickeys

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 522

Men who fall in love with their local office siren. Their boring desk jobs become something to look forward to daily because you would be there gracing the monotonously grey cubicles with your beauty and sickenly sexy high heels.

Men who instantly got hard whenever you would walk by in your tiny little pencil skirt that barely covered your ass and those thin black stockings that looked so fucking tearable. Your perfect posture is even more elevated with those red-bottomed heels you proudly strutted around in, no doubt a gift from a previous boyfriend. Or maybe a current boyfriend. He didn’t care. There was no ring on your finger. 

Men who fantasize about fucking you at their desk when lunchtime rolls around. When the office is empty, except for the two of you. How he so longs to grab you by your skirt collar and rip it in half, the buttons of your tight blouse flying in multiple directions. He craves the feeling of your tits in his mouth and his fingers curling deep inside of you, your slutty screams rolling like honey off your tongue as you cum on his fingers like a good girl. But he isn’t finished with you, not at all. He rips the fabric of your stockings and slams his aching cock inside of you, not even bothering to use protection. He shoves all of his stupid stationery off the cheap desk, so you’re sprawled out like a slut, practically screaming as he rips you in two with his massive cock. He cums inside you over and over and over again until you’re whimpering and begging him to stop. His hand is wrapped so deliciously around your throat. His eyes are glued to his cock disappearing inside your greedy pussy.

Men who thought they would never be able to fuck their pretty office sirens until the pretty little thing shows up drunk at his doorstep one day, still in your work clothes. He wastes no time in throwing you onto his bed and tying your pretty wrists above your head so you can’t run anywhere. Who ruins you while you’re still in your pencil skirt, littering your neck with hickeys that would be impossible to cover up. Men who can’t stop spewing filth from their lips as they fuck you so desperately, and you take it so gladly.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum again inside of you. You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you, princess? Oh, such a good little fucking slut you are, taking all my fucking cum. It’s gonna be leaking out of you for weeks.”

“You dress like such a fucking slut every single day, it’s only fair that I fuck you like one. Clenching around my cock like a slut, yeah? Don’t worry, pretty girl. I won’t stop fucking you until you pass out.”

“Fucking take it, fuck! Yeah, you like that, don’t you? Getting fucked by your coworker with those heels still on your feet? I should take a picture and email it to everyone; show them what a slut you’re being. Maybe someone will wanna come over and get his fill, hm?”

KENTO NANAMI, timeskip! tetsuro kuroo, shiu kong, doppo kunikida, SHOTA AIZAWA, timeskip! daichi sawamura, timeskip! keiji akaashi, choso kamo, RANPO EDOGAWA, loid forger

[rin-may-1103]

Biggest Regret. (Part Two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Bruce had finally found a peaceful moment to sit down and go through his work emails; there were no sibling homicide fights, prank wars, and thankfully no vigilante-related headaches.

Just a peaceful afternoon; normal polluted Gotham skies, the usual city ruckus of honking horns and shouting, and the constant footsteps back and forth past his closed office door.

taking a sip from his old mug, Bruce opened his laptop. Quickly typing in his password for the hour, he made his way to his email. surprisingly, less than 90 emails were waiting for him. Usually, he had hundreds to go through.

hmmm. Another check for this being a suspiciously good day then, it just made him more anxious for when the other shoe would fall.

peaceful for Gotham, for him, never meant anything good. It always happened right before a tragic event or large-scale Arkham breakout. he could hope for it to just be a peaceful day, but he knew wishful thinking was useless.

taking another sip, Bruce started scrolling through his emails, reading the subject lines to sort through which ones were more important. After a few minutes of reading, Bruce stopped and reread the second to last email's title, his eyebrows furrowing:

A Video From Your Son.

Now, Bruce was truly confused; Why would one of his kids email him? let alone through his public work email? They've been told multiple times to email him through the bat-email if it contains anything important or time-sensitive. Heck, they've been told to just text him it if it was important, he always answers a text faster than an email.

His Bruce Wayne email was notoriously ignored for multiple days; mostly for his cover story, but also because he spends most of his time doing Batman stuff. (Reading Wayne Enterprises emails usually wasn't something at the top of his list, the kids know this.)

so, then why would one of them email him?

hmm. maybe? maybe one of the boys set up a long-term prank or something. They know how long it takes for him to read his emails, so maybe they sent it knowing it would take a while, which means they had plenty of time to set something up.

yes, that's it. it makes total sense.

Clicking on the email, he was greeted with a boy (who looked a lot like Damian, but who most certainly wasn't) sitting gravely on a wooden box in some dark warehouse.

sitting up straight, Bruce set his mug down and studied the paused video. the boy looked so much like Damian that Bruce almost wanted to believe he was a clone. but his bright stern blue eyes and and apparent freckles pushed the idea away.

Yes, clones can have imperfections, especially when made in a rush, but never something as drastic as the wrong eye color or a genetic quality the one being cloned didn't have. Unless, the one making the clone had no idea what they were doing, but Bruce doubted Talia would have allowed someone to take Damian's DNA before he was given to Bruce.

and the boy on screen had scars, lots of scars, meaning if he was a clone then he was made before Bruce even knew of Damian.

hmm.

there were no clues provided in the kid's surroundings; the warehouse was surprisingly empty of anything important or telling. the kid had even chosen a spot where Bruce couldn't tell if it was day or night, or if the lights were on. which took away the usual ways of figuring out where the boy was.

No sky meant he couldn't calculate the general area based on season and celestial bodies. And because he couldn't tell if the light was from industrial lighting or daylight, he couldn't cross out warehouses with electricity. The kid was smart. smarter than the average citizen at least.

he was also wearing discreet clothing; which meant Bruce couldn't trace him through that either.

leaning forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees, Bruce pressed play and gave the video his full attention.

The boy on screen sat in silence for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. his hands rested in his lap, his poster rather relaxed as he sat on his wooden crate.

"This is video eight." the boy spoke, his voice rough with sleepless nights and yelling. Did he yell at people often? or had he gotten into a fight previously? there were seven other videos, but this was the first one Bruce saw. he'd have to go back and see if he had somehow missed them.

"don't worry, you didn't miss anything." the boy chuckled humorously, running one of his hands through his hair. Bruce noted that it shook, the kid was probably nervous, or hungry. the kid looked too skinny to be healthy...

"no, this is just the eighth time I've had to record this." the boy continued, dropping his hand back into his lap as he slumped forward, his black hair falling into his face.

