#I was actually going off on this rant to my parents and when I had finished

[floralcavern]

My opinion on the IDF

(Because, yes, despite me being Pro-Israel, I still have ✨thoughts✨)

People need to stop comparing the I/P conflict to the Holocaust. It is nothing like the Holocaust and Israel is nothing like Germany. And you making that comparison really shows how little you actually know about WW2. Read any history book. Read Anne Frank, or Night. In fact, the closest thing to the Holocaust that is happening in this war is what is happening to the Israeli hostages. They are under way more of those conditions. 

No. If we are to ever compare this to any other war, it is more similar to the Vietnam War. 

The IDF is very similar to US soldiers in Vietnam.

Look. We can all agree that US was on the right side of Vietnam. They were helping the Southern Vietnamese from the Northern Vietnamese. So when you hear “They were on the right side/good side” you automatically think they were the good guys. Wonderful heroes. And, yes, Vietnam veterans were heroes. But they did some fucked up shit. 

For example, according to one veteran, one time when one of his friends had been murdered, out of anger, they all burned an entire town down. US soldiers took out a lot of their frustrations and anger onto the Vietnamese. So while we all agree that they are on the right side and are the good guys, they did some fucked up shit. Stuff that cannot be excused at all. 

Another example is in WW2! We all think of the allies as the good guys! They fought against the terrible Nazis and yadada. America was on the good side, they were one of the main sides that took down Germany! So while we acknowledge that America was the right side the be on, we cannot forget the horrible things they did. For example..

They had Japanese concentration camps. 

Bet you didn’t know that. 

The reason for this was because the amount of violence they saw and experienced was involved with Japan. They were traumatized but it is no excuse to do something like that!

America was the right side, but they weren’t the perfect military. 

No military is perfect!!!!!!!!!!!

That includes the IDF. 

But here’s the thing, on the side of the ‘good guys’, usually when there’s extremely violent people in the military, there are usually two reasons for this. 

They have experienced horrors beyond comprehension while fighting on the battlefield, causing them to become jaded and bitter

Or 

2. They were always a violent person and they joined the war to take that out onto others. 

It is the tragic reality that every single military has people like this. It is history. The historical ‘good guys’ did horrible things as well. 

That brings me back to the Vietnam War. 

The soldiers saw so many horrible things that could actually compare very well to what the IDF has seen. 

US soldiers had no way to tell if a citizen was Northern Vietnamese or Southern Vietnamese. 

Usually by the time they learned, it was too late. 

There are stories of US soldiers having a Vietnamese child come up to them, holding something. About to give them a gift! But when they opened their hand, they were holding a grenade. 

That is so similar to what Hamas is doing. They use suicide bombers and child soldiers. Things like that will create an idea of they can’t trust anyone. Anyone could be out to hurt them and there’s the idea of almost animalistic fighting for survival. How can you trust when Hamas could literally send a child out to kill you?!

So, really, if you think about it, the US soldiers of the Vietnam War are very similar to the IDF. 

That sense of they can’t trust anyone, violence due to the trauma and being surrounded by enemies trying to do the same fucking thing (hell, Hamas has been committing terrorist attacks on Israel for years now). Even what the two sides fight for are somewhat similar! 

The US fought to help the Southern Vietnamese and gain freedom from their Northern neighbors. Israel is fighting for freedom from their neighbors who are constantly attacking them and freeing Palestinians from their oppressive government. 

It starts out virtuous and those ideas do carry on for the most part, but it also dissolves into animalistic violence and anger because of the shit they have seen.

Also, the way US Vietnam soldiers were treated in America is actually really similar to how Americans treat the IDF. 

Nowadays when we meet a Vietnam veteran, we comment on how brave they are and how they’re a hero. Back then, though? Ohhhhh boy. Americans hated them. When soldiers would come home, Americans would yell at them, spit on them, etc. Now, doesn’t that sound familiar?

So, TLDR;

I support Israel and I support the IDF in the same way I support America in WW2 and the Vietnam War. They’re on the right side and have virtuous intent, but they sure as hell aren’t perfect and have done some fucked up shit. Yknow. Like every other military in the world. The sad reality we live in. Not everything is black and white.

[sociallyawkwardseal]

Okay, so not fanfic/writing stuff but do you ever think of how close Calla and Kody used to be? How sweet and bright and encouraging she was towards him when they were younger? How friendly and warm she was? How they smiled at each other? It makes me want to eat rocks.

[syxnewt]

my parents want my little brother, who has had a fever no lower than 100 F for the past 2-3 days, to go to school tomorrow

[shigussy]

the amount of pedo youtubers i watched growing up was insane but its actually really worrying that i had crushes on most of them and im so so thankful that my interest in most of them disappeared before they got exposed bc i would've lost my mind which did happen once with miniladd

[nerdie-faerie]

It seems to really be hitting my mum just how young she was when she had me in light of her upcoming birthday

[jaythelay]

The thing is, why would you want to be a Teacher?

Lemme put it to you this way, ya go to college to learn to teach kids and think it's gonna be a good time. Turns out the pay is dogshit and the working conditions unmanageable. The fuckin janitor makes more than you with more time off.

That is just a recipe for hiring and creating abusers. If mcdonald's was a daycare, they'd pay more Knowing it'd keep abusers and riff raff away and increase chances of a good candidate. Y'know, to be around children without parental supervision for hours n hours? Might be worth being strict with who you hire?

My solution is fire all teachers, raise pay, lower classroom sizes, more time off for student and teacher alike, take a year to close schools to rehire. Then we gotta work on that silly ol' "Children are being shot dead in school" problem. Y'know, if that ever becomes important to america.

As is, if ya raise pay ya just gave a bonus to the job that enables, creates, and rewards abuse, filled with established abusers. They will not give up their job benefit of being able to excert too much control over children just because conditions and pay are better, it's apart of the job to abuse children and they will continue to no matter what. Fire em.

As far as how kids are behaving today compared to my time, which was dreadfully peaceful and thus easier for staff to abuse children, I imagine it has to do with dogshit staff and dogshit conditions and dogshit protection alongside dogshit education and while boomers scream about the sanctity of life (clumps of cells in other people's bodies) they're also ensuring even more escalatory school shootings to keep growing.

So you're forced to be somewhere filled with abusers, surrounded by enablers, and timmy's dad hit timmy a lil too hard and now he's got a gun in school. Yeah I'd not take anything seriously in school either, it's an absolute fucking joke, we made a place to force children into that is now a pachinko machine of "Who Dies? And How Horrifically?"

We just had a non-binary child murdered in school and governor and principal alike danced on their grave. Cmon. Tell me otherwise at this point that school isn't a pachinko "who dies?" filled with established abusers. When the government is helping a child be murdered, school no longer is safe for your child. Simple as.

