#its 2 am and i feel like i did a shit job but here it is

[em-b-sides]

I think about that tiktok trend where you like paint your partners eye color on your nails or make a bracelet or something with the color a lot actually

[kurthorton]

im just saying i could do aria justice better than the show ever did and i dont even like aria

[katandsquad]

.

[neonvqmpire]

vent in the tags

[readymades2002]

who even give a fuck. yknow

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Perfect Life || CL16 {2}

Summary: Charles finally gets to see the person his brother was proud to call his best friend, and in doing so realises he has some amendments to make. Warnings: angst, swearing, sarcasm WC: 2.4k

One || Two || Three

It was foolish to think the Leclerc’s would just leave you alone. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that Arthur stopped your door from closing but you did frown when his brother followed him inside your humble abode. 

It was dim inside, with only shafts of starlight coming in from the missing tiles above. You walked blindly through the sparse furniture to the fuse box and pulled the lever down, flooding the room with flickering fluorescent light. “Not quite up to your standard?” you challenged Charles with a daring arch of your brow. 

Arthur detoured to the small alcove that was once the factory staff room kitchen and grabbed two beers from the fridge that whined loudly to maintain its temperature. You immediately pressed your bottle to your cheek and moaned as the cold seeped into the bruised skin. Letting the makeshift ice pack do its job, you dropped onto the couch, avoiding the wayward springs that jutted out and tried to snag your clothes, and watched Charles walk around the cavernous room.

“This place is a dump,” he stated. He inspected the bed that consisted of a mattress thrown over pallets that had been abandoned inside the factory before eying up the punching bag that hung from the open rafters. 

“If you’re only staying to insult me, just go.” The exhaustion in your voice came from deep inside your soul and even Charles paused at the sound. 

You hated how he turned his inspection on to you instead. His eyes followed the length of your legs and you tucked your knees up under the hoodie, but then he finally noticed you had been barefoot the entire night. 

“Pack your shit, let’s go.”

You closed your eyes and tipped your head onto Arthur’s shoulder. “I liked him more when he ignored me.”

“I’m not going to tell you again,” Charles growled as he swiped your beer bottle from your face. 

“Charles, have you ever been beaten unconscious?”

“No.”

“Unless you want to find out how it feels, give me my fucking beer back.” You didn’t even open your eyes to see if the threat was taken seriously but then the cold touch of the bottle in your palm was an answer enough. “Thank you.”

“You can’t stay here,” he said calmly. “Pack your things, or I can buy whatever you need in Monaco.”

“I am not marrying you.” The beer was cheap and left a bitter aftertaste but you used it to smother the hot anger that was quickly starting to bubble in your gut. “Twenty minutes ago you would have let me risk being mugged while I walked home and probably asked for popcorn too while you watched.”

The old recliner you found at a secondhand store squeaked under Charles’ weight as he took a seat and said, “I don’t like popcorn.” You cracked an eye open to see amusement gracing on his face. “I also picked you up, didn’t I?”

“Wow, pick a girl up once and expect her to marry you.” 

Arthur snorted a laugh. “I offered first.”

“Maybe you two can fight it out for my hand.” Sarcasm dripped from your lips as you tipped your head to Charles. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you land on your ass again.”

“It was a cheap shot.”

“Are you gonna let him disrespect you like that?” you asked as you nudged your friend. 

“I’m not hitting him again,” Arthur grumbled. “It really hurt.”

“Oh, so not out of concern for me, thanks little brother.”

“She did warn you to shut up but you had to keep running your mouth.” Arthur looked at his brother’s lip but it wasn’t all that swollen thankfully. “Please don’t tell ma.”

“I can do your makeup,” you offered to Charles with a smirk. “I’m actually pretty good at covering up bruises now.”

Charles' eyes turned down and he shook his head as he felt guilty for how he had treated you over the years. 

“I don’t want your fucking pity,” you snapped. “Stop looking like someone kicked your puppy.”

An awkward silence grew until you growled in the back of your throat and rose from the couch. “Tur, can you lock up when you leave?”

“Where are you going?”

You made your way to the ‘bedroom’ and pulled on a pair of riding leathers, not bothering with the jacket since you were comfortable and warm in the hoodie. “Home. I have to get ready for a charity brunch in Marseille.” 

Charles watched curiously as you unlocked a thick padlock to what he thought was just a storage locker. Those green eyes widened when you swung your leg over the seat of the sleek Honda motorbike and grabbed your helmet that hung on the handlebars. 

“You let her ride that?” 

Arthur shrugged and finished his beer. “One: I’m not her keeper. Two: she has a licence. And three: you’re an idiot if you think anyone has a say in what she does.”

“You’re her friend, you should stop her from getting herself killed.”

“I am right here,” you reminded him. “I love the vote of confidence you have in me, by the way, really endearing.”

Whatever he was about to say was silenced when you clicked the remote for the roller door, kicked the bike stand back and turned the ignition on. The roar of the engine was deafening in the space and you slapped the shade down on your helmet before shooting out of your sanctuary. 

“We have a lot to talk about,” Charles warned his brother. 

Arthur nodded as he got up and dropped his empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Yeah, I figured that. Let me just lock up real quick then we can go.”

Charles watched as Arthur walked around the room like it was a routine chore he was used to doing. He hit the button on the wall to close the roller door before checking the windows were locked. He turned the phone charger off beside her bed and slipped the cash he had in his wallet under her pillow. 

“She won’t accept it otherwise,” he said over her shoulder. “She doesn’t want charity, Cha. Your plan isn’t going to work unless you change your approach.”

“What do you mean?”

“Offering to buy her things. She won’t take it. Everything here was earned the hard way, independently.”

Arthur could see Charles was absorbing the information and already a plan was forming in his mind. 

—

“You look beautiful.”

The stem of the champagne flute in your fingers was nearly snapped when Charles startled you and you turned to find him in a tailored suit, the jacket left unbuttoned. “What are you doing here?”

“There aren’t that many charity events in Marseille today. I thought I would make an appearance, it’s good for the image.”

“What a humble philanthropist you are,” you said with a roll of your eyes while he scanned your face for any sign of the bruising from the night before. “Told you I was good.”

“You could be a professional.” 

A waiter passed by and you swapped your empty flute for a full one while Charles grabbed one of his own. Already you could see the inquisitive looks cast in your direction and knew they would only grow the longer Charles spoke to you. Not wanting to be the focus of the gossip mill you took a step away from him, ready to make your escape.

“I have a proposal.”

“Christ, not this again.” You stepped toe to toe with him so as not to be overheard when you hissed. “I’m not marrying you.”

“Not that kind of proposal,” he chuckled. “Arthur tells me you are quite good at fighting.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering where he was going with it, but nodded confidently. “I am.”

“I have a team of security, but they struggle with the female fans when they get a bit too aggressive.”

“You think having a woman throw them down is more…polite?”

He winced and shook his head but it wasn’t very convincing. “I hope it doesn’t come to that but the guys aren’t very comfortable with the idea.”

“You do realise my father is never going to let me leave Nice to work for you, right? That would not fit the image of his social standing.”

“I know. Now before you shut it down completely, just hear me out.” He paused and you immediately knew you were going to regret even listening to him. “You work for me, secretly, but we tell your father we are engaged.”

“No, no, absolutely not,” you hissed. “Argh, you said this wasn’t a proposal.”

“It’s not, well, it’s a fake one so there’s no suspicion why you are always with me. No one will know you work for me, but I’ll pay you well. You can have new bank accounts in your name that your father can’t access. When you have saved up enough money to live on your own then we can break off the engagement and you will have your freedom.”

“I-”

“Don’t give me an answer now, just think about it, okay?”

You turned on your heel and left the stately rooftop garden. The sun was suddenly too warm and the laughter of conversation seemed to mock you personally as you passed by. It would only be a matter of minutes before your father’s assistant came looking for you but you would take every second of freedom that could. 

You got exactly 97 seconds before the bathroom door swung open and Veronica sighed. “You don’t have a scheduled bathroom break until 11.”

“Too much bubbly,” you lied as you tossed the damp hand towel into the basket. It hadn’t even helped to cool your burning neck so you mentally pulled yourself back together and followed the wretched human back out to the event.

Veronica clasped her personalised diary full of notes behind her back as she nodded her head to a portly man ahead. “Mr Henri Cartier, two sons, wife - Charisse, $3 billion profit.”

You plastered a smile back on your face and approached with all the confidence that your father had trained you to fake. “Mr Cartier, how lovely to see you again. How is Charisse? It is a shame she can’t be here today.”

You zoned out as he started to recall how his wife had flown to London in their Lear as their sons had an important polo match. Cambridge versus Oxford, naturally. It obviously wasn’t important enough since he would rather be shaking hands with this lot instead of watching the game. “…the King himself will be there.”

“Ah, but this is France, we have no King,” you teased. “We take care of our own people. Now, a little birdy told me your business had a remarkable turnover this quarter. I hope to see a reflection of that in your donation.”

The Forbes billionaire laughed haughtily. “Of course, my dear. What else would I do with all the excess?”

You opened your mouth to list off all the other purchases he would rather spend his money on but a slick voice eased into the conversation.

“How many superyachts can one man own?” your father asked. “I’ll tell you, Henri, it’s the same thing I say when my wife makes her famous cannoli - there’s always room for one more.”

The two men laughed way harder than the joke called for, but the real joke was the fact that your mother had never stepped foot in a kitchen. 

“It’s a wonder your charity survives with that advice,” you said as you took a step back and let them pick out the shortcomings of their children, and your entire generation, together. You pretended that you didn’t hear them and let the passive blank face fall into place until a hand took yours and pulled you away.

Veronica’s hand lifted to alert your father to your absence but you took the rescue that Charles offered and trailed behind him, losing sight of the assistant in the crowd.

“Well that was uncomfortable to watch,” he murmured in your ear. It concerned Charles at how quickly you had fallen into the charismatic charade he was accustomed to as he watched. He had hated how comfortable you were at these events, and how you charmed everyone you spoke to. He never realised it was all an act, and that the real person behind the whimsical smile was an intelligent, and abused, woman. “I don’t think I have heard so many variations for the word ‘useless’,” he continued.

Charles was right, your father had used them all in his complaints about you. Henri’s response about his children was equally cold, ‘but at least you only have the one weed in your garden.’

“I’m convinced he reads the thesaurus to find new insults for me.”

“That’s so messed up.” This time he didn’t aim the words at you and you weren’t sure how you felt about that. It was easier to think of him as the asshole you had come to know for the last decade.

“Welcome to my life.”

Charles slowed his pace for you down the stairs but you were used to moving deftly in high heels and raced ahead, tugging his hand to hurry up. A smile grew on his face until you reached the last step that exited the venue and breathed in the salty breeze blowing in from the sea across the street.

“My offer still stands,” he said as the valet quickly brought his car around and he took a step off the curb. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Charles smirked as your eyes narrowed and you took a step closer. “Why are you suddenly so interested in helping me?”

The valet opened the passenger door for you and Charles faced you from over the roof of the black sports car. “Get in and find out.”

Your eyes traced the white and red stripe that ran along the car before looking back at the entrance. The choices weren’t overly appetising but you sighed and ducked down into the low seat, tucking the tail of the gown in before the valet closed the door.

“Don’t make me regret this, Leclerc.”

Part Three.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

The more I think about season 2, the more grateful I am.

In a lot of ways, OFMD's writers, cast, and crew were given an almost impossible task. S1 was brilliant and took everyone by surprise by how successful it became. I am still shocked every time I rewatch by how smart and efficient the writing is, how intelligent the social commentary. S1 is a masterclass in good television.

And for s2, expectations were incredibly high. OFMD found massive word-of-mouth success in a way I've never seen with any other show, and they suddenly had a big, incredibly passionate audience - the renewal was because of massive fan support, and that must have translated to an incredible amount of pressure in the writer's room. Plus, as if that wasn't enough on its own, they're having to deal with budget cuts and Max slashing them down to only 8 episodes to tell a 10-episode story. This is an incredibly daunting task.

And yeah, I've been critical. OFMD is my favorite show, no contest, and it's easy to be critical of the things we love. We can all see that the pacing was off this season, especially in those last two episodes. Some arcs felt rushed; some side characters didn't get enough screen time to set up what they're doing this season. Jim and Olu especially suffer for that. It's inexcusable that this show's budget was slashed the way it was and I'm sad for what we could have had.

