#Reception desk impact

[interiorergonomics]

The Impact of Front Office First Impressions

Investing in a custom-made reception desk is about more than just aesthetics.

Actually, it's about creating a strong, positive first impression that resonates with everyone who enters your office.

Demonstrate a commitment to quality and professionalism through a thoughtfully designed reception area, you can enhance your brand image and build stronger relationships with clients, partners, and employees alike.

[andypantsx3]

ALL IN A DAY'S QUIRK : SERO HANTA x READER

summary: Sero gets hit with a quirk that makes others see him as the person they are most attracted to. Which you really wish you had known before you opened your mouth and gave him your usual, “Hey, Sero!” tags/warnings: pro hero au, fluff, misunderstandings, quirk accident, not actually unrequited feelings, smut, thigh riding, fem reader (no pronouns but AFAB genitalia terms used), aged up characters, 5.3k

It was approximately four thirty-three p.m. when Sero Hanta returned from patrol and blew your peaceful day to bits.

Before his arrival, the Todoroki Agency had been relatively quiet, as it usually was around this time, everyone but the on-call staff winding down for the day. You’d been hearing the telltale rustling of jackets and scuffle of feet in the office behind you since the clock ticked past four.

Not long after, a couple of your friends from the analytics department had wandered over to your desk, clearly deciding they were not going to get anything else done, gossiping and stealing the candies you kept in a glass bowl on the reception counter.

“I heard Shouto’s manager is considering signing him up for a shirtless charity calendar,” Mari told you immediately, wiggling her eyebrows. “Hana from brand management said she was asked to do research on the impact the calendar had on other pros’ careers, so I think this is serious.”

She looked beyond pleased, her cheeks pink and her ears tipped red, the way they always were when she contemplated her massive crush on your agency head, Todoroki Shouto.

You couldn’t fault her–Shouto was incredibly handsome and kind, if a bit spacey–but you’d always been drawn to a different pro hero on the agency roster. Someone just a little bit taller, with dark hair and a half-moon grin, a razor sharp sense of humor, and the most inconceivably mouth-watering thighs in the pro hero business.

Not that you had been giving them attention. Much.

You suppressed the urge to ask if anyone else from the agency was being considered for the calendar, wiggling your eyebrows back. “Well I know you’ll be the first in line.”

Mari’s blush deepened, and Kimiko laughed around an orange-flavored candy, which you stocked for many reasons other than a certain tape-themed hero’s predilection for oranges, thank you very much.

“I just hope they include Uravity-san,” Kimiko said. “I mean–not shirtless shirtless, but like, god would I kill for her in a little sports bra.”

Kimiko sounded unaffected, but you’d literally hidden her beneath your desk the time pro heroes Uravity and Deku visited for an agency team-up with the Todoroki office. She’d spent the entire time peering out with big eyes, muttering under her breath, “I am so gay. So very very gay.”

You didn’t doubt if Uravity were included in the spread, Kimiko might even beat Mari out for the first spot in line.

“You both have such kind hearts,” you laughed. “So eager to give to charity.”

“I’m a lifelong philanthropist,” Mari agreed, picking up your pen and doodling hearts all over your office stationery. You noticed she colored in only the left side, and suppressed another laugh.

Whatever. You knew what it was to be that whipped, even if you’d never do anything about it.

As huge as your thing was for Sero, there wasn’t a chance in hell he returned your affections. He was incredibly friendly, but over the past few years, he’d never even given a hint that he was into you like that. He’d treated you with the same easy cheer and subjected you to the same good-natured roasting he did everyone else in the agency.

And now was not the time to go looking for more, anyway. You’d recently become close enough to see Sero outside of work and you were not about to endanger that–you’d been invited to a house party of his a couple months ago, gone to drinks with him and a couple of agency people after work, and even grabbed dinner alone a few times over the past few weeks. You’d been texting memes practically nonstop this entire week alone.

He was so much fun, always quick with a joke, a wink, or an interesting story, and he wasn’t afraid to tell things like they were. You forgot time was passing when you were with him, and sometimes when you went out, you stayed out long enough that you thought he might, too.

So you were finally reaching a stage in your friendship where Sero clearly felt close and comfortable—you would not press for more.

It was just, sometimes, when he smiled down at you with that clever, mischievous grin, your heart felt like it was experiencing some sort of medical event. Sometimes, when he put his dark hair up into a messy half-bun, those biceps cording as he did so, it felt like someone had just vacuumed all the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Sometimes, when he leaned down to whisper something to you in his most conspiratorial tones, it felt like someone had spiked your brain into a blender and pureed it into mush.

But it was cool.

You knew how to play it cool.

Mari pulled you back to earth with the promise of more gossip—this time, about her arch nemesis in accounting—and Kimiko leaned in, offering her own commentary over the unwrapping of another of your candies.

And then the clock struck four thirty-three, and Sero Hanta returned from patrol.

You heard the telltale mechanic ping of an agency badge passing checkpoint, and peeked around Kimiko to see Sero trudging through the doorway, looking strangely contemplative. He was covered in dirt and his uniform was slashed in several places, including a great deal of shredding about the thighs, which you would have been happier about if he didn’t look so unusually subdued.

He didn’t look hurt at any rate, so that was good. But you couldn’t help but call out to him.

“Hey Sero!” you said, curious about his demeanor. “How’d patrol go? Something happen?”

Kimiko and Mari turned around, and you watched as both of them seemed to freeze up. Kimiko’s hand slapped against the reception counter, the sound echoing through the room, gripping tightly as though she’d suddenly seen a ghost.

“Ur–Uravity-san,” she said, dipping into the most formal bow you’d ever seen her make. “What’s brought you here?”

You felt your mouth pull into a frown, staring at the back of her head in absolute bamboozlement. Was she seeing things? The only person in the doorway was Sero, and he was very much unaccompanied.

His helmet was propped between his hip and his elbow, so his face was clear too–so Kimiko didn’t even have the excuse of not being able to see his face, different though his costume was from Uravity’s.

Sero blinked, his mouth pulling into a semi-puzzled grin. “Uravity?”

Mari was slapping Kimiko before you could inquire the same thing, hissing, “Are you losing it? That’s fucking Shouto.” She turned back to pin you with something between a glare and a concerned, assessing gaze, as if you too had lost your marbles.

You frowned back, your own concern deepening. “I’m sorry–are you guys seriously telling me that Shouto and Uravity are here with Sero?” You peered back around Mari at Sero, quirking a brow at him. “Did they get hit with some kind of invisibility quirk or are these two experiencing some kind of hallucination?”

Maybe too much shirtless calendar talk had gotten them too hot and bothered.

Sero’s dark gaze pinned you, and he quickly came tromping over, his boots echoing on the stone flooring. He leaned over the reception counter, pointing to his face with one long, pretty finger. “Wait, you can tell it’s me?”

He smelled like cement and sweat and dust, and something vaguely minty, like he’d been chewing gum recently. You tried not to let your expression show how much you liked the look of him up close, those hooded dark eyes, his wide, charming mouth.

“Um, yes? I have eyeballs?” you wondered.

Sero blinked, leaning in closer. Your heartbeat ticked up. “You’re sure?”

“Should I not be…sure?” you asked. “Are Shouto and Uravity really with you and I’m the only one who can’t see them?”

Sero shook his head, “Nah–it’s just me.”

You frowned up at him, curious. “Then why are they calling you Shouto and Uravity…?”

Sero shook his dark head. His hair was pulled into that half-bun you loved, the way it usually was under his helmet on patrol, and all mussed from whatever run in he’d had. You tried not to think about what other activities might get his hair all mussed like that.

He smiled, something wide and conspiratorial. “Got hit with some kinda illusion quirk. People have stopped me like a thousand times on my way in to ask for All Might’s autograph, or Hawks’, and even Bakugou’s. They’re lucky it was just me, he’d have thrown a shit fit getting cut off in the street like that.”

Sero’s features shifted into something slightly more contemplative again. “But you’re somehow immune, huh?”

You frowned. “Shouldn’t you get checked out at medical, then?”

His eyes softened, and another grin made its way onto his mouth. “Yeah yeah, I’ll head right there.”

Kimiko and Mari were still gaping over at him like he was a miracle, and some strange feeling came over you, a concerned little squeeze of your heart. You grabbed Mari, plonking her down into your seat in your stead. “Cover me for a couple minutes? Just say people are unavailable and take notes and I’ll figure it out when I get back. I’m gonna run down to medical with Sero for a second.”

Mari nodded dumbly.

You pulled Sero’s helmet out of his grip, resting it in the crook of your own elbow, and gestured him down the hall with you. Sero fell into step beside you, keeping up easily with his long stride. He grinned down at you, seemingly unperturbed that he’d gotten hit with a quirk that had all but erased his identity in the eyes of others.

It was something you admired in him, his inherent good-naturedness.

You wondered why you were the only one who could tell it was him.

“Any good gossip while I was gone?” he asked, like he really couldn’t be fussed about his predicament. “I was starting to hear shirtless calendar talk before I had to head out on patrol.”

You suppressed a flush and fought down the urge to ask if he’d been asked to be in it too.

You did not need to know.

“Whatever the hell is going on with you is the spiciest bit of gossip all day,” you told him, rounding a corner and badging into the stairwell down to the medical floor. You clung to the railing carefully and most definitely did not watch his thighs bunch as he took the stairs. “Want a drink after work? It seems like you could use one, after this.”

Sero smiled, an eyebrow raising. “Trying to get me drunk, huh?”

You wrinkled your nose. “As if I’d need to be so underhanded.”

You did. You did need to be so underhanded.

Sero had to angle himself carefully through the door, his shoulder pieces liable to snag on the doorway with the breadth of those pro hero shoulders. The medic on staff took one look at him and flushed, mumbling out a name you didn’t know.

You piped in before she could say more. “Cellophane’s been hit with a quirk that makes him appear like someone else. It’s not whoever you think!”

She blinked curiously, but then nodded, probably having seen much weirder things in her time as a hero agency staffer. She gestured Sero to a cot on the side of the room. “Alright, please sit down, Cellophane. We’ll do a couple quick tests and then get you sorted with the right quirk cancellation.” Her cheeks seemed to heat again as she spoke, but she made good on her promise, disappearing down the hall, calling to someone for quirk testing strips.

Sero hopped up on the cot, swinging those long legs, grinning at you from eye-level, now. “Think I should prank a couple people before they cancel it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only you would be having fun with this. No one in the world knows who you are!”

The corner of Sero’s mouth pulled wryly. “You do.”

“You don’t know if that could change, dude. Better get it over with before you get stuck as like, Endeavor forever.”

Sero laughed, light and airy. “Shouto wouldn’t hang with me anymore.”

You nodded. “Exactly, and none of the rest of us read the same weird manga you guys are into so you’d be all alone with no one to fanboy about it to.”

The medic returned with a thick silvery strip, pulling on blue nitrile gloves as she did so. Sero held his arm out obligingly, the lean muscle flexing in the fluorescence of the office lighting. She peeled off the backing of the strip, pressing it to Sero’s forearm, pushing it down firmly.

She attached a cable to some screened device, and you listened to the beep of various buttons. Sero watched you over her shoulder, his easy smile still in place.

Finally, the device in the medic’s hand beeped, and she pulled back, announcing somewhat shyly, “An attraction-type quirk.”

You blinked, mystified. A what?

Sero’s grin seemed to freeze on his face, and his thin brows furrowed the tiniest bit.

The medic continued, oblivious. “This quirk creates an illusion. External parties will perceive the affectee with the traits or as the person they are most attracted to.”

Sero’s dark eyes snapped to yours, widening, and you fumbled a step back, almost tripping over yourself. You threw out a hand, barely catching yourself on the counter.

No.

Oh fuck no.

If people were seeing who they were most attracted to…and you had just seen Sero the whole time…

That would mean—that would mean—and he had heard you say—

“Oh my god, I just remembered I have to get back to Mari,” you said, offering Sero a wave of your suddenly numb hand. “Can’t, um, strand her at the desk for too long. I’ll leave you guys to it. Uh, yeah. Thanks–bye!”

You quickly threw yourself out through the door, leaving Sero alone with the medic. You dashed back up the stairwell, your heartbeat shooting into your mouth.

How could this be happening? How unbelievably embarrassing was that? You’d worked so hard to play it cool in front of Sero for all this time, for years, really, and you’d finally just made it to a comfortable place as friends.

And then—and then—some attraction-illusion quirk goes and blows your cover, just like that? For real?

And he’d heard you, too. Heard you say, “Hey, Sero!” as soon as he’d come through the door, before anyone had revealed anything about who else they thought he might be instead. Before you could have possibly had any clue that he’d been quirked.

You could die of mortification.

You shooed Mari and Kimiko away from the desk when you got back, quickly readying your things to get the hell out of the office as soon as your night replacement arrived. You cleaned up all the bi-colored hearts Mari had doodled on every available surface of your desk and refilled the candy bowl Kimiko had apparently seen fit to devastate in your absence, your ears heating with the thought that Sero could catch on now, why you stocked orange candies.

God, could your replacement hurry the fuck up before Sero got back here?

But the night receptionist was predictably late, of course, and by the time you finally saw him badge through the front entrance you could hear quick, booted steps across the tile behind you.

Sero’s voice sounded over the back of your chair, just as a long-fingered hand closed around your wrist.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice more careful than you’d ever heard it. “Still up for that drink? I think maybe we could talk over it.”

The night receptionist nodded at you and Sero as he made his way over, and you gave up your chair to him, collecting your bag with Sero’s warm fingers still clutching your wrist. You slowly worked up the courage to look up at him, face heating as you took in his uncharacteristically intent expression. His face had been cleaned and it looked like some antibiotic had been applied to some of the scrapes along his jaw.

You knew then you’d trapped yourself. Though it was probably also better to get things over with now than avoid the subject forever.

“Okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice normal. “Yeah, let’s talk.”

Sero was the nicest dude ever, you had to remember that. Even when it came down to a rejection, he would still be completely kind and friendly. Probably not too much would change on his end afterwards either. You couldn’t imagine him avoiding you or treating you any differently.

“My place okay?” Sero asked as you shrugged on your bag.

You nodded, and he smiled, nearly as wide and silly as he normally did, tinged with only the slightest bit of shyness.

You’d originally planned to take him out somewhere fun, but this conversation was probably best had in private. And Sero’s place was close, an apartment only a couple blocks’ walk, in a charming little neighborhood fringed by a park and a variety of interesting bars and cafes. Sero chatted away with his usual friendly ease as you walked, still in his shredded hero costume, waving to the couple people that recognized him as you did so.