"this video," he continued, not glancing up, "is for Bruce Wayne's eyes only."

there were still no visual tells on where the boy was, not even audio cues for Bruce to study. frowning, Bruce rested his head on his hands, taking in everything the boy said.

"Hi Dad," Bruce sucked in a breath, tensing up as the kid finally glanced back at the camera.

"I'm Danny. you likely don't know I exist, and if you're receiving this; I'm already dead." he chuckled like the thought of his death was laughable. "well, more dead than I already was." he snorted, shaking his head in a way that reminded Bruce of Damian when he was exasperated or disappointed.

"Maybe it's cruel of me to send you a message post-mortem," Danny, the kid's name is Danny, looked away. He rubbed his neck awkwardly as he continued, "But you deserve the truth, and telling you earlier would've put you in danger."

Danny let out a breath as he pulled his legs up onto the crate, "this email is set to automatically send if I haven't opened my laptop for three days. I sometimes set it longer if I'm expecting trouble or going to be away for a while, but I've most likely been away from home for a bit over three days if you're receiving this."

Danny looked so tired as he looked back at the camera, the dark bags under his eyes worse than even Tim's after a week-long investigation.

"I don't know who killed me. Obviously, I'm recording this in advance... I have my suspicions though. it was most likely either the GIW or my adoptive parents, the Fentons." Danny reached beside him and held up a two pictures, "This is Maddie and Jack Fenton, and this," another picture, "is some GIW agents."

Danny snorted as he glanced at the GIW agents, their startled faces slightly blurry as Danny stood in front of them and took a selfie. bruce wasn't sure if he was amused or not that the kid took a selfie with his potential murderers but then again, Bruce could see all of his children doing it too. (Bruce could also see himself doing it.)

"i half-died at 14," Danny suddenly added, tossing the pictures to the side. "became the local ghost superhero..."

he stared off to the side for a moment, "but they never realized I was trying to help and kept talking about tearing ghost me apart molecule by molecule." Danny glanced back at the camera before his eyes widened, "my parents! I mean, my parents and the GIW wanted to tear me apart, not the town! though they probably wouldn't have disagreed with it if asked..."

"anyway," Danny shook his head, "my money's on that being what happened..." Danny looked down at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time, "there will be nothing left of me to bury..."

"Sorry about that!" he suddenly added, a bright smile on his face. Bruce could tell it was strained, forced in hopes of not upsetting him.

"you'd probably have to cremate me if there was, it'd be a waste of wood to get me a coffin... though I'd really prefer if I wasn't set on fire," Danny chuckled, trying to hide a full-body shiver.

He sat in silence for a moment before Danny continued, "The rest of the story is this: I was raised in an assassin cult, eventually escaping at the age of nine. they sent me on a mission and I just had to take the opportunity. I successfully faked my death."

Danny sat up now, fully focusing on the camera, "My biggest regret is that I escaped alone. And that's the reason I'm reaching out to you."

Danny let his feet fall off the edge as he grabbed something from next to him, keeping it out of view for now. "you're a civilian," Danny stated like it was a fact he knew to be true.

Bruce clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself still so he could focus on what Danny was telling him. he wished he could reach through the screen and hold the boy, whether he was his son or not, he obviously was talking about the league which meant Talia hadn't told him.

Talia hadn't told him, and if he was anything like Damian, then he would have no reason to believe otherwise.

"If you know too much about the League of Assassins you'll be in danger, but I need you to save my twin Damian." Danny's words were like a final nail in the coffin, the final straw to keeping his heart from breaking again.

it was true, it had to be. How would Danny have this information otherwise?

"he's likely still there after all these years. he never wanted to escape; he took pride in being the heir to the league. he's probably going to be stabby: he's an assassin after all, but it's not his fault. Ra's, our grandfather, indoctrinated him a lot more successfully than he did me. Damian was more susceptible to it... it's not his fault." Danny repeated, clenching the object he had grabbed.

"Please," Danny pleaded, "save him. I'm begging you. My biggest regret is leaving Damian in the league. You have a chance to save him. Please, please take it."

Danny bit his lip and glanced down at his lap, "I w-," he quickly glanced around before shaking his head, "I long for a time when it would have been safe for me to get to know you. You seem like a cool dad, from what I've seen of you on the news with your oldest kids."

he looked up with a water smile, "I bet you're like that with the youngest you hide from the public too. I still don't know how you managed that, it's been six years." Danny chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"This is my, um, my old league sigil." Danny held up the object he had been holding, revealing a golden disk with thick rope connected to it. it had the demon head's symbol on it.

"A coat of arms. I'll leave it somewhere for you. hopefully, you can use it to get to Damian." Danny gently placed it back on the box. "I'm keeping it in a box in the walls of my room. You should be able to find it."

"I wish you and your family the best," Danny sniffed, looking back at the camera. "thank you for listening. From your long lost almost certainly dead by now son, Danny Fenton."

Bruce stared at the paused video for a minute, just trying to process everything he just saw. he needed confirmation, he knew it was true, it had to be, there's no way Danny could fake this. but Bruce needed to confirm. make sure he isn't seeing things.

absently, Bruce pulled out his phone and dialed his youngest's, was he still the youngest? or was Danny? number.

the tone didn't even ring longer than five seconds before his son's voice echoed into the silent office, "Father."

"Damian, did you have a twin named Danny?" Bruce asked, not cutting around the bush.

dead silence, he couldn't even hear Damian's breath.

then, "...Who told you?"

Damian's voice wasn't angry or fearful, it was sad and confused and wavered like the last leaf on a tree clinking on for dear life in a blizzard. it cemented the break in Bruce's heart as he stared at the tearful face of his son, his son who claimed to be dead already.

hanging up, Bruce quickly sent the video to Damian and waited. he needed a minute to process what just happened. Clicking play, Bruce rewatched the video, hoping to find another clue.

Damian called back a few minutes later, the sound of Danny's voice echoing in the background telling Bruce his son had watched and rewatched the video just like he had.

"Father. I do not care what state he is in, even if there is only a single molecule left. I'm going to bring him home. We must discover exactly what happened to Danny, the truth."

"I couldn't agree more, Damian," Bruce grunted, standing up. Pushing his chair in, he turned his laptop off and made his way to his office door. "I'll be home soon, gather the others. tell them all hands on deck."

"yes, Father," Robin replied, hanging up not even a second later.

Shoving his phone in his pocket and opening his office door, Batman started making his way home.