But, on the whole? Holy shit, this season was incredibly successful! Despite an incredible amount of fan pressure, the writers told the story they wanted to tell. They never lost sight of Ed and Stede's story, and were smart about allocating screen time so our leads' arcs never suffered too much for it. There's so much creative problem solving - when they realized they'd need to be smart about which side characters to keep on screen, they turned Buttons into a bird in a way that underscored season themes of transformation and change. 10/10, no notes. They even remembered their audience and left us on a satisfying note for all our characters - we get to end with Ed and Stede, happy and together, starting their new life.

They had an impossible task and they did a fucking commendable job. Character beats and humor are balanced amazingly well. Ed and Stede feel so much more fleshed out this season. Just like in s1, OFMD will never be a show where you can catch everything with one watch - there's so many little jokes, hidden gags, small details to discover with every rewatch. And every single actor is giving it their all in every scene! You can tell how much this show was a labor of love for everyone involved.

I'm proper fucking impressed. Here's hoping they get a renewal and a better budget for season 3!

[ayyy-pee]

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Story Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.

Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU

Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here

Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)

Chapter 2 - Wienerbrød

Chapter Summary: You try to bake something new!

You kick your shoes off as you enter your apartment. With your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder, you groan in irritation as you storm into your living room.

“I’m telling you, Shoko. This guy is such a fucking asshole. Shut me down the second I asked him a simple question,” you’re ranting as you flop down onto your couch. “He’s got to be the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. He did nothing but pick apart the entire bakery and tell me how shitty it was, tried to establish some strange dominance thing in the kitchen after offering me the job… the kitchen,” you stress dramatically, wavering your arms as if Shoko can see you. “My domain! Can you believe him? He doesn’t give a shit about the actual bakery. He’s a total businessman type. Stiff, boring as hell and a dick. I don’t know why I said yes to the position. I’m going to hate my life.”

You exhale sharply once you’ve finished your tirade. On the other end of the line, you hear your friend inhale deeply. You didn’t have to ask to know she was sucking on a cigarette, likely almost finished with it and prepping her second, maybe third. After a short beat of silence, you hear her exhale. “Hmm, is he hot at least?”

“Extremely,” you admit through gritted teeth, rubbing away the tension quickly forming between your brows. “That’s the worst part.”

You hate to think it, you loathe to admit it, but Nanami was so very fucking attractive, like stupid hot and it pissed you off! Those thick arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, those veins that exposed themselves and ran enticingly along his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. His chiseled features, those sharp cheekbones, even his frown was attractive. And god, you didn’t even want to think about his waist. 

Anyone with eyes could see Nanami Kento was an insanely beautiful man, modelesque even. But it only served to piss you off more. His constant gloomy attitude was so off-putting, it almost took away from his beauty, like a rain cloud threatening to cover a blue sky.

“Anyway,” you sigh, putting a stop to your own thoughts as you stare up at the ceiling.  “That’s beside the point, Shoko. He’s an asshole, but it’s obvious he needs help to get his bakery up and running. I think it’s family owned. He told me that he grew up in the bakery. Seemed miserable about it, though.”

“Interesting,” Shoko manages, though she sounds rather disinterested. “Well if he had to pick anyone, he definitely hired the best person for the job. You’re annoyingly positive.”

“Okay, rude.”

“I just mean you’ll balance his negativity well. Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?”

You hum, your mind already accepting your fate. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am. The guy clearly needs help and you love this kind of thing - taking something old, miserable and rundown and making it loveable again.”

You hum again, listening as Shoko blows out another breath of smoke. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll do the same for the bakery, too.”

“Right. Wait– what?”

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She says, voice light with humor. The line goes dead and you roll your eyes at your friends comments as you let the day's events wash over you. Nanami said he wanted to sample some of your desserts on Monday and see some new recipes. You can do that.

The moment you’d stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, your mind raced with possibilities. You felt at home there. The kitchen felt like it had been loved, like it was properly used and cared for, albeit old and a little rundown. That was okay. It gave the kitchen personality and you loved that. You wanted to continue giving the kitchen the love it deserved.

Nanami told you he’d grown up in that kitchen, but he truly seemed to hate even being in the building. You tried to picture a chubby little blonde boy with his arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face standing in the kitchen covered in flour and icing. Adorable, but definitely not the man you’d met today. You wondered how it came to be that he now owned this bakery when he seemed to despise it.

And you wondered if there was a way to get him to learn to love it again.

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It wasn’t your job to turn his frown upside down, so to speak. It was your job to make sure the bakery was successful as it’s Head Baker and that’s what you intended to do.

- - - - - -

The weekend came and went just as quickly and now you find yourself standing in the kitchen of the bakery with Nanami as the sun barely begins to rise over the city. You pile your notebooks onto the large metal table in the center of the room. Nanami reaches over, taking the notebook sitting atop the stack.

“Are these your recipes?” He asks, flipping through the pages.

“Yep. These are some pastries I created on a whim. I was thinking we could go through and select what you like, maybe tweak some so that they fit more of the vibe you’re going for with the bakery. Or are there any pastries you’d like to keep from the previous owner?” 

Nanami’s dark eyes shoot up from the notebook to look at you. You hold his gaze, trying to find anything behind those eyes aside from the clear hatred he holds for this bakery, but you don’t. It’s frustrating.

“No,” is all he says.

“Okay…well, we can start from scratch then. Let me know what you see that you may like.”

Nanami replies with something between a grunt and a hum. “I’ll review a few of these and will follow up. If you want to get comfortable and organize the kitchen to your liking, go ahead. Please try and have a sample pastry ready within the next few hours.”

He turns to go into his office without so much as a look back.

You sigh, trying to get used to this silence you were sure you’d be working in everyday whether Mr. Nanami was there or not. You couldn’t wait to establish a menu so you could bring staff on. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You wander through the kitchen with a notepad, looking through all of the smallwares and jotting down what you see in case you need to place an order. There seems to be many of the supplies you need here already and in good condition - spatulas, mixing bowls, flour sifters, icing tips. The bakeware also seems to be well supplied with an array of bread pans, muffin tins and cake pans. This place was fully stocked as far as you could tell. 

You shuffle over to where three mixer appliances sit on a counter against the wall, setting your notepad down to inspect them. They’re a little older, but they turn on and mix just fine. You’d bet they mixed better than some of the newer models. You decide you’ll keep them.

As you lean one of the mixers over to check its condition, you find a small booklet lying underneath the stand. You pick it up, gently setting the mixer back down before you open it to inspect it. It’s a tiny black leatherbound journal with very faded gold lettering in a language you definitely don’t know.

And you? Well, you’re nosey as hell, so you carefully peel back the cover, taking in the elegant writing etched onto the first page.

To my baby boy

There’s some strange writing scrawled beneath this in what looks like English letters. You can’t really tell, but it seems to be some message in whatever language this is. You turn a couple of pages and let your eyes roam over what’s written within. The rest of the pages you can read fairly easily as they’re in English. You can see immediately that these are recipes. The booklet is full of pastry dishes, both sweet and savory. They appear to be foreign pastries and you feel your heart race with excitement as you imagine making them because while you were adventurous with your baking, you’re positive you haven’t tried to make any of these. 

And Nanami did want to sample your baking, so why not give him something he’s not going to see in your portfolio?

Eagerly, you begin moving through the rest of the kitchen equipment, taking out what you need to begin.

- - - - - -

The kitchen is full with the smell of fresh dough baking. The quiet hum of the ovens working calms you as you sift through the recipe in the booklet you’d found earlier. You decided to make one of your original creations while also trying your hand at this new mystery pastry in case Mr. Nanami liked both…or one…or none. Shit, you didn’t want to imagine him not liking either.

You stare down at the ingredients already in the mixing machines.

“Alright. So, water, 2 large eggs, a teaspoon of salt, unsalted butter, active dry yeast…” You read through the remaining list of ingredients until you reach the end. “And now…flour?” You squint down at the notebook, the words scribbled messily on the paper, time having faded the ink. You can’t really make out the measurements written out. It looks like 2 ½ cups. You’ll try it and hey, if it doesn’t work, you’ll simply adjust the recipe to find the right mix. Easy.

Just as you’re sorting through the measuring cups, Nanami emerges from his office with your journals, mouth set in its usual hard line as he makes his way to you. He sets the books down, and you swear you see him inhale the sweet scent of the pastries currently baking in the oven before softly exhaling. You open your mouth to say something before quickly shutting it because he’s back to business in about .02 seconds. You really can’t read this guy, so you don’t try to. You redirect your focus back on to your task.

“These look good,” he tells you, his finger tapping on the book stacked on top. “I placed a post-it note on the recipes I think may work for the soft opening, but I’d like for you to make a sample of them beforehand. Maybe just a few a day.”

You nod, acknowledging his request but far too focused on scooping your guesstimate of flour. Nanami eyes you carefully, brown eyes staring as you carefully run your finger over the top of the flour. The excess falls carelessly onto the table and just before you pour it in, Nanami speaks, his voice halting your movements.

“What are you making now?”

“Hmm?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Oh, something called…” you peer down at the booklet, “Wee-ner-brod?” You’re one hundred percent positive you butchered that pronunciation, but how do you even pronounce ‘wienerbrød’? 

Clearly Nanami knows because he surprisingly lets out an amused chuckle before he asks, “Wienerbrød?” With what you assume is perfect pronunciation. And you’re not sure why, but the sound of his deep baritone laugh makes your stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way.

“Yes! That!” You point to Nanami with your free finger. “I’m making…” you stumble your way through the pronunciation again and get another small laugh from Mr. Nanami which makes your own lips curl up in a smile.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make Danish pastries.”

“I don’t, but you don’t learn without trying.”

“True. What step are you on now?” Nanami asks curiously, coming up to stand next to you. This close to him, you can truly see just how large he is. Not to mention, he smells incredible. You ignore the way the mix of the aroma of baked goods and his cologne almost makes your eyes want to roll back. You’d never smelled something so tantalizing before.

Nanami calls your name and you clear your throat, trying to re-focus.

“Oh, um…well I’ve added mostly everything and now I need to incorporate the flour - about 2 ½ cups.”

“Your calculation is off.” He affirms gently, eyeing the measuring cup in your hand.

You snort, “Are you suddenly an expert in Danish baking or something?”

“I can throw a few things together.” He says and you peek over to see him rolling the sleeves of his very nice (and probably very expensive) shirt up to his elbows. Your eyes roam over, drinking in the sight of those thick veins that you couldn’t get out of your head over the weekend protruding from his forearms, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to grab onto those arms while he –

“As I was saying,” Nanami’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie. “2 ½ cups is close, but you actually need 2 ¾ cups for this recipe.” He reaches in front of you to grab a ¾ measuring cup and again, you’re assaulted with the scent of his cologne. Your mind erupts with thoughts of nothing appropriate for an employee to be thinking about their boss, but you can’t help it!

You blame it on that damn smile of his and that laugh. It’s thrown you off of your game.

Nanami takes the measuring cup you’re holding and replaces it with another. “You also need to use your hands to mix this.”

You might faint.

“Is that…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is that completely necessary?”

Nanami slowly adds small amounts of flour into the mixer bowl while kneading with his other hand. “It’s time consuming, of course, but it allows for more control over the dough. You can feel the dough's texture…if it’s too dry or if it’s too wet. From there you can determine if more water or more flour is needed.” You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, a little surprised by his knowledge around dough. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given that he grew up in this very same bakery. Of course he’d know.

And once again, your stomach does somersaults.

Damnit, he was definitely going to need to stay out of the kitchen if you were going to stay employed here.

As Nanami continues working through the recipe, you chat idly about general things. He tells you a bit about his time as a businessman, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly led him to own a bakery. And you tell him a bit about yourself, trying to keep the conversation light as this was the most you’d both interacted since your interview and you’re surprised by how well it’s going. You don’t want to ruin it by poking and prodding.

As the conversation goes on, you watch him very carefully as he works the dough, ignoring the way your heart races watching him do the very thing you do almost daily.

“The end result should be somewhat sticky,” he states.

And oh god, something was getting sticky alright…and it lay between your legs. Your eyes are glued to the bulging muscles of Nanami’s forearms working the flour into a thick doughy substance between his large, thick fingers. Your gaze moves up his stupidly sexy arms, to his biceps straining against his shirt and you imagine him flexing so hard, it rips to shreds, falling in tatters to the floor. The cartoonish image almost makes you want to laugh. And you would have if your eyes hadn’t continued their journey, higher to his tight shoulders moving in circles as he presses his palms into the dough. Higher to the tension in his jaw, the muscles rippling as he grits his teeth with focus. The kitchen suddenly feels unbearably hot and you’re not sure if it’s the ovens running causing the temperature to rise or the view in front of you.

Nanami had never mentioned he knew how to bake. But why would he? It was your job to know. You also never thought to ask after the sour note your interview ended on despite you still being offered the position. You could not stand him upon first meeting and now here you were practically drooling into this batter over how incredibly sexy he was when he was baking.