Don't get me started on how we handled Covid, we just doomed a generation to not taking diseases seriously by forcing them back to public school practically in the middle of the pandemic. Fucking stupid shit. Oh and if your gram gram died of covid? Best bet a kid is gonna blame school if they manage a thought that far. I would. Absolutely I would. THE place for diesease to spread and ya forced children into it to spread back to their homes killing family. I'm speechless. But don't take it seriously folks! It's just the flu! Just send your kids into the disease machine to come home with it! This place isn't a fucking joke at all!

No your anecdotal "Cool Reddit Teacher" is not common, they are uncommon and usually in well running blue states. Not red states or dying blue states. If you're in a good school, congrats on the unicorn, just understand that unicorn ain't anything but a severe rarity I guarantee only you can relate to.

I kinda approve of how the youth are in school tbh. No room for a teacher to try and fuck with you because their life is more miserable than your child-self's own. Just saying, if ya want the respect of your students, be a better person?

Or accept the system is so fundamentally broken that the generation you're dealing with has already got more to deal with in their future than a doubling of your past. Your dumbass ain't the target in a school shooting 9/10 times. You're paid. They're wasting their time being in absolute danger.

Undeniably they're wasting their time, since anytime the topic of teaching 'how to write checks' is met with "but you'd sleep through it" Good point, cancel education folks, the teacher just said their job is frivilous and I say we listen to them this one time.

Clearly this topic was solely about checks and not the demonstrably broken system we have in place that doesn't prepare you for quite literally anything. Cool place to end a topic, cancel school because no one actually uses it, got ya. Smart. (This happens so often I'm convinced it's an open secret between teachers that they just want the power, since money or education clearly ain't apart of it)

Regardless, not everywhere teaches the same things and as a teacher that shouldn't have evaded your awareness, but it did, because it further helps normalize and enable how you treat people with no way to defend themselves. If education isn't important, then what is? Obviously, abuse. Otherwise you'd not make my point more abundant by doubling down your belief that kids are stupid and the problem (and thus are deservedly abuseable, just finishing your thought.)

Sincerely believe parents told their kids "Don't take any shit from teachers, they fucked with me and my friends all the time, fuck with them back." and ya'll gotta deal with it. Sucks if you're caught in the crossfire...but like...you chose the job that creates abusers and dead children? A place that enables bullying and eggs bullies to target specific kids? Not sure why you'd be upset at your own decision making- like you probably went to this school? Wait, you weren't targeted and had everyone supporting you? Oh that's why you have the wrong opinion about school, makes sense now.

Anyways fuck public school, teachers are barely more trustable than a cop. Kids are uppity because there's no point to being in a dangerous place that admits it has no purpose and given the conditions, only hires and retains abusers, in a system dying from R interference, they elect to blame the children, for the job they chose not to really fight for when it mattered politically.

Yeah nah, I'm still on the side of the little scared people who don't know enough about the world to recognize that their neurodivision causes an untold amount of rage in your fucking entire body to the point ya try getting them arrested and start stalking them to the point of them becoming a NEET, and these days, your ass is on "THE" list and my ass is laughing at it, thank ya for coming to this deliberately awful ted talk, believe children over teachers pls. There's little point not to given being a teacher or cop is less respectable than being a janitor tbh.

Also google Kids4Kash and see how fucking bad it got in my time. I have no sympathy for teachers today. Sucks, but ya'll ensured parents told their kids to stand up to you. Maybe next time find a better career than child abuser if ya can't handle it? Just a thought. :) Better, respectable career options is all. :) Try becoming a Veteranarian? :) Oh wait, too much empathy/sympathy required for that, guess ya gotta be homeless. oh well.

[myglassesareinkansas]

I spend summers away from my hometown specifically to have much-needed space from my parents, and the first day after not seeing me for 24 hours, my mom badgers me relentlessly and won’t leave me alone

[celuere]

Parent!Arlecchino HCs because those literally own me AND my soul.

+including wife!reader

LORD AND FUCKING BEHOLD. She would handle your daughter with such tenderness, nails always neatly filed down, never wearing more than your wedding ring on her finger in case the accessories could hurt her babygirl

Always making sure you‘re cared for after bringing your bundle of joy into the world, which means you’re on strict bedrest during your recovery, only taking walks outside the manor when she is present and absolutely NO labor. I‘m so serious I think she would go into cardiac arrest if she sees the mother of her child doing anything besides resting and focusing on recovery, like you just give birth wth do you think you are to try and cook dinner for the two of you???

Always gets up in the middle of the night and manages whatever need her daughter has, that is only until she is hungry ofc, otherwise she doesn’t even let you get up. You carried her for nine months in your body and had to go through labor, it‘s her turn to take care of her and lift the weight off of your shoulders

Insecure about stretch marks and gained weight? Not with her. She‘d make sure to ease your mind and worries every chance she gets. Wether it be by getting you some new dresses for your wardrobe, caress your belly and tell you how stunning and beautiful she finds you in front of a mirror. More weight means more for her to touch and kiss anyways. In her opinion, the changes on your body are only a beautiful reminder for the biggest gift you could’ve ever given her. Your daughter.

I can imagine her to be actually so besotted with her, but of course she would never let the kids of the Hearth be neglected. In fact, she‘d encourage them to interact with her, one day it‘s Lynette trying to feed her dinner, the next it‘s Lyney wanting her to spell out his name (she always gets it wrong and he ends up being at the verge of tears)

Also, all Fatui work would be OFF her table for quite the long time. No negotiations. No businesstrips. At most maybe some paperwork every Sunday but other than that she made it clear that she wants to fully focus on the new addition to her life

It took actually all her willpower to not tear up when the word „Papa“ rolled over her lips for the first time. It was a Wednesday Night, and the little terror just didn’t want to drive off into sleep, but Arle isn’t known for her impatience, so she sits down in the living room by the fire place and decides to entertain her a little. Smooching her cute little baby cheeks, letting those oh so small fingers wrap around hers, tickling her neck with soft kisses. (Authors note: baby fever is real rn. I’m not kidding chat.) Until in all her active brabbling she finally says it. Maybe it was just a coincidence but something died inside of Arle at that very moment. Save to say that she was in a BRILLIANT mood for the next weeks.

But don’t make the mistake to think that Arlecchino would loose her cold and indifferent demeanor once she‘s back to work. It‘s like nothing changed for her. Just don’t. She’s still the same when it comes to her Harbinger work

It actually pains her every time she has to go on a businesstrip for a longer period of time. What if something happens? What if she happens to take her first steps in her absence? She couldn’t bear the thought of it but you reassured her as much as you could, even telling her to pull herself together a little. You will be fine.