Next

[mollybrooks]

i’m doing pet portraits and other sketches for esims! follow the instructions to get your own.

(alt text under cut)

WHAT ARE eSIMS?

ESims are digital SIM cards that allow people to activate a cellular plan and connect to networks without a physical SIM card.

With frequent internet blackouts, eSims are often the only way for people in Gaza to stay connected to the world and each other.

WHAT YOU GET:

For every 2 eSims you donate, you'll receive a digital sketch of a beloved object or creature as a print-quality file (about 5x5in).

Please allow 3 weeks for completion.

EXAMPLES:

your pet

houseplant

espresso machine

bicycle

NO:

humans

multiples

landscapes

abstract concepts

HOW IT WORKS:

1. Follow the instructions at https://linktr.ee/gazaesimsdonor to donate at least 2 eSims.

2. Forward the eSim emails to commish@mollybrooks.com, along with a (brief) sketch prompt and up to 4 reference images.

[mysticalserenity-tarot]

:¨ ·.· ¨: `·. ୨୧ Your relationship dynamic with your future romantic partner ᡣ𐭩 (boyfriend/girlfriend, future spouse, etc.) (Pick a pile)

{How to pick a pile? First, take a deep breath with your eyes closed to clear your mind. When you open your eyes, don't hesitate – pick the image that immediately grabs your attention or stirs up a memory. Remember, you can pick more than one pile if you feel called to. If none of the images stand out for you, it means there's no message for you at this time. You can always come back to it later.}

ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ~ ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ~ ԑঙ<💙

Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3 (from left to right)

Hello, and a huge thank you to everyone for your incredible support. It means a lot!

In this collective pick a pile reading, we'll explore the relationship dynamic of you and your future romantic partner. Let's see where your energy takes us.

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading I picked up on multiple energies, so please only take what resonates and leave the rest. When something resonates you usually feel a light energy and in your heart you can feel it's your message, and the pic that attracts you is a clearly sign.

ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ~ ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ԑঙ<💙>ԑ̮̑ঙ ~ ԑঙ<💙

PILE 1 ᡣ𐭩

8 of Swords Rv, 3 of Pentacles, Knight of Wands (Knight of Pentacles)

Hello Pile 1, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

You and your future romantic partner will free each other from any burdens, past wounds, and betrayals. I keep hearing the message 'teamwork makes the dream work,' which is confirmed by the repeated appearance of the 6 of Pentacles, the give-and-take card. This pile has a more calm energy compared to others, yet there is a hint of passion and an abundance of love, as indicated by the 2 of Cups. I see a lot of collaboration between you two, which will propel your relationship forward and allow you to learn valuable things from each other.(About that message, many of you (not all) that chose this pile are or were armys - BTS fans for those who don't know).

This energy is pretty similar to romantic sitcoms, a very lighthearted energy. I see you having fun with each other, making jokes and doing quirky things together. You'll find joy in the little things, such as organizing enjoyable activities together, whether it's at home or outside. I feel that one or both of you might have had bad experiences with past lovers, so finding comfort in each other's arms is important. You're free spirits with stable principles, and you both seek stability in your relationship with a touch of fun to ease your minds after a tiring work day.

Your dynamic is special, and there may be challenges and communication issues, but facing them head-on with determination is crucial for both of you. Patience and loyalty are also key themes in your love dynamic, with grounding elements confirmed by the dominant brown color in your spread. Brownish or reddish tones may also be significant for one or both of you, based on what I'm getting.

To summarize, your relationship is built on teamwork, give-and-take, stability, and fun. You'll find joy in the little things, such as creating fun moments together, and find comfort in each other's arms, despite any challenges that may arise. Patience and loyalty are essential, and your energy has a calm yet passionate feel to it.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 1.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi , I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

PILE 2 ᡣ𐭩

2 of Wands, 2 of Pentacles, Knight of Swords (King of Cups)

Hello Pile 2, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Is this my staying in the comfort zone pile? We're going to say goodbye to it and fasten your seat belts, dear, because this won't be lasting much longer. Your future romantic partner will pull you out of that cozy comfort zone you've been in for who knows how long, and you're going to love it - it's what your soul truly needs, not a sedentary life and the 'I'm afraid to fail so I don't even try' mentality. Your mind is just trapping you into thinking you want that. Now, the love dynamic with your future romantic partner is mostly about adventure, trying new things, and learning because that's what your partner wants for you and for themselves. They have Gemini energy and will bring excitement and intellectual stimulation to your life. They'll be supportive and encouraging of your goals and aspirations, just like a cheerleader, and they'll provide a much-needed emotional balance and practicality to your relationship.

You might be the more timid and fearful one at first, but your soul craves a partner like that and, while it may feel uncomfortable initially, you'll soon realize how grateful you are to have found someone like them. They'll celebrate your achievements and goals with you, including the small ones, and they'll be very nurturing and compassionate towards your needs. The relationship will be balanced between your heart and their mind, and you'll both be devoted to each other.

22/222 may be significant and you may see it often, and ironically this is also pile 2 😁

In summary, the love dynamic between you and your future romantic partner will revolve around adventure, pushing your comfort zone, and finding a balance between excitement and practicality. Patience, support, and devotion will play major roles in your relationship. They'll be your biggest fan and help you overcome indecision, while you'll provide emotional support and stability.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 2.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi , I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

PILE 3 ᡣ𐭩

3 of Swords Rv, Ace of Cups, The Wheel (5 of Wands)

Hello Pile 3, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Compared to the other pile's this is way longer and there is a sense of tension in this energy, but it's nothing that you and your future partner cannot work. To sum it up, the relationship dynamic with your future romantic partner will be karmic or have karmic elements which requires patience from both parties, many ups and downs at least at the beginning (like while adjusting to your new relationship together). The relationship dynamic is marked by alternating moments of gloom and joy, and it seems some past wounds haven't been healed yet. You may want to consider doing some shadow work. I get the feeling that some of you may be reconnecting with exes or entering into relationships with karmic partners before finding “the one.” However, this PAC is for the person you're inquiring about, regardless of whether they're a future bf/gf or spouse. Even if they're a karmic partner (for some of you), it's okay because not every karmic partner is necessarily a bad person. They might just be there to teach you lessons and help you realize what you truly want in a partner so you can move on to a healthier/better relationship. Your relationship dynamics with your future partner will be one of growth and expansion, deeply spiritual, and aimed at helping you grow mentally, spiritually, and even physically. You'll start to feel more confident and radiant, both within and without. The real beauty lies within, and embracing it will make you shine even more.