Nanami slowly pours flour in again as he kneads the dough with expert precision. The way he grips it in his hands, the way his fingers deftly sprinkle flour into the mix. You wonder what else those big hands can do.

The oven timer dings and you snap out of your lewd thoughts, pretty sure sweat is forming on your forehead from your fantasies. You spin around quickly to slide on oven mitts before you pull the pans from the oven. You’d chosen to make miniature fruit tarts with a vanilla pastry cream. A simple recipe, but absolutely to die for. Setting the tray down, you return to Nanami’s side just as he finishes kneading the dough.

And you try to hide the frown pulling at the corner of your lips when you realize you’d lost your perfect view.

He moves to the sink to wash the remaining dough from his hands, returning with plastic wrap to cover the mixing bowl. “I hope you weren’t planning on completing that today,” He says before turning to head toward the walk-in refrigerator. When he emerges, you shoot him a questioning look.

“I was going to let the dough rise for a few hours while I worked on some other things.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but shakes his head. “For this dough, you need to do a long rise for the best result. Overnight is best.”

“Okay, you’re the expert Danish pastry baker apparently,” you tease, earning you another small chuckle from him and you feel your face heat up at the sound.

What is with you today?

“How did you come up with the idea to make Wienerbrød anyway?” He questions suddenly. “Just seems a bit random given what recipes you’d given me to review.”

“Oh!” You rush back over to the mixers excitedly and grab the booklet, holding it up for Nanami to see, a wide grin on your face. “I found this under one of the mixers. It has some strange language I can’t read in the front of it…I’m assuming it’s Danish? But some delicious sounding recipes from what I could understand when I skimmed through. I decided this would be a good idea to take myself out of my comfort zone to try something new.”

Nanami takes a step forward, squinting hard at the little journal in your hands. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he snatches the book from your hold. He opens it to the first page, where the foreign message is scrawled down before he snaps the book shut, his lips pursing in displeasure.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in clear irritation. “Next time you find something that is very clearly a personal belonging, please bring it to me before you take it upon yourself to poke through something that isn’t yours,” he snaps, his voice clipped.

The shift in tone takes you aback.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. It just seemed to belong to someone who knew their way around baking so I–”

“I didn’t ask for the reasoning behind your nosiness,” he cuts you off and you feel your own irritation begin to slowly rise. “Is this a habit of yours? Digging through people’s belongings and taking things that aren’t yours?”

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to apologize –”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to show up here, bake and leave. Not spend your time digging through someone else’s belongings.”

You inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. This conversation has taken an unpleasant turn and the last thing you want to do is have a blow up with your boss. You feel like you’ve actually made progress with him today and this feels like a setback waiting to happen.

“Again, Mr. Nanami, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to try something new. I had no idea this book…” you wave your hand in his direction. “...would be such a sore spot for you.”

At this, Nanami seems to bristle. “My sore spot,” he stresses the words, “is nosey employees who don’t just do the job I asked them to do. I asked you to make a sample pastry –”

“And I did,” you cut him off, gesturing to your tarts cooling on the table. “And I had enough time to try my hand at something new, which is why I wanted to try something new and present it to you.”

You sigh when Nanami meets your response with silence.

“What’s the issue here? You had no problem with helping me make this until you saw that book,” you say, pointing at the small black journal he holds. Your gazes lock in an intense staredown and even as Nanami annoys you, you can’t help but find his frustratingly pretty brown eyes completely mesmerizing. 

Ugh, stop.

“The issue,” Nanami stresses, “is you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Excuse me? It’s just a recipe book. Why are you so upset about it? Is it yours or something?”

“Again, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Mr. Nanami, with all due…respect,” you grit out the last word because he was really starting to piss you off, “if we’re going to be working together as closely as we are, there needs to be some trust here. It’s just a recipe book. I apologize for overstepping, but you can tell me why referencing this book to make Weenerbrod is such a big deal.”

You could swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips just before he rolls his eyes, correcting your pronunciation of the pastry again, just as he turns his back to you. “You are my employee, I am your employer and that’s it. My helping you to bake a simple bread does not make us friends. Please complete the sample pastries I requested of you and we can reconvene once they’re finished. End of discussion.”

Nanami heads to his office without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You can only watch him disappear from your sight, seething. Left standing in the kitchen alone after yet another faceoff with your new boss, you’re suddenly reminded of your earlier conversation with Shoko.

Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?

You resist going after Nanami and giving him a piece of your mind, instead following his instructions to finish your samples. You won’t push him. Clearly that little book meant something to him and he had no intention of sharing. And he was right. It wasn’t your business to know…

…But you can’t help feeling upset that the light mood of earlier is now gone.

You sigh, ignoring the pit in your stomach as your anger begins to subside. Instead, you move to the walk in refrigerator, gathering the ingredients to make the vanilla cream for your tarts.

Your mind is still racing with the conversation that just took place even as you mix your ingredients and pack the cream into the icing decorating bags. You realize for the first time since meeting Nanami that he wasn’t only this stoic tyrant that enjoys barking orders. He was someone with interests, someone with depth, someone who clearly enjoyed the art of baking the same way you do. You saw the look in his eyes as he guided you through making this pastry. And while you’ve barely known Nanami, you’re familiar with the look on someone’s face when they’ve participated in their passion. He looked…happy. Clearly, there’s more to Nanami than you know.

More to him than what he was willing to show you. For now. 

You’re annoyingly positive.

Shoko’s words make you roll your eyes as they echo in her head. Because you know she’s right.

[yuriisclumsy]

I'm so excited that more people started taking cale request!!!✧\(>o<)ﾉ✧

Anyway hiii! Can I have an enemy to lovers with cale henituse and fem.reader idk something cliche like a dance scene or one gets protective of the other or maybe a cute "oh shit I'm actually in love moment"

Sorry I'm bursting with ideas rn.~

Love's Dance

Part 1 (You are here) | Part 2 | Part 3

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2,729

Authors note: You ask, and I shall deliver. PS. why did you give me such a good idea? like, I'm at 5k word for the overall thing, and I am not even done yet... (send help)

The streets of Roan Kingdom's Capital were bustling like usual. The vendors selling their goods, children running around carelessly, mothers screaming at them to not get dirty, and the usual underground activity Arm did. 

I strolled through these streets, thinking of nothing and relaxing ‘til I get another mission. 

“That reminds me…Arm has been quiet as of late. Sigh…they are up to no good…” I spoke to no one in particular, walking back to the Quiet Isle lodge. 

Quiet Isle is an inn in an area a little off the center of the Capital. I stayed there for the past three weeks after finishing my last mission. The price to stay is cheap, while still being comfortable. It has comfortable rooms, a clear view, free breakfast, and most importantly, it wasn’t noisy at all! Bonus points for the innkeepers, as they have been nothing but sweethearts.  

All-in-all, a good Inn if you’re looking to get your coins worth. 

I went through the inn’s doors, a sweet aroma of lavender hitting my nostrils as I neared the front desk.  

The Innkeepers were an old couple, and the misses genuinely enjoyed the smell of lavender. That is why, as you walk through the inn, you’ll be met with an influx of light purples from the flowers. 

Reaching the desk, I was greeted by a senior woman whose smile could cure all kinds of child injuries. 

“Oh! Why if it is the youth I’m all too familiar with!” The old granny said, delighted to see me. 

 “Greetings, Granny Fes,” I vowed curtly with a small smile. “Have there been any new guests at the inn?” I asked as she extended her hand to give me a piece of candy. 

Receiving the small candy, I offered a small ‘thank you.’ She said a quick ‘You’re welcome!’ before responding to my question. “Yes, yes! I welcomed a few new guests shortly after you left this morning for a stroll!” she excitedly told me. 

“Two of the five I welcomed are a couple expecting a child! Isn't that exciting? Ouu, to be young again…” 

“Oh, please. I say you are still quite young!” I say to get her head out of that cloud. 

“Fufufu, you are too kind [Name].” Granny Fes pinched my cheek as she got a bit flustered. “I believe one day you’ll meet a handsome young man that is suited just for you.” She added. 

I blushed a little, “Oh no, I don’t think that will happen…” I pause for a second. “Do you really think I’ll get lucky enough to have that...?” I asked, not believing I would get someone special to spend my days with. 

“Don’t give me that!” Granny Fes yelled, as if scolding one of her own. “You are beautiful! Which man wouldn't dream of having a wife such as yourself!?” 

All I could do was smile in response. This is how I want things to always go. Living in a peaceful area, sharing memories with people I meet along the way, even starting a family. Arm is nowhere near that picture. And it will never be. 

But alas. Good things always end. 

“Ah! That reminds me. [Name],” she called my name and handed me an envelope, “You received mail from a young lad. He said it was urgent.”  

Looking at the envelope as Granny Fes left to continue her job, I had an ominous feeling, yet I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.  

I turned it around only to see Arm’s seal stamped on it. Arm only sends letters if it is an important mission, and based on the color of the seal, it is of utmost importance.  

I am already not liking this I thought, refusing to open the letter. Maybe if I were to pretend its existence was nothing but a useless paper, it would disappear. But alas, I needed to open the envelope. With worry present in my face I opened it with the seal. Inside was a letter addressing Agent White Gold.  

That code name. It is the thing I despised most in this world. 

To Agent White Gold, 

Play time is up, White Gold. You have been assigned a mission in the Henituse Territory. We have discovered the traces of the leader of the organization known as ‘True Arm.’ Your mission is to go there and find out who the leader of the organization is, dead or alive. It is your choice which one you pick.  

A carriage will come to pick you up at sunrise, so don’t miss it.  

Once you arrive at your destination one of our men will greet you and guide you to your resting location and hand you an envelope. Inside, you will find descriptions of the one we are looking for, alongside a list of individuals that we found to match the description of our target. 

Remember, Agent, we are counting on your success. 

Don’t disappoint us, 

Arm 

Dammit… The moment I receive some peace after working for them like a slave…! I angrily store the letter to shreds, as if it were them instead of the letter. All I wanted was to disappear from the eyes of those bastards. They took me from my home, changed me to fit in an identity they made…they just can’t leave me alone, can they? 

 

I wanted to say no. To be able to run away to a far corner of the world so they would never be able to find me. But it is impossible. No one leaves. Rather, they die. Dying was the only way out. 

Yet, I want to live. 

I looked at Granny Fes as she talked with a few guests that were checking out. At that moment I knew that if I tried to escape, they would get everyone I was surrounded by. She doesn't deserve that. Neither does her husband, or her children and grandchildren. 

It is best I comply. 

“Sigh…Once you're in, there is no escaping their grasp…”  

The sky was tainted in hues of blues, purples, and oranges. The sun was rising from the nap it took, and fully ready to greet us. 

A carriage arrived early at the Quiet Isle Inn. Inside stood Granny Fes and Gramps Liy right next to me. Their eyes expressed sadness when looking at me. 

“Why so sad?” I asked the couple. 

“Oh, it’s just…it’s just that we’re both sad you’re leaving so soon.” Granny Fes confessed. Her husband, a bit more stubborn, only scuffed. Granny Fes elbowed him hard with a smile still shooting at me, gaining a small scowl from Gramps Liy. 

“AGHEM,” he raised one hand to fake a cough, “I guess you will be missed.” 

I laugh at his antics. Deep down he cares, he just has an unconventional way of expressing his feelings. 

“I’ll miss the two of you.” I looked at them with a small hinge of sadness but kept a smile to reassure them. I looked outside to see the coachman wave his hand signaling that he was ready for departure. “It seems I must go,” I turned to them, “see you later?” 

“Yes, yes. Goodbye little lady.” Gramps Liy ‘shud’ me to the carriage as he and his wife stared at me opening the door of the carriage. 

“Farewell, sweetheart. Make sure to take good care of yourself. And remember to look out for good lads while you’re traveling!” Granny Fes nagged me like I was about to never come back. Although, she was right about that. I don’t think I will be able to come back if I want to protect them. 

I laughed and said a small ‘I will!’ as I climbed into the carriage. Closing the door the carriage started moving. I waved to the couple one last time before I could not see them anymore. 

Sighting, I took out the map I packed. Looking at my destination, it was a few days from the capital. “This is going to be a loong trip…” I commented, making myself comfortable for the journey ahead. 

I hope I get this mission done quickly, so I can get another vacation from Arm. I looked up at the ceiling. I mean…how hard could it be to find this ‘leader’ anyways? 

… 

An old butler walks dutifully around the state halls. In hand, he holds a tray with a fancy tea set with a steel dome keeping the food inside warm; its aroma could be smelled by the passing housekeepers with wet laundry. 