Your stomach flipped as he opened his front door, gesturing you inside under his arm. He was tall and lanky enough that you fit easily, and you caught a whiff of that minty scent again under all the dust that coated his uniform. You tried not to look too closely at the lines of his bicep as you passed under it.

His apartment was just as you’d remembered it; spacious, casually decorated in neutral tones with splashes of interesting patterns spread across the rug, throw pillows, and his collection of wall hangings. It smelled cottony and clean, and Sero gestured you to his couch as he dumped his helmet and boots in the doorway, shrugging off his shoulder pieces.

“A beer cool?” he asked as he made his way into the kitchen. “I’ve got a couple of good ones.”

“Sounds great,” you told him, listening to the sounds of him cracking the caps.

To your surprise he plopped down on the couch next to you as he came back in, handing you a bottle. It was cold, and your fingers made little prints in the condensation where you touched it.

“So,” he said, turning to you, a sly look in his dark eyes. “You wanna talk about what just happened?”

Your face flamed, and you took a quick sip of your beer to give you time to recover yourself. It was sour on your tongue, a hint of orange peel in its profile.

“No,” you told him honestly, giving him a self-conscious smile, which he returned. “I think it’s pretty clear, actually. You got hit by a quirk that shows people the person they’re most attracted to and I, uh, obviously saw, um, you.”

Sero’s grin pulled wider at the edges, surprising you. If you didn’t know better, you would think he liked hearing that. Although maybe it was a little bit of an ego stroke to hear you were someone’s fantasy man, even if you didn’t return their feelings.

“Not All Might and not Bakugou,” he said, something pleased in his tone.

You blinked at him, disturbed by those insinuations. “Definitely not,” you sniffed. “I am a paragon of taste.”

Sero laughed, his fingers flexing on the side of his beer. Then he took a sip, seeming to contemplate something as he did, and you drew yourself together, preparing for the inevitable. That was definitely a look that said he was thinking hard, probably about the best way to let you down.

But then Sero grinned back down at you, leaning in collusively. “You wanna know something?”

You could feel your brows raise curiously, even as your heartbeat picked up with his proximity. You looked down, then accidentally spied the strips of tanned thigh where his costume had torn, and had to quickly reroute your gaze for fear of staring. “That depends.”

Sero’s grin went even more sly. “I think if you’d been hit with that quirk, I’d have known it was you too.”

Your heartbeat slammed to a halt in your chest. It was only when Sero threw a hand out that you realized you’d lost your grip on your beer, his quick reflexes the only thing saving his carpet. You startled at the sudden move, making a weird arm-flinging motion somewhere between grabbing for your beer and grabbing onto him, ending up accidentally smacking him in the chest instead.

“Fuck, I—sorry!” you garbled out, stunned by his sudden proximity and the fistful of his costume you’d taken. His skin was warm against the side of your hand.

Sero blinked, looking taken aback for a moment. Then he shifted, and you heard the clink of two beers being deposited on his coffee table. You swallowed, unable to look away from him, and you watched his dark eyes rove over your face, before dipping down to stare at something just under your nose.

A shiver prickled up your spine.

“So when you—with the quirk—” you tried, but your brain had gone offline, and the right set of words were not coming to you. “Um, when you say—you would have known—?”

Sero’s grin crept back across his mouth. “I mean that I’d have seen you, because I’ve been wanting to ask you out and trying to figure out if you're into me for months.”

It had to be the shock of this admission that registered you so stupid. “You—months? Try years.”

Sero’s laugh beat back the instant wave of mortification that overcame you in the next second, when you realized what'd you'd just said. You could only smile back helplessly, equally pleased and embarrassed. He looked so good right then, too, grinning toothily, his hair a mess, his costume torn to shreds. He really was the most gorgeous guy you had ever seen, that quirk had totally had your number.

It suddenly dawned on you that you had little else to lose now, with everything out in the open. And when Sero looked like that—sly, pleased, and a little bit of a mess—you thought you were done trying to bury things.

A thrill zinging down your spine, you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.

He’d been laughing, and you only caught the edge of his mouth, but Sero quickly corrected. You could feel his lips go slack in surprise for a second, and then he was schooling himself and returning your kiss with abandon.

Long fingers came up to take your chin, holding you firmly in place. It was so unexpectedly bold that you shuddered, kissing him harder. Your hand tangled further in the fabric of his costume, gripping onto him for dear life as his tongue met yours, twisting and teasing. It was so like him, the way he kissed. Teasing, playful, easy. Your head spun with how much you liked it.

“Aw fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Sero said, when he finally pulled away far enough to enunciate the words. He shifted against you, putting a large palm against your back, pulling you to him. You followed his guidance, climbing into his lap, chasing his mouth again. You wanted more—more now that you thought you could have it.

“I’ve been wanting—for years—” you said, squeaking in surprise when Sero guided you down onto a strong thigh. It was hard and thick and way too muscular to be allowed, and your breath left you in a harsh hiss. And because this was the most embarrassing day of your life, Sero clocked it immediately, leaning forward in interest.

“You—like that? My—thigh?” he asked curiously.

You could feel your face burning, like someone had just dunked it in a bucket of hot coals. “I–yes. I like everything about you. Including your thighs,” you admitted.

Sero’s hand guided you back down against him, pressing his knee up experimentally. A thrill sang through your veins at the feeling of a piece of him so warm and firm right up against your core. You barely bit back the noise you wanted to make.

“Fuck, this is weirdly hot,” Sero said, leaning in to take your mouth again. You could feel him growing hard against your knee through the fabric of his costume, as his tongue flicked against yours, making your brain go a little woozy.

His arms came around you, holding your waist as he ground his leg up into you, sending a wave of pleasure striking through you like lightning. The moan you’d been trying to hold in finally broke free of you. “Ah—Hanta!”

The sound seem to spark something in him. Sero surged up, his hands making quick work of your shirt as he kissed you, still rocking you against his thigh in a way that made you see stars. You had the wild thought that everything about him was more than you’d ever imagined it would be, from the delicate press of his fingers to the warmth of his thigh to the way the strands of his hair that had escaped brushed across your forehead. Embarrassingly fast, like he knew exactly how to play you, he worked you up to the crest of your pleasure.

You had to put a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Hanta, if you—I’m going to cum if we don’t stop—” you said.

“Oh my god please,” was his only answer, and he pulled you down onto his thigh with renewed vigor. Sparks of pleasure pricked all over your body as he kissed you again, his hands roaming every inch of exposed skin. He left bruising kisses down the side of your throat, fingers playing with your nipples.

Another few rocks into his thigh sent you right over the edge, and he held you against him as you rode it out, squirming against his thigh.

“This is the hottest thing that has ever happened to me,” he said, something in his tone making it clear he was not done with you yet.

He helped you wiggle out of your pants, freeing himself of his own costume, and laid you out over his couch, grinning. He was golden with a fading summer tan, and his smile was so wide and charming and white against the dimming light from the windows. He was gloriously lean, hard with dense, compact stretches of muscle, every single inch of him honed from years of hero work. He was perfect—so stupidly, handsomely, perfect.

Between his thighs, his cock was just as long and lean, heavy and flush with arousal. It made you dizzy to think that this man, who you’d crushed on for so long, wanted you like this—wanted you back in the same way you’d always wanted him. You motioned him closer, too eager now to be self-conscious about it.

Sero laughed, a happy noise. “Fuck, you’re so pretty though.” He stretched out over you, sliding in between your thighs and guiding himself into you. His chest pressed to yours, hot and slick with a light sheen of sweat already, and you hissed with the feeling of him slipping inside you.

You felt drunk with arousal, crazy with want. You clutched him to you as he moved, thrusting carefully at first, as if testing the feeling of you, and then more firmly. You let out soft noises you hadn't meant to, which Sero seemed to appreciate.

“God, look at you. Listen to you,” he said, grinning down at you, his dark eyes tracing over you. “I can’t believe I got hit with that quirk. This is the luckiest day of my life—you’re so cute. So—fuck—so perfect.”

He slid into a frustratingly sedate pace, strokes long and languid, stretching out almost teasingly. You wrapped your legs more tightly around his hips, trying to press him into you, but his smile just widened. He moved leisurely, setting his own pace, just on the wrong side of too slow.

It drove you insane, somehow working you up even faster than if he’d been doing what you wanted. You muffled the sounds of your own moans against his lips, gripping onto those broad shoulders. Sero’s own fingers slid down to your clit, playing with you just as lightly and teasingly as his thrusts.

You could have killed him, but all you could do was hold onto him, slurring his name appreciatively.

He worked you like that for a while, bringing you close but never too close, drawing out the feeling into something warm and fizzy, like soda left in the sun. But eventually the band of his control seemed to snap, and he began thrusting into you harder, faster. Those long, lovely fingers circled your clit with more intent as he did, murmuring a steady stream of praise.

“Please—cum with me,” he panted into your mouth, as his fingers drew ever-tightening circles over you. “I want you to come with me, Y/N. Can you—can you do that?”

You nodded frantically as his thrusts grew faster, sloppier. He was so good inside you, so good over you, his fingers such a delicious pressure against your clit. It only took a few thrusts more, a few strokes of those careful fingers, and then you were squirming against him in earnest, your veins going molten with pleasure.

“Hanta—I’m going to—!”

“Yessss,” he hissed, and then he was orgasming too, spilling out his pleasure inside of you. His hips slapped yours in a stuttering pattern, half-crazed, and you shook against him, gasping. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you crested the wave, until finally—finally you went limp against him, just as his own body relaxed over you.

“I want to be hit with a quirk all the time,” he said, ridiculously.

You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling into his shoulder. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

Sero hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. If this is what I get every time, then…” he trailed off, smirking down at you.

“I’m not going to bang you if you’re going to be irresponsible,” you told him.

He perked up, however, those dark eyes peering at you hopefully. “But you’ll bang me otherwise?”

You laughed again, pinching him lightly on the arm where you held him. “What do you think having a crush on you for years means?”

His grin went all sly and pleased again. “Then I’ll have to lock it down, of course. I haven’t spent months wondering just to let you get away. Starting with dinner this evening, maybe. Do you—would dinner be okay?” he asked. The sound of genuine, eager hope in his voice was so gratifying it made you want to kick your legs in the air.

You settled for nodding instead. “Dinner sounds amazing.”

“Then I’ll arrange the finest takeout just for you,” he said, which you knew from experience meant the empanadas place around the corner. You laughed again, feeling full already with the promise of an easy meal, and a relationship to come.

“Whatever you want sounds good to me,” you said, even as he began to slide off of you, helping you up alongside him. “You’ve had a crazy day today, empanadas sound like the perfect cap.”

Sero leaned in, his expression as mischievous and charming as always. “It’s nothing,” he said, even as he carefully held out your shirt to you again, guiding you into it in an unexpectedly gentlemanly move. You let him stuff you into it, laughing, smiling into the kiss he gave you as you emerged.

He winked at you as he found his phone and dialed, smiling as you heard the call connect. “After all, I'm a hero," he said. "And it’s all in a day’s work.”

[orchidseason]

ꕥ Pro Hockey Player!Ellie ⌇ How You Two Meet Again

pro hockey player!ellie x fem!reader

You’re walking your niece to her figure skating lesson, distracted by her excitement, when you almost bump into Ellie in the hallway. She’s as confident as ever, but the flicker of recognition in her eyes—one that hints at the unspoken history of that night you shared—freezes you both in place.

warnings ⌇word count 1k, suggestive, previous one night stand between you two discussed, r used to be a figure skater

It was a quick mention, a sly quip into the conversation by your sister. Though teasing, she was half serious–wondering if you really would drive her daughter to her skating lessons. Out of your love for your niece—and your sister—you agreed. Having a kid in this day and age required a lot of money, so to combat that both your sister and her husband worked. They didn’t wish to be at work so often, it proved difficult to try and work but also take their daughter to all of her events. 

So, to take the load off of their shoulders a bit, you agreed. You’ll take your niece to the ice skating rink for her skating lessons. Issue is—this is the same rink you used to practice at. Your history with such a building—despite the six year gap—felt fresh, like it happened yesterday. You’re doing this for your sister, her husband, and your niece—not yourself. 

Today was her first day. You’ve driven her to the facility, walking beside her with a grin. She’s been yapping since you picked her up from elementary school. Every conversation with her makes you smile, your heart full of love for her. You open the door, letting her walk into the place first—following behind her. 

“I have my own skates,” she says, rambling as you walk the two of you to the reception desk, “they’re white. Mom got them for me.”

You take the sticky name tag from the receptionist, smiling at her before turning your attention onto your niece. “Well, I’m very excited to see them in a second.”

She then jumps in place, gripping your hand, “please, please, please can I have a muffin. They have a food thing. Please.”

You match where she’s looking and sure enough there’s some form of a confession stand. With your heart so weak for her, despite your low bank account, you nod with a sigh. She cheers, dragging you towards it. 

“Which kind,” you ask her. She just barely reaches the counter, eyes looking over each of the kinds of muffins. She picks chocolate chip. You buy it for her and settle down to sit at the many tables and chairs in the room. Similar to you, other parents and guardians are here with little ones—all awaiting for the lesson to start.

She sits there, grabby hand shoving the muffin into her mouth while her eyes are fixated on a random tv. You’re kneeled on the ground, helping her put her ice skates on.

“What’s that,” she asks, pointing somewhere.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” you comment, pinching her leg softly before looking, “that’s hockey.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your eyes, standing after having finished tying her skates, “it’s a sport on ice. You basically hit a little circle around.”

She tunes out after, continuing to watch some game on the tv as well as the ads.  Then, of course, five minutes before she has to be on the ice she murmurs, “aunt,  I need to use the restroom.”

Of course. You reach your hand out for her to take, “okay, but you gotta go quick okay, hon?”

You walk her down the hallway that’s between the two skating rinks. The left rink usually being for the hockey teams to practice while the right is where figure skaters generally go. With your attention down on your niece as she rambles about some friend in her first grade class, you’re unaware of the other woman walking the opposite way—towards you. 

The side of your body rams into her, the impact laving you twisted towards her.  You glance over, attention brought away from your niece so you can apologize to whoever it was—but you freeze. She continues to walk away, but she’s twisted her head back to look at you—a smirk on her lips and recognition laced in her look. Momentarily you get a flashback, a memory of that night. Of how she made you feel, of how rough her kisses felt on your lips, of how loud you were—her name spoken like a mantra. 

Your niece tugs on your hand, “come on, I need to go!”

“Right,” you say, moving along again—eyes still stuck where she was, “right, let’s go.”

When she takes your hand and drags you toward the rink, you can’t help but feel that rush—this little moment, her excitement, and your own flood of anxious memories. But for now, you're here. And that’s enough.