Now in the future, if your daughter happens to take an interest in various insects just like her father… their daddy-daughter bond is unbreakable. Always taking her little girl in forest walks, thumb gently stroking over her small hand as they both rant about the various animals they come across. Growing up, Arle never had someone to share her interest in spiders, bugs, etc. so having a smaller version of herself be as interested in them as her - it heals something inside of her.

Has such a soft spot for doing her hair. No matter the occasion, she always makes sure her daughters hair looks beautiful. Either adorned by a ribbon, hairclips or a ponytail. She loves doing her hair, spending always extra time before bed brushing the comb through the soft strands, pressing a kiss to her head when she is done. God somebody help this woman.

And I think the most wonderful and perfect sight to her is coming home to the both of you after falling asleep on the sofa. Your girl clinging to you with her face nuzzled into the crook of your neck as your arms were wrapped around her small body so there is absolutely ZERO chance of her accidentally slipping off of you. She debates bringing up the idea of a second child whenever she looks at you, so full of love it actually makes her heart ache. She just loves the two of you that much.

Genuinely can’t stay mad at her for longer than a few minutes. Of course she gets disciplined from time to time by you and her, she is still a child after all and children do sometimes stupid things so the first time she sticks out her tongue to you because she didn’t want to take a bath… Arle sat her down and had a talk with her. A long one. It was also the first and last time she ever disrespected you in any form or manner.

I literally cannot put into words how MUCH I love arlecchino as a parent and everyone saying that it wouldn’t fit her character: YOU DONT GET HER LIKE WE DO!!!!😭🙏🏼

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hey! can you write ghostface! ethan smut? where the reader knows and they have sex? I know for a fact he whimpers 🤭 thank you!

YESS YES YES

Heaven

Warnings: Smut (obviously), p in v, Ethan’s a lil nervous, super cute, a little plot

Yeah, ethan was a good guy. But was he that good to where you still liked him even after you knew he was a murderer?

After helping his father and sister on something, he was still wearing the mask. He took it off while walking, just to put it back on when he reached your parents house.

Your parents were gone for a few days, and you were taking a break from studying for just a day, then it was back to your dorm.

He didn’t knock on the door, or go through the back one even. He climbed up to your bedroom window, where he suspected you would be. Which you were.

He opened it silently, hoping to surprise you. Your back was turned to the window while you bent over and rummaged through a drawer. He closed the window and made his way to you, knife still in hand.

“Goddamnit!” You groaned in frustration. You turned around, when someone grabbed you. You screamed and kicked, but the person who grabbed you put their hand on your mouth.

The person took their hand off and let you go for a second. They took off their mask and of course-

“Surprise, (your name).” He said into a modulator.

(Stu and Ethan are my favorites so I had to)

“Ethan! Don’t scare me like that!” You hit his arm.

“You need to lock your windows.” He said, and pointing the knife at you.

“You sound like my parents.” You rolled your eyes, and he smiled widely.

“I missed you.” He said.

“I missed you too.”

He smiled again and sat down on your bed, putting the knife on the floor. You sat down next to him.

“So… why are you here?”

He shrugged “I just- I don’t know.. I just don’t like to be alone, after... I mean I know I haven’t actually killed anybody yet, I’m just helping them, but I mean still…”

“No, no, Ethan it’s fine. I don’t care, you know you can come to me at anytime.”

“Yeah.” He said, with a small smile and he laid his head on your chest. You played with his hair, and you picked out a movie.

After a while, let’s just say the movie got boring. Then, Ethan’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when there was a sex scene.

Ethan had just lost his virginity last week, to you. He made a joke saying how he’ll “die a virgin.” Good thing you were there.

Ever since then, you’d been closer. You didn’t quite understand it, were you guys a thing or not?

It didn’t matter at the moment, because Ethan’s hard on was very obvious through the Ghostface outfit he was still wearing. You paused your movements and stopped messing with his hair.

“Ethan..” you said, he looked up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can we… talk?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, sure.” He sat up.

“Ethan, I like you. I really do. But I don’t know if you like me too, I mean like are a we a thing, are we not a thing?”

“Wh- of course I like you! I mean…” he took a deep breath. “Y/n, I’ve wanted to say this forever. Would you wanna be my girlfriend? I know this isn’t like.. ideal but-“

“Ethan. Ethan-“

“I do really like you and-“ he ranted on.

“Ethan!” You said, louder and interrupting him.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

He stared at you, and you stared back. You both slowly leaned in to each other, and kissed. It was slow and passionate.

He slowly led you down to the bed, him on top of you.

You both moved quickly to take off your clothes, then he realized.

“Uh… do you have a… condom?” He said, embarrassed. His cheeks went pink as he finished the sentence.

You smiled “In the drawer.” You said, and pointed to a drawer, he quickly fumbled off of you, almost tripping on his own shoes. He couldn’t believe it was happening, again, and now you guys were actually dating.

He grabbed it and went over to you again, he was thankful that the Ghostface outfit was easy to take off. He took off his boxers and put the condom on.

Then, he realized that you weren’t even completely naked. You were too busy watching him.

He slowly moved his hands to your bra, and unclipped it.

He then took off your underwear, and he tensed up. He was scared that maybe you wouldn’t like it, or you didn’t really like him. Maybe you’d leave him the second he got you.

“Ethan, calm down, it’s okay, it’s me. If you don’t want to do this or your not ready we don’t have to-“

“No, no I want to. Do you want to?”

“I do.” You said with a smile.

“Uh, this is—an embarrassing question, but can you uh… ride me?” He sat up, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed at him, and he feels like he’s done something wrong.

“Can I? I would love to.” You said with a smirk.

“Okay, because I still dont exactly know what I’m doing and I want this to be good for you-“

“Calm down, it will be. I want it to be good for you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He said, taking another deep breath as you straddled his lap. You held onto his shoulders, and his hands awkwardly were at his sides.

You guided his hands to your hip. One thing you couldn’t get over was his muscles, his cock wasn’t huge, but it was definitely big. But his muscles? No one would think that a quiet boy like him would have his muscles.

Finally, after what felt like hours for Ethan, you slowly hovered over his cock and then you slowly lowered yourself onto it. He screwed his eyes shut and threw his head back a little.

He couldn’t believe it, he was literally having sec with his GIRLFRIEND. A girl, who he could now call his girlfriend. And even after she knew he was a murderer, she still stayed with him.

If this wasn’t heaven, he would say heaven didn’t exist.

[singmyaubade]

Good Graces

exes!steddie x female!reader

summary: coming back from chicago, the last people you expected to see were you exes but for them, the only thing they wondered when they saw you was, what's it gonna take to get back in your good graces?