The butler knocked at a door, he did not have to wait long, as he got an immediate response from the person inside. Opening the door he says his greetings. 

“Good morning, young master. I brought breakfast along with your favorite drink.” He says as he places down the tray on the table close to the window. 

“Ah, thank you, Ron.” A male voice thanked the butler. 

“It is my pleasure, young master Cale.” The butler, Ron, bowed. 

The man, who is now identified as Cale, sat down on the table to enjoy his breakfast. 

“Young master, if I may…” Ron waited for permission to continue speaking. 

“*Sight* Just spit it out.” Cale said in an uninterested voice. This is another one of his tangents. Drinking the lemonade that Ron made as he thinks of Ron’s earlier endeavors. 

Ron smiled, “I have detected Arm activity within the city.” 

“PFF–” spilling all the lemonade on the cup, he looked at Ron with widened eyes.

What is Arm doing here?! They have more pressing issues to deal with! Like, figuring out who Real Arm is! Cale’s thought went haywire.

 

Ron took his handkerchief out and gave it to Cale to use. 

“What do you mean there is Arm activity in the city? Is it more bombs?” He asked while using the cloth given to him to clean the mess he made. 

He shook his head, “no, at least not yet. I have seen them snoop around the city for information. It would seem we left them a small lead.” 

“Not good…” 

“If you’d prefer, young master, I could go rabbit hunting.” 

Looking at Ron with a drop of sweat evident in his forehead, he reluctantly answered. “...do whatever you want.”  

“Hehe. Then I will take my leave.” He bowed before leaving the room without making a sound. 

Scary old man. He looked outside pouring more lemonade in his cup. It’s not a good sign if Arm is here. I need to prepare in case they strike. 

… 

“Hey, wake up! We’re almost there!” 

“WHAT? HUH–huh?” I got up from my seat at lightning speed, looking around in a daze. As I scoot closer to the window, I see the giant walls looming overhead. On top of one of the towers built in the wall was a flag. It was the Henituse’s family crest imprinted on it.  

I’m already in the Henituse territory! 

Getting closer at the entrance door of the city, the carriage stopped, as they had to do a check before letting anyone in. 

“Execute me, m’lady. May I have your identification paper?” A soldier asked me. 

Security check? When I traveled to other places, they didn’t ask for my identification but the coachman’s. 

I handed him the paper without complaint, receiving it right after he checked that everything was good. The other soldiers gave him a thumbs up after checking the carriage and the coachman. Without further interruption they let us through, wishing us a happy stay. 

“That was…something.” 

The coach man dropped me off at a tavern near the city square. Going upstairs to the second floor of the establishment, I sat down at a table near the edge of the balcony. Waiting for the man that was supposed to give me the information mentioned in the letter I looked out into the streets, I could see the liveliness of the people.  

They were too lively in my opinion. 

Hearing footsteps approaching my table I diverted my attention to them. I was greeted with a man wearing a hat with fancy clothing. 

“Hello, m’lady,” the man greeted by taking his hat off and vowing curtly. 

Didn’t know Arm also had rich allies. I thought, seeing the man's mannerisms. 

“Good evening,” I vowed slightly, “are you the one mentioned in the letter?” 

“Eager now, are we?” He sat down in front of me with a smug smile. He placed his hat down before taking out an envelope. He slid it across the table. As I grabbed it, I took out its content.  

It was a list of suspects. They all had red hair and were male. And that was it. No underground activities, no records, nothing. 

“That’s…it?”  

This is the only information they managed to find…seriously? I thought. Was someone able to sneak past Arm’s noses? How is that even possible? 

“Unfortunately, it is.” 

“Ha...!” I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. I looked up at the man after reviewing the list of suspects.  

“This is the only description we managed to find,” the smile on his face dropped into a frown, “only at the low cost of our scouts: a single spy was able to escape long enough to hide a piece of paper in a tree trunk…” he said. 

“....” I looked down at the list.  

To be able to kill all of our scouts…this is no meek foe. Just thinking of how strong they are sends shivers down my spine…  

“I have arranged a small room at an Inn close by here. I have left some equipment at your disposal. The location is on one of the papers in the envelope.” The man stood up and put his hat on, adjusting his suit a little before looking at me.  

“If you need anything else, I left a card at your place with instructions as to how you can contact me. Remember I’m at your service m’lady, Tata! ~” 

“I will keep that in mind.” 

Watching as he disappeared behind the doors of the second floor, I decided to order something to eat before heading to my fixed place. 

…

 

“…a festival?” Cale looked at the flier given to him. 

“That’s right,” Count Deruth, Cale’s father, said nonchalantly, “the festival will brighten the people's moods, as well as show that we are financially good.” 

Politics…. 

! 

“Wait, here it says the ‘Henituse’s’ are attending…I don’t have to attend…right?” 

Deruth raised an eyebrow in question. “You don’t have to go.” 

“...” 

I must go. *Sight* My well-deserved rest has been postponed once again… can’t I catch a break for once? 

“On that note, I have reserved a spot on the city square where we will be presiding during the time,” he said as Cale gave him back the paper.  

“You don’t have to talk–or better said–you don’t have to even move. Just sitting there is enough.” 

Cale smiled at this I don’t have to move? Seems perfect to me! 

“I’ll be attending in that case.” 

“The festival will start in a few days. Be ready.” 

Cale exited his father’s study, walking back to his room. 

I need to tell Ron about this. It’ll be no surprise if Arm takes advantage of the festival. There stands a man with black hair waiting outside Cale’s room for him to come. 

“!” 

“Young master Cale!” The man runs towards him with puppy-like energy. 

“Choi Han, is there something you need?” Cale asked. 

“I heard from Ron that there have been suspicious activities happening in the city. So, I came to ask for permission to investigate.” Hans explained. 

Cale hummed. Strange. Usually, you would do these types of things without letting me know. Perhaps he thinks this is a bit dangerous and if he doesn't return, we know where to look? 

“You can do as you please, no need to ask for my permission.” 

“I see…thank you young master,” Han vowed, “I will report back immediately once I find anything!” As he said that, he began to leave. 

“Oh, and, Choi Han?” Cale spoke before he could fully leave. 

“Yes, Cale?” 

“If you find anything, make sure to report first. Don’t go around making havoc, got it?” Cale instructed. 

“...yes” he responded with a bit of thinking, knowing it was the best decision. 

Let’s see what they have in store for us. Cale entered his room, he’ll laze around until the festival actually begins. What a bother… 

… 

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @lureslutes, @cruzerforce4256, @narcise63, @potterhead-whovian-117, @margieee194, @zenix108, @vimenorie, @lunavixia, @potterhead-whovian-117, @alithurism, @matchalyne, @minteaspoon, @dontknowhowtousethis, @valacz29, @rainalovesouya, @vimenorie, @lunavixia, @ru8yx. Re-blog or Comment if you want to get added into the Tag section for Lout of Count's Family updates. Back to Lout Of Count's Family Master-List

Master-List

[lo-vearchive]

Forgive Me (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary: After reconciling in your bedroom, Miguel disappears on you for a week. Giving up on any hopes of romance, your friends plan a night out for you to cheer up. Too bad your boss makes an appearance and catches you with an attractive stranger on a stormy night. Read Part One: here

Word Count: 4463 words

Content: Miguel being a rude bastard, Miguel asking for forgiveness (again), arguments, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, tobacco consumption, 18+ (minors DNI), no p in v but things get spicy at the end, female fingering, finger sucking, misogyny, insecurity, swearing, hurt and comfort, office sex (no p in v), questionable Spanish

Note: ANGST! Got carried away once again. Lowkey not proofread. I love angst and Miguel being vulnerable.  If you are into angst, you will enjoy this. Feel free to correct my Spanish and ask for any other cw to be added. Thank you for the 1K+ notes on Pt. 1. Have fun, horndogs ;)

It has been seven days since you last saw Miguel O’Hara.

After spending a full 48 hours by your side, he had gone back to work. You decided to join him at Alchemax the next day but found his office empty. At first, you thought he was occupied with Spider-Man business, so you kept yourself busy with answering his overflowing email box. Slowly the sun set behind the skyline of Nueva York and the messages ran out, leaving behind a feeling of uneasiness in your stomach.

 You [sent Friday, 6 pm]: Hey, are you coming to work today?

You [sent Friday, 10 pm]: I’m going home for the night. Call me when you are home. I miss you :)

You [sent Saturday, 5 am]: Are you okay?

You [sent Saturday, 1 pm]: I’m getting really worried. Where are you?

You [sent Saturday, 5 pm]: I emailed you in case you lost your phone. Call me asap.

You [sent Sunday, 7 pm]: I’ll see you at work tomorrow.

You [sent Monday, 9 am]: Lyla said you’re okay but won’t tell me what’s going on. Says I don’t have clearance. Please call me.

You [sent Monday 10 am]: Are you actually ignoring me?

You [sent Tuesday, 1 am]: My best friend you’re an asshole and I should never let you near my pussy ever again.

You [sent Tuesday 1:23 am] Are you ghosting me? You know we work together, right?

You [sent Tuesday, 3:30 am]: I hate you Miguel O’Hara.

 Friday rolled around and your best friend had enough of your drunk late-night facetime calls. She gathered a group of your high school girlfriends and decided a night out in the town would be the perfect remedy. “Fuck him, babe,” Katy states, sliding a shot glass across the table. “You should report him to HR for being an ass.”

You laughed and tipped the glass into your mouth. The tequila burnt its way down your throat. “I’m just going to find a new job. I can’t be dealing with this shit right now.”

Your friend Soo let out a burp. “Did you let him hit it?”

You shake your head. “No,” you cough. “We came close to it, like above the pants stuff— do you think that’s why he’s ignoring me? Because I didn’t put out right away?”

“Bitch,” Katy chides, slapping the tabletop, “be fucking for real. You look like a busty, hot secretary from some comic book. He should be lucky you let him touch your tits!”

Your friends nodded along in agreement. Katy grabs the sides of your chair and spins it around, facing you to the restaurant bar. “You see that guy there?” she points at a man with messy blond hair in an open-collar white shirt. “He’s been eyeing you all night. Go talk to him right now.”

The tequila must have heightened your bravery as you found yourself walking across the dimly lit restaurant and to the wall. Stealing a glance at him from the corner of your eye, you ask the bartender for, “a rum and coke please.”

“You can add her drink to my tab,” the man says just like you hoped he would. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw your friends fussing over you earlier and you looked like you needed a drink.”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, letting out a laugh. “You’re right, I do need a little pick-me-upper tonight.”

“My name is John,” he says.

You introduced yourself and slide in the empty seat next to him. “So, what’s going on with you?” he questions, sipping his beer.

You carefully lift your drink from the bar top and circled the rim with your index finger. “I’m not sure if I wanna’ trauma dump on a stranger.”

“Sometimes talking to strangers helps.”

You contemplate his words and sigh. Your friends would kick you if you said the name Miguel O’Hara again in their general vicinity. You chose to divulge a little to the mystery man. “Things got a bit complicated with someone I really cared about. Everything was going well and then he disappeared suddenly, and I don’t know why.”

John listens to you carefully, nodding to himself. “You know what I do when I’m confused?”

“What?”

“I take a smoke break to chill out,” he answers, standing up. “Care to join me?”

You downed the contents of your glass and follow him out a door that open to a back alley behind the restaurant. Rain pours down heavily, and you both huddle under a dingy metal shed. The cold air bites your arms sharply as John lights the end of his cigarette and brings it to his mouth. “It can be frustrating when you’re left without answers but a girl like you has nothing to worry about.”

You smile at his words. You take the cigarette off his hand and take a drag. The smoke fills your lungs, making your head spin a little. The light-headedness reminds you of how you felt last time when Miguel was in your arms. Airy, free, and light. No matter what you do, all your thoughts lead back to him. You shake away the memories and pass the cigarette back to John.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” a stern voice asks.

A man melts out of the shadows in the alley and into the light shining from a streetlamp above. You recognize him. “Miguel?”

He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes focused on John. “Who is he?” he asks with a deep frown.

“Listen, I’m off work right now,” you clear your throat, sticking your nose up in the air. “I don’t have to explain—”

“Look, man,” John interrupts, “no need to get all worked about this. We are just talking.”

Miguel lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, right,” he spits and gets in his face. “You could have done that at the bar. Why the fuck are you out here alone with her? What were you planning on doing?”

“Mr. O’Hara!” you exclaim, stepping in between them. “You are out of line!”

He raises his eyebrows at your formality but keeps his attention on John over your shoulder.  “Buddy,” John says, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving you to the side. “She is allowed to talk to whoever she wants. I suggest you leave us alone now.”