She ends up being like two minutes late, but it’s fine. She’s found her group and her coach, apologizing and explaining to her coach why she was late due to her last-minute bathroom break. Thankfully her coach is sweet, laughing it off and telling you to stop being so concerned—that she fully understands.

You settle into a seat among the other parents, your elbow propped on your knee, chin resting in your hand as you watch your niece skate across the ice. But even as you focus on her, your thoughts keep slipping back to the woman you just saw.

Just then, your gaze shifts to a poster on the wall nearby. Your heart stops. There, in bold letters at the top, is her name. Your expression falters as the realization hits you.

She’s not just a woman who plays hockey in her spare time. She’s made it pro.

pro hockey player!ellie m.list

taglist // @kaykeryyy, @vxsellie, @vahnilla

[thehoneybeestings]

Sevika w/ a Partner who has PMDD

Word count: 2.8k

Content/Warnings: afab reader (no pronouns used), descriptions of PMDD and its symptoms, sevika gets a gnarly wound but nothing graphic, slightly suggestive (for one sentence), acts of service is sooo sevika's love language, this ended up being way longer than your average headcanon i got carried away i'm sorry!

A/N: Naturally, my very first post is completely and utterly self-indulgent… I suffer from PMDD and decided one day amid my demise that I wanted some sevika comfort! So here you are, and I hope you enjoy and that this serves as a bit of escape from whatever may be giving you a hard time (and that if you're a fellow PMDD sufferer, you remember to be extra gentle with yourself when you're feeling low. You've got this! You're a superhero in my book!). 

Love, Bee ୨ৎ

୨ৎ Sevika knows that you have PMDD before you tell her

୨ৎ In fact, she knows before you two are even considered friends, nevertheless together

୨ৎ Sevika is extremely receptive; it's practically her job to be

୨ৎ Being Silco's second-hand puts her in charge of everyone out on the field, and she is constantly gauging the team's strengths and weaknesses so that she can ensure operations are always running as smoothly as possible

୨ৎ So it goes without saying that when you start working for Silco as an assassin, it doesn't take her long to familiarize herself with the way your disposition ebbs and flows, and seemingly, at the same time every month

୨ৎ This isn't to say that your performance suffers at all- certainly not; you're one of the team's most skilled assassins, and you've always made sure that your disorder doesn't impact your work

୨ৎ But again, it's Sevika's job to be receptive

୨ৎ She first puts together that around the 6th of every month, you come in looking particularly exhausted

୨ৎ Dark circles can be seen under your heavy eyes, and your feet never seem to stop dragging no matter how many cups of coffee you nurse; and during this time, it's an excessive amount

୨ৎ She also notices that during this time period- which usually lasts about 10 days- your fuse is extremely short

୨ৎ When Ran comes up to tease you at the coffee machine about how "you look like you haven't slept in five years", you turn to give them a look that even she can admit is terrifying

୨ৎ "Yeah?" you begin, cocking an eyebrow at them, “I've got boiling hot coffee in my fucking hand right now, Ran.”

୨ৎ They're quick to throw their hands up in surrender and back away, making the (correct) decision to quit poking the bear

୨ৎ Sevika can't help but crack an amused smile at the interaction from her place across the room

୨ৎ She also can't help but notice that for some reason, you stress to no end about missions that would otherwise be a cakewalk for you during those 10 days

୨ৎ Again, your work never suffers for it, but Sevika knows you're suffering for it

୨ৎ So, she decides that your skills would be better put to use elsewhere for that period of time; and she convinces herself that it isn't an act of kindness, but simply a necessity for the team to perform at its best.

୨ৎ One day, she pulls you into Silco's office to "discuss a change in your involvement on the field," and needless to say, you're shitting yourself

୨ৎ You stand across from her, your heart in your stomach and your hands tucked into your back pockets, because you know if you have access to them, you'll just start biting your fingernails off

୨ৎ "The 6th through the 16th of every month," she begins, sitting on the edge of Silco's desk, “I want you here instead of on the field. No special missions then either, got it?”

୨ৎ At first, your eyebrows knit together in confusion

୨ৎ "The 6th through the...?" You ponder- mostly to yourself- before it hits you like a ton of bricks what those dates are

୨ৎ "Shit, I-I'm so sorry, I can explain; it's just-"

୨ৎ "Woah, woah; slow down," Sevika interrupts, her hand shooting out to signal you to stop, “I didn't say you had anything to explain, and I certainly didn't say you had anything to apologize for.” 

୨ৎ A wave of relief washes over you, but the confusion remains. What was this about then, if not a decrease in performance?

୨ৎ Sevika reads the confusion on your face and begins to answer your unspoken question: “You're always great out there; but on those days, for whatever reason, I can tell it comes at a cost. So from now on, you won't be out there at all when those days roll around. Can't have my best assassin burnt out; it's not an option.”

୨ৎ She casually shrugs with the last part of her explanation as if she hadn't just demonstrated attentiveness and consideration unlike you'd ever experienced

୨ৎ And you're left speechless at the gesture

୨ৎ You only realize your jaw is on the floor when she clears her throat, an amused smirk playing on her lips

୨ৎ "U-Um, sorry," you stutter, shaking your head in an attempt to snap yourself out of the shock, "I, uh... yeah, I do have a harder time then. I didn't know you'd noticed..."

୨ৎ "Pfft," she scoffs, kicking off of the desk to make her way toward a stack of papers on the chaise next to Silco's desk, "When I have ever not noticed something?"

୨ৎ She should have put her foot in her mouth then and there, because she sure didn't notice the massive fucking crush you'd soon start to develop on her

୨ৎ And it sure would've made things a lot easier if she had, because she was falling for you just as quickly

୨ৎ In the coming months, Sevika had made a point to start checking in on you when the 6th rolled around, and you found that when she wasn't on the field, she was lingering near the desk she'd set up for you to take your place at during your hard weeks

୨ৎ You'd come in looking especially tired one morning- in fact, your eyes were swollen and red like you'd just been crying- and her eyes were on you like a hawk as you trudged over to the desk, slumped into the chair, and ran a hand through your hair before getting started on the paperwork Silco had assigned to you for the week.

୨ৎ "Rough morning?" She inquired, concern written all over her face

୨ৎ You let out a dry chuckle, recalling the 3 hours of sleep you'd gotten the night before, the orange juice you'd spilled all over your white shirt this morning, and the breakfast you couldn't eat because you were sure that any minute you were going to throw up

୨ৎ Rough morning didn't come close to cutting it

୨ৎ Your eyes began to prick with tears before you could help it

୨ৎ "I'm so sick of this shit," you mumble, burying your head in your heads and pressing your palms into your eyelids

୨ৎ You hear her rummaging around, but pay it no mind until she sets something down in front of you

୨ৎ You move your hands away from your face to see a hot drink in front of you; not coffee, but

୨ৎ "Tea?" You ask, your voice small

୨ৎ " 's better for you than coffee," Sevika shrugs, pulling up a chair to sit in front of the desk

୨ৎ She stares intently at you for a few moments, before finally asking the question she'd been mulling over" So, by this shit, you mean..."

୨ৎ "Oh," you chuckle, "Yeah, I guess I never did explain what my problem is..."

୨ৎ You then go on to explain to Sevika what PMDD is, and what a pain in the ass it can be. She listens attentively, her eyes trained on the paperwork in front of you as you explain the insomnia and the fatigue, the anxiety and the overwhelm, the insecurity and the hopelessness; everything that you have the pleasure of dealing with on a regular basis

୨ৎ "Janna," she replies, rubbing her temples. "And you deal with this shit every month?"

୨ৎ "Like clockwork," you reply.

୨ৎ "Yeah, you're a badass for that."

୨ৎ You let out a loud laugh, and a strange sense of relief floods her system

୨ৎ "Wish I felt more like one, but when something as small as spilling orange juice on my shirt makes me wanna jump out of the nearest window... the last thing I feel like is a badass."

୨ৎ Sevika chuckles at this before giving a nod towards your tea; "Should've gotten you coffee, huh?"

୨ৎ "Oh, no!" you're quick to correct, "Just super nauseous today... probably won't be able to stomach anything until dinner time, and that's if I'm lucky."

୨ৎ Sevika's eyes widen, and she would've demanded that you try your best to eat something before then if it weren't for Jinx barging in to announce that she needed Sevika's help "cleaning up a little mess."

୨ৎ (The "mess" was enforcers chasing her down because she'd decided they were the perfect target for testing out her new paintball gun. "you said I should try out less violent forms of self-expression!" she'd say to Sevika...)

୨ৎ She doesn't forget your conversation, though, and you're snapped out of your shitty reality tv binge-watching session by a knock on your apartment door later that evening

୨ৎ Much to your surprise, it's Sevika

୨ৎ With take-out in hand...?

୨ৎ "You can't go all day without eating," she says, sternly.

୨ৎ You laugh incredulously at the fact that she even remembered your offhand mention of not being able to eat, and at the fact that she'd taken it upon herself to show up to your place to do something about it, but open the door wider and step aside to let her in anyway

୨ৎ You don't miss the quick scan she does of your apartment- littered with trinkets and decorations you'd picked up here and there- and the way her face seems to soften in endearment; of course, only for a split second, before she's back to business

୨ৎ "This is the only thing I can keep down when I'm not feeling well," she deadpans, unpacking the plastic bag and placing a large styrofoam cup on your kitchen counter, "Figured it'd be worth a shot to drop some off if it meant you might be able to stomach something today."

୨ৎ "Sevika... you didn't have to go to all this trouble," you say, walking over to meet her at the counter

୨ৎ She just shrugs, of course. "I know. Where are your bowls?"

୨ৎ And so, here you both were, sharing a bowl of warm chicken noodle soup, trying to ignore how whipped you both were for each other

୨ৎ You'd managed to convince her to join you in your reality tv binge-watching session, and despite how annoyed she was pretending to be, you'd gone through three 45-minute episodes already and she still hadn't left

୨ৎ At one point, she'd even forgotten to keep up the disinterested act: "What? Why would she pick Sarah over Lily, they have zero chemistry!"

୨ৎ You'd just quirk an eyebrow at her exclamation, staring her down with a smirk until she finally admitted, "Yeah, yeah, whatever- you got me."

୨ৎ And you'd giggle, and her heart would clench, and she'd get way freaked out, and suddenly,

୨ৎ “Shit. I've gotta go. No doubt the kid has already gotten herself into something else…"

୨ৎ You'd just nod, trying your best to conceal the disappointment you felt as you sent her off.

୨ৎ "Hey," you'd call out softly, just as she was turning to leave, "Thank you. Seriously... this was really helpful. You made my night."

୨ৎ Don't say that, she'd think, not unless you want me to start coming home to you.

୨ৎ " 's no big deal. Just looking out. Night, Y/N."

୨ৎ "G'night, Sevika," you'd smile.

୨ৎ And it'd be another three months before either of you had the guts to confess your feelings

୨ৎ But one night, you're waiting for her to show up to your door, take-out in hand- like she'd taken to doing every month from the 6th to the 16th since the first time she came over; and when she doesn't, there's a pit in your stomach that tells you it isn't simply because she forgot

୨ৎ With emotions already high, you're quick to assume the worst as you throw on some sweatpants, a crewneck, and your sneakers before racing down to the only other place she'd be on a Friday night

୨ৎ You walk up to the bartender on duty at The Last Drop, not bothering to conceal the worry in your voice as you ask if he'd seen Sevika around tonight

୨ৎ "Just went upstairs to Silco's office. Rough mission, must've been. She'll have a pretty scar, that's for sure."

୨ৎ You don't respond; you just dash up the stairs with wide eyes, not bothering to knock before bursting into the office, and sighing in relief at the sight of the grey eyes shooting up to meet your own

୨ৎ But when your eyes catch the deep cut trailing down her tricep and the mess of bloody rags in front of her, you find that your relief is short-lived

୨ৎ "What the hell?!" you'd exclaim, rushing over to help, "Why didn't you call me? I was worried sick about you!"

୨ৎ You were worried about her? Her cheeks would flush, and she'd thank Janna you were too focused on bandaging her arm up to notice

୨ৎ "You don't gotta help me with this shit," she'd protest

୨ৎ "Says the one who feeds me every night my hormones are fucking raging. Like hell I don't have to help, and you fail to consider that maybe I want to."

୨ৎ You're stressed, your adrenaline is pumping, and you've had a killer headache all day, so your words come out harsher than you mean for them to. "I'm sorry," you'd sigh, "I'm not mad at you at all, I'm just-"

୨ৎ You look up to find her smiling down at you, and your heart skips a beat, and you thank your lucky stars she breaks the silence, because you'd completely forgotten what the rest of your sentence was going to be

୨ৎ "Really didn't like this being my first stop after work," she admits, and you don't know why she suddenly sounds so... timid

୨ৎ "I mean... yeah, having to patch yourself up after a mission is never any fun-"

୨ৎ "No, Y/N," she begins, and your eyes shoot up to meet her at the sound of your name on her lips, "I mean... I mean I didn't like that my first stop wasn't you."

୨ৎ And just like it was the last time you'd spoken to her in this office, your heart was in your stomach

୨ৎ "What, you mean you wanted to come home to me or something?" you chuckle nervously, because there's no way in hell that's what she meant

୨ৎ "Yeah, that is what I mean."

୨ৎ Oh.

୨ৎ "You opposed to that or somethin'?"

୨ৎ Absolutely fucking not, says the kiss that you plant on her lips

୨ৎ and the legs thrown over her shoulders later that night (oops)

୨ৎ And now, you thank Janna for the steady presence in your life that is Sevika; especially when you're feeling unsteady

୨ৎ Of course, your symptoms don't just disappear, but it's sure as hell nice to have the support when they make themselves known

୨ৎ When you wake up on the 6th, exhausted and with zero interest in doing anything but laying in bed all day, she'll get the shower running nice and warm, leave a comfy outfit on the counter, and promise that she'll have tea ready when you're done.

୨ৎ She puts herself in charge of meals for the next 10 days, because she knows that your lack of appetite plus your general lack of motivation and energy means you won't end up eating enough if she doesn't make you

୨ৎ When your emotions are high, she's your rock

୨ৎ if you're starting to tear up because you've tried on four outfits already and you "look too bloated in all of them," she'll take your face in her hands, ask you to take a deep breath, and place a kiss on your forehead, reminding you that everything feels a lot bigger than usual right now, and that the only thing you need to worry about is feeling comfortable

୨ৎ If you're getting frustrated because you can't find your damn coat, and your favorite food truck is only in town for another hour, and you snap at her because she dares to suggest that you do, in fact, have other coats, she'll look at you, take a deep breath of her own, and say,

୨ৎ "Okay, baby; what can I do to help?"

୨ৎ And your heart will break, because how is she so good?