The relationship will be anything but boring. You'll find new ways to communicate and inspire each other, strengthening your bond. There will be moments of intense emotion, but also comfort and care for each other. It's possible they will even want to have children with you. However, consent is crucial. There's a youthful, child-like energy, but it's not negative - just refreshing. Everything about this relationship feels divinely guided, meant for a higher purpose that you'll discover together.

Some of you may feel confused about something, which could be a sign this is your pile. There's a mix of energies. However, your relationship will be for the stronger hearted - especially Scorpio babies, given the transformative energy. The number 10 may be significant, potentially signaling completion and even a twin flame dynamic. You'll mirror each other's qualities and flaws.

Whoever you're inquiring about will likely sweep you off your feet. Whether it's a positive or negative experience depends on your perspective and situations. Generally speaking, the relationship dynamic will have a positive outcome. For some, this could be your first relationship or your first serious relationship, so everything will be new and exciting. There may be some tension due to inexperience, but it's a normal part of growing and adjusting to this new relationship. In the end, you'll find fulfillment and growth together.

In summary, the relationship dynamic with your future romantic partner will have karmic and potentially transformative aspects, requiring patience from both parties. There may be alternating periods of gloom and joy, which might stem from unresolved past wounds. Some of you may reconnect with exes or get involved in karmic relationships before finding “the one.” Shadow work could be beneficial for everyone. The relationship will be rooted in growth and expansion, and there's a strong spiritual component that will help deepen your connection. This relationship serves a divine purpose that both of you will uncover together. Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 3.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 3.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi , I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ANY LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT IS APPRECIATED, ALSO IF YOU LET ME KNOW IF IT RESONATED.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EACH ONE OF YOU'S SUPPORT, I'M GRATEFUL 🤗🤍

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note that I used AI language bot to help improve grammar and spelling in my readings, as English is not my first language. However, the interpretations and insights provided in my readings are all my work, based on my intuition and the cards' symbolism.

Disclaimer: Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only and are not meant to predict or dictate your future. The cards provide insights and guidance, but the ultimate power of choice lies with you.

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐛𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥 ｡𖦹°‧

miya atsumu x f!reader

atsumu misses the annual fraternity bar crawl, so you spontaneously decide to plan one for him.

part seven of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

Out of all the ways you'd expected to spend your Thursday night, getting plastered with Atsumu was not one of them.

The music thrummed through your veins as steadily as a human heartbeat, the bar buzzing around you with tipsy university students, nine-to-fivers, and the occasional bachelorette party. You and Atsumu had shouldered your way onto the dance floor and were now shout-singing Chappell Roan's "Naked in Manhattan,” the singer's sultry voice and lovesick interjections making you feel things you hadn’t in a while.

"I know I can't exactly relate to this song — because, ya know, it's about two women," Atsumu yelled, his breath hot against your ear. "But I'm diggin' it! On, like, a spiritual level!"

"Chappell Roan and three vodka crans will do that to you!" you shouted back.

The idea to go out had occurred to you earlier that day, after Atsumu had groaned into his iced vanilla latte. You were studying together at the university coffee shop when he'd opened an email for his fraternity's annual bar crawl — a cruel reminder of the group he'd been not-so-subtly driven out of.

"It's a stupid tradition, but I was lookin' forward to it," he'd admitted. "I just hate how I can no longer go to these events without runnin' into my ex. Or her back-stabbin' new boyfriend."

You tried returning to your world lit reading, but Atsumu’s words clung to you like a piece of chewing gum.

"Well, what if we went on a bar crawl tonight?"

Atsumu blinked at you. "Like, just the two of us?"

"Yeah!" you chirped before you could overthink it. You opened a new tab on your laptop. "I can plan a route for us based on price, walkability, and proximity to food trucks. Oh! I should probably factor on-campus popularity, too..."

Before Atsumu could even get a word in, you began clacking away at your keyboard. He smiled at you bemusedly from across the table.

"Somethin' tells me ya wanna plan this bar crawl more than ya actually wanna do it."

You were already color-coding your Excel spreadsheet when you said, "I can have multiple motivations."

Now, as you danced next to Atsumu in the middle of the sticky bar, your mind began to spiral. It hadn't escaped you that you'd practically asked him out on a date. After all, the words just the two of us were frustratingly intimate. Did he think you were weird for inviting him to do this? Worse, did he think you were insinuating something?

It had become second nature of you to make things better for him, to rectify the shitty hand he'd been dealt at the hands of his ex-girlfriend. But as you looked at him now — with his sweaty hair and easy two-step and short-sleeved button-up that did wonders for his biceps — you began second-guessing your intentions.

"I need to go to the bathroom!" you yelled at him, hoping some distance would sober your wandering eye.

"Sounds good!" Atsumu said, brushing your fingertips as he took your empty cup. "I'll go get us another round!"

You were washing your hands in the dingy bathroom when a voice piped up from the sink next to yours.

"Are you two dating?"

You met the eyes of the girl beside you, her glossy pink lips wrapped around the mouthpiece of her vape pen. She blinked at you though her eyelash extensions and smiled, a cloud of flavored nicotine billowing into your face.

"Sorry?"

"I saw you dancing with that cute guy back there. The one with the bleached hair?" she asked, zhuzhing up her long waves in the graffitied mirror. "My friends think I should ask for his number, but I don't want to break girl code if he's taken. You know?”

You reached for the paper towel dispenser and scoured your fuzzy thoughts for something to say. The sensible part of you would tell her to go for it. After all, you and Atsumu were just roommates. Friends. Emotional support teammates, when the time called for it.

But the softer, more inebriated part of you took one look at this girl — with her Glossier smile and strawberry breath and belly-button piercing so shiny you could see it from space — and choked.

It would be so easy to lie, to tell her he was taken and leave it at that. But doing so would mean that, deep down, you were more selfish than you cared to admit.

And you were too panicked, too tipsy to confront that right now.

"Nope! He's not taken," you replied, shucking your wad of paper towels into the trash. "You can go ahead and ask for his number. Though I'll admit, he's a pretty insufferable flirt."

"Great! He's just my type, then," she drawled in excitement. She adjusted her cleavage in her deep v-neck top and squeezed your shoulder on her way out. "Thanks, love. I owe you one!"

"Anytime!" you chirped pathetically. As if you had an arsenal of hot, eligible roommates at your disposal. The fact that you even associated Atsumu as your hot, eligible roommate was mortifying.