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ angst, cursing, reader wants to kill steve, , swearing, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), jealousy..

a/n: i feel like this is going to be a two-parter most likely but i wanted to write this so bad because i love the song off of short n' sweet. i don't usually write for steddie but i was craving this concept. anyways, i hope you and enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this.

You dragged your luggage with a grunt as you passed through baggage claim over to the exit. A part of you was thoroughly regretting bringing two big suitcases but if you were spending two months of your summer in Hawkins, Indiana.

You certainly needed it.

Your eyes wandered all over the place to spot your childhood friend and cousin, Robin. She excitedly waved her hand side to side, an ecstatic grin that reached both of her dimples.

You could spot the balloons and welcome home sign from a mile away and that was enough to confirm that was Robin.

She excitedly waved her hand side to side, an ecstatic grin that reached both of her dimples. She started racing towards you before she almost tripped over the decorations in her hand.

You giggled as you raced over to her to prevent her from causing actual damage to herself, "Jeez Robin, still clumsy?" You asked, snorting.

She rolled her eyes, "This is hard to carry all by yourself!" She exasperated, causing her to pout.

"Aww poor baby," You mocked, pinching her cheek as she swatted your hand away.

Instead of saying anything else, she hugged you. You smiled sweetly, embracing her back, glad to see her and talk to her instead of the same static on the telephone.

"I missed you," You whispered, smile still on your face.

"Uh, I missed you more!" Robin almost yelled, pulling away from you, "You have to tell me everything about Chicago," She said, grabbing on of your suitcases for you.

You started telling Robin about everything and she kept replying with her gasps and 'oohs' when you told her all about acting school.

Even you had to admit that going to Chicago straight out of high school was not exactly a sentence jotted down on your bucket list.

But when you get accepted to one of the top acting schools in Chicago, you can't exactly decline. Of course, you were sad to leave everything behind.

Your friends, your family, even the shitty diner on 15th street but you knew that you would come back to visit, it was guaranteed.

You usually would've stayed with your parents but they decided to go on a three month trip to the Caribbean but they did make it clearly that they would miss your presence.

And you were also glad to be able to spend time with Robin since you hadn't been able to see her in so long.

But you couldn't say you didn't miss her nosy questions or constant rambling,

"You have to tell me about all your latest conquests!" She said, driving but peeking her head at you to encourage you to answer.

You rolled your eyes, "I'm still perplexed that you can even drive, is it even legal for you to drive?" You snickered, changing the subject.

She scoffed, "Okay first of all, I am an amazing driver and second, you aren't changing the subject from the tragic discussion of your love life,"

You gasped offended, "My love life is not tragic!" You folded your arms, "And I just don't feel the need for something like that right now,"

Robin exasperated, "All you have told me about your love life is two exes who you literally call 'fuckface' and 'dickhead' which is not a confirmation of a successful love life," Robin ranted, "And you still have yet to tell me who these mystery men are!"

"They aren't important," You mumbled, nuzzling into the cold window.

Robin sighed, "You shouldn't let whoever those assholes were determine your love life, Y/N."

Robin wasn't usually serious with you but you knew that it did make her sad to see you never truly opening your heart because of two men that had screwed you over.

You shrugged as Robin looked at you, "But I'll still get you Benny's,"

You sat up in excitement, "Are you serious?" You asked, grinning ear to ear.

"Ugh yes, we can even eat the greasy burger in the car like old times," Robin said with a smile as you cheered.

By the time you and Robin had gotten your burgers, you were asking her about her life and what she had been up to as you bit into your greasy cheeseburger.

Robin shoved a few fries in her mouth before talking, "What do you wanna know?" She asked, mouthful.

You swallowed before answering, "Hmm... what are they like? But no names!"

Robin snorted, "Are you really still serious about the 'no name policy'?"

The 'no name policy' came from your acting school where you don't let someone introduce you to someone privately until you actually see them and you only learn their name when you see them.

And Robin also couldn't tell her friends who you were because that would be missing the entire point.

Robin thought it was stupid but you thought it was productive.

"Um yes!" You said loudly, "It's actually incredibly helpful when you think about it."

Robin chuckled, "What if you already know them?"

"Then I'll be reintroduced," You said, smugly.

"Alright," Robin said, "Well one of them is an absolute dingus to the maximum," You giggled as she went on, "But he is pretty funny and kind but clumsy when you meet him, I think you would like him,"

"He seems fun," You replied before Robin moved on.

"Then there's the other one, he's an absolute pothead and extremely eccentric but when you look past that, he's a pretty nice guy and actually really fun to be around, I think you would like him too." Robin said, eating the last bite of her burger.

"That's cool," You smiled.

Robin continued to go on about the different kids there and how the three adults including her were their babysitters which you thought was hilarious.

As you finished up your burger and fries, you threw the trash out before you and Robin were driving towards her house.

"Oh and also, we are going to one of their houses tonight," She said as she checked her watch, "Or as soon as you put your bags down because we are late!" She yelped, urgently parking.

You laughed as you both grabbed your luggage from the trunk, making your way inside the house and to her room. You barely had time to situate yourself before Robin was rushing you because of her own late actions.

By the time you could blink, you were both already inside the car, making it towards her friends house.

"Also," She cleared her throat, "He's kind of loaded so don't make a big deal out of it,"

"How rich are we talking?" You joked with a sly smile.

"Again, he's a dingus with no charm," Robin said, "You will forget he's rich extremely fast,"

You laughed, looking outside despite it being dark. A part of you really missed Hawkins considering you grew up there and you heavily missed the late night car drives that you took.

Another part of you though was scared that you might run into two individuals during your time back home but you were pretty sure Robin wouldn't ever even be in their social circle, let alone her area.

Robin pulled into a house and you couldn't really make out it's features but you could swear that you recognized the street.

Robin unbuckled her seatbelt as she spoke, "We've arrived," She said hauntingly as you giggled.

You both exited the car as you heard laughing and yelling on the inside which cause Robin to bang on the door with a heavy knock, almost as if she was the police.

You hissed at the knock as she shrugged before the door opened and the last person you had expected to see opened the door,

"Robin, I literally said the time to be here was seven, not eight!" He sighed, looking at her before locking eyes with you.

Steve fucking Harrington.

He still looked the exact same, brown curly strands still standing on his head, looking effortlessly perfect. His muscles flexing as he held open the door and same brown doe-eyed eyes that looked at you with a certain glint.

Not even his outfits had changed, same jeans and striped polo shirt, you wanted to choke him.

Or fuck him, it was hard to decide.

"Okay well, I had to pick my cousin up from the airport and I got sidetracked!" She whined, speaking to Steve but his eyes were locked onto yours, "And speaking of my cousin, this is Y/N." Robin introduced.