୨ৎ You'll apologize-because you always do when you know your emotions got the better of you- and she'll wrap you in a bear hug, and you'll realize that was what you really needed; not your red coat

୨ৎ And you'll make it to the food truck in the nick of time, and you'll probably tear up when you take your first bite, because damn, this cheesesteak is the best thing I've ever tasted, and damn, I don't know what I did to deserve her.

End ୨ৎ

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ Rather Cold, Isn't It? — Jayce and Viktor x GN Reader during winter ☆

Genres: Fluff, Mild Angst || they/them pronouns for reader || Can be poly or separate, up to you || Warning for discussions of ableism and trauma

A/N: Eermm hi. Saw a lot of HC posts about Viktor and Jayce dealing with the cold, and I needed some ideas to post fics in-between opening requests soooo ya

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Jayce hates the idea of you being cold. Seeing his mother nearly freeze to death in front of him left no small impact, he's always worried when temperatures start dropping too low to be safe. He'll always have a coat or warm place to stay to offer you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 If need be, he'll try to offer up his own coat to you, a bit persistently. Which might seem a bit counterproductive, and in truth, it is. But Jayce wants you to see how much he cares, and he completely misses thinking about himself at times trying to accomplish this

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He feels absolute safest if you two can sneak off to a warm little corner of your own somewhere. His room, his office, the lab, anywhere he can turn up the heat and carry a blanket to wrap you up in. He'll also keep his arms around you as much as possible, especially if he feels your hands turning ice cold.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 If you tell him it's a little much, he'll joke that he'd rather have you be a little too warm than ice cold. But in all seriousness, he'll try to dial it back. He doesn't wanna come off as overbearing, he just can't stand the idea of you ever feeling the way biting cold can fade to terrifying numbness. Either way he's gonna fret for you until it's warm again

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Viktor is moreso the one who tries to ignore the cold. Keyword tries. The drop in temperature often irritates his bad leg and back, which makes walking around the lab even more of a pain. Though, as you come to find out, Viktor's a little defensive towards offers of help. Not in an aggressive way, he's just occasionally very stubborn when anyone implies he can't handle himself

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Not that he hates help, absolutely not. He'd actually be glad to have someone even halfway understand him any day of the week. But he remembers far too many instances where Piltover residents offered help merely out of pity. They'd look at him like a frail bundle of glass shards, unable to do a thing himself. Or, when he did rarely want some assistance, they'd shy away from getting near him because he's a Zaunite

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Once you reassure him that your offers come from concern and not condescension, he eases up. It's not your fault, he reassures, but he hopes you can understand where he's coming from. He let's you start setting the area where he works to be warmer. If he's gonna refuse to step away from the desk, the least he can do is let you make sure he'll be comfortable there

ᯓᡣ𐭩 In those moments he's usually lulled into being more receptive to a break, both by the comfort from the warm environment and your presence. Eventually he gives in, putting aside his work for just a second to make sure you're warm as well. He'll 100% chastise you if you fuss over his health while ignoring your own

[theother-victoria]

homecoming for a shooting star

FIRST | PREVIOUS

SYNOPSIS: home is a warm place now with a cat and someone waiting for you. welcome back, how was your day? tell me about it as we watch the stars go past.

CHARACTERS: alhaitham, kaveh, cyno, tighnari, lisa

TAGS: marriage, happy ending, fluff, 5.5k+ wc

TAGLIST: @tragedy-of-commons, @harque, @akutasoda, @khoncore, @moineauz

NOTES: and it's a wrap! this is the final installment in this trilogy. thank u guys for sticking with me over the course of a year from when I first started until now! I read through every single one of your comments and tags and they all stuck with me. I never thought my work could have such a resounding impact on so many people and it damn near brought me to tears when I saw ppl pouring out their life stories to me... sobs... once again, thank u all for your continued support and kind words! <3

Special thanks to pookies @mikashisus and @tragedy-of-commons for proofreading this for me!

“(Name), what are your thoughts on marriage?”

The question comes out of nowhere one day. No dropped hints, no special occasion, nothing. You practically spit out your morning coffee out of shock. He merely stares at you expectantly over the rim of his mug.

You wipe away the coffee from the corners of your mouth as you hurriedly gather your thoughts. Marriage… you can’t exactly say you’d never considered getting married to him. It’d be nice. A peaceful life with the one you loved. Simple, perhaps repetitive, but after all you’ve gone through the past several years, you don’t need anything unexpected upsetting your life again. 

It’d also get your parents off your back, who sporadically attempted to reach out to you, but it’s not like you cared much about their opinions anymore.

“... Is this your way of proposing to me?”

He shrugs and sips his coffee again.

“Depends on how receptive you are to it.”

His gaze feels even more piercing than usual and you bashfully avoid it as you take great interest in Thamina napping on a sunny spot atop the kitchen counter. 

“... I wouldn’t mind it,” you eventually say. “I’d quite enjoy it, actually. A quiet, peaceful life with you, sipping coffee and spending time with our cat.”

Alhaitham lightly chuckles.

“I’m glad to know we feel the same.”

It’s then followed up with an affectionate sigh as he turns to look out the window. Thamina wakes up from her nap and leaps into his lap, purring contentedly.

“Doing taxes with you doesn’t sound bad at all.”

You’d never realized just how stifling the confines of your parents’ house was until you moved in with Alhaitham.  

The walls of your childhood bedroom were littered with academic awards and accomplishments, but no personal touches. Nothing that provided an insight into who you were as a person. No decorations. No plants lining the walls of your room, no sentimental photos with friends or even family. Just a boring room with the bare minimum and a desk stacked with schoolwork. 

(To be fair, you didn’t really have a personality outside of your academic achievements back then… but that’s all water under the bridge now.) 

But when you first stepped foot into the rented house and took a look around, it was as if a switch had been flipped inside your brain. Maybe you just realized you were an adult now and had free will. 

And for you, that means the walls and surfaces of your shared home are covered in photos. Most of them are your doing. Your job as a reporter for Sumeru’s biggest newspaper has you traveling a lot and you never leave a nation without a photo or two. Mondstad’s vast grasslands, Liyue’s rocky cliffs, Inazuma’s stormy skies, and Fontaine’s high-tech city and quaint countrysides decorate the walls and flat surfaces of your house. Silly photos of you and Alhaitham on dates and vacations can be found as well, much to his mild embarrassment since many of them are unflattering. 

Sometimes, he regrets getting you that Kamera as a graduation present. 

And this barely scratches the surface. Your more personal photos are stashed in the many photo books lining the bookshelves, including the one of your first kiss in Fontaine. 

This house is almost a home now. It certainly has the feel of one.

The air smells of rich spices as you prepare dinner for tonight. You got off work early today and Alhaitham comes home to help not long after. After greeting you with a hug and cheek kiss and Thamina with some chin scratches, he leaves to get cleaned up and returns to help. 

The both of you settle into a comfortable, familiar routine. He stands at the sink handling the prep and cleanup while you’re at the stove taking care of the actual cooking. Thamina lounges comfortably atop a chair while grooming herself before falling asleep. The air is warm and silent, save for the sound of ingredients being chopped and Thamina’s rumbling purrs in her sleep. 

It’s clear that you’ve settled comfortably into this place now. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have any grievances. 

You’re at the stove and stirring the simmering pot of curry now. Alhaitham usually dislikes soups or anything with a liquid consistency, but your curry is thick enough for him to give it a pass.

Oh, and it’s delicious too. Can’t forget the most important reason.

You’re digging through the spice cabinet now. The cabinets in the house are small and the dim lighting doesn’t help as you search for a particular bottle in the overflowing cabinet. 

Not this, not that… 

Eventually your fingers close around a bottle that feels about right and you grab it, shaking some of the contents into the pot. You freeze when you see and smell something that is definitely not what you were looking for.

“Fuck,” you grumble under your breath as you shove the spice jar back and keep digging for the correct one. Alhaitham keeps an eye on the stove so the pot doesn’t boil over in the meantime. 

“I wish we had better lighting in the kitchen. It’s too dim in here,” you grumble when you finally find the correct jar and frustratedly shake its contents into the pot. 

Alhaitham hums in response.

“Maybe larger cabinets too.”

He hums again.

He starts setting the table now. The drawer where the utensils are stored is in the corner next to the stove, making it a tight squeeze for the both of you. His arm bumps against you as he reaches for the cups stored in the overhead cabinet, making you drop the wooden spoon into the pot. The cup slips out of his grasp and almost falls on your head.

“... Just make the whole kitchen bigger at this point,” you sigh as you begin plating the food.

“Agreed.”

The kitchen window is cracked open as you sit down for dinner together. It’s still sunny outside and you can hear the sounds of dogs barking, birds chirping, and the sounds of an argument between some of your neighbors somewhere nearby. The curry tastes a little funny from the spice mishap earlier, but it’s nothing that can’t be overlooked. 

“Did anything interesting happen at work today?” he asks, as per usual. You shrug,

“Well, I’m being sent out to Liyue in a few days. A traditional festival is being celebrated and they want me to go in and photograph the entire thing.”

He hums. “Have fun and be safe. Festivals can get-”

You brush him off with a wave of your hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Spare me the lecture. I’ll bring you back some treats as I always do too. How does some sticky rice dumplings sound? The ones with the filling you like as well.”

That seems to satisfy him because he doesn’t say anything else for the remainder of dinner until your usual bathtime after the dishes are cleaned. 

The bathroom upstairs is average-sized, but the bathtub was clearly not designed to accommodate two people at once- especially someone of Alhaitham’s size. His knees awkwardly bump against the side of the tub as you sit between his legs and your own knees are hugged uncomfortably to your chest. You try to distract yourself by playing with a rubber duck bobbing along the water’s surface.

“... A larger bathroom would be nice,” he says, eventually speaking up. You quietly laugh.

“You think so too?”

He hums in acknowledgement and readjusts his grip around your waist. 

After the bath, he goes back to the living room to continue reading while you stay in your shared bedroom to begin packing. Clothes, Kamera, backup film reels, notepad, spare pens, Mora… 

He soon hears the sound of running water from the bathroom and he knows you’ve finished packing and you’re getting ready for bed now. When he peeks into your shared bedroom, he sees you already curled up under the covers on your side of the bed and the lights off. Thamina rests comfortably above your head, perched atop the fluffy pillows and making biscuits. 

You’re on the verge of falling asleep when you feel something warm brush against your forehead and you smile, knowing exactly who it is. 

“You’re still awake.”

He says it like it’s a statement rather than a question. The familiar scent of sandalwood and eucalyptus grows stronger as he crouches down beside you and you finally open your eyes. You sleepily smile up at him and he ruffles your hair.

���In my defense, I was about to fall asleep. You were the one that woke me up,” you say, words slightly slurred from sleep and interrupted midway by a yawn.

“Sorry. I thought you had fallen asleep already.”

You rub your eyes and quickly glance at him.

“You’re still fully dressed even though it’s past your bedtime,” you observe.

“I have something quick I need to take care of. I’ll be back soon.”

You hum and close your eyes again, sinking back into the pillow.

“Be back soon then. Don’t wanna sleep without you tonight. Not when I’ll have to for a week or so in just a few days…”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes affectionately as he closes the bedroom door behind him on his way out.

“Clingy,” he murmurs under his breath with no real bite to his voice. He grabs his keys and a nondescript notebook off the coffee table before he leaves.

He stops in front of another house and knocks. He can hear angry muttering from inside and internally chuckles, knowing that he must’ve woken him up. 

A few minutes later, the door is slammed open, revealing a familiar face. Alhaitham looks Kaveh up and down, still in his sleepwear. “Couldn’t even put on something presentable before greeting guests?” he taunts. The blond glares at him.

“Shut it, Alhaitham. It’s 11 pm.”

He pauses as his mind finally starts working again.

“Wait, why are you even here? You’re usually asleep by-”

“Are commissions still open?”

Kaveh goes slack-jawed at the sudden question. Alhaitham can practically hear the gears in his mind turning as he works out an answer with the sleep clouding his mind.

“I… uh, yeah they are. But why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

“Good. I’ll keep this brief then. I’d like to commission you to design a house.”

Stunned, Kaveh watches as Alhaitham tears off a slip of paper from his notebook and hands it to him.

“These are all the features we’d like to have.”

“Larger kitchen… more spacious kitchen cabinets… bigger bathtub… huh, these don’t seem like things you’d be particularly picky about,” he mutters as he squints at the writing. Kaveh blinks, and a few seconds later the realization seems to hit him.

“Wait, did (Name) request all of this? Does that mean-”

“It’s getting late now,” interrupts Alhaitham. “We can work out the details and payment later. When are you free?”

By now, Kaveh is fully awake. He shakes his head and glares at him.

“You are so lucky I consider you a friend! I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise,” he hisses under his breath. He shakes his head and sighs.

“Fine. I’ll accept this commission. I’m free tomorrow starting at noon.”

“I’ll meet you after work then.”

“Deal.”

“Care to go on a walk after dinner?”

You look up at Alhaitham sitting across the table from you. He tilts his head to the side when you meet his gaze, an expectant look in his eyes.

You blow on your food to cool it down.

“Sure. Weather’s nice outside. Might as well.”

Half an hour later, you’re strolling through the city. You stop by the Padisarah Pudding vendor you’d always frequent in your Akademiya days. The vendor still recognizes you, even all these years later. 

“This part of the city is really nice,” you say around a mouthful of pudding. You’ve ended up on the other side of the city now.

“It’s too far from work for my liking.”

You pout and scowl at his remark.

“Oh come on, what’s there not to like? There’s more to do around here, we’re not as isolated, and it’s warmer since all the houses face south.”

“My point still stands.”

“Haithie, an extra five minutes to your daily commute isn’t going to kill you!”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, but he files that bit of information away. 

Later that night, he meets with Kaveh briefly at the tavern.

“So, on the opposite side of the city?” Alhaitham nods. Kaveh’s head dips, deep in thought.

“I know a place that you guys will for sure love,” he finally says. “Come with me to take a look at it tomorrow. If it’s to your liking, we can begin construction immediately.”

A few days later in the early morning, you’re getting ready to leave for your boat to Liyue. As per usual, he accompanies you down to the harbor and helps you adjust your bags.

“We’re grown adults now and you still insist on doing this for me. Not that I’m complaining, of course,”  you say as you spin around. He tightens the straps on your bag.

“Force of habit.”

You look back at him with a fond smile and glint in your eyes.

“Can’t shake it from our Akademiya days?”

“Is it so wrong that I want to see you off each time?”

You laugh and shake your head, returning your gaze to the boat pulling into the harbor.

“No, not at all. I like it, actually. Having someone be there for when I leave and when I come back.”

He watches your boat leave until it’s out of sight before leaving. He has a meeting with Kaveh in a bit he’s going to be late for.