The touch doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. His nostrils flare and his eyes turned red with anger. He steps closer to John until he is looming over the poor man. You often forget how big your boss is compared to everyone around him. The scene looks almost comical with how John tries to puff out his chest. “Te calmas o te calmo,” (Calm yourself, or I’ll calm you down) Miguel snarls.

Whatever John sees in his face is enough to make him reconsider. He holds his hands up in surrender and backs away slowly. Stopping in front of you he pushes the half-burnt cigarette into your hand and whispers, “If this is the guy you were talking about, then maybe it’s a good thing he disappears. I’ll be inside if you still want to talk.”

He walks away from the alley and into the restaurant, leaving you with Miguel alone in the alley. You watch in silence as his body trembles, and you can’t tell if it’s from anger or the rain hammering away at his back.

He breaks the silence. “So, you’re letting strangers into our private business?”

You snort loudly. “You don’t get to speak to me like that,” you tell him, taking another drag. “Especially after disappearing on me. You can’t just strut back into my life and tell me who I can confide in.”

“I was tending to some urgent matters,” he says, brushing his wet hair away from his forehead. “So I took the time to handle them. I can’t be around you every second of the day acting as your lap dog.”

The heat from the cigarette burns your skin. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you raise your voice, throwing your hands in the air. “You’re acting like I want you on a leash! I just wanted to know you were okay.”

“Clearly I’m okay,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

Your lips tug into a deep scowl at his tone. “Did you ever stop to consider how your actions affected me? How lost and confused I felt waiting by the phone every day?”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Miguel matches your tone. “You know I am a busy man, and that I have responsibilities. But you’d rather live in some fantasy land where I’m just some monster out to hurt you! You can’t begin to understand the weight I carry on my shoulders.”

Anger surges through your body. “How am I supposed to understand when you don’t tell me anything? Hell, your AI knows more about you than I do. It’s like you only care about missions or work and nothing else—”

“Sometimes in life, personal matters have to take a backseat,” he cuts you off, harshly. “Not everyone can put on a short skirt and high heels, waltz into work, type a few memos and then call it a night.”

“You misogynist fuck!” You scream back at him, resisting the urge to slap him silly. “I hate you!”

“I hate you too!” he yells back in your face with bloodshot eyes.

You spin on your heels and begin walking towards the main road. Rage begins to bubble inside you and reaches your throat. You turn around just as you reach the sidewalk and call out, “You know what? It doesn’t matter if you disappear again because I have hated you since the moment I met you. I hated you when everyone at work warned me about you. I hated you all those times you dismissed me like an afterthought. And I hated you when you came to my room that night begging for a second chance. So, I don’t care if you hate me, or think I’m useless or unimportant cause have hated you longer and harder and for better fucking reasons!”

You take another drag from the cigarette and then crush it underneath your pretty high heels. You make a right at the end of the alley and begin walking up the street. Warm tears spill down your face as you shiver in the rain. Katy was right, he was an asshole. An asshole that made you feel dumb for having a normal job or human emotions. But maybe you were just an idiot for falling in love with a man who didn’t respect you. Love wasn’t supposed to be this hard, but here you were feeling small and crying at the side of the road.

The sound of screeching tires brings you out of your self-pity. A sleek black car pulls up on the other side of the road and the passenger window rolls down. Miguel’s face emerges from behind the glass. “Ven aquí!” (come here) he calls out.

You ignore him and keep walking ahead. You have no idea where you are going, but you would rather eat rocks than speak to him.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Miguel make a sharp left, almost hitting oncoming traffic and pulling up beside you. “Get in the car!”

Your feet don’t stop moving so he slowly inches his car to match your speed. “Estoy harto. (I’m sick of this) Let’s talk!”

Honks and yells filled the night as people grew frustrated with his speed. “Stop,” you hiss, bending down to the window. “You are embarrassing me!”

“Get in the car then,” he says, with a clenched jaw. “You’re gonna’ catch a cold in the rain.”

“Stop pretending like you care,” you snarl, kicking the side of his car.

“A-YO LADY!” a man yells out of his yellow cab. “Get in the damn car! Your boyfriend is holding up traffic!”

A pleased smirk spread across Miguel’s face at the man’s remarks. You let out a frustrated grunt and yanked the door open, slipping into the passenger seat. “Put your seatbelt on,” he says, picking up speed.

You begrudgingly obey but wished that his car would get rear-ended so hard that his fat head would go through the windshield. “You look like you want me dead, babe,” he commented with a nervous laugh.

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, adjusting the belt over your soaking dress. “Where are we going?”

“Back to Alchemax,” he points at the GPS screen. “The freeway flooded, and it will be a while until it clears up. I have a spare set of clothes I keep in the office for overnighters. You can change while we wait for the storm to blow over.”

“I don’t want your charity,” you grumble, crossing my hand over my chest.

“I know,” he says. “I just want to take care of you.”

You disliked how your stomach felt at his words. “I left my bag behind at the restaurant.”

“I picked it up, it’s in the back seat.”

“I didn’t pay my tab.”

“It’s taken care of. Your friends know you’re fine, too. Just relax.”

Miguel leans over to turn your seat warmer on and warmth spreads across your chest and down your limbs. He drives in silence with only the soft white noise of radio static playing in the background. Occasionally you tear your gaze away from the furiously working windshield wipers and steal glances at his face. The headlights from other cars make the slopes of his cheek and the plumpness of his lips visible even on a stormy night. His warm complexion has turned pale, and you ponder if it was because of your interaction earlier.

You both pull up into the Alchemax parking lot and get out of the car. The security team must be watching through the cameras, wondering why one of their lead engineers was coming into work late at night with his drenched secretary. You quickly follow him into the elevator and up to the floor with his office. He opens the office door, and you slide inside into the dark space.

“Lyla,” he calls out and the room illuminates on command. “Lights.”

Miguel walks up to a storage cupboard and retrieves a towel in one hand and fresh clothes in the other. He passes them to you, and you quietly enter the adjacent washroom to change. You peel your damp dress off your skin and shiver as the chilly air hits you all over. Rubbing the towel quickly over your cold skin, you slip into an oversized t-shirt and shorts. It takes two knots of the drawstring, but you manage to keep the waistband tied around your naval.

You find Miguel waiting for you outside. He had changed into a shirt that hugged his slender waist and pants that hung dangerously low under his taut stomach. He pulls the towel out of your hand and drapes it over your head. His hands gently rub the threads against your wet hair in soft, circular motions. You lean into his touch involuntarily. “I can do it myself,” you complain but made no move to reach for the fabric.

“I know,” he replies. “I want to do it for you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re doing that thing again,” you said, “and it’s messing with my head.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you start acting kind after being mean,” you explain in a small voice. “I don’t like it. It’s confusing”

He tugs the towel back so you can look into each other’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he speaks, gently. “I just lost my shit when I saw you with him.”

“You cut off all contact when all I wanted was to know if you were okay,” your voice shakes as you stare at your feet. “You left me all alone, what was I supposed to do? Wait for you to change your mind?”

“I know I messed up, baby. I was wrong” he sighs, inching down his forehead to meet yours. “I should have communicated with you, but sometimes on missions, things get complicated. I don’t always like the things I have to do, and recently I’m having a difficult time making peace with it. It’s like the harder I try to do the right thing, the more damage I do. So sometimes, it’s just better to be alone rather than pretend I’m okay around other people.”

His words hurt your heart. You knew that his missions take a toll on him. In the past whenever you tried to inquire about its contents he wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t push, afraid that he’d pull away, but it seems that he was pulling away regardless.

“When you’re gone,” you clear your throat, trying to speak through your narrowing trachea, “I worry that you might be laying dead in some universe, and I’d be none the wiser. I know that being Spider-Man is a sacrifice, but I don’t care about the world. I only care about you. So, when you treat me this way, it’s like I can’t breathe.”

He cups your face and places a soft kiss right on your cheekbone “Forgive me.”

“You say that a lot,” you remind him with a frown.

“I know,” he nods, “and I still mean it. I’m just an idiot who doesn’t know how to find the balance in life. I love that you care about me, and I want you to continue caring about me.”

“I don’t know, Mr. O’Hara,” you said. “I can’t ignore the way you speak to me at times. It feels as if you think we’re not equals. I am not some idiot. I am not beneath you just because I work under you.”

He groaned at the sound of his last name. Every time you called him that, it made the space between feel bigger. “I have seen a million universes, nena, (babe) and you are not beneath me in any of them,” he curls a damp strand behind your ear, “Unless we are in bed, then you’re definitely under me.”

“Miguel!” you chide, punching him in the stomach. “No es broma! (It’s not a joke) I’m being serious!”

He lets out an oof and backs away. His fangs poke out from underneath his curled lips and in that moment, he looks as carefree. He wraps his large hands around your arms and holds your attention. “I know broken trust isn’t easily mendable, but I’m going to try my hardest. I won’t leave you out in the dark or make you feel small. I’ll think twice before I open my stupid mouth. I’ll even ask Lyla to give you full access to my missions. Wh-when you see what I have to do- what I must do, please don’t hate me.”

“Miggy,” you pout, reaching for his face. “I was really, really angry when I said those things to you. I can never hate you. My heart won’t let me.”

His toothy grin appears again, and Miguel draws you into him. His smooth lips find yours and he cranes your head back to find the angle that leaves you breathless. You run the pads of your thumb gently across the slopes of his cheeks. It never ceased to surprise you that his skin was so soft under his stubble. Without breaking your kiss, your shuffle back and walk him to his desk chair. You smile into his lips as he shakes his head when you move him back and down to sit. His hands wrap around your wrists. “D-don’t leave,” he cries out.

You shake your head and take a seat on his lap with your legs dangling off the side. Miguel’s hands find your jaw and he turns your mouth to his. You wrap your fingers in his hair and tug him closer. You let out a content hum as his fangs softly dig into your lips, breaking the skin. The taste of metal fills your mouth, and you pull away to look at him. He sits in your embrace, with red-stained lips and is just as breathless. “Sorry,” he sheepishly says. “I usually have them under control. It’s just you’re in my office and in my clothes. It’s making my head spin a little.”

You laugh at his words and gently pull his hair back. Pressing a wet kiss to his exposed throat you ask, “Miggy, how come we haven’t had sex yet?”

“Honestly?” he lets out a choked moan.

“Honestly,” you hum, licking his jaw.

His hands suddenly grab you by the elbows and spin you around on his lap, so his chest is facing your back. His warm breath hits the nape of your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. “I haven’t fucked you yet because once I’m inside you,” he whispers into your ear, “I’ll never want to be anywhere else. I wouldn’t want to eat, sleep, work, or be Spider-Man. I think I’ll just want to stay buried in you all the time.”

“Miguel,” you moan, clutching your thighs together.

“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “Don’t hide from me.”

His large hand slips between your thighs and pushes your legs apart. He turns the chair around until you’re both facing his work desk. “Up,” he commands, slapping the side of your thighs.

You gingerly obey and place your bare feet on the edge of his desk. His hands slip under your shirt, and he fumbles with the knot. Impatient with the knots, he uses a sharp claw to cut through the drawstring. Your breath hitches as he pushes the loose shorts down your legs and off your feet. He wraps his fingers behind your knees and draws your legs apart. He puts his chin over your shoulder and bunches your shirt up to get a good look at your pink underwear. “Baby,” he coos. “You gotta’ let me have this once we are done. A little souvenir for when I’m away.”

Your stomach tightens at his suggestion. You glance at him and then the office door,. “Someone will see us,” you nervously gulp.

“You let me worry about that,” he says and presses a kiss to the side of your forehead, “and just relax. I’m not gonna’ let anyone else see my girl spread out like this.”

He runs his knuckles down your bare stomach and across the clothed cunt. Electricity shoots up your body and you almost curl up in his arms. Miguel’s fingertips find a quickly dampening spot on the fabric. “Huh,” he huffs. “Is this me or rainwater?”

You cry, arching into his touch.

“I guess it’s just me,” he grins against your shoulder.

He slides your underwear off your legs and tosses it on the table. It lands on a pile of paperwork you had put aside from him earlier in the week. Miguel stops breathing at the sight of your glistening, swollen pussy. A loud moan escapes your throat as his fingers part your folds and glide back and forth. You were sure that the security guards patrolling this floor would have heard you down the hallway. You almost miss his question over the sensations of pleasure spreading through your body.

“Do you want my finger inside you?”

You nod against his cheek and reach behind to clutch a fistful of his hair to brace for impact. He lowers his down until his thick, middle digit is nudging your opening. You must have been soaking his thighs with how easily his digit sinks inside. You bit your lip harshly to contain the sounds threatening to escape your mouth. It’s your turn to hold your breath when Miguel’s other hand begins to stroke your clit. Once, twice, thrice.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You clench around my finger every time I flick your clit.”