Silence sat there for a few more seconds that felt like minutes as you and Steve looked each other. He looked uneasy but you knew your face was showing a disgruntled look as Robin looked at the both of you.

He coughed, snapping out of it, "Uh hi,"

You stood there with the same look on her face as Robin looked like a lightbulb popped on top of her head.

Her mouth made an 'o' shape, "Do you guys know each other?"

"This is one of the exes," You said as you clicked your teeth and Robin looked as if she found out something outrageous.

"Wait which one? The one who broke up with you after taking your virginity and started dating another girl or the one you caught sleeping with another girl after his concert," Robin asked.

"Robin!" You squealed, looking at her as if you wanted to choke her.

"I'm curious!" She replied as Steve continued looking at the both of you with the same wide-eyed expression.

You waved her off before you looked back at Steve, "Whatever, I don't give a shit anymore," You said, shoving his shoulder as you entered the house you had seen a multitude of times before.

You and Steve Harrington's relationship was not something to call home about. You had dated him before he was Steve 'The King' Harrington. He was so sweet for the first part of your relationship, when it was the beginning of school and clique's weren't sorted.

This was until Carol and Tommy had recruited him and their first proclamation was that he dumped you if he ever wanted to be anything in Hawkins High.

So you met up with Steve that night and you both said that you had things to talk about. After some back and forth, he let you go first and you told him you were finally ready to give up your virginity.

And let's just say, instead of breaking up with you there and then, he decided to do the most absolute dickhead thing and take it anyway. After, you were happy and it was a great first time, Steve was kind and compassionate.

He drove you home and then your life hit a certain darkness when you went to school the next day. Instead of seeing your boyfriend immediately, Carol and Tommy approached you in the parking and they told you that Steve had broken up with you and found something better.

And then in between periods, you saw him and a girl named Susie Blickens extremely close to each other as she twirled her hair and he rested his hand above her head on the locker.

Not only did you wanna puke but you were fucking furious. Of course, you were sad, there wasn't counting how many times you had cried over him but eventually, all of it turned to anger.

He would walk past you as if nothing happened and that was when you swore that you would always hate his guts till the day you die.

Hence, why he looks like a dear in headlights seeing you.

As you entered the living room, you were greeted by all of the teenagers on the couch, causing absolute chaos.

A kid named Dustin introduced himself to you first, offering a handshake which made you laugh before he continued arguing with his friend.

The rest of them just smiled at you but you figured you would learn their names throughout the night.

You sat in the empty arm chair facing away from the front door and Steve in general. You could hear Robin and Steve whisper arguing but it did not intrigue you.

"So you go to school in Chicago?" A girl named Max asked you as you politely smiled.

"Yeah," You responded.

"And how is it?" A girl named El followed up.

"It's pretty fun, the windy city is exactly what you think it would be." You answered.

"Did you meet any cute boys?" Max asked as a boy you presumed was her boyfriend yelped a 'hey!'

You both giggled, "They are pretty okay but they aren't as interesting as you would think."

The two girls you were talking to giggled as they began whispering as you clapped your hands in your lap, looking around Steve's house.

Nothing had changed much but you were happy to see more pictures added to the walls. You knew Steve didn't have the best relationship with his parents but in a way, his house looked more homely.

Maybe he did that himself.

You watched the kids bicker a few minutes more as you watched the dynamics between them all. You were actually having a semi good time for the most part and were pretty sure the night couldn't get worse.

You felt a hand cup the top of the arm rest before speaking, "Wow, you let the pretty girl steal my seat," The voice you recognized all too well spoke.

Oh fuck no.

You looked behind you to see Eddie Munson who had the same expression that Steve did, trying his best to find the words to say to you.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You asked as the kids snapped their neck at your foul language.

Eddie gulped, "Y/N,"

You were pretty sure a vein was popping from your forehead and by the way Eddie was looking at you, it was almost as if your hair was on fire.

"Is Robin friends with every asshole in Hawkins?" You meant to ask in your head but said it instead out loud.

"Maybe," Eddie sent an awkward laugh which only made you angrier, "Listen, I know we didn't end on the best of-" He started.

You stopped him immediately, "Are you seriously about to say the best of terms? You fucking cheated on me!" You yelled as Eddie hissed in pain, as if you were touching him with a hot iron.

The kids gasped, full attention on you and Eddie but there was not a bone in your body that cared.

"Y/N, I swear I've changed and I tried apologizing many times," He tried his best to mediate but it was to no avail.

"I meant what I said the day you did it, you can go fuck yourself and I will hate you till the I die," You spat, pushing past him, moving towards Robin.

With Eddie, you didn't need that many words to explain the situation. He was different from Steve and the second boy that you genuinely liked. He made you laugh and gave you free pot which was both a great deal.

And you had to admit that he gave the best head to ever exist.

But when you went to one of his concerts for his band, Corroded Coffin, you went backstage to surprise him and caught a blonde giving him head.

He almost had the same look he had when he just saw you.

But let's just say it didn't end the best when you grabbed the blonde haired girl by her hair and started hitting Eddie with the fan you were using to cool yourself down.

It took a while for Gareth to get you off of Eddie but you eventually just walked away and never spoke to Eddie again despite his desperate tries over the phone and at your house.

And that was that.

Steve was next to Robin but she swatted him away as she sees you approaching, "How did you manage to become friends with the two most heinous men in Hawkins?" You asked, genuinely pissed.

Robin looked lost for words, "I mean okay, I get that maybe you would've dated one but I didn't expect for you to date both Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson!" She rambled, "I can't believe those are the faces behind fuckface and dickhead,"

"It's not your fault," You groaned, "I'm just shocked and choosing whether to kill them or just heavily injure them." Your jaw moved to the side as you glanced behind them as they were both peering at you, looking away once you saw them, trying to play it off.

"Listen, I know they are absolute buttheads but I swear they've changed and I won't try to convince you but I'm begging you to give them a chance," Robin implored.

You sighed, not wanting to cause a rift between Robin and her friends even if you hated them more than anything in the world.

"Okay," Is all you said as Robin let out a breath.

"Okay," She repeated.

She led you both to the couch as you sat down next to her on the big couch with Eddie peering at you in his armchair and Steve running his hand through his hair aggressively as he sat next to Robin.

Even the kids could feel the tension in the room. Robin broke the silence with a laugh before speaking, "Okay! How about we play Monopoly?" She asked as everyone agreed in little 'yeahs' and 'sures.'

You were surprised Eddie didn't argue for D & D.

Mike grabbed the game, laying it in on the coffee table. The kids yelled for which little figurines they wanted but Steve quickly snatched the dog before looking at you.

He reached over Robin to hand it to you as you looked at him with a hateful expression, "Uh, I just remember it being your favorite to play with." He muttered.