The chime above the door at Puspa Cafe jingles as he walks in. He orders a drink and goes upstairs, where he spots Kaveh instantly. He’s sitting by a window with blueprints spread out across the table.

Alhaitham takes a seat across from him. 

“This future house is going to be very costly since so much of it has to be custom-made,” says Kaveh, not even sparing a glance at Alhaitham. “Makes me wonder how the hell you can afford this…”

“Wow, not even a greeting?”

The blond rolls his eyes. 

“Fine. Hi. That promotion to Scribe must’ve been handy, right?”

Alhaitham takes a sip of his drink and nods in satisfaction.

“There we go. That’s more like it. And to answer your question, yes, but I’ve also been saving up for quite a while now.”

“Don’t have to rub your success in our faces,” mutters Kaveh as he reorganizes the blueprints so they’re splayed out on the table neatly. “Anyway, these are the designs I drafted based on what you guys wanted.”

He lets his gaze roam over the blueprints until it finally lands on one that catches his attention. Hm, the kitchen layout is better than the rest. The bathrooms are quite spacious too. There’s even an office on the first floor. Not that it matters to him since he leaves his work at the Akademiya the moment the clock hits five, but he knows you have a tendency to work around the clock. 

(He can practically hear your voice already. “These headlines won’t write themselves, after all,” or something like that.)

“This one.”

“Had a feeling you’d choose that one,” Kaveh says without missing a beat as he gathers the other blueprints and puts them away. 

The rest of the meeting goes smoothly. He signs the contracts and makes the down payment. Kaveh gets to work assembling the construction crew and materials needed. 

“Since this is a custom house, it’ll take nine to twelve months to complete. Honestly, just anticipate at least a year before it’s finished.”

Alhaitham nods.

“And remember,” he says as he begins packing up. “Do not tell (Name) about this. Keep them in the dark as if your life depends on it.”

“From the tone of your voice, I’d say it does,” scoffs Kaveh. Alhaitham sends him a glare that shuts the blond up. 

When you return a few weeks later from Liyue, you bring with you a backpack full of snacks and several reels worth of film, now photographs. And of course, a kiss to his cheek as you walk back home, talking his ear off the entire time about what you saw and did. He listens attentively, humming and nodding along as you speak, with an occasional remark or question thrown in there. 

But despite your energy, you’re still tired after a long trip back home. As soon as you get home and your bags are unpacked, you immediately head to your room to take a nap. Alhaitham tucks you in, telling you to not worry about dinner tonight and to get some rest. Thamina immediately leaps onto the spot beside you and nestles into your side.

You sleepily mumble something about how good it feels to be back home. Alhaitham can’t help but sigh and shake his head affectionately. 

This isn’t home yet. Just you wait.

“Wow, that’s a nice spot for a house.”

Alhaitham follows your gaze to a construction crew assembling the foundation for a large and spacious house. You’re on your daily post-dinner walk now, on the other side of the city that you like. 

“They weren’t there the other day. Looks like they’re working fast.”

Kaveh is really pulling out all the stops for him, isn’t he? Alhaitham can’t say he’s surprised. Despite the rocky relationship from their Akademiya days, it’s undeniable that Kaveh would do anything to see his two best friends happy together (for the rest of their lives).

You nod in agreement. 

“Yeah. This future homeowner sure is lucky though…”

He has to fight back a smile. 

No, (Name). You’re the lucky one here.

Over the next few months, you watch as the house slowly comes together before your eyes. The foundation and frame are finished and bit by bit, the rest of the house is installed. Windows, doors, sheathing, insulation, paneling, siding, and all. Occasionally, you spot Kaveh on site working with the contractors. When that happens, you’ll stop for a bit to chat with him. You’ll ask him how the construction is going, to which he’ll say it’s going smoothly and they’re on schedule.

Strangely though, he never divulged who the client was. He keeps it vague, saying it was a wealthy client who commissioned it for his future spouse when they got married.

“What a lucky person,” you sigh.

(“Could you get any more obvious without giving everything away?” hisses Alhaitham when you’re looking the other way. 

“Hey, as long as I don’t explicitly tell them it’s you commissioning it, it’s fine, right?”

(Alhaitham has never wanted to throttle Kaveh more in his life than now.)

Kaveh stops by one day when you’re in the garden. You’re weeding out your vegetable plot when you hear the crunch of footsteps approaching. The familiar sight of your friend greets you and you eagerly sit up and smile, wiping the sweat off your brow in an attempt to make yourself more presentable.

“Oh, Kaveh! You didn’t tell us you were stopping by! I would’ve prepared some tea and snacks otherwise…”

He waves your concerns off with a laugh.

“No need to. I’m just here to speak with Alhaitham. It’ll only be for a bit. Is he home?”

You nod. 

“I’ll go get him.”

A few minutes later he emerges from the house, a little disgruntled after being woken up from his mid-afternoon nap.

“Make this quick,” he grumbles. You pointedly nudge him in the ribs. 

You continue your work in the garden. Alhaitham glances at you after a bit, where you struggle with a particularly stubborn weed. His Dendro vision comes to life and the weed wilts before everyone’s eyes. You easily pull it out of the earth and flash him a thankful smile. While you’re occupied with the rest of the weeds, Alhaitham turns to Kaveh.

“So? What’s the occasion?” whispers Alhaitham. 

“Good news,” Kaveh whispers back. “We’re ahead of schedule. The house should be finished within three months from now.”

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow. Kaveh scowls at him.

“Oh, wipe that surprised look off your face!” he hisses. “I know what you’re thinking of, ok? Turns out I can actually get work done- ahead of time as well.”

“I never said I doubted your ability. It’s just that seeing you ahead of schedule and not exceedingly behind is a rare sight indeed.”

“You-!”

Alhaitham cuts him off with a soft chuckle. 

“Just kidding. But thank you, really.”

Kaveh stares at the man with a half-assed disgusted expression, clearly not used to seeing his friend all sentimental and genuine.

“Wipe that look off your face! It’s so uncharacteristic it’s giving me the creeps.”

With a dramatic shudder and a roll of his eyes, Kaveh looks back at you in the garden, where you’re still tending to the plants and blissfully unaware. 

“(Name) really deserves a happy life after everything,” he murmurs. Alhaitham nods in agreement, his eyes still trained on your form and with a soft expression that’s reserved for you only.

“They really do.”

Over the next few days, his friends start acting weirdly. They have sly grins on their faces and say encouraging words to him out of nowhere, even going so far as to pat him on the back and congratulate him. For what though?

Instantly, Alhaitham knows something’s up. If he recalls correctly, Kaveh went out to the tavern last night and had a few drinks with the construction crew… And knowing him, a “few” drinks meant several glasses of wine and counting. 

Oh no.

When he gets off work the next day, he goes on a manhunt for Kaveh. He spots the blond heading home, covered in dirt from spending a day at the construction site, and stalks toward him. 

“Kaveh.”

The blond freezes at his voice and slowly looks up to meet his gaze. His leg twitches like he’s about to make a run for it at the sight of his longtime friend’s angry expression.

“... Yes?”

“Did you run your mouth last night while drunk and tell everyone that I was going to propose to (Name)?”

“...”

“Answer me, Kaveh.”

“... Perhaps?”

An uncharacteristically loud groan escapes his lips as he sighs. He massages his temple, already feeling the headache forming. 

“Great. I was planning on having it be a private proposal too…”

Kaveh winces, feeling regretful about throwing a wrench in his friend’s plans. 

“On the bright side, I don’t think (Name) has heard anything about it yet. I think everyone had the sense to keep their mouths shut about this…”

That much is true, realizes Alhaitham. You still seem oblivious to what’s been happening over the course of the past year. So it should work itself out in the end, right?

Kaveh is praying everyone keeps their lips sealed. His life is on the line if someone lets it slip.

Literally.

As predicted, Kaveh stops by three months later to tell him that the house has been completed. He takes off work the next day and until you return home, he bides his time, making sure everything is in order and that he still has the ring on him. 

Dinner is already prepared when you return home. He needs to make this quick. He only has a limited window of time to act. 

As soon as you’re done, he almost immediately asks if you’d like to go on your usual walk, then practically grabs you by the wrist and drags you out of the house with him. He’s nervous, even though he knows he has everything under control. The ring is with him, the weather is pleasant, and you’re nonetheless wiser, but his heart keeps pounding uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering what the hell has gotten into him. 

The sun is starting to set when you arrive at the newly-completed house. Recognition flickers in your eyes.

“Want to take a look inside?”

“... Are we even allowed to?”

“Relax. I got the permission of the contractors and Kaveh to do so.”

He gently leads you inside. The place is unfurnished, but everything is clean and the wood gleams brightly in the light of the setting sun. 

“It’s really spacious,” you remark as you step foot into the kitchen. The cabinets are a lot bigger than the ones at your current house. “And bright too.”

You head upstairs. The rooms are spacious as well, especially the bathroom.

A larger kitchen. Brighter lights. Bigger cabinets. A larger bathtub. At least, compared to your current house. It’s also just nicer overall. No more squeaky floorboards, no more cold drafts, and no more of the issues that come with an older house. It’s also quieter too, which you enjoy. Your current house is located near one of the busier streets in town, meaning you always hear people- even if it’s the middle of the night and it’s just a drunk person stumbling back home. Out here, however, it’s quiet, clean, and sunny. You couldn’t ask for anything else. 

A thought begins to form and gnaw at the back of your mind.

You head out to the backyard, where you see a considerable portion of land is enclosed within the fence. Meaning you have plenty of space for a garden now.

…

You sigh mentally. He isn’t as slick as he thinks he is… 

The sun is starting to dip beneath the horizon now. A cool breeze gently rustles the tree leaves and your hair. With his warm hand still wrapped around your wrist, he leads you out to the front again. The street is devoid of all people except for you two and the street lamp flickers to life behind him. 

“We have already discussed this before, therefore I believe there is no real purpose in delaying this question. However, I know you are one for ceremony so I will abide by your wishes.”

Why the sudden formality is your question, but you let it slide. He takes a deep breath and runs his free hand through his hair. You’ve learned that it’s a tic of his when he’s nervous.

“I have always been confident in every decision I make. Every circumstance, outlier, and variable will be taken into consideration. Regardless of the consequences of the action or the weight it carries, I have almost never, if ever, felt anything other than certain that I have made the right decision with what I was given. And yet now… I find myself uncertain and self-assured at the same time.”

He turns to face you and lets go of your hands.

“Am I making the right decision? Or am I not? This time, you will be the determining factor. My heart is in your hands now, (Name).”

You watch with bated breath as he gets down on one knee and pulls out a box to reveal a glistening ring. 

“Will you marry me?”

The world goes completely silent. It’s just the beating of your heart and earnest gaze of his exposed eye, patiently waiting for your response. 

That is, until you hear rustling coming from the bushes a few feet away from you and some familiar voices carried along the wind.

“I can’t believe it’s happening!”

Your gaze flicks over to the bushes. So does Alhaitham’s. 

“Uh oh, I think they saw us…”

“Quick, hide!”

“We’re already hiding though…”

The spell is broken. Alhaitham clicks his tongue and glares toward the direction of the noise, irritation evident in his eyes.

“He spotted us!”

“And here I was hoping we could eavesdrop without being noticed…”

Slowly, four people step out from behind the bushes, bashfully avoiding your gaze. Tighnari, Cyno, Kaveh, and even… Lisa? 

Your jaw drops and your eyes practically pop out of your head at the sight of her. What’s she doing here? 

The question must’ve been written all over your face because she chuckles.

“Little brother Cyno over here wrote me a letter telling me everything. When I got it, I dropped everything I was doing. I couldn’t possibly miss out on my dearest cutie’s proposal, after all.”

Lisa not being lazy for once? That’s something new, you think. 

A gentle tug on your hand makes you refocus on Alhaitham again. Ignore them, says his gaze. But his gaze flicking back to them every few seconds tells you he wants them out of the picture for now. Kaveh, thankfully, gets the message and practically pushes everyone away out of view to give you two some privacy.

“They’re gone now, Haithoomi,” you say once they’re out of sight. “You can continue now.”

He exhales and rolls his eyes.

“Damn Kaveh, always finding a way to upset my plans…”

But the remark is lighthearted and he quickly refocuses. 

“Will you marry me?” he repeats. His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard before, like he’s afraid to hear your response.

…

This silly man. As if you’d say no after all you’ve been through together. 

“Despite all your mannerisms, there’s no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. But I’m sure you already knew I’d say that, right?”

“I simply drew upon past information and conversations we had.”

You shake your head affectionately.

“Ever the pragmatist as always.”

A rare smile stretches across his face. He takes the ring out of its box and slips it onto your finger. It glides on smoothly and fits like a glove. When did he get your ring size measurement? Not like it matters anymore anyway. 

You take a moment to admire it. It’s a simple and elegant ring with a standard gold band, but the massive emerald in the middle catches your eye. It gleams and sparkles in the evening setting sun. Smaller diamonds and emeralds encircle it and you can safely say you’ve never seen anything quite like it. 

This, plus the house behind you, must’ve cost him a fortune. How long had he been saving up for? You’ve been seeing him come home later as well. Had he been working overtime even though he hates doing so?

“Haitham, you really shouldn’t have done all of this...” you choke out past the lump forming in your throat. He shushes you with a finger to your lips and dabs away at the tears in the corners of your eyes that you didn’t even realize were forming.

“But I did. And it’s because I wanted to. You, of all people in our friend group, deserve a happy life the most. After all we’ve been through together, I thought it was only fitting that I would be the one to make that happen.”

You let out a shaky laugh and blink the tears away. He graciously looks to the side. 

“Imagine if I had said no.” That elicits a faint chuckle out of him too.

“That’d be quite the predicament I’d find myself in then. I can’t exactly return a finished house, can I?”

It turns out your friends were hiding right around the corner because as soon as you’re done, they rush over and swarm you with congratulations and well-wishes. They marvel over the ring on your finger and ask you questions about when the wedding is and your future together. 

“About time,” says Kaveh as the two of them watch Lisa scoop you up into a tight hug and twirl you around from a distance away.

“Like you’re one to talk. How’s your love life going?”

Kaveh bristles and glares at him. 

“I’m working on it, ok?! I can’t with you sometimes…”

The blond sighs and shakes his head before continuing.

“Not only were you the first to get a job and then become a homeowner in our friend group, but now you’re the first to get engaged as well! Stop rubbing your success in our faces, Alhaitham!”

The sun has set now. Surrounded by friends and the love of his life, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 

A faint twinkle in the sky and the sound of something hissing overhead makes everyone pause. 

It’s a shooting star. 