Not that you needed proof, but Miguel does it again and you shake with pleasure. “See?” he gasps, and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss.

He he pulls back to hold your eyes and you breathe his shaky breaths in. You close your eyes and imagine how it would look to hold his hard cock in your hands while he played with your pussy. He tears you away from your fantasy by hooking his fingers inside on an angle. You almost arch completely off his lap. He moves his free hand away from your clit and presses you back into him. His hard bulge pressed into your ass.

“Here?” Miguel moans and licks your lips. “Tell me where? Right here? Ah, here.”

His fingers find that spot again and he massages his fingers against it. You nod furiously and my hands move to claw forearms. He softly bites your shoulder in retaliation and his free hand resumes working against your clit, picking up rhythm. “Can I put another finger inside?” he asks, breathing hard. “I promise it will feel good.”

“Oh-kay,” you gasp, rocking your hips on his hand.

His index finger slithers into your pussy, and you forget how to speak. You begin to twist and turn in his lap. He pulls away from your clit to press down hard against your stomach so he can keep you in place. You slide your ass over his crotch with every movement of his fingers.

“Mig-Mig-Mig,” you pant, moving your hips to his set rhythm.

“Good? I bet that feels so good.”

“Gah—”

He presses soft kisses onto your cheek as you sink into his arms. You begin to tighten further around him. You realize that this is exactly how you always want to be—full of Miguel’s fingers, touch, and love. His tongue slips into your mouth as his fingers begin curling into you faster. Your moans and groans echo through the office. His left hand leaves your stomach and reaches for your clit again. It takes seven swipes, one for each day he left you alone, for you to seize around his finger. His mouth never leaves yours as he drinks all of your pleasurable cries.

Slowly, the current leaves your body and you’re able to take in your surround. Your cheeks burn with realization. Miguel had just fingered you open on his desk at your workplace. The very same desk you set up for him every morning. Your fingers slide up to his hair and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t be shy now,” he chuckles, “One day I’ll fuck you all over this office, nena.”

You shriek and lightly slap his arm. Miguel gently slides his fingers out of your cunt, eliciting a soft groan, and brings his to his mouth.

He hums with eyes closed at the taste. “You taste so good,” he mumbles around his fingers.

“Ugh,” Lyla gags at a distance. “Be glad I activated noise cancellation.”

A/N: Thoughts?

[flower-boi16]

Bring the thunder down

Well time to give my thoughts on the latest episode.

POSITIVES:

-Seeing callbacks to previous episodes in season 1 was pretty nice

-Holy shit Verosika development? HELL YA!!!! I'm just going to say it; Verosika is the best part of the episode hands down. I like that we get to see a real side of her beyond just being a one-dimensional bitch, her being friendly towards Stolas due to seeing him, and how SHE felt when she was hurt by Blitz.

And she deeply empathizes with people who were also hurt by Blitz and holds this party so people can cope with their experinces for how Blitz damaged them, a place where they can all get together. Viv developing a female character...? That's insane! Verosika feels like an actual person in this episode, not just a one-dimensional bitch.

-We don't get a rushed resolution to Blitz's feud with Verosika like we did for his feud with Fizz, which I am very happy for. I liked how they handled the reletionship between the two here,

-The development for Blitz here is genuienly great...? Like, the episode does a good job of showing him finally realizing how his actions have hurt others, and shows him trying to play victim here in the final scene of the episode before accepting that HE IS THE PROBLEM. And it's now the begining of him finally deciding to grow and become a better person, which is probably going to be a major arc in both season 2 and the rest of the series.

-The characterization here for Blitz is also great. Again it shows him playing the victim here because he's too much of an asshole to accept how he might have hurt others, until he realizes how his actions actually affect those he hurt. He feels genuine remorse now for his actions after the song that Stolas' sings on the stage.

-SPEAKING OF THAT SONG NUMBER; I have some issues with it when it comes to Blitz victim blaming but for the most part it's not bad. The visualls during it look quite nice and the singing is really good. This also serves as a good moment for Blitz as a character; as he sees that actually did, genuinely, have real feelings for him, and it helps Blitz realize all the mistakes he's made throughout his life and how his actions have genuinely hurt others.

-The episode, generally, does a good job of showing how Blitz's actions have hurt others.

-The finale scene in the episode is fantastic. Like I said we get some great development for Verosika and some insight on how she felt when Blitz ran off, characterization for Blitz and growth with him finally realizing his mistakes and the begining of him growing as a person. The voice acting from the two especially sells the emotions in it.

This episode has a suprising amount of good stuff in it when it comes to Blitz and Verosika...unfortunetly there are still some issues.

NEGATIVES:

-Unsuprisingly the Stolas stuff here is awful. The episode constantly frames him as another one of Blitz's victims who was hurt by him which just shows more Stolas victimization. Whopee. The begining scene is especially awful when it comes to this. The thing that really gets me is the line "since when have I ever looked down upoun you", like, dude, YOU CONSTANTLY BELITTLE HIM THROUGHOUT THE FIRST SEASON. OF COURSE HE'S GOING TO THINK YOU LOOK DOWN UPOUN HIM.

And then he says that Blitz is like Striker which is fucking stupid.

(though tbf Blitz is deffiently an ass in this scene so I can get Stolas' perspective to a slight extent, but some of the framming here and dialogue is still questionable)

-Speaking of that begining scene, its...eh. It has the issues with Stolas victimization as I already talked about here but then there's the fact that they used Blitz not telling Stoals about Striker as a way to create cheap drama. YAY! Also this...never gets resolved in the episode btw.

-The stage scene where Stolas sings his "motherfucker" song is good enough in terms of development for Blitz but since Blitz isn't in the wrong here for not believing Stolas loves him it still come across as another instance of Blitzo victim blaming to a slight extent. I already expressed my opinions multiple times about why Blitz is not in the wrong for not thinking that Stolas has real love for him so I'm not gonna repeat myself here, but I'm really sick of the Stolas victimization in this season and I just wish the show would stop pretending that Stolas is the victim here.

-The conversation the two have after the song isn't an awful scene but still shows Stolas victimization. Again, more Stolas victimization and a lot of the dialogue from Stolas here really seems to point to this. Like the scene has Blitz apologize to Stolas and act like the latter deserves better than the former because the former was soooo mean to him UwU, and it just. Ugh. And then the episode has Stolas whine about how he just wants someone to care about him and I'm just like. Viv. You aren't going to make me sympathize with this stupid fucking owl. You just can't.

-The episodes seems to be implying that Blitz has feelings for Stolas...? Huh???? Since when??? And also why does Blitz even have feelings for Stolas to begin with? Like everytime Stolas and Blitz interact Blitz always shows physical discomfort around Stolas, why tf is he suddenely interested in him NOW???

-How exactly was Verosika able to know of Stolas' reletionship with Blitz?

-Blitz decides to go into the party WITHOUT A DISGUISE. Like he takes one eventually but why didn't you bring one to begin with...?

-Is there no one guarding the entrance to this party? Because Blitz should have not able to get in here.

-Blitz comeing in without a disguise doesn't bring any attention for some reason???

This episode was...actually kind of good. Like, I'd say this is probably the best episode of season 2 so far. It mainly suffers from more Stolas victimization and some very weird plot holes and the out of nowhere development of Blitz getting feelings for Stolas but there is genuinely fantastic stuff in here that's good enough to make the episode at least a 7.5/10, hell maybe even an 8. I could forgive a small amount of plot holes if there's enough great stuff in the story and in this episode there is.

So ya, I actually kind of enjoyed this one.

[decodedlvr]

the band-aid to my wounds

Older!Eddie Munson x naive!Fem reader - eventual twins Steve Harrington x reader x Kurt Kunckle series| pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 … TBC

Summary: After stumbling into an old barn after being stranded by your freshly new ex boyfriend, you wake up strangely in a room..that isn't yours..

warnings: talks of cheating, abuse, angst, slight stockholm syndrome at a glance, anxiety, childhood trauma, parent problems; daddy issues, eventual smut, cursing, drinking, smoking, perviness, slight dub-con, miscommunications, blood mention

word count: idk? 1k?

June 12th, 1988 the roads were closed off.

I have no idea why im still together with this asshole, why am i so stupid? oh because id do anything for people to love and not leave me. Looking at him now..hands beating the steering wheel, veins popping through his temples..not to mention his breath. Ashton my oh so loving, narcissist, no good boyfriend. We've been together for 6 years, basically high school sweethearts. Went from flirty glaces, to lab partners, to collage students with an alcohol addiction. Mainly his addiction...he got me started on it.

Ashton basically took me in with his fatherly like protectiveness when we first got together. He was walking me to my front door after a bowling date he asked me out to my sophomore year, of course i said yes.; until the front door opened. Uh oh, dads home; Bill. The moment the door opened i watched my father tackle Ashton to the ground without so much as a reason screaming words like "get off my property, boys like you should be dead in a gutter, ill kill you"...

Lets just say that date night was a bit too eventful for my liking.

My dad always had a problem with Ashton because he went to highschool with his father. Ashtons dad was a bully back in the day, made my dads life a living hell.. took everything away from him. the girl, the looks, the job..

Dave, Ashtons father, was caught making out with Shannon, my dads ex lover but also first love. Dave knew he had the upper hand when it came to getting the things he wanted. Hell, Shannon seduced him into it. Shannon was only with my dad for the money. Got knocked up but gave him the baby and ran away to be with his dad. As you can see I am that baby now today.

I made a promise to Ashton after sneaking him to my bedroom window that same night cleaning his wounds; that it was me and him against the world. He knew about me and my parents relationship. How my step-mother only has good things to say about me in a room full of people, but how she degrades me behind closed doors. How my dads drinking problem gave him alcohol poisoning, twice' and about his anger problems. You'd think being in a household that is always loud would help you shape up to loud sounds in the future. Boy was that theory proven wrong.

anytime someone yells or raises their tone, you're immediately in fight or flight response. tense..anxious. You hate going to basketball games just for that reason. Its uncomfortable.. and he knew that, but apparently in this moment, he didn't give a fuck-

"Did you hear me??" Ashton says impatiently. "No im sorry, i cant hear when you mumble.." you reply

you also hated when people uttered things under their breath.

dad does that shit.

"Don't be smart with me y/n, ill leave you right here,right now in the middle of the fucking road

"Yeah whatever Ashton, just stop talking to me and drive" feeling the breaks pull forward and in a flash he was out of the drivers seat, and already pulling you out of the passenger-

"WHAT THE FUCK" i yell- what the fuck are you doing Ashton?”

“Shut up!” he smacks me. Your eyes widen in more shock than fear over anything. “Did you j-just hit me?” i ask with a scratched voice--

“I told you more than once not to back talk me didnt i?”

“i didn’t.. it was once and i stopped ashton”-

-“You’ve done it all goddamn night, accusing me of cheating, clinging onto me when i ran into Tommy, i told you to give me some fucking space --i interrupt him.

“YOU did cheat on me you asshole!! That bitch was fucking bragging about it in the bathroom”—

“Do you really think after what 4 years-“6 actually“ i say pissing him off further. he looks at you angrily

He sighs. “Do you really think after years of being together, i would do that to you?” he say looking down at the ground sadly; making you instatly regret your words

“..no-no of course not i just thou”-

-“You thought wrong! he snaps-I would never do that to you baby..y/n?” he says letting go of the grip on my arms, caressing my cheek-“..I know you get a little confused sometimes, its okay come here” he says pulling you into a deep hug

“..im sorry ash”-

“shh” he coos.

“I really thought—what the fuck is that?” you shove him away

“Y-you piece of shit!!” you pull around back collar piece of his shirt up to his face; showing him the peach colored lipstick stain

“Are you fucking serious Ashton?” his eyes widen and stomach drops when he sees the prominent evidence of his past events—

“B-baby look-“

“No! fuck you were done!”

He grabs me closer, “No we fucking arent- ive gave you everything! he starts shouting making you flinch

P-please stop yelling at me! you plea tears rolling down your face

“Just—here” he opens the car door “just get back in and ill explain on the way”—

“No.” you shove past him running and crying

“Y/N come back here!. its too dark—

“ i dont care leave me alone!”

“Y/n theres crazy people out here..!”

you stop in your tracks, turning back to say- “You’re the crazy person!”

he laughs. “Oh im crazy? Ill show you fuckin crazy”—he says marching over to the drivers side of the car starting it back up—mumbling ill show you a fucking crazy person babe—and he spees off

you cant believe he actually just left you.. standing here.