A part of you wanted to scoff and grab another figurine but he had been right, it was your favorite.

Sadly, it only brought you back the the memories of when you and Steve dated.

"I still don't understand why you like playing this game considering I always school you," You cockily said as Steve mockingly laughed.

His face went close to yours, "We always know I win," He said, giving you a light peck before you could respond.

You smiled, "Alright Harrington, let's test your bluff,"

He set the game down on the table as he began setting up the board and the money.

You reached to grab your dog figurine before he snatched it from you within seconds, causing you to frown.

"But if I take your good luck charm, maybe I could win," He snickered as you rolled your eyes.

"In your dreams," You said, acting like you didn't care.

Steve watched you with a grin for a few seconds before approaching you, slipping the dog into your grip.

You smiled sweetly as Harrington grabbed your waist, "I'll always let you have the dog if it means I get to see you happy,"

You scrunched your nose, "You are the corniest person I know,"

"You know you love it," He whispered, kissing you again,

You hesitated, taking the miniature sized dog, not daring to say anything to him. Steve watched to see if you would smile but your facial reaction didn't change.

He frowned as Eddie began speaking, "Okay, let's do this!"

The kids immediately started to somehow play Monopoly aggressive which only earned a laugh from you. What made you laugh even harder was seeing how passionate Eddie, Steve, and Robin were about the game.

A little part of you had missed being around all of them in their own separate way.

Chicago was fun but it didn't have the same home feeling that you got when you were back at Hawkins.

After a couple rounds and your money only slipping, you excused yourself to get a soda.

"Do you need help finding anything?" Steve asked, already ready to get up from his seat.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," You said quickly, moving towards the kitchen.

Steve sunk into his seat as you began reaching to grab a cup from the cupboard above you. Before you could go on your tippy toes, a taller hand grabbed it for you as you sighed.

You turned around to see Eddie only inches away from you as he placed the glass down next to you.

You only glared at him as he smirked, eyeing you up and down which only earned a scoff from you.

Not that you would ever say this out loud, Eddie still never hesitated to make you nervous. From his tattoos to leather jacket and the way he would eye you, it made you feel like a teen girl again.

He was still the bad boy and as much as you wanted to act unbothered, it still turned you on.

Silence passed between the both of you for several seconds, trying to see who would break first.

"Can you not?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"She speaks!" He over-dramatically yells!

"You are a joke," You said, trying to move past him as he only caged you in.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "You used to like it,"

A shiver crept down your spine as you tried to keep your composure.

"You are not gonna flirt your way into getting me to forget that you cheated on me!" You argued as Eddie swirled his tongue in his mouth, looking up with a hand still leaning on the cupboard.

"How many times do I have to apologize?" He asked, looking at you.

"Instead of apologizing, I can suggest you trying to go fuck yourself," You spat, shoving him but he still kept his body in the same place.

"I just don't do it like you," He pouted which only caused red, hot anger to fill you.

You slapped him which only caused a smile from Eddie as he moved closer to your face, a hand moving to your waist.

"There she is," He grinned against your ear as you looked at Eddie, a part of you wanting to close the gap.

Suddenly, you heard a cough from behind Eddie as you looked over to see Steve. He looked flustered, watching the sight of you and Eddie.

You finally pushed Eddie hard out of the way, moving past Steve before exiting as you rushed over to Robin, "Can we leave now?" You asked, a begging look in your eyes.

"Yeah, why?" She asked, looking at you but you only pleaded with your eyes,

"Okay, let me just tell Steve." She said, handing you her keys.

You quickly said your goodbye's to the teens as you exited outside of the door before Eddie or Steve could catch up to you. You went inside the passenger side of the car as you wanted to scream.

The hatred you felt for Steve and Eddie was consuming but a heavier force was the effect they still had on you.

Steve was kind and compassionate, showing you the golden side of love which you always showered in.

And then there's Eddie who's rough and taunting, showing you the toxic side which never failed to make you falter within seconds.

Instead of only having one to resist, both only made you more turned on.

And if you were feeling this now,

Who knows how the rest of the summer will go?

[nikkeora]

For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

-

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

-

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

-

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

-

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

-

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

[iid-smile]

can't get rid of me , fushiguro toji

a strong legacy to be left behind , chapter one

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cw: profanity, mentions of pregnancy (pills) but filtered for megumi's sake, mentions of violence in prison, you're broke, smoking cigarettes

author's note: sigh... im out of my fluff era 😞 (sorry guys) kinda wanted to write something that i think would actually happen in some sort of alternate jjk universe and um idk how far to go because this kind of stuff does happen in the manga, but writing it feels illegal??? idk...

"mom?" megumi peeks out from around the corner in the hallway. "who was calling?"

another groan escapes your lips, around the fifth one in the last three minutes, and you silence your phone once again. "your— excuse my language, shitty deadbeat dad keeps wanting to call me." you slap your hand across your forehead and lean back on the couch, a small creak coming from somewhere below. "apparently he's getting aggressive in prison. shut off the house phone, but they still found my number..."

your son comes closer to you, and you scoop him up, placing him by your side. he glances up at you, and you swear your fight or flight instincts nearly kicked in, (not that you'd be able to fight of a guy as big as toji anyways) flinching slightly from his sharp gaze. it sucks how he looks so much like his dad, because you loved megumi so much. but the image of that guy was almost too much to bear, and he's the spitting image.

"shitty?" he repeats. for a well-behaved kid, he really doesn't respect your words.

"don't say that megs, it's bad language." you swear around him all of the time, so what's the point in scolding him? "only your mama can say it."

"don't tell me what to do."

wow. okay. why do you feel threatened by a six year old? "damn, you've got his attitude too." you mutter, but you've only got yourself to blame for that. you knew you were never cut out to be a mother, so your ways of parenting weren't the best.

he snuggles closer to you, and you openly accept, moving your free hand to his hair to rub over it. "why can't i see toji?"

ah, this lovely story again. "because he left me as soon as you were born, love." really, you couldn't and didn't want to stop yourself from wrapping him up in your arms, feeling the need to protect him. "at this point, he's dead to me. seems like he doesn't feel the same though... i'm so sick of his ass." you also knew it wasn't good parenting to rant to your child about adult issues, but you've only got him to talk to.

that hug was out of comfort then. why are you lying to yourself?

he looks up at you with an irritatingly cute but blank face. "why?"

"god, i hate how many questions you ask." you speak under your breath once again, looking up at the ceiling from any sort of help from a higher being. the amount of times you've had to family-friendly-ify things that have happened isn't even funny. you're not naturally rated u for universal. it's more embarrassing when he recites those same stories to his teachers, and you get called into the school for a little talk.

yikes... here we go. "he lied when he said he gave me the right magical candy after we visited the stork. tried to make it drop you off back to where babies are made in heaven, but i wanted it to deliver you to me, whether he liked that or not." the story's got to be a little filtered somehow. you'd rather not get yourself in the principal's office again. "you're my little hero; a miracle to me. i would've given up on myself ages ago. your dad is a bad, bad man."

the type that would kill. if he found where you lived, or perhaps where megumi goes to school...

"and now i'm left broke in an apartment that barely functions, yet i still spoil my little hero." you sing-song, leaning your head back. "and with what money? i'm broke as hell, megs. can't even make both of us breakfast in the morning cuz your elementary school is too damn expensive."

"is this my fault?"

"...no. no, baby, of course not." you furrow your eyebrows more, a small pout in your lips. "if anything, you made my situation a bit more fortunate."

it's a selfish way of thinking, using your child to avoid solving your problems, using your child to wail and complain about how much you hate your life, but you've got nothing to lose. nothing to lose except for the one person you love.

you can feel your phone buzzing again.

"you stay here and watch tv, okay? mama's gonna go to the kitchen and talk to her friend." he seems a bit relieved as you let go of him, and you stand up.

you hear him mutter. "it's only playing the news though..." no shit it only plays the news, you can't afford to get a good television company that has any kids shows. that is, unless you wanna get scammed out of all of your money.

begrudgingly, you make your way to the kitchen, confirm that you closed the door completely, and answer the vibrating device. "hello?" you sigh, placing the device over your ear.

the other person on the call replies quickly. "is this miss—"

"yeah, yeah, it is. what the hell do you want?"

"um... we apologise, but we strongly suggest that you come to the prison building. he—" the guy's voice cracks. must be really nervous. "pardon me. he's been physically assaulting other inmates and guards, he doesn't follow orders, he never leaves his cell unless it's to visit the closed visits room. you know, in hopes that you'll come..."

obsessed much? where was this energy six years ago? "that's got nothing to do with me."

"please, ma'am. he won't listen to anyone, and we are unable to place him into special facilities as he doesn't emit any cursed energy." ah, he's begging? that's a first. you never would've thought you'd hear a person who works at a prison begging.

cursed energy, cursed energy, this talk again and again and again. "urgh..." you take a deep breath. your options are limited, and they won't stop calling until they can get that lunatic to calm down... surprise, surprise, you really don't want to go.

but if you were really uninterested in him, wouldn't you have already spent the bail money that's been sat on the counter for ages, neatly concealed in an envelope? wouldn't you have paid off all of your debts already? "will i— hm..." choose your words carefully, goddamn it. "can i get a reward of some sort if i go? money?"

"yes, yes! please do visit. there's nothing we can legally do to him in check anymore." ...you think this guy sounds a little too eager.

damn toji and his "supernatural powers", or else you wouldn't get yourself into this mess. finally, after your moment of silence, you respond. "okay. i'll visit."

"thank you—!" you cut off the line.

"fucking bastard..." you drop your phone on the counter, running your hands through your hair and over your face. "stressing me out for what? you don't even love me." your words turn into whispers. with haste, you rummage through your back pocket, trying to find those last few cigarettes, but as your hands were occupied, your eyes moved over to the ashtray that was collecting dust on top of the microwave. oh, right... you don't smoke anymore because there's no ventilation indoors.

you'd have to head out if you wanted to, but then megumi would be in the apartment on his own. and nobody can babysit, because you don't have anybody to ask to babysit. great, you can't smoke until monday. it's a friday afternoon. you have two whole days to get through!

you know for a fact your addiction won't hold out for that long.

[brights-place]

Jeff The Killer with an Mute! S/O

Pairings: Jeff the killer X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of gore, Dating headcannons

A/N: Jeff the killer dating an mute reader that me and my friends were talking long and hard about how each creepypasta would date an S/O who is mute :>>

- When you were first introduced he tried to annoy you and get you to talk smack back to him caus he wanted to fight someone since Jane was on an mission and Jeff itched for an fight

- He’s suspicious of you at first when you don't reply - Even more so that you don’t talk. But if you prove you’re  not a threat in other ways, he doesn’t actually mind it all that much... JK HE DOES MIND LIKE WHY AIN'T YOU FIGHTING OR YELLING AT HIM!

- He complains and cruses you out as you just stared at him - Jeff is annoyed how you hangout with Smile dog who makes sure to make you feel comfy which makes Jeff confused since well... Smile wasn't nice to people actually nobody really was I mean they were Creepypastas they were creatures and beings that could kill

- When he tried to fight Liu since well that's whats siblings do you smacked him up top the head as liu cackled at how Jeff was flabbergasted as you stared him down

- He gets annoyed by everybody and since your silent he comes out of nowhere and hangs out with you as he says "Shut up" when not knowing you were mute cause he never knew you were mute

- Ends up going on tangents or rants about the others while you just sit there and kind of annoyed yet staring down at him making sure he is comfortable - He knows it can get annoying to just have to listen but he’s extremely grateful for the outlet. - he can bitch about his day only to turn around and find you still there, listening intently. 

- Sooner or later he watches you do sign language talking to EJ, Toby, and Nina as you just nodded shook your head or just did sign language which he connected the dots quickly finding out that you were mute

- most of the time he is translating for those who can't understand you when you use sign language when Jeff can't is when he's on his missions and off to kill some people

- Other then that he would be by your side making sure your safe and are alright When he speaks he forgets that he's doing sign language while speaking whenever your near and people point it out he rolls his eyes

- He gets used to your silence and can't help but when he feels pissy just walks towards were you are in your room or in the kitchen kick open the door and grab you and lay his head on your shoulder

- He didn't understand sign language so he just focused on when you're looking at something or someone in a certain way, how your eyebrows furrow. how you squint your eyes, the way your lips curve up or downwards with something he likes and dislikes.

- He could read your thoughts and what you want to say but can't at all but try to explain in sign language to you and say's fuck it and just speaks to you as you nod your head listening. - He switches from checking to verbal confirmation to physical confirmation - When you two are out at night not doing missions you take an stroll before jeff then goes on an rampage out of boredom - You were making sure that jeff was careful when you noticed an couple watching them afar since you knew that they had an child but also knew that why you two killed the two parents cause they were Junkies and quiet emotionally abusive towards their own child so of course you had to kill the two so you brought Jeff!

- When he is on an mission his knife digging into the skin of an 30 year old couple while their daughter was fast asleep in her room not knowing about what was happening downstairs.

- You couldn't help but watch Jeff ripping the parents skin with his knife carving an smile as he turns towards you when you stomped your foot lightly two times on the floor is what you two used to say its time to go since he well he and you have your own secret language

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[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.

[createdbytragedy]

SO, THERE'S THIS GIRL..........

A/N: Please check over this one too. It's kind of like the previous but can be read on its own too.

Pairing: Lee Minho x reader

Genre: Just fluff

Synopsis: Minho calls his mother to tell her about his new girlfriend

"Hello, Minho~ its been so long, my boy~~" Minho's mom sang through the phone, making him smile.

"I know, mom, how are you? how's dad?" he asked, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable.

"I'm fine and your dad's good too. He's feeding the cats for you. They have been missing you a lot!" His mother chirped, "You should come visit us soon."

Minho chuckled at his mom's enthusiasm. She was always so eager to meet him and actually did miss his parents and cats.

"I wish I could but the schedule 'is really tight these days. I miss Soonie, Doongie and Dori too. "He could feel his mother smile from the other side and it warmed his heart.

"It's okay. We're taking care of it for you," his mother said then paused ," did you want to tell me something?"

Minho felt his heart skip a beat. His mother had figured him out right away and he did not actually know how to start.

"Ahh......," she gasped, followed by laughter," is there someone in my son's life? Come on, tell me, who's the lucky girl, Minho?"

His mom's eagerness made him chuckle and his mind wanders back to you.

You were the girl in his life. Though he didn't know if that made you lucky or him. He smiled, looking out the window through his bed. The early morning rays had entered his bedroom and he had received a phone call from you early in the morning, wishing him a good day and telling him aboust your plans for the day as you got ready for work. He couldn't think of a better way to spend the morning and he can't help thinking what it would be like to wake up next to you.

Your little morning rant made his heart all warm and tingy and he knew he had to tell someone. Plus, it's been a while since he talked to his parents. So, here he was, hearing his mother's excited rant.

A sigh left his lips along with a smile. His cheeks flushed, getting a bit shy. His mother was always so supportive and even eager to hear him talk about a girl. She would instantly drop everything she was doing as soon as she heard a girl's name pop out of his mouth. Which wasn't very usual.

She would listen to him, give him advice and even tease him a bit until Minho got all red and refused to talk to her for 3 days. They had the kind of relationship everyone wished for and he will be forever thankful for having such a great mother like her.

"So..... There's this girl...." He trailed off, mind going back to you and the way you smile.

God, he was so in love with you.

He could almost see his mother smile through the phone, " What's her name?"

"(y/n). " He replied," And she has this eyes and this smile and her hair. I don't know what to say. She's just so sweet. And she also loves cats. "

"I feel like someone's in love here." His mother teased. If Minho was any younger and didn't know better, he would have blushed and denied. But this time, even he knew his mother was right.

He cleared his throat ," We started dating.... A month ago, actually."

"LEE MINHO!!!" Minho had to drag away the phone from his ear as his mother screeched ," why didn't you tell me about this (y/n) sooner? We're you trying to keep this a secret till you get her pregnant?! Are you already planning a wedding?! "

"Mom!" Minho scolds, his cheeks flushed at the thought and he heard his mother laugh.

"I was just joking, Min. But, tell me about her more.. when are you gonna introduce her to me?! Will she like me? "

"Relax, mom. She will like you. And I'm sure you'll like her too. "

"Of course! I already do," she beamed ," If she has managed to capture your heart, she sure is a kind and special woman. "

"Indeed, she is. " Minho agreed.

"Is she pretty? "

"Pretty? ," Minho scoffed," She's beautiful. In more than just one way. She's like you. Her cooking reminds me of you too. "

"Minho."

"Hm?"

"Don't let her go. For all the years I've known you, I have never heard you talk like that about a girl. Whoever she is, she is special. She makes you feel special. And most importantly, she loves you. Never let go of someone you love. Never give up on her. But if she chose to, let her go. Because love is never harsh and captive. Love is free. Love is for all. And I'm glad you found someone who made you understand love. "

A comfortable silence followed until Minho decided to break it, "I know, mom. I'd choose her happiness over mine any day. "

"Anyways, I have to go to practice. Stray kids code is airing tonight. Watch it. "

"I never miss a chance to see my handsome son. I'm so proud of you ."

"Okay then, I have to go. "

"Take care, Minho. And I hope I'll be receiving a wedding invitation soon. "

"Mom!"

With a chuckle, the line went blank. Minho smiled to himself, throwing the phone to the side.

He can't wait to marry you.

[drdemonprince]

I was in the car with a new friend recently and he was fuming about stress at work, and his rent going up, and I was sympathetic and bummed for him, and then he started yelling about traffic and freaking out any time a car took more than a millisecond to get moving and it freaked me out and I fell silent. I guess he could sense the energy changing in the air.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Am I bothering you?"

"It's okay," I said instinctively, unconvincingly, trying to convince myself to get over it, to not make him feel bad, to not make things about my feelings. I searched for a justification as to why my reaction was wrong. "I guess I forget what it's like to drive a car."

I used to get screamed at for moving too slowly. I exasperated my parents taking so long finding the momentum to get up and do things. I was spacey. Everything was always happening so quick. Where I wanted to put my attention was never where the world wanted me to. They needed me to care about car routes and traffic and appointment times instead of smooth pebbles on the sidewalk or birds. And my dad was always so furious in the car. Certain he was the authority on what made a good driver and that everyone else was not up to his standards. Ranting and yelling and flipping out so badly it made me cry and then put on a big smile to reassure him. I almost gave up learning to drive as a teen because my slow, plunking movements and insecurity on the road sent him into such a rage.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the evening," my friend said.

"You didn't," I reassured him.

I didn't want him to think I had a problem with him complaining about his life. That is what friends are for. It was the road rage that touched an unaged part of me, and brough that part forward so strongly I couldn't hide it. I couldn't fix my face. I almost started to cry.

It was the first time in a very long time that I've been well and truly triggered. Certain experiences in the present can make old parts of me reverberate; there's a ringing that you get inside when someone's shampoo smells like a bad old boyfriend or somebody touches you the wrong way without meaning to and you briefly go a little dead. That's manageable. It's a useful cue that something needs to change quickly before you freak out. I thank those triggers for existing. But this one. It caused an actual emotional phase shift straight to the past. Freeze up and then fawn it off, play along, make up for your own reaction.

It's crazy how unsafe I genuinely felt for a moment! And I tend to critique people who abuse the language of "feeling unsafe" for manipulative and white supremacist ends, so it is useful for me to get that reminder of just how reality-bending an acute state of triggeredness is. I tell people to use their words and regulate their distress and there I was, unable to.

I had forgotten one of the major reasons that I hate cars! That is how long I have been away from my dad and car-dependent culture and intense, mean impatience. I have made a lot of the right choices to protect me over the years, or else this upset would not be so unfamiliar.