It’s a small one compared to the one you saw during your Akademiya years, and a bit dimmer too, but it still has a tail to call its own as it speeds through the skies. Although it leaves as soon as it arrives, it leaves behind a multicolored afterglow above your new home that shines brighter than the star itself. 

Alhaitham wonders where it's heading toward. Since it already entered the atmosphere, it’ll most likely disintegrate before reaching ground. That’s the logical answer, at least. 

He casts a glance over at you, where you gaze up at the sky with a starry-eyed expression. You’re still as enamored with celestial events as you were years before, it seems. Some things never change. 

But perhaps this shooting star has finally found a home to return to as well.

enjoyed my work? the taglist is open!

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[lo-vearchive]

Forgive Me

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x female! reader

Summary: After an argument at work with your boss Miguel O’Hara you quit your job at Alchemex in anger. Luckily your boss’ AI talks some sense into him and sends him your way to beg for forgiveness. Read Part Two: here

Word Count: 2340 words

Content: Miguel being a rude bastard, Miguel begging for forgiveness, 18+ (minors DNI), no explicit smut, but things do get spicy at the end, breastplay, questionable Spanish

Note: Not proofread. Did get carried away a little, but I just love angst and men begging. Take it up with the duolingo owl if you don’t like my Spanish (i tried :((). Feedback is appreciated because this may be the most I have ever written on Tumblr. Have fun, horndogs.

 You rush into Miguel’s office at Alchemex on a Tuesday afternoon.

           “Mr. O’Hara,” you call out, heaving. “I need to speak to you.”

If Miguel found the use of his last name odd, he didn’t react. He sat hunched over his desk, clattering away on his keyboard. His wide shoulders obstructed the view of the screen, but you could tell he was working away at something important. Everything Miguel did seemed to be a matter of life or death recently and that left you with no time to discuss the nature of your relationship. You were stuck somewhere between more than colleagues but less than romantic partners, and now you wanted more than just the stolen looks and accidental lingering touches.

When he didn’t answer you called out again, wary of the listening ears at your workplace. “Mr. O’Hara?”

He let out a sigh with his back still turned to you. “What is it?”

You clear your throat to brace yourself against his cold tone. “It’s about something a bit more personal, sir. I would feel much better if we could speak with the door closed—”

“No quiero hablar contigo,” (I don’t want to speak to you) he cut you off. “I have a deadline to meet. Come back later.”

“This is important,” you insisted, glancing behind you at the ajar door to his office. “I just need some clarity about where things are going. Our interactions are messing with my head and that’s impacting my performance. I just need an answer.”

Miguel scoffed and continued typing away. “Helping you with your little feelings isn’t my priority. Go find something else to do. I’m busy.”

Irritation flooded through your body. Usually you could tolerate his hot-and-cold behaviour, but your patience was wearing thin. You hated his unwillingness to ever say what he truly felt, and you were tired of being in limbo. “You can’t just dismiss me like I’m some child. Miguel—”

“— No me hables—” (Don’t talk to me)

“No, I am going to talk, and you are going to listen or whatever is going on between us will end right now!”

He slammed his hands on his desk and the entire room shook on impact. He turned around and stalked towards you until he stood, looming over you. His red eyes reflected the anger in yours. He ran a large hand through his dark, dishevelled hair and spoke in a hushed, stern voice. “You are embarrassing yourself. Do I have to remind you that I’m your boss and this is your workplace? Let go of whatever fantasies you have got cooking in your head and get to work.”

You felt as if someone had slapped you in the face. Your cheeks felt hot, and your eyes began to sting. You felt like an idiot and then you felt angry for feeling that way as Miguel stood in front of you with sunken eyes and a stoic face.

A smirk played on his lips. “Calladita estás más guapa.” (You look prettier when you’re quiet)

You didn’t need advanced Spanish skills to understand what he meant. “F-Fuck you,” you choked through a constricting throat. “You’re an asshole. I quit.”

You stormed out of the office, hiding the tears that had begun leaking out. Avoiding the pitiful gazes of your colleagues, you grabbed your purse off the reception desk, threw your nametag aside and left the building.

Once Miguel was alone in his office, his bravado faded away. “Fuck,” he murmured, running a hand over his face. “Lyla, give me a visual on her.”

Lyla puffed into his sight with her arms crossed over her chest. Behind her played a video of your name tag being tugged off your coat lapel and landing in the garbage. Your palms rubbed furiously against your eyes as you made your way to the elevator and away from him. “Shit,” he cursed again. “I messed up . . . ”

“Messed up?” Lyla echoed, incredulity laced in her voice. “You broke her heart! Matter of fact, I can show you precisely where you shattered it!”

She rewinded the visual to a few minutes back. Miguel’s stomach dropped as he saw her lips tremble as she held her head up, listening to the knives launching out of his mouth. Lyla shook her head as you’re the image of your crestfallen face faded away. “You better fix this,” she warned.

“I know, I know,” he exhaled loudly. “Send me her location. I need to go fix this.”

 *******************************************************************************************

      You sat in your bed with red eyes and a spicy chicken burrito bowl, scrolling through a job-hunting website. Miguel would have told you that the take-out place you ordered from wasn’t authentic Mexican food, but he would also dismiss your existence in the same sentence, so you decided to not put any weight behind his words. Yet you couldn’t deny that his behaviour today hurt you deeply. You kept replaying your past interactions to see if you had imagined a connection where there was none.

It had been six months since you started working at Alchemex. Everyone had warned you about Miguel and his brashness towards his past secretaries. You used to walk on eggshells around him, minimizing the space you took, and trying your hardest to not bring any undue attention to yourself. It wasn’t long until you figure out he was Spider-Man, you were always perceptive, especially of him. Somewhere along the line, the nine-to-fives turned to nine-to-midnight and then those turned into overnight stays at his office, working alongside him to research anomalies with Lyla.

At first, it was just innocent touches at the small of your back to move you out of his way in the cramped office. Then came the lingering touches on your arms as he hunched over behind you, helping you navigate some code written on his computer screen. You could vividly recall the night when you couldn’t reach a box of files on the top shelf of his filing case. Miguel had scooped you up effortlessly with an arm underneath your buttocks. His warm breath hit your stomach as he asked, “Did you get it?” You were thankful that he didn’t see the bright flush on your cheeks as he lowered you back onto the ground. You were even more thankful when he didn’t step away.

But none of that mattered anymore. He was an asshole and you had quit your job. You shoved a spoonful of rice in your mouth and pushed away the memories. The sun began to set, painting your room orange and slowly that too faded away. You sat in the darkness, contemplating hitting up your friends for a night out when you felt the hair on the back of your neck rise. From the corner of your eye, you saw a shadowy figure peering inside your bedroom from the fire escape. You let out a loud scream, scrambling away with the bowl in your hand.

The figure held up its hand in surrender. “It’s me! It’s me!” a familiar voice called out.

“Miguel?”

The figure nodded and the mask around its face disappeared to reveal his face. “Let me in,” he said, pressing his hand against the glass. “I need to speak to you.”

You set the bowl down on a nearby table and walked towards the fire escape with your arms crossed over your chest. “Pero no quiero hablar contigo,” (but I don’t want to speak to you) you replied, throwing his words right back to him. “You need to leave.”

He sighed and shook his head. Holding his wrist out, he let out a string of web and pulled the door back slightly. “No!” you shrieked as he slipped in through the gap. “I won’t get my safety deposit back!”

He crossed the space between us in long strides and grabbed my arms. “I will fix it,” he promised, “but I need you to listen to me first.”

You eyed him with a neutral expression, trying your hardest to control your thundering heart. “I am so, so sorry,” he said with his big brown eyes boring into yours. “I was an idiot for how I behaved. Please don’t quit. I need you.”

You pursed your lips and looked away.

“Mírame,” (look at me) he whispered, moving his hands up to your neck. His thumb turned your chin softly back to him.

“You were right,” he continued, rubbing his thumb softly across your jawline. “There is something here and it scares me. I acted like a coward today when you, my sweet, brave girl brought it up. Please don’t leave me behind.”

“You made me feel like I was an idiot,” you mumbled, fighting back tears, and looking anywhere but him. “Made me feel as if I was imagining things. I don’t want your apologies. I don’t want to forgive you.”

His large hands moved to cup your face. He inched closer until the material of his suit slightly skimmed the surface of your tank top. He pressed his forehead to yours. “Forgive me.”

“No.”

his cool minty breath gently fanned your face. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

“No.”

“Forgive me,” he repeated and moved his face lower to the crook of your neck.

“No— ung.”

He pressed his lips gently against the sensitive skin on your neck. “Forgive me.”

You raised your forearms and pressed them into his chest, attempting to push him away, but Miguel didn’t move an inch. His arms moved to your back, caging you in his embrace. “Not fair!” you cried.

He tipped your head back with his nose and slid his lips across the expanse of your throat. You bit your lips harshly to prevent the sounds of pleasure from escaping your throat. Your chest rose and fell harshly as his lips sucked away sensually. He moved his mouth and connected it with a spot that made your legs go numb. Miguel’s hands caught you before you could slip away. He hoisted you up and on instinct, you wrapped your legs around him for support. He walked you both backwards and gently laid you down on your mattress.

Leaning over you, he opened his mouth to speak but the light from your laptop screen caught his attention. “You’re already looking for jobs?” he pouted, fisting the sheet around your head. “You can’t leave me behind, baby. What am I supposed to do without you?”

You scoffed. “Whatever you were doing before. You can find someone else to be mean to.”

He grunted and dipped down to your throat once again. “I don’t want anyone else. I only want you.”

He kissed you again and your hand flew to his dark locks in surprise. He groaned as you tugged on it. “You can pull my hair and be mean to me too,” he mumbled against your throat. “Just please forgive me and give us a chance.”

You wrapped your hand around his neck. “Everyone at work heard us argue.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “It was my fault, and I won’t ever do it again.”

“People will talk,” you tried to reason, playing with the ends of his locks. “You are my boss.”

He pulled back to meet your eyes. His hair stuck out in different places and made you giggle. “Oh, yeah? Just your boss?”

“Yeah, what else— mmph!”

His mouth is on yours and it leaves you confused. Every touch of his in the past has been fleeting but this time Miguel won’t let this kiss end. His tongue parts your mouth and finds yours as his hand coaxes your jaw open. You let out a satisfied hum as he brushes your hair away from your face and neck and angles your face up. You had always imagined what kissing him would feel like, but nothing compared to this. You both lay in bed, fully dressed, but Miguel kissed you like he was already inside of you.

He pulled away and you groan, chasing his lips. “Wait, wait, wait, does this mean you forgive me?”

You rolled your eyes and exhaled harshly. “Miggy, you’re in my bed and on top of me. Of course, I forgive you.”

“Good,” he grinned.

His hand moves to your throat and then down the laced edge of your tank top. He inhales you deeply. “You smell so good. Every time you walked by my desk, I would get hard from a whiff,” he muttered to himself. “Thought it was your perfume, but now I know that it’s just you, your scent . . . I wonder if its stronger when I . . . can I?”

You were too preoccupied with feelings of disbelief to understand what he was saying, but you knew you felt safe in his arms. You nodded enthusiastically. Miguel hooked a finger into my tank top and gently pulled it down. He lets out a deep groan as your peaked nipples emerge from behind the fabric. “I know this is fast, but God, I could just . . .”

He wrapped his large hand around a breast. You let out a whimper as his touch makes your cunt clench around nothing. He moves your nipple in the space between his fingers and gives it a tug. “Miggy,” you gasp, gripping his hair. “You do this to all your secretaries?”

He shook his head as he continued to play with your nipple, rubbing it between his fingertips. “Only you, baby. I only ever want you.”

His warm mouth wrapped around a nipple as your legs wrap around him tighter. He sucks away at one breast while his hand plays with the other.

“Miguel!” you cry out at the sensation.

The side of your thigh begins to vibrate. It takes you a moment for you to navigate through the haze of pleasure to realize his cell phone is ringing. You reach into his suit pocket and pull out his phone. The words ‘Tyler Stone, CEO’ shine brightly on the screen.

You let out laugh which turns into moan. “Your boss is calling.”

Without stopping his ministrations, he tugs the phone out of your hand and chucks it aside on the bed. “Can’t talk now,” he mumbled around your breast. “I have my mouth full.”

[bunnysdollette]

₊⊹⁀➴ How to get your shit together in a slump: BD’s instant guide to feeling 100% again! ⟡﹒⪩⪨ 🫧🌸🧁

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧ Hi angels :) Thank you so much for the positive reception on my last posts. Anyway, I’ve been super down lately so I’d thought I’d create this post as a bit of a reference point for anyone who feels like their life is going off of the rails these days. This is how I get myself out of a slump. 💬

♫ todays song is…some by SOYOU

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GET OFF THAT DAMN PHONE.. 📝 ⊹₊⟡⋆

wait! I was just joking. don’t close your phone until you finish reading (haha). anyway, take a look at your screentime for me. you might have been scrolling for hours or trying to distract yourself from how horrible you felt by doomscrolling endlessly…no. we can’t do that.

usually when I’m in a slump I feel damp, it’s not just about laziness. this could also be the result of exhaustion or a number of factors. dampness is an evil condition in chinese medicine where you feel heavy, tired, and dead. scrolling will only make this worse because you’re prolonging the pain. the first thing you should do is get up, stretch, breathe, and maybe crack a window. the airflow will make a big difference, I promise. 🌿

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CLEAN UP GUIDE. 🌸 ⊹₊⟡⋆

when my room is a mess my state of mind is a mess. I can’t do anything, I’m literally loosing my marbles bc all I can see is a messy space. if your brain is in shambles rn, the smallest amount of organization you can do right now is tidy up your room a little bit.

this doesn’t even have to be a big clean, but small steps make a big impact!… remember your space is sacred. 🧘🏾‍♀️

make the bed. doesn’t have to be fancy, just make sure everything is where it needs to be.

wipe down surfaces like desks, mirrors, and vanities. you can even include a scented spray whilst doing this to make your space smell much cleaner and nicer!! I literally cannot function when my room smells like asscheeks.

remove any old cups, or food waste that you were procrastinating from doing so. don’t want to attract any bugs.

Sweep the floor. You probably don’t notice how many crumbs are on the ground, but please just do it.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ RECHARGE YOUR “STATS”. 🛁 ⊹₊⟡⋆

honestly the best way to get out of a slump is self care. neglecting your needs and body can often lead to things going downhill, depressive episodes, etc. We all forget to take care of ourselves properly sometimes, but it’s important to pay attention to our needs and personal wellness.

Ask yourself.

“Did I shower today?” ➜ Take yourself a nice, warm shower and stay in as long as you want.