“ASSHOLE!” you shout regulardess if hes still there or not, turning back around to walk down the cold empty road

are you fuckig kidding me?

wow he fooled me

how didnt i see this before

did he love me?

he says he does

then why did he leave me..

fucking jerk!!

The long 7 mile walk with a head full of shitty thoughts walk you to a sun burnt orange barn.

you're exhausted. your hearts broken. your feet hurt. its too dark to keep walking

"I mean i could crash here right?" you say already walking towards the musky building

hay bells, chickens, tools. looks already owned

you dont care you just need a place to rest you head for a bit.

stinks in here. muttering to yourself, opening and shutting the barn door behind you.

perfect you say spotting an old rocking chair..and yard sale signs?

does somebody live here?

you're too exhausted to think any more tonight

this'll do. taking your jacket off to use as a prop pillow, climbing into the chair almost immediately drifting off.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

whats that smell? smells like bacon?

bacon? your eyes are still shut but you can sense a different environment around you. Fluttering your eyes open.. a clock? pictures? what?-jumping up at the sound of a shoe

"WHO ARE YOU?" your already in flight or fight mode

"Whoa whoa its okay, im the owner of the barn i found you in”.

is he lying?

"YOU'RE LYING!" you look around in a panic

"Sweetheart if i was lying, how come i specifically found you in my rocking chair, you must of been tired, i got my buddy who also runs the farm to scoop you up and bring you to our guest bedroom, couldn't just leave a woman out in the open like that.. especially at night"

your stomach knots when he calls you sweetheart.

okay maybe he harmless, just very kindly harmless?

"Here" he throws his arm out, "I'm Eddie, Eddie Munson."

- - is this interesting so far? lmk- -

reblogs appreciated:>

[cynthiav06]

With Percy, we know that he hates going to school and his goals don’t really line up with Annabeth’s, but Annabeth is kind of forcing him to do it with her because he can’t say no to her. Say Rick didn’t make Annabeth Percy’s entire personality, what do you think he would’ve done in the mortal world rather than go to university?

I was checking my drafts cause I am trying to catch up on all the asks in my inbox ( as I said in one of my earlier posts I was in middle of a medical situation so I have at least a month of backlog) and found this draft.

The funny thing is I had already written most of the post in the draft version, and this ask wasn't even being displayed in my inbox, so I was very confused as to when it was from.

But it's such a good prompt and a sort of controversial question in the fandom, so I wanted to post it asap.

Percy doesn't like studies, but he knows the importance of it, so I am sure he will finish his initial college, probably either in the science or arts section. We know at one point he got better grades than Annabeth at one point so he certainly isn't quitting studies and doing way better than what people expect. He also wouldn't like just staying at home and doing nothing (I am looking at certain Percabeth stans here), so he definitely would be doing one job or another.

1.

I don't think he would study marine biology like most believe. After a conversation I had with someone who had taken the course, I am convinced Percy wouldn't like it. It's heavily based on chemistry, and we know how much Percy is affected by sea creatures being mistreated or caged, so having to study marine biology wouldn't really be something he would choose.

2.

An interesting twist would be if he chose to be a writer like his mother.

We all know that Percy writes or at least dictates and narrates the first five books, which are written and narrated entirely from his perspective. Moreover, there are books on Percy just narrating his own sarcastic takes on Greek gods and Greek heroes. What if he did actually catalogue his own adventures in those books as a sort of manual for other demigods on how to deal with certain monsters and gods and such.

Through Percy's thoughts, even as 12 years old, we can certainly say he has advanced vocabulary despite being dyslexic and given how much he admires Sally, why wouldn't he be interested in following her footsteps. Sure, he has trouble reading, but that's not to say he wouldn't love expressing his thoughts through humorous retelling of his own adventures which he can pass as fiction to normal readers but actual experiences in demigod world. Who doesn't want to know the exploits of Percy Jackson?

Plus, it's a good money hack. And don't for a second tell me he wouldn't. Sally petrified Gabe, and then they sold his statute to a museum as a sculpture and earned money off of that. So Sally would definitely encourage it, and Percy would even follow through on it just for shits and giggles and the added benefit of helping demigods and earning money.

[I literally want this to happen just for the Godly reactions. I am all for god slander, especially Zeus slander. Poseidon would be half laughing at the book and half worried cause of the sheer catastrophes his son seems to fall into almost on a daily basis.

Apollo would be having a grand time, and Hermes will be half depressed and half impressed throughout. Overall, it would be hilarious all around, and it might finally make the gods feel a bit more accountable . It's literally the Reading Percy Jackson Series trope, and that's always fun.]

3.

One other option is that Percy will get into environmental preservation, specifically the protection of Rivers and Seas from pollution by actively involving himself and others in its cleanliness and purification. He would also run Beach cleanliness programs.

I think he and Grover would become environmental activists and would definitely get into preserving forest areas and other places where nature spirits dwell frequently. I can see them doing it a lot, long-term wise, too.

4.

I think he would kind of like marine explorations, but that might cause his powers to be somewhat exposed, so he might not do that, but it's a possibility.

That's all I can think of. I would like to hear everyone else's opinions on this.

[terramythos]

Anyway here's my breakdown of the ffxiv jobs, my opinions on playing each, and the tier rank of how good their story was

TANKS

WARRIOR - warrior is so fucking funny why did they make it able to solo heal itself and the entire party in 90% of the content in the game. Raw Intuition/Bloodwhetting is so broken in dungeons its hilarious. And then they have like 3 additional healing skills on top of that. And they kept buffing it throughout Endwalker. So it is currently the easiest to play, does the most damage (i think...?), and has the best healing of any of the Tank jobs. 2nd fave probably.

Story Tier: C, it's ok, Curious Gorge is a good name. i have like nothing to say about it it's a generic AF story

PALADIN - I used to hate PLD but I think the partial rework they got halfway through Endwalker helped it a lot. It's much less clunky now. Probably still my least favorite Tank though Hallowed Ground is fun and it's pretty close to Gunbreaker for me.

Story Tier: F, this is the worst class storyline in the entire game. It's so stupid. The writing is so bad the writers acknowledge it makes no sense at all and I'm like. Yeah, thanks, I am experiencing this shit. Perhaps write a story that makes sense next time instead of pointing that out.

DARK KNIGHT - Unfortunately this is my favorite Tank 🫡 which is rough since it has the worst survivability out of any of them. But I love how you use MP and the silly number of OGCDs. The Blackest Night is such a fun ability and it's a crime that it's not a baseline skill you get from the start. Why do they have so many DRs that only cover magic damage. I must ask.

Story Tier: S, there's a reason it's the most popular and well regarded class storyline. It's really good, also the only questline I know of that uses the quest log text as part of the narrative. Outside maybe a few of the very late Endwalker quests. And, well... same writer lmao

GUNBREAKER: I think GNB looks cool as fuck and I like that it has 2 DPS rotations. The Gnashing Fang combo is so fun. Superbolide memes are always fun. My main issue with it is a skill issue because I am just constantly misaligning its burst windows.

Story Tier: C. It has some interesting lore but I found it pretty forgettable as a story.

HEALERS

WHITE MAGE: I hated White Mage for a while but something clicked and now I totally get it. I find it fun in dungeons cause you get to Holy spam and stun lock everything. As uh. The healer. That's fun. Once you get Afflatus heals (and then Afflatus Misery) it clicks. It's fun maximizing damage and playing chicken with the tank's HP.

Story Tier: B, you get a lot of lore around the Padjal, and I think the Stormblood story where you find a padjal living in hiding with her mother is pretty good! Also it's not technically the job storyline but there's a WHM side quest to get a unicorn mount? i guess it's technically a CNJ quest but same diff. no one else gets that shit. so that's cool

SCHOLAR: probably my least favorite of the healers... it just feels super clunky. You can tell a bunch of different design philosophies went into it over the years and none of them mesh very well. They've made it so the Fairy Gauge controls literally one spell. Why have the gauge at all? It's also a huge missed opportunity that there's no tie in or interaction with the fae in Shadowbringers. I love the idea of a battle tactician healer but I think it needs a rework.

Story Tier: B+, I liked the characters and its the main way to get backstory and lore on what happened with Nym.

ASTROLOGIAN: While I think AST has a similar issue to SCH (lots of different design philosophies over the years) I find it way more fun to play. I like the card mechanic and how it interacts with the rest of the party. AST is basically the only job that has its own like. Minigame? As part of its rotation. And I know a lot of people don't like the RNG for it but personally I find it fun. I know AST is getting a redesign in Dawntrail so hope it's good.

Story Tier: C? I think? I'll be honest I don't remember it super well but I didn't find anything objectionable about it. And I like the tarot aesthetic and lore and how it's healing based on manipulating luck.

SAGE: I think SGE is tons of fun, I'm not sure if I like it or WHM more. I love all the skills SGE has for preventing damage and the gimmick where your DPS heals someone in the party. Visually the hi-tech laser shooting healer is a lot of fun. IT HAS A GAP CLOSER. The only thing i wish was it wasn't so MP negative and that it did more damage. It's a little sad its DPS output is so low compared to the other healers (even AST when you factor in how it buffs the party). Since SGE is supposed to be a healer that heals through damage it's silly its damage kinda sucks.

Story Tier: A, I loved this storyline. Both the Endwalker job stories are very self contained and interesting. While the twist is pretty obvious it's still an interesting exploration of uh. Scientific ethics. Yeah

PHYSICAL MELEE DPS

MONK: I've probably played MNK the least of the phys melee but I like the whole adaptable combo thing. Not much else to say since I have played it so little. Might bring it back out and try again. It DID have the funniest guide in the Balance discord for a while.

Story Tier: D. I think? I remember thinking it was dumb, lmao. Sorry.

DRAGOON: MAN I wished I liked DRG more. It looks so fucking cool and I like how it interacts with the dragon lore. But I find it very punishing to play. To do good damage you have to align so many different cooldowns... and snapshot your DOT correctly... and screwing one thing up just fucks your DPS output forever. Like AST I believe this is being reworked in Dawntrail so I hope it feels better to play.

Story Tier: C+. I think it starts strong since you get to meet Estinien pre-Heavensward and it melds nicely with that story. But I found it pretty directionless post-HW which is a shame.

NINJA: I remember finding this one fun. I like that there are different combos you do that have varied finishers depending on the situation. I am just... bad at remembering which combo to use to get which finisher, lol. So I haven't played it as much. NIN gets a lot of flavor other jobs don't get with their unique run and jump animations. And you get a Bunny of Shame on your head if you fuck up a combo, which is incredible.

Story Tier: A. The Rogue story is probably the most memorable of the basic class quests. Ninja just has great characters and a fun story. What is with that one guy. Karasu? If you know you know. I also like how the Rogue characters show up later in the Ninja story. That's fun.

SAMURAI: I had a similar experience to WHM here because I initially hated it then really came around once it clicked. SAM seems very complex, it has a ton of buttons and different combos. But it is actually quite intuitive once you figure out the general pattern. And it does INSANE damage. I think it's the highest DPS output in the game? I love building the combos and then doing a huge finisher for a bajillion damage. The guaranteed crits and constant OGCD weaves make me feel unstoppable. I think this is tied with RPR for me.

Story Tier: B+. I found the exiled samurai character and his journey toward redemption very compelling. I won't spoil beyond that. However it does fall apart a little in the second half. Still fun but not as good.

REAPER: I love RPR, the teleportation is a lot of fun, and I love finally unleashing the demon form and going ham on the enemy. The weapons are the coolest looking in the game. Every scythe design hits. I probably played this the most in Endwalker. My main critique is the Death's Design mechanic. I hate having to keep a stupid debuff on the target to do damage. It's like a dot but without the optimized snapshotting. If they want to keep this idea i think it would feel better to change it into something like SGE's Kardia where you apply it to one enemy to do increased damage to it without having to worry about reapplying it. not sure how they would balance this for aoe but that's not my job. But even with that caveat I still really enjoy the job.

Story Tier: A+. While it doesn't reach the highs of DRK's story it comes close. I love the badass old lady main character. Her hunting a voidsent that possessed her grandfather would be cool enough but making her a Garlean exile in hiding who grudgingly agrees to train you just adds an extra cool factor. I really enjoyed this story. As a bonus theres a lot of incidental dialogue in the post-6.0 Endwalker story if you completed the RPR story because it ties in a lot.

PHYSICAL RANGED DPS

BARD: It's a bit clunky, its got some outdated design elements, it has one of the lowest damage outputs in the game... and i LOVE IT. this was technically the first job I ever played? totally different character like 8 years ago. and i was so so bad. I think i am actually pretty good at current BRD. the animations look cool. i like that it's a class you really need to work for and optimize to eke out that last bit of damage. and boosting everyone else's damage by existing is kinda neat.