You stepped out of the restroom and immediately spotted the girl chatting up Atsumu at the bar — his brown eyes warm and friendly, her hand resting casually on his forearm as she laughed. The moment he leaned in close to tell her something, you averted your gaze, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here.

Out the corner of your eye, a group of girls stumbled out of a nearby photo booth, giggling as they teetered back into the crowd. Without thinking, you pulled back the curtain and ducked inside, grateful for some semblance of privacy as you tried to pull yourself together.

So what if Atsumu decided to date this girl? She was gorgeous, self-assured. She was even nice enough to ask your permission — though you had absolutely no right to grant it in the first place.

A series of images flashed across your mind. Atsumu, coming home late and gushing about the details of his first date. You, watching the season finale of The Bachelor alone. Nicotine girl, closing the door to Atsumu's bedroom to do god-knows-what with him.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing your heartbeat to stop racing, your thoughts to go away. They didn't.

"The hell ya doin' in here?"

Your head snapped up to see Atsumu, a vodka cranberry in each hand, holding back the curtain to the photo booth.

"Nothing," you blurted, although the look on your face suggested otherwise. Atsumu tsked at you in annoyance.

"Are ya tryin' to pawn me off?"

You eyes widened. "What? No!"

He jerked his chin back out towards the bar. "This girl just came up to me askin' for my number. Said ya gave her the green light."

"I didn't give her anything. She asked me if you were single, and I told her yes. What else am I supposed to say?"

"You say no!" Atsumu exclaimed. Was he actually upset about this? He huffed in exasperation, handed you your drink, and crawled in beside you. His shoulders slumped as he said, "I thought ya were tryin' to get rid of me or somethin'."

Your heart twinged at the confession. "I'm sorry. That's not what I was trying to do."

"Ya couldn't just say we were dating? Spare me havin' to let someone down?"

"What, and lie? No, I'm not going to do that," you said, taking a swig of your drink. It wasn't strong enough to drown the relief now flooding your nervous system. He'd let her down. "I just thought..."

Atsumu stared at you expectantly. "Thought what?"

That you had no say in his dating life. That you, of all people, should have been encouraging him to get back out there instead of brooding in your own selfish fears. That you'd support Atsumu's decision to date again — even if it meant seeing him less.

No, you couldn't admit to any of that. Not only would Atsumu tease you mercilessly about it, but it would open a whole Pandora's box of emotions you were intent on keeping shut for the sake of your own sanity.

"I just thought I could help you move on from you ex, is all," you finally said. It wasn't a complete lie. "Besides, I thought getting a girl's number was a quintessential part of the bar crawl experience."

"Well, maybe I don't want the quintessential bar crawl experience," he murmured, brown eyes locking onto yours. "Maybe, I just want it to be the two of us."

You were now acutely aware of all the places your bodies touched.

"Right, well, you've made that very clear with how close you're sitting right now," you retorted, shoving down every sensation you felt. "Seriously, can you not take up the entire booth with your gargantuan body?"

"Gargantuan." Atsumu smiled lazily. "That's a new one. Was that Merriam Webster's word of the day?"

You rolled your eyes. "Get out."

"Okay, okay, I will. On two conditions," he said, turning to face you in the cramped photo booth. You swore he could hear your heartbeat with such little space between you. "One, ya never try and set me up again. And two, ya take a couple photos with me."

He gestured towards the screen before you. You mashed your lips together in dismay.

"Does my mascara look like shit?"

"Ya look gorgeous," he drawled, already reaching for his wallet.

The booth reverberated with laughter as you and Atsumu decided your poses for each photo: one of you two mean-mugging the camera, another one of you downing your vodka crans.

As the countdown for the last photo ticked onscreen, Atsumu flung his arm around you, pulling you close. Before you could think about it, your hand reached up to cup his chin in an affectionate squeeze.

Click!

"Yep. That's definitely goin' on the fridge," Atsumu said once your photos had printed. He jabbed an index finger at the snapshot of you chugging your drink like a fraternity boy. "Now that's an honors student if I've ever seen one."

Meanwhile, you couldn't stop staring at the third photo — the way Atsumu's eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way your fingers found purchase in each of his dimples.

"I'm havin' a lot of fun tonight," he admitted after a while. "Thanks for takin' me out."

You slid the photo booth strip into the back pocket of your jeans and smiled, the two shots of vodka from your drink warming your face.

"Anytime. Do I make a convincing frat bro?"

"Not even close," Atsumu scoffed, flinging an arm around your shoulders for the second time that night. You ambled towards the exit together as his lips grazed your ear. "Yer even better."

His words, however tipsy, hit you harder than any drink ever could.

@miyasmagnolias, 2025

[panstarry]

In order to incentivize people to donate, I am giving away a set of three 11x17" risograph prints for free to one lucky winner! I can ship internationally to any country that the USPS allows.

💸 Donate $10 USD or more to enter! Each $10 donation to one of the fundraisers (linked below) counts as one entry. Donating multiples of 10 or to different gofundmes counts as extra entries.

💌 You must forward the email receipt of your donation to my email, mushroomsthatarechocolate@gmail.com, in order for your entry to be valid.

📆 Winners will be drawn on Wednesday, December 11th, 2024. I will reach out via email to confirm shipping information. Please be sure to donate and share.

List of fundraisers that have reached out to me:

(information current as of 11/15/2024)

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[cod-indulgences]

Johnny Mactavish x female!reader, Kate Laswell x female!reader, Soap x Laswell x Reader, vibrators, Dom/sub vibes, public orgasms, dubcon, anal fingers, blowjobs, facesitting, multiple orgasms

Soap frowns a little as he hears it again- a low, almost inaudible buzzing. He'd thought maybe a fly was stuck in the briefing room, but the sound was too steady for that.

He strains his ears- he's bored, this meeting is boring, it could have been an email- and tries to pin it down. Somewhere relatively close, or he couldn't hear it at all- and since you're the only person close to him, he looks at you first.

You're sweating.

His first thought is, are you sick? The briefing room is always kept ice cold to discourage napping. But even with the flushed cheeks he doesn't think that's it. Soap's good with details, with people and how to read them.

Right now, you're red faced and sweating,muscles clenched tight, at odds with everything else in the room. You and Soap are at the back, even, tucked close to the corner, out of the way.

The buzzing picks up, and pulses in a heartbeat rhythm, bzz-BZZ, bzz-BZZ, and your knee jumps, a tiny gasp slipping through your lips. Soap keeps his face very carefully neutral and facing forward, even as it all crashes in.

You've got a fucking vibrator.

Sitting in the middle of superiors and commanding officers, and there's something shoved into your pussy. Something that's going hard enough that it's starting to crack your composure. Something he doesn't think you can control, with both hands in view on the table, thighs quivering, Soap the only one sitting near you, because he was late and slid through the door and grabbed the closest seat-

His cock twitches. Fuck, this is the most insane thing he's ever seen, and suddenly that faint little motor is all he can hear- forget Price's droning on, his ears are locked in on you and your breathing, the way you bite back every soft moan, as the vibrator does it's delightful business.

He wonders what kind it is. A little bullet snugged up against your clit? Something thick, giving you girth to clench down on as it buzzes? Vibrating panties, maybe, to make your whole soft cunt tender and sensitive.

But who's controlling it?

Glancing around, Soap considers his options. Not Price, leading the meeting, or Ghost, next to him and both hands in view as he takes notes. Gaz, maybe, but he hasn't turned to look at you once- Soap wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off you, if he was the one driving you crazy. He can barely keep himself under control as it is, knowing what he knows, when you don't know he knows.

Laswell.

She's in the opposite corner, phone in her hand, eyes on the projector screen but flicking over to you. The phone is facing in, screen hidden, but Soap thinks he can just see her thumb moving up and down in the shadows. A steady rhythm, bzz-BZZ.

Soap is hard enough, fast enough, it gives him a head rush. Fuck, he didn't even know you and Laswell have a thing- possibly a thing- enough of a thing you gave her control over your cunt, fuck. He stretches his arms out, and leaves one over the back of your chair, smiling politely when you shoot him a glance. Nothing to see here, just getting comfortable. He waits, gives it a minute, and then when he feels you tense against his arm, shifts so that he settles right over your shoulders, letting the heavy weight of his arm push you harder against your seat.

Your hand snaps out to grab his thigh, fingers digging in, and you actually close your eyes to hold onto your composure. Fuck, this is so hot, every inch of you desperately trying to stay quiet as his arm forces your pussy harder against the vibrator, drives the sensations deeper. He thinks he can even hear the faint wet sounds of soaking pussy as your hips start to grind in little, unstoppable circles.

His phone pings softly. A text- mind giving her a hand?

He looks over to Laswell, gets a tiny nod, and winks at her. God bless the woman, really. Soap lets his arm off your shoulders, rests it against the back of your chair for a moment, then nudges you to lean forward in your seat. You look at him, frowning, then over to Laswell- and her nod to you makes you bite your lip, fuck he wishes he was the one doing that- and then you lean forward, resting on your elbows, giving him enough room to slip his hand down to your ass.

Gorgeous, thick and strong, he's been watching this ass bounce in his field of view since you joined the squad. He gets a palmful of each cheek, squeezing, and wiggles a finger between to push through the layers at your pussy- he can feel the vibrator now, buzzing against his finger, but it's not enough. He wants more than this over- clothes teasing.

Slowly, carefully, he drags his hand back up, slipping it instead into the small space made at your belt when you leaned forward. It's not enough room, but you jerk a little, readjust- and Soap is granted the near-silent whisper of a zipper sliding down, and the waist of your pants opening just enough for his whole hand to slide down, fingers between your cheeks, where your skin is so hot and so damp-

-and your pussy has leaked everywhere, so slick and slippery Soap just clings onto his own composure and reminds himself fucking you on the table right now wouldn't be a good idea. His middle finger just catches on your hole, and he rubs the rim of it, his own face flushing when he bumps up against the vibrator, thick silicone that he maps out to find where it extends in a fat little wand against your clit. Fuck, no wonder you're about to cream your pants, Laswell has been winding you up like crazy.

Soap rubs again around your pussy, teasing, and when you gasp a little again and bite down on your lip, takes it away- and feels the vibrator back off as well, gently thrumming. Laswell catches his eye with a little grin. Oh, the game is on.

His finger pushes back down, then away again, as Laswell does something to make the vibrator settle into a soft rhythm, barely going, just enough that you're kept on edge, waiting for it- and when she suddenly bumps up the frequency, your thighs jumping and hands pressing to your mouth, Soap takes the chance to get his middle finger up against your asshole, and pushes in.

It's hot and wet from your pussy leaking everywhere, so tight he can't get further than the first knuckle, but fucking hell that's all you need. Your eyes squeeze shut and he feels it, the deep muscle clenches and waves, the way the vibrator shifts as your cunt squeezes so tight, your breath coming in sharp little pants muffled against your fingers. The way you come with his finger in your ass and Laswell's toy in your cunt.

Soap's cock, neglected and straining, twitches and spurts precome into his boxers, and he bites his own lip. Fuck, he won't be able to stand up.

The vibrations slow, then stop, and Soap teases your hole a little as you come down, drawing out only when he hears Price start his usual end of meeting spiel. Fuck, he's not paid any attention- who could?

The others gather their things, and Soap slips his hand away before the lights come on, leaning over for a pencil to give you some cover to fix your pants.

Thank fuck, Laswell stands and says you and Soap need to stay behind for a few minutes more. When the door closes with a click behind Gaz, Soap throws his chair back, palming his cock with a moan of relief.

He looks you in the eye when he sticks his damp finger into his mouth, sucking, and God the way you whine and stutter at the sight is enough to give a man a complex.

Laswell leans on the back of his chair. "Need a hand, MacTavish?" She murmurs, and Soap grins in delight.

"Aye, sir, think I could do with some extra support right now."

He's expecting your hands, long fingers and soft palms- and nearly chokes on his tongue when you get on your knees instead, opening his pants to pull out his cock, and set to sucking at the head like it's water and you're dying of thirst. His hand flies to the back of your head, gripping the soft strands, and Soap lets his head fall back, soaking in the hot, wet mouth licking his cock. You're damn good, too, working your way down the shaft, lips stretching out in a wet ring, tongue flicking over his head. Laswell is just leaning against him, and he's never thought of her sexually but damn, today is a day for discoveries. The way she watches you swallow his cock, approving, the strength in her hands and arms as they come up to rest over his shoulders.

Laswell lifts her phone up as you moan, slurping, and shares a smirk with Soap as she thumbs up the little digital toggle- and Soap holds your head in place as you whine and jerk, eyes tearing up, the vibrator coming back to life between your thighs.

One of your hands flies between your legs, for relief or pressure he doesnt know, but Laswell stops you with just a shake of her head.

"Keep your hands on his thighs," she says, and you whimper and lave your tongue over his cock, "and if the nice sergeant says you've earned it, I'll let you have another." Soap moans as you redouble your efforts, all but choking yourself- and oh, there's a thought.

"Permission to handle things a little, sir?" He asks, and gets his own approving nod that goes right to his dick. "Relax your throat, love," he tells you, and waits for your hesitant nod and deep breath before he adjusts his grip and drags you down, down, wet mouth sliding until your lips reach the base. Fucking hell, so tight- so hot, wet, throat gagging and flexing around the head of his cock- there's a grunt and he feels your chest convulse, a ripple going right through him, and tugs you back off to pant.

And you, good girl you are, get a breath then go right back to sucking.

"Good girl, baby," Laswell croons, and Soap drags you down to throat his cock again, moaning at the squeeze before letting you go. "Treating MacTavish so well, you love it, don't you? A cock in your mouth while I play with your clit like this. I don't even need to touch you and you're soaking through your pants." She moves the toggle again, up and down, then in a circle that makes your eyes roll back. "Make him come, sweetheart, but don't you dare come yet on your own."

Soap nearly comes at that, the command in her voice, and pumps his hips back and forth over your tongue. You're a mess, spit and precome frothing up over your lips and hanging in strings to soak his open pants, tears in your eyes, flushed red as a berry. The thick hot smell of cock and cunt fills Soap's nose. He wants to come down your throat, and when Laswell settles her hand around his throat and pulls his head back he doesn't hold back a whine. "Laswell- please- can I-"

Laswell bends and breathes his ear as your head bobs frantically, moaning, the vibrator going so hard Soap can clearly hear it now. "Come down her throat for me, Sergeant."

Soap moans and thrusts and comes, cock shoved past your tongue and into your throat hard, balls drawing up tight as you choke and spit on him, eyelids fluttering, fuck the way your face contorts and stretches around his cock- the bulge he can just see past your chin, how your thighs are spread as you hump the air desperately- Laswell in his ear and fingers on his throat like his mic- there's fucking stars in his eyes as he pants, trembling, and when he heaves a gasp and relaxes his grip you pop off his cock, come drooling over your chin.

"Fuck, fuck please, Kate, Kate sir please please please, I'm gonna come, gonna come come cumming~!" and when Laswell snaps the vibrator to off. You actually wail in despair, letting go of Soap to collapse to the floor, hips jerking.

Laswell nudges you with her boot, and you roll over, a vision, a come-covered slut, and Soap's cock tries to get back in the game.

"Pants off," she orders, "give us a show," and Soap kicks the other chair away to give her room as you yank pants and panties down to your ankles, thrashing, unzipping her own enough to kneel over your head. Soap can't see between her legs, but fuck he can smell her, rich and thick, the scent of wet pussy and hair all riled up together. You make a sweet little moan when she settles over your face, and the wet sucking sounds Soap hears immediately wake his dick up the rest of the way.

He's too sensitive to stroke fully, but he does palm himself, cupping the head still wet from your throat. The bright pink end of the vibrator sticking out of your cunt calls his name, and he slides down to the floor, holding your thighs open. Amazing view, pussy all wet and swollen, slick smeared around your thighs and ass. The little wand part that sits over your clit is quiet for now, but Soap thumbs over it anyway, making you squeak as silicone rubs your bud. You squeak again when he smacks your thigh, and Laswell laughs breathily from her position on your face.

"Go ahead, have some fun, she's earned hers," she says, and the vibrator buzzes to life as Soap smacks your other thigh. He can see the clench of your belly muscles, the way your ass flexes as you rock, chasing down the orgasm that's finally within reach. He wets two fingers in the fucking puddle of slick, sucking them clean, mm, delicious, and then soaks them again before sliding both into your ass.

You make a garbled moan under Laswell, who moans as well, grinding her pussy down onto your face. Soap keeps his fingers deep, forcing them past the tight little ring. The vibrator is pulsing strong, constant waves through your flesh, he can feel it clearly through the thin layer between your ass and cunt, and when Soap curls his fingers and begins fucking your hole to the rhythm of the vibe he sees it happen- the high panting moans, the way your hands clutch at Laswell's thighs, how your thighs spread open and all the deep inner muscles squeeze in waves down to your little holes and throbbing clit.

Soap releases his aching cock, grips the base of the vibrator, and shoves it in hard, deep, as you begin to come.

You scream, all your muscles locking up tight, a long carrying sob of a wail that is muffled by Laswell's cunt, slick squirting out over Soap's hand and wrist, ass tight enough it hurts around his fingers. It feels like it goes on forever, and he can't help himself- he leans in, swipes his tongue over the drooling cunt presented so prettily for him. Even better straight from the source, he thinks, and looks up at Laswell as she moans and shudders over you, bouncing enough that he thinks you've got your tongue in her.

"Gorgeous, sir," he says, winking, and she swats at his head, which turns into hauling him down by the hair to suck at the soft, swollen folds of your cunt. You squeal between her thighs, your own thighs shaking, and Soap fucks the vibrator in and out as you come a little more, thick and creamy, your ass and pussy clenching together.

There's a frantic double tap against Laswell's thigh, clearly a signal, and Soap eases his fingers out even as Laswell picks up her phone and taps, stopping the vibe. You're panting under her, little spasms quivering through your belly and legs, and Soap grips his cock with wet fingers and jerks it hard, biting his lip through the sensitivity, groaning deep in his chest as he comes over your pussy, decorating the base of the vibrator down to the swollen little pucker of your asshole.

Laswell leans in, swipes her fingers through the mess, and stuffs them into Soap's mouth. Fucking hell, if he were a hair younger that alone would get his cock going again, tasting his own come and yours shoved onto his tongue. He sucks her fingers clean, making a show of it, and getting an approving little smile.

She does the same to you, climbing off your face, this time gathering a little of the sticky wet smeared over you from eyebrows to chin before making you take her fingers. Your eyes are big and dark, pupils blown out, and Soap gently tugs up your pants, letting your legs relax over his lap. He just came twice in less than an hour, he's spent, and just leans against the table as Laswell whispers some sort of sweet nothing's in your ear, petting at your hair while you come down. It's fucking adorable, really, and Soap does what he can, holding your hand in his when you reach out for him.

Laswell finally stands with a groan, stretching her back, and Soap does as well. He's a young and spritely sort of man, so he helps you up too, and uses the bottom edge of your shirt to clean your face a bit.

"All right, love?" He asks, and gets a dopey smile. He gets a kiss too, to his surprise, but he takes it and sucks Laswell's come off your lower lip.

"Go on out first, MacTavish," she says, and he redoes his pants and hopes he's at least mildly presentable. There's nothing to save you, fucked out little dope you are, but Laswell looks perfectly put together already. "I'll see her back to her room."

"Aye, sir," he says, and pauses at the door. "So, ah...maybe let me know next time you plan a little party? Would love to be in on it properly," he says, and winks again when you blush to your ears. Laswell waves him out.

"I'll text you," she promises, and two days later Soap gets an invite to a private messaging group and a link for an app to download.

"She's doing laps on the west field and I'm in a meeting. Have fun."

[mrsshabana]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬

ꔫ‧₊ Summary Your kindness and sincerity are like a drug to him, healing the broken man beneath the fancy suit and tie. But he will need to tread carefully so as not to overstep the professional boundary as your boss. And not to mention his wife, a cold and detached relationship that's worn him down. ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, Modern au, Boss & secretary relationship, Gyutaro is married, Age gap ꔫ‧₊ Note 1k words. I've been planning this fic for a long time and I finally feel comfortable putting my own writing wants first. I think it'll be good for me as an author to prioritize what I'm excited about instead of constantly putting them on the back burner and writing what everyone wants me to. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter and thanks for reading ♡

✧:･ﾟ→ Chapter 2 ✧:･ﾟ→ AO3

Today is your first day at your new job. It’s a secretary position in a fancy building downtown. You don’t know much about the company itself, but you do know they are big and quite successful. Really the only reason you applied was because the pay was great and you had experience doing secretary work in the past. 

You had your interview with a man by the name of Tengen Uzui. He was kind, funny, and very charismatic. Making a point to state multiple times that he thought you’d be a great fit for his boss, Gyutaro Shabana, the CFO of the company. Who apparently needed a secretary desperately. 

When he offered you the position on the spot, you were more than happy to accept. Leading you to where you are today. 

Tengen excitedly leads you up to the top floor of the building, walking over to a large door. Knocking twice when you hear a gruff voice from inside the room rumble, “Come in.”

Opening the door, you see your new boss sitting behind a large desk, tall glass windows behind him, filling the room with natural light and a beautiful view of the city below. 

Immediately, you notice his unconventional appearance. He looks quite rugged for someone with such a high position in the company. His hair is shoulder-length and untidy, he has bags under his eyes, and looks exhausted. Contrasted with how sharp he looks in that dark tailored suit that nicely hugs his broad shoulders and thin waist. And of course, there’s the obvious — the strange assortment of birthmarks on his face. They’re midnight black and create a pretty contrast with his pale skin and deep blue eyes. He looks unconventional, but there’s something about him that you find appealing and attractive.

With a smirk, Tengen pushes you forward, “Hope I’m not interrupting your brooding session. But I brought you someone.”

“Explain,” Gyutaro says flatly, his expression unreadable.

“This is Miss Y/N,” Tengen smiles, “You’ve been complaining about scheduling messes and email overloads for weeks. So I took initiative and hired you a secretary. You’re welcome.”

Gyutaro is slightly annoyed by Tengen hiring a new employee without telling him, but he doesn’t want to come off as rude, so he forces a smile as he stands and reaches out his hand, “I see, well it’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Y/N.”

“The pleasure is mine! I’m excited to work for you!” You say enthusiastically, hoping to make a good impression on your new boss, trying not to be intimidated by how tall he is once he stands from his desk.

With a clap of his hands Tengen chimes, “Well, I’ll let you two get acquainted! Try not to scare her off, boss,” he winks playfully before leaving the room.

Gyutaro sighs, already feeling a headache forming, “I’ll call the IT guys to come up and help you get your computer set up, I’ll also forward you my calender and files. In the meantime you can get situated at your desk,” he gestures to the desk sitting outside his office. 

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” you bow curtly before turning to exit the room.

Gyutaro watches you, a mix of curiosity and confusion in his eyes. You didn’t flinch — you had actually smiled at him. Like there was nothing wrong with him, no imperfections on his face, no rasp in his voice, no awkwardly crooked teeth. You looked at him like he was normal. 

Something he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

His gaze lingers, and he doesn’t realize he’s still staring at the door after you’ve closed it behind you. 

~

His office is dimmer now, orange light filling the room as the sun begins to set behind the horizon of buildings. Gyutaro leans forward in his desk, fingers pressed into his temples as he tries to lessen the aching in his head.

His email inbox is a war zone — filled with meeting requests, reports, and investor inquiries. He sighs, exhausted and full of frustration. 

Then, a soft knock on the door. 

“Come in,” he grunts, sounding more annoyed than he intended. 

You shyly step forward, holding a stack of neatly sorted papers and a printed schedule. 

“I went through your emails and responded to anything urgent. The rest I’ve sorted here by priority,” you offer a kind smile as you gently set the documents on his desk.

“Oh!” you gasp, almost having forgotten to mention something, “I also fixed your schedule for tomorrow afternoon. You had three meetings scheduled at the same time. So I reached out and rescheduled based on everyone’s availability.”

Gyutaro is left speechless. Impossibly impressed by your diligence, especially since he hadn’t even realized the accidental triple booking. 

Taking the documents in his calloused hands, he scans them over, “You did all this?”

“Yes, sir. I know you’re busy so I figured it might help.”

He stares in awe at the weekly schedule you’ve printed for him, everything is clean and organized. Feeling so much more manageable than the mess of stress he had before. 

“Thank you,” he offers a soft smile. 

“You’re very welcome, sir,” you blush slightly, “I-I hope I’m not overstepping-”

“Not at all,” he says firmly, “You’ve done more in one day than most could do in a week.” There’s a rare hint of warmth in his tone as he says this, “It’s been a long time since someone has helped me like this.”

You try to hold back your excitement at his praise, “That’s my job, sir.” You grin happily, warmly, at him before slipping out of the room. 

Leaving Gyutaro alone again. But this time, the air in his office doesn’t feel as suffocating. It’s warm and calm. Something Gyutaro hasn’t felt since he was a child. A feeling that he never feels at the office, and certainly never feels at his home. 

But he welcomes the unfamiliar feeling. And for the first time in a long while, he can’t wait to come into work early tomorrow morning. 

Maybe hiring you wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He’ll thank Tengen later.