Take some time to reflect on your day or anything that’s been on your mind. And be sure to wash up well, so you can feel really nice after and tap into your feminine energy. You can even add bath salts, milk, or bubble bath. It will literally make you feel like a princess. . . 👑

“Did I eat/drink today?” ➜ Go eat something.

I prefer light meals or snacks that are cold like fruit, water, or a juice when I’m feeling dead but you can also eat whatever you want. Just think about what will make you feel good and reduce the dampness as much as possible, and will prevent brain fog. Heavier meals aren’t the best for that though.

I bet you feel better already after doing these things! Remember that taking care of yourself is the most important and you are a priority.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ REFLECTING AND MAKING A GAME PLAN 🧁 ⊹₊⟡⋆

Lastly after you feel a little bit better now and you took care of yourself, I would really suggest reflecting either through journaling or shadow work questions. They’re the easiest way to just brain dump all of the crap you’ve been thinking about lately and get it out of your system in a healthy and helpful way.

You can write about things like “how have I been feeling lately?” “What’s one way I can improve in xyz” and so on. This is a mundane activity you can do at the end to organize your thoughts. Mental health is a huge thing after your physical health, as it literally not only affects your world but the world around us. Especially if you are trying to achieve your dream life/dream self, manifest anything, etc. you will need to take care of your mental health to not be consumed by your emotions and keep your mind in check.

Also something that is crucial is practicing gratitude and mentally grounding yourself. You can list things your grateful for, mediate, or exercise. Anything to get yourself into that mindset you need going forward. I personally love to listen to the wizard liz’s podcast in times like these, it’s a great motivation for me.

Remember that slumps, dampness, depressive episodes, all of it, is normal. We are just humans at the end of the day. Be a little nicer to yourself today and take some small active steps towards your goals. ✨🫶🏽

✧ thanks for reading beautiful !! ; so basically I’m thinking of maybe making a community here on tumblr for the girl bloggers that share dream girl content and stuff like that? idk let me know what u think. inbox is always open, stay hydrated and cute, buh bye 👋🏾

[kentobb]

hiromi higuruma x female secretary (AU).

here (chapter 01) > chapter 02

chapter 01

You swear under your breath as you look at your phone screen. Your alarm, smug and mocking, displays 8:00 PM in bold letters. PM. Not AM. You scramble out of bed, pulling on the first blouse and skirt combo you can find that isn’t too wrinkled. A quick glance at the clock sends your pulse skyrocketing: you have 10 minutes to get to your new job or risk starting your career as a late, disorganized mess.

The streets blur around you as you weave through the crowd, clutching your bag in one hand and your shoes pinching painfully with every step. Your breath comes fast and uneven, but you can’t slow down—not now. Not when you’ve just landed a position as a secretary at Higuruma Law Firm, one of the most prestigious firms in the city. You promised yourself you’d make a good impression, that you’d be on time and ready to learn. Yet here you are, sprinting through downtown like a crazed lunatic.

And then it happens.

As you round a corner, your shoulder collides with something—or rather, someone. The impact sends you stumbling back a step, your bag nearly slipping from your grip. The man you crashed into stares down at you, his coffee cup tilted at an unfortunate angle. You watch in muted horror as the contents spill out, dark liquid spreading across the pristine white of his shirt.

“I—oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you blurt, your voice higher-pitched than normal.

The man raises an eyebrow, his expression stone-cold. He doesn’t say anything right away, but the sharpness in his eyes makes you wish the pavement would swallow you whole.

You glance at your watch. Three minutes left.

“Really, I’m sorry!” you say again, already backing away. You don’t wait for his reply—what else can you do? Instead, you mutter another apology and sprint off, heat crawling up your neck and ears.

By the time you reach the towering glass doors of Higuruma Law Firm, you’re a sweaty, disheveled mess. You try to smooth your hair down as best you can before stepping inside. The lobby is sleek and intimidating, all polished floors and quiet murmurs. Behind the reception desk sits an older woman with a warm smile and kind eyes.

“You must be the new secretary,” she says, rising from her chair. “I’m Ms. Tanaka. I’ve been working here for 50 years, and I’ll be training you today.”

You nod, still catching your breath, and follow her deeper into the firm. She talks as she leads you past rows of offices and conference rooms, her voice soothing but filled with authority.

“We pride ourselves on punctuality and professionalism here,” she says, pausing to look back at you. “Our clients expect nothing but the best, and Mr. Higuruma demands the same from his staff.”

You nod again, the words sinking in like a lead weight. You can’t help but glance at the clock on the wall. Barely made it.

Ms. Tanaka gestures toward the far end of the hallway, where a large office sits with its door closed. “That’s Mr. Higuruma’s office. He hasn’t arrived yet, but—”

The sound of the front door opening cuts her off. The air in the room shifts as everyone’s attention turns to the man who strides in, his presence commanding without trying.

Your stomach drops.

It’s him.

The coffee man.

Your brain short-circuits as you watch him, now dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that’s slightly damp from earlier. His expression is unreadable as he surveys the room, but when his gaze lands on you, you swear the temperature drops several degrees.

“You…” Ms. Tanaka begins, looking between you and him with confusion etched into her face. “Do you two know each other?”

“No,” you squeak, far too quickly.

Higuruma steps forward, his face calm but his eyes sharp as ever. “I trust you’ll be more careful in the future,” he says coolly, his words cutting through the air like a blade. “We wouldn’t want any… unnecessary accidents.”

You can only nod, your voice apparently gone, as he moves past you toward his office. He doesn’t spare you another glance as he shuts the door behind him.

Ms. Tanaka turns back to you, her confusion now mixed with a hint of suspicion. “Well,” she says after a moment, “I suppose we’d better get started.”

You force a smile, though your cheeks are burning. It’s only your first day, and you’ve already made an unforgettable impression. Literally.

Behind you, the office door clicks open briefly. Higuruma steps out, this time in a fresh tuxedo. He doesn’t say anything—just casts you a pointed glance before disappearing again.

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

You stand in front of the dark oak door, your heart hammering against your ribs. The gold plaque reads Hiromi Higuruma, and just looking at it makes your palms clammy. Taking a deep breath, you knock softly, almost hoping he won’t hear it.

“Come in,” his voice calls out.

You push the door open and step inside, keeping your gaze fixed on the polished floor. His office is immaculate, with walls lined with bookshelves, each shelf packed with legal volumes. His desk is perfectly organized, with not a single pen out of place.

He doesn’t look up at first, his eyes focused on a document in front of him. You can feel his presence, sharp and exacting, like the very air around him demands perfection.

“I’m here to present myself,” you say quietly, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m the new secretary in training.”

The silence stretches, and you finally dare to glance up. His gaze is cold and calculating, and you quickly look away again.

“Look at me,” he says, his tone measured but firm.

You lift your head reluctantly, meeting his eyes. They’re sharp and assessing, as if he’s already stripping away every layer of your being to get to the core.

“Take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

You sit down cautiously, folding your hands in your lap.

“This office operates on precision, punctuality, and professionalism,” he begins, his voice low and commanding. “I expect nothing less from my staff. You will handle your duties with the utmost care and respect for the work we do here. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Mr. Higuruma,” you say, nodding quickly.

“You are to keep my schedule in order, answer my calls, and ensure that all correspondence is handled promptly. Any mistakes will reflect poorly on this firm, and I do not tolerate incompetence.”

Your stomach twists. “Understood, Mr. Higuruma.”

He leans back slightly, his gaze never leaving you. “If you fail me, you will be dismissed. There will be no second chances.”

The weight of his words presses down on you, and you nod again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, Mr. Higuruma.”

“That’s all,” he says after a long pause. “You may go.”

You stand quickly, eager to escape the intensity of his presence. As you walk toward the door, your hand already on the handle, you pause.

He looks up, his brow furrowing slightly. “Is there a problem?”

You turn back toward him, your face burning. “I just wanted to apologize again, Mr. Higuruma. For the coffee earlier. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze unreadable. The silence is deafening.

“Dismissed,” he finally says, his tone flat.

You nod, bow slightly, and leave his office, closing the door softly behind you.

Inside, Higuruma exhales and leans back in his chair. For a moment, he simply stares at the closed door before pulling out your file. He flips through your résumé, his sharp eyes scanning the sparse details. A normal girl with an ordinary background. Yet something catches his attention—your work history starts at sixteen.

He pauses, tapping his finger lightly against the page. Sixteen. Why would someone so young need to work? Was it financial difficulties? Family debts? The thought lingers longer than it should. With a sigh, he closes the folder and tosses it onto the corner of his desk. This isn’t his concern.

Hours pass. The steady rhythm of ringing phones and clicking keyboards fills the office, but he barely notices. His mind is occupied with case files and court schedules. Eventually, he steps out to grab lunch, expecting the office to be empty.

But as he walks through the quiet space, he notices you still seated at your desk, a book open in front of you. Your brows are furrowed, your lips moving slightly as you read.

He slows for a moment, his gaze lingering. Dedication, perhaps? Or just nervousness about being the new hire? Either way, he continues on, pushing the thought aside.

When he returns after lunch, his office is just as he left it—except for the coffee cup on his desk. He freezes, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer. A sticky note is attached to the cup.

“I’m sorry.”

The handwriting is small and neat, and the coffee is from the same shop he frequents. He glances toward the far end of the office, where you’re still at your desk, quietly typing away.

For a moment, he debates whether to acknowledge it. But no. He shouldn’t. His relationship with his employees is strictly professional. He picks up the cup and stares at it for a beat longer than necessary before walking to the trash can and dropping it in.

As he returns to his desk, a pang of guilt tugs at him, but he brushes it off.

This is the correct decision. Attachments, even small gestures, have no place in his world.

With a sigh, he refocuses on the document in front of him.

[russellsppttemplates]

Okay so P at the races inspired a similar story in my head. How about finn goes to a race to support his dad and max has a major accident and he is so scared when they take him to hospital🥺 in my dad max era 🥹

Cw: racing accident, hospital visit

"The cars are slipping there, they need to call this off for now", you heard one of the older mechanics said, but before anyone could make any decisions, Max's car was in the wall, "Is papa okay?", Finn asked as he watched everyone go quiet, waiting for the radio to be sent back from his father.

"Ugh, I'm fine", you could notice his laboured breath, "I'm sore, but I think I can get out on my own", he groaned.

After waiting for a little bit and seeing Max (barely) being able to walk up to the medical car, Gianpiero came closer to you, "they are taking him straight to the hospital - they'll stop at the medical center just so he can go laying down, the complaints seem to be from pain from the impact, but we'll know more once they do all of the exams", he stated, "someone from the team is driving you there if you'd like that".

"Yes, please", you said before bending down to talk to Finn, "Papa has some bruises and he's in pain, so he's going to the hospital so the doctors can see if he's alright", you explained.

"I'm scared, mama", Finn murmured as you walked inside the hospital, making you pull him aside and hug him, "it's okay to feel scared, my love, we don't know what is happening and it is scary", you gulped, "but we also know papa is really strong and that the doctors are here to help him", you smiled.

Finn nodded and hugged your neck, making you pull him to your embrace and hold him as you walked up to the reception desk and asked for details on Max. The nurse directed you to the room he was in, telling you he was getting a CT and then they would bring him to the room unless there was any issue, but from what she could see, he seemed to be fine all things considered.

When they wheeled Max back in the room, Finn stood up and looked at everyone before he looked at Max, seeing all the wires and machines, "hey, you guys", Max said a little loopy from the pain meds the doctor told you he received.

"Other than the bruising, he's fine - it was a big impact so we warned him to take it easy", the doctor said before excusing herself.

"You can hug me, Finn, I won't hurt me", Max said as he noticed the boy weighing out his options, "really?", he mused, "yes, buddy, come here", Max gestured.

You helped Finn up on the bed, letting him cuddle Max a little before you kissed your husband's lips, "that one was a scary one, love", you said.

"It was", Finn chirped in, "I'm glad you're okay, papa", he kissed his cheek, "I'm sorry I scared you both".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[interiorergonomics]

Choosing the Right Reception Desk Designer and Manufacturer in Dubai

When choosing the right designer or manufacturer for your custom-made reception desk always strive to achieve a functional and aesthetically pleasing piece that meets your unique needs.

How? By thoroughly researching, reviewing portfolios, considering experience, and prioritizing effective communication, For sure, you'll get the best among the available craftsmen. Combining this will result in a reception desk that enhances your front office elegance and reinforces your brand identity.

[treason-and-plot]

The bad weather and the cancellation of Raj’s whale watching tours has impacted the Whale Museum as well. The only visitors since 8.30 am have been a group of elderly tourists from Shang Simla, and they didn’t even buy any souvenirs! Then Kaleb barges through the door.

“Hi,” says Mia, looking him up and down. He is dressed for the gym, and his hair and his skin are wet. He is panting slightly.

“Whew, it’s really coming down out there,” he says, unnecessarily. He smiles at Nanette who is sitting behind the reception desk browsing Parisian places of interest on the internet. She glances up and gives him a small nod of acknowledgement.

“Hey Mrs N!” he says. “How’s everything? Keeping dry?”

“Yes thank you Kaleb,” says Nanette. “Did you leave your umbrella at home?’

“The rain doesn’t bother me,” he says. “I was already hot and sweaty from the gym so being in the rain felt kind of nice.”

“Why do have to say things like that?" says Mia.

“What things?”

“That you’re all hot and sweaty. You know what that does to me.”

“Mia!” he says, with a small laugh as he glances at Nanette, who frowns at her computer screen. “Don’t talk like that in front of your mother.”

“I’m used to it,” scoffs Nanette.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” says Mia.

“I just thought I’d pop in on my way home from the gym and say hello to my favourite girls,” he says. Nanette exchanges a pointed glance with Mia. “I also wanted to ask Mia if she wanted to see a movie tonight.”

“Oh, I’m not sure,” says Mia. “I think…I’m supposed to be having dinner at Jackie’s. I’ll have to let you know.”

“Not a problem,” says Kaleb. “Alright then, I’d better be heading home. Enjoy the rest of your day!”

He turns to go and then Mia grabs his arm.

“Actually, we have a problem with the sink in the ladies’ bathroom,” she says, flickering her eyelashes at him. “Would you be able to have a look?”

“Um, okay,” he says. “Sure.”

(uncensored pics can be found on my blogger...as usual don't click if under 18, or at work, or if offended by nude pixels)

[sarah-the-bird-nerd]

Something's Not Right

Note: So this was actually half done when it was requested by someone so here we are...I hope you brought tissues. Song used for inspiration was Something's Not Right by Lilly Allen. I hope this is angsty enough for those who were looking for it..

Warnings: child loss, angst

Summary: Kyle gets a call that his wife has been rushed to the hospital...

“Sergeant Garrick, my name is Maddison, I’m a nurse at Royal London Hospital, your wife Y/N was brought in about 10 minutes ago, is there anyway that you can get here and quickly?” Came the soft voice of the stranger on the other side of the phone. A voice that he would undoubtedly remember for the rest of his life.

They wouldn’t let him drive himself, Price had taken his keys to his SUV and got in the driver’s seat. Soap and Ghost refused to stay behind and hopped in the back seat without a word. Kyle sat silently watching out the window, scenery passing by, but he didn’t really see anything, he was too lost in his thoughts. The nurse, after confirming that Kyle was in fact on his way, had gone on to explain what was happening, and it terrified him.

Y/N had been on her way to meet a friend for lunch, leaving the house and heading for the subway. Two men had been arguing near the steps down to the platform, shoving each other, and one horribly timed push later. Y/N was tumbling down the steps, her 7-month pregnant belly taking the brunt of it. His usually steady hands are shaking where they rest on his thighs. He tries not to think of what could happen. Everything was going to be fine.

Kyle was out of the car and running before it had even stopped, people staring at him as he ran through the halls of the hospital in his tactical gear, they had been running drills, and he hadn’t stopped to change. He managed to find the emergency department without too much trouble and approached the reception desk.  A tired, older looking nurse with greying hair observed the man for a moment, trying to gauge how this was going to go, she’d seen many a time where families had rushed in and been downright hostile.

“Someone called me. Maddison? My wife, Y/N Garrick was brought in, maybe 45 minutes ago? Can I see her?”

The nurse’s eyes widened. She knew exactly who Y/N was because her arrival had caused quite a stir. She took a breath and motioned for him to follow her. “Come with me,”

The nurse led him to a little sitting room off to one side…a very, private room. Once he was in the room, the nurse spoke again. “Please wait here, I am going to grab her nurse.”

Kyle nodded, taking off his cap and running a hand through his short hair. Before the nurse went out of the room, he called out to her. “I have some friends who are with me, can they be brought back?” The nurse had stopped, turning back to him she nodded before disappearing around the corner. Kyle was pacing the room when she came back with the team, the three men sharing a look when they realized that a private waiting area wasn’t a good sign.

They waited in silence, Soap sitting in the corner, legs and arms crossed, anxiously pulling at the tools on his utility belt. John was seated across from him, watching Kyle pace, and Ghost was leaning against the wall, close to the door with his arms crossed. It wasn’t long before another nurse arrived, this one younger but looking just as tired, if not more so.  Kyle stopped his pacing immediately. She looked around the room at each of the men.

“Sergeant Garrick?” She asked, needing to confirm just who the husband in question was. She had a good idea by the pacing but needed to be sure. When he nodded to her, she took a deep breath. “I’m Maddison. I think you should sit.”

That’s not a good sign he thought but did as he was told. “When can I see my wife?”

“It really should be a doctor speaking with you right now…but he can’t.” Maddison sighed before sitting across from him. “Y/N is in surgery right now. When she was pushed, her front took the brunt of things…the impact caused a placental abruption.” She waited for it to sink in before continuing. “This means, that the placenta has torn away from the uterus and has caused extensive bleeding. The doctor is one of the best in the world and he’s doing all he can to save her.

Kyle turned to look at Maddison, his face tense. “Her? Not them?” He’d picked up on it right away, the whole team had.

Maddison nodded sadly; this wasn’t going to be easy. “W-when your wife was brought in, she had already lost so much blood, and the baby was without oxygen for too long. When we did our initial testing, it indicated that the baby had passed.” Maddison paused. “I am so sorry; I know this is hard.”

Kyle swore his own heart had stopped. Just this morning he had been cuddling with Y/N, talking to the bump, excited for their future, for the daughter who would complete their family. A future that was brutally ripped from him and now Y/N was fighting for her life as well. He covered his face with his hands for a moment, feeling all eyes in the room on him. He took a deep breath before looking up at the nurse.

“Does she know?” He had to know what he was in for when she came out of surgery.

Maddison shook her head. “No, she was unconscious when she came in. I’m sorry I know nothing I say right now is going to make this better. I need to check on some patients, if you need anything, just pop out to the desk and they’ll grab me, as soon as I hear something I will let you know.” With that Maddison gone, Kyle was sure he saw her wiping her eyes as she went.

Kyle stared at the spot that she had just left. He had so many thoughts running through his head. Price and Soap were talking to him, but he couldn’t hear them. Instead, he was focused on how he was going to tell his wife that their baby was gone…and if he ever saw the man that pushed her, well he was going to wish that he’d never been born. He stayed lost in his thoughts for what felt like in reality it was just over two hours.

Another nurse came to update him. Y/N had pulled through surgery was now in a private room on one of the surgical floors. The team left for the night, giving their condolences. Price promised to stop by when he was given the go ahead, knowing that the support was going to be needed. Soap was going to drop off some clothes for him.

Kyle slowly made his way to the room, stopping outside the door. He didn’t go in right away. Instead, he stood tense, looking in the small window. He couldn’t see much, just the window and the bottom of the bed. He took a breath before pushing the door open. Y/N looked tiny in the bed, she was asleep, pale, a heart monitor beeping and an IV one with medication and another bag with blood. There was a chair next to the bed and he pulled it close so that he could sit next to the bed, taking her hand in his, his eyes went to her stomach where just 8 hours ago their child had been comfortably growing. It didn’t look much different, had he not known, he would think that she was still pregnant.

Kyle didn’t know how long that he sat there watching her, never letting go of her hand. He took in the bruises on her arms, her face and God only knew where else he would find bruises on her.  He watched as she slowly started to stir, her eyes flickering under her closed eyelids and a groan coming from her. He squeezed her hand, letting her know that he was there. When her eyes were finally open, he could see the confusion as they finally were able to focus. She looked around the room before her eyes landed on his face.

“Kyle? W-what happened?” She was scared, he could tell. He squeezed her hand again, standing to lean over her and gently pressing a kiss on her forehead, smoothing her hair out. He took a deep breath before speaking.

“What do you remember love?” He needed to know so he could gauge how to handle the situation.

Y/N sat silently for a moment. “We got up, you showered, I made breakfast, you went to work, and I was going for lunch with Carrie.” Her eyes widened “Oh my god I fell…”

Kyle sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and shook his head. “No love, you were pushed, went all the way down the tube stairs.” He watched the emotions flicker on her face, the shock turning into panic as her hands went to her stomach.

“K-Kyle? Is the baby okay.” He closed his eyes for a moment, resting his head against hers and wrapping his arms around her. How was he supposed to tell her?

“Sweetheart, I don’t…” He took a breath before cupping her cheek and turning her face to look at him. She knew he could tell by the look in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry love, we lost her.”

The wail that left his wife didn’t sound human. His heart clenched at the sounds and all he could do was hold her as she sobbed against him.  Kyle wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, so he just held her.

What seemed like hours later, a nurse came to check on Y/N. The nurse was quiet, checking her vitals. Before leaving the nurse hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know if anyone has offered…but if you want to see your daughter, we can bring her in.  Normally you’d get to right away but with the surgery…”

Kyle felt guilty immediately. Not once had he thought about seeing his daughter. He was about to ask if they could have a few minutes, but Y/N spoke up. “Please, I need to see her.” It came out as barely a whisper, but she could be heard.

The nurse nodded, promising to return as soon as she could. Kyle held her close, concerned but also anxious to see their child. It wasn’t long before the nurse came back, carrying a tiny, wrapped bundle. Y/N bit her lip, fighting back tears but reaching out. Kyle held his breath as his wife took their baby into her arms, gently pulling the blanket away from the tiny face. He didn’t know why he did it, but he pulled out his phone, taking a few photos of them together without her knowing, Y/N’s focus being completely on the still baby in her arms. She had pulled the baby as close to her as she could, her forehead nearly touching the baby’s.

“I am so, so sorry baby girl, mama couldn’t protect you and now you don’t even get a chance…” she said, her heart breaking even further. “Mama loves you Cassidy, so much.”

Kyle, who had yet to allow himself to cry, felt the burning in his nose as tears tried to make their way out. “It’s not your fault love, not even a little.” He managed to choke out, he reached out, running a finger down the baby’s tiny cheek. “She’s…perfect.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes full of tears again, she reached up resting her hand on his face. “She is…” She looked down at the baby again. “She has your stupidly perfect nose and chin.”

Kyle stared at Cassidy. Yes, she did have his nose and chin, but she had Y/N’s lips, her heart-shaped face, her hair, that was all Y/N. Y/N held the baby out to him, and he hesitated for a moment before taking her into his arms. She was so tiny, but so perfect. With her in his arms he finally broke, clutching her to his chest he let the tears fall, he buried his face into the bundle in his arms and sobbed, his body shaking. Y/N’s heart broke further, her strong, unflappable husband was crumbling to pieces in front of her and there was nothing she could do to fix it. She leaned against him, feeling one of his arms going around her shoulders, pulling her close so that they could cry together.

The nurse, who had silently returned to check on the broken family, slowly backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. She’d come back later. The family had a very long road ahead and she hoped that they had the support that they would need to get through this tragedy.

[greatwyrmgold]

When you watched/read Oshi no Ko, did you wonder what would happen if Abiko Samejima got isekai'd into a mid movie she loved as a kid? Well, Zenshu doesn't exactly answer that question, but it's as close as you're gonna get.

Which I didn't expect going in, because I saw that the main character was an animator and immediately stuck it on my to-watch list.

So. Things I like. Saying "production values" sounds dismissive, but the basics are solid. Animation and sound design and voice acting and stuff. And it's hard to analyze the story after one episode, but I like the characters.

The protagonist, Hirose Natsuko, is enjoyable. I don't like her as much as Abiko Samejima, but if we spent enough time in the real world to see her properly clash with others and retreat back into her shell and go into a creative fugue like we did with Samejima, I might. Especially since, despite my comparison, she's honestly not that much like her? She doesn't have that tension between aggressive defensiveness and people-pleasing, but she does have a lot of fun interactions with the characters and plot of the movie she gets isekai'd into. She's clearly spent much of her life thinking about this story.

Also, I fucking LOVE Natsuko's design. Abiko Samejima looks fine, but look at Natsuko!

Her face is hidden by her hoodie and overgrown mane, but there's enough color that she's not completely invisible. And since this is anime and not manga, the hair can flow or shift to indicate expressions that would otherwise be lost. Like when she's eating Oyster-kun, who had to sub in for Truck-kun, and you can see her chewing by how the hair moves? Great stuff! Too bad I haven't figured out how to do gifs.

Anyways, all of that makes it all the more impactful when, nineteen minutes into the episode, we see her face.

This bit reminds me a little of Wonder Egg Priority, for some reason. In a good way, except the part where I got sad remembering how WEP absolutely failed to stick the landing.

Not a fan of how long it takes Natsuko to figure out what happened to her. She's not even in denial, she just doesn't consider the possibility that the people who look like characters from her favorite movie and fought a monster exactly like in the movie ("shot for shot") and rode away on said movie's flying unicorn might not be cosplayers until she wanders through the desert and sits through another whole movie scene and notices an iconic bit of architecture.

Also, from how she describes the movie's reception, isekaitis (or at least an isekai-themed dream) is probably more plausible than finding a whole group of A Tale of Perishing cosplayers.

Swinging back to compliments, I like Natsuko's interactions with the twice-fictional characters. She's not quite treating them as full people, which they notice but mistake for her just being mundanely rude (and also weird). I get the sense that Natsuko's developed some headcanons that overshadowed the actual text of the film, or at least that she flanderized some of the less pleasing or consistent actions of its heroes out of her memory. And she really doesn't like the unicorn, mostly because he's annoying.

And now for some more insults. I wish Natsuko had more hair in her face after the animation crisis resolved; she's got some hair in her face in a couple shots, but it feels like she's mostly going to wear her hair like a normal person in the future. Look at the ED.

Normal-ass long hair on a normal-ass anime lady. It's not even all messy and scrungly. And her clothes are just, normal clothes. Extra-with-a-name energy. Boring.

More significantly, we don't get any kind of animation action. Natsuko's talking ruler turns into a magic animation desk, and she starts drawing, and there's a bunch of production values (derogatory this time), and a sketchy monster shows up to kersplode the Void army. Eizouken, this ain't.

I'll keep watching, but unless there's either a really compelling character arc or more focus on the animation side of things, I'll probably drop it before the end of the season.

[superxkorra]

Supercorp Snippet Prompt #1

@pocket-sand-fic said on my pinned post: "Ooh! Love this series! Maybe something where Eliza and/or Alex and Maggie have the first real meeting with Lena as Kara’s gf. I’d love to see them being protective and question if Lena is really ready/prepared first the “bad days” Kara can have.”

Thank you for the kind words! Here is the little snippet I wrote at 1k words exactly (the first draft was nearly 2k, the second was 1.5k, and I brought the third down to 1k). Hope you enjoy!

"Kara entered the hospital, a contrasting wave of discomfort and ease rolling through her. It was bittersweet.

She looked around briefly before approaching the front desk with a smile, “Hi Jolene, how are you?”

“Kara, always a treat to see you here, hun. How’s your day been?”

“Good. I’m here to see Dr. Luthor and Dr. Danvers, would you mind paging them if they’re not busy?” Kara asked. 

Jolene was a lovely woman who had worked at the hospital longer than Kara remembered. She was always there with a smile on her face and a personality that could make even Mr. Scrooge merry. 

“Of course, hun. They’d love to see you. Go on over there,” She gestured to a waiting area, “They’ll be here shortly.”

“Thank you,” Kara patted the reception desk as she walked away. 

The waiting area was pleasantly spacious. With a five-hundred-gallon saltwater aquarium, well-organized children’s space, comfortable chairs, reading material, and water bottles, Kara was satisfied.

She sat in a toddler sized chair by the tank, picking up a toy car as she watched the fish. The stock was akin to Finding Nemo. It was vibrant, interactive, and captivating. Not dissimilar to a child, Kara could watch it all day.

Midvale General was nearly complete with its renovations since Lena purchased the hospital nearly two years ago and began the project. It was incredible to see how far it had come, from poorly built and outdated to modeling the latest technology and exceptional infrastructure. 

With an expansive courtyard lined with gardens, vast windows, and vibrant halls, the psychological healing Lena has incorporated into the medical center has been astronomical. 

Lena has revolutionized the small town’s understanding of healing and health.

Kara was proud of her and the impact she’d made on Midvale. On her life. 

Kara was pulled out of her thoughts as a little boy walked up to her, “Hi kid. Wha—”

He snatched the Hotwheels car out of her hands and ran off. She called out, baffled, “Hey!”

Unbeknownst to her, Lena stood watching from the reception desk, a grin on her face and a soft laugh escaping her throat.

Jolene shook her head, “Go get her before she starts a fight with a