Story Tier: B. I'll be real I barely remember this but I do remember it was gay as fuck so immediately gets an extra tier for that.

MACHINIST: MCH is really funny right now because like. It's phys ranged, right. The design behind phys ranged is you have 100% uptime cause you can freely move around and not have to worry about cast timers or melee range or anything. So the trade off is that they do less damage than other classes. Endwalker MCH did not get the memo and does insane damage anyway. My controversial opinion is that it has similar burst DPS to RPR. No i will not elaborate. I'm also bad at doing good damage on MCH which is impressive since it is easy.

Story Tier: B+. Some Ishgard noble's gay son wants to build machines instead of killing dragons the good old fashioned way and has to prove himself to get taken seriously. A tale as old as time. See I haven't done this quest in like years but I still remember it. He is a memorable character. It's just not like. knockout wowza compared to the A tier stories.

DANCER: Dancer is the second easiest DPS job in the game behind SMN. So if i am sleepy it's the one I like playing. You play simon says. you do a lot of damage when you play simon says then do almost no fucking damage otherwise. I think it's the lowest direct damage in the game? for a dps i mean. You have high stakes sexual tension with a DPS of your choice via Dance Partner. I wish other DNC players knew how Dance Partner works. YOU CAN DANCE PARTNER ANOTHER DANCER. THE BUFF STACKS. BUT YOU CANNOT DANCE PARTNER THE SAME PLAYER AS ANOTHER DANCER. THOSE BUFFS DO NOT STACK. ok i'm good. anyway

Story Tier: C. there's some shit about negative emotions and purging them? in theory i think this has some interesting implications with Endwalker lore considering Dynamis and its role in the story. Very similar mechanically to what's going on with the DNC story. but i really don't think the writers made the connection so it's like pure speculation and not the actual story. It's meh. fine i guess. i did like all the flashy dancing sequences.

MAGICAL RANGED DPS

BLACK MAGE: I am so so so so so so so bad at BLM. i pull up the guide. i read the guide. it all makes perfect sense. i go into a dungeon or trial or something. somehow i always get like Zeromus or some shit. and i drop Enochian or something and everything goes to shit and i'm yelling and i'm not even like slide casting or teleporting or anything i just run around crying. then i remember i have like 10 more buttons i haven't been pressing and oh god the dot fell off. people play this? for fun? i admire it. apparently they do a ton of damage if you can play it. could not be me.

Story Tier: B? There's some voidsent and Thirteenth lore. all the black mage characters are Lalafell because it's funny i guess. OH YEAH it has like the one named male Keeper of the Moon Miqo'te NPC in the entire game and he's fun. look at this twink:

sorry i don't have anything to say about BLM i am bad at it

SUMMONER: easiest DPS job in the entire game. they redesigned it for Endwalker so it is practically a new job. i have no idea how it played before. but it is super streamlined. maybe too streamlined? it's another one to play if you want to turn your brain off. i like that at 90 you summon The Actual Primals instead of little representations of them. and i like the way your burst phase switches between Bahamut and Phoenix. it all looks very cool. they should add Leviathan as a summon in Dawntrail.

Story Tier: C.. i don't remember a single thing about this questline except you interact with Y'shtola's half sister. i think you go to Cartenau at some point. idk

RED MAGE: RDM is one of those jobs that looks really complicated when you start then you actually play it and it is just super super easy. that being said i think it's really fun. I like balancing the white and black magic gauges. Dualcast is a great gimmick and it feels cool to lob two big spells in a row at something. Dualcast Verraising a chain of dead players is so fucking funny. it's a shame that the existence of Verraise means RDM does shit damage to compensate for its utility. It and DNC just sit at the bottom with BRD barely scratching ahead of them. i think? i don't remember LOL

Story Tier: A, I really like the story and characters. I like that you have a middle-age world weary catboy (catman) as your mentor. and i like that he canonically trained Alisaie too and you chat a little about that. it's a fun story!

BLUE MAGE: what the fuck is a blue mage

Story Tier: ???

[genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles]

Marked from Another World || Part 2

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

Character: Ayato

Type: Angst

Content: Years later, you were independently holding up yourself, despite having the mark. You hid it well, however, while doing jobs in inazuma, being known as the grim reaper, you caught his attention without knowing. This turned your mark yellow, as now, this man will stop at nothing to get your attention, and convince you to be his.

About being Taglisted in my stories: Here

Trigger Warning: Violence, Murder Trying to force arranged marriage and having kids, ( will update the more the story progresses )

[ Please don’t repost, this is my original story. ]

Part 1: Here

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

You walked up to the man that your job required you to kill, as you did it with ease, and no care. You swung your scythe and decapitate the target, you then with ease took the body. The weight was nothing to you, as you carried it straight to the nobleman who requested it. You dropped it by his front door and knocked. You then disappeared.

You went by the nearest body of waters and washed your mask and scythe from the blood. Despite being transported into Genshin, it was a darker world then you expected. The game only shows you the PG things however, just like every other worlds, it has its dark sides. Black market, murder, death, and since it was in the old times in the countries, torture is still in fashion at the moment. You had to be just as ferocious to live in this world. You sighed, and jumped on the homes of inazuma, not making a noise with your footstep, and went to the highest building. You sat and rested there until morning.

Next morning, you rubbed your eyes and laid back. You looked at Celestia from afar. One day...you will get up there. One day. You then sat up, and stood up. You dropped down and stayed hidden. All of a sudden a guard, tapped your shoulder and handed you a note. You looked at him confused and took the note and opened it.

Note: Greetings Grim Reaper, I must let you know that I do require your services on handling an issue. I will offer you a million mora to take care of it. Please come to this address at once. I will be there waiting at 9am.

-A

You looked up and saw the guard was gone. You looked at the note confused. Who was "A"? Well whatever, you wanted to get out of Inazuma as quick as you can, but one million mora seems like an important job. As you had an hour to meet this mysterious person, you pondered on what to do.

You decided to meet this person. Once you arrived, you were in an secluded area, it was a cave underneath inazuma overall. You walked in the cave and looked around.

"Ah, you came my dear." You heard a voice, you know that voice. You turned and calmly and saw it was Ayato. "I'll have you know, that I am grateful you decided to meet me under such short notice. It is greatly appreciated, Grim Reaper."

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.

You stayed quiet and still, and waited to hear to see what he wanted. You had a mask, gloves, and your black attire covering you and your identity. Though you can't help, why does your palm with the mark suddenly feel...warm?

Ayato walked up to you with his arms formally placed behind his back. "My My, you have been such a slippery roach. I am well aware, you might be the missing person who was in the flock I summoned years ago."

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

You didn’t respond nor move. He can’t see your panicked expression behind your mask, as you felt safer being hidden. He as nothing on you after all.

"I do have questions though, despite your silence. Why did you escape the flock? Were you scared of being rejected? I assure you, I do have interest in you. "

Once he asked that question, you immediately snorted. He looked at you confused as his smile dropped to a tilted head. You began to laugh with your hand on your head.

You faced him. "Well I don't."

You spoke for the first time, as you had a gentle voice. Ayato smiled. "So that is what your voice sounds like."

FUCK HE BAITED ME. HE KNOWS I DON'T WANT HIM AND HE USED IT AGAINST ME!

"My dear, you are well aware that I do want you, yes? You..have caught my interest. The idea that you are someone is very well capable of handling yourself is quite attractive to me, you seem to even have greater connections then I do, even to the archons themselves."

You stayed quiet, and stared at him. Ayato walked closer to you, with a gleeful smile. "Tell me what I can do to make you be mine. Be the women to marry me, and have my kids. Don’t start a war wit-"

A blade was to his neck. You were quick to putting your scythe to his neck to make him shut up. "Listen here Kamisato, and listen real good. Because I am saying it once. I don’t want children, and I don’t want to marry ANYONE. I am a women of freedom and I am not some birthing machine for your clan. Go find another woman."

Ayato had a glare down at you, as you were reluctant to be his wife, and have children with him. "I see...this will certainly be interesting then." He drew a sword of his own. "How about a duel...if I win, marry me, have a family with me, if you win, I leave you alone, fair?"

"No. Not interested. Never interested. Never in you." You pulled away and walked away from him. Ayato watched you walk away, as he had an interested smile on his face. "You'll have to break sometime soon, grim reaper~" He whispered to himself.

Later on that night, your palm was warmer, you removed the glove, thinking you hurt yourself, when in fact, the mark on your palm was golden.

This motherfucking man.

[starb3rrys]

i would like a scenario with tecchou when he’s tired and ends up crying with his s/o comforting him please ㅠㅠ

Angst with comfort. My beloved subject, Interesting request, usually its the other way around ~(>_<~)

Nonetheless, I love the switched roles <3

☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆

Tired Nights

Tecchou x Reader

Slight angst, Fluff/Comfort

Scenario: The pressure is on for the hunting dogs to find and capture potential terrorist in Yokohama, with the public breathing down the hunting dogs neck, Tecchou was bound to crack due to the pressure…

☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆

It’s around 2:34 am, You were laying on the living room couch of your apartment watching some random show to keep yourself awake as you wait for your boyfriend Tecchou to come home, recently you noticed he had been working long hours and would come home around 2-4am, you found this behavior strange but you brushed it off as part of his job as a hunting dog and even if you asked him, you doubt he would tell you the full reason he’s coming home late since his job details are confidential (government shit ~(>_<~)).

After a while, you hear keys jiggling and the front door open, soft slow footsteps approach you, as you look up you see a familiar tall figure wearing a long red cape, Tetcchou is home!.

“Hey Tecchou, how was work?”, you ask with a slight tired tone as you got up off the couch to greet him with your usual hug and kiss.

“It was fine…could you make me some tea?...”, Tecchou said in a rather low exhausted tone.

“Of course, want me to add some hot sauce in it?” You joke with a small smile.

“No, just normal chamomile tea, is fine...” he said, it was obvious he was tired; his shoulder’s hanged low as he placed his hat on the coffee table and sat on the couch, he rubbed his eyes with his right thumb and index finger…little did you know that he wasn’t just tired physically, but mentally as well…

After a short while, you came back holding a tea cup full of chamomile tea, “Here you go, I hope I made it to your liking”, you say sweetly.

Tecchou doesn’t respond, he slouches on the couch…silent. His right elbow sits on his leg as he covers his eyes with his hand, he doesn’t utter a single word.

“Tecchou? Are you alri-“ your eyes widen as you see small yet clear tears silently roll down his cheek from his covered eyes. You quickly place the tea cup down and sit next to him, “What’s wr-“ you’re cut off guard as he suddenly hugs you tightly, you can feel your shoulder grow wet from his tears.

“I’m tired. I’m so tired…” you hear Tecchou say with a shaky voice, you rub his back as an attempt to soothe him.

“Let it all out…I’m here” you reassure him with a soft comforting tone, you wait patiently until he’s ready talk, to be honest you were taken aback by Tecchou’s sudden vulnerable behavior, sure you two shared your moments but nothing like this…he’s crying into your shoulder as he clings on to you, he’s shaking slightly as he admits his true feelings.

“Long hours, sleepless nights it’s all too much…” he says with a shaky voice as he clings on to you for comfort.

“This new terrorist threat is causing world wide panic and it’s my duty as a hunting dog to capture these criminals and keep these civilians safe, I can’t falter, if I fail…the world as we know it can crumble in an instant”, the anxiety and stress can be heard through Tecchou’s words.

“I’m supposed to be strong for this country, for all the people, their safety relies on me! But I-“ “But you’re only human.”, you say cutting Tecchou off.

Human. When everyone else sees Tecchou as just a powerful weapon of Japan. You.. see him as he truly is, your lover, a simple man. A human.

“You’re a human with feelings, feelings that for months you have been suppressing, a human that is now feeling vulnerable…a human who simply needs comfort at this moment” you say with a warm tone as you hold him.

Tecchou’s eyes widen at your words, he pulls away slowly and looks at you with wide eyes, his eyes fill with more tears as his feelings are all jumbled up; he feels relief, anxiety, sadness, joy, and even peace by your words…

He leans back into your warm embrace as he nuzzles his face back into your shoulder, tears continue to run down his cheeks as he quietly closes his eyes.

“I’ve got you…” you say quietly.

You both doze off on the couch, holding each other as your shared warmth serves as a blanket, finally…Tecchou can sleep soundly in your comforting arms, recovering from all those Tired Nights.

☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆★ ☆

Love my boy Tecchou, he deserves all the love Istg.

The tea got cold ;(

As always feel free to request anything you’d like, Love y’all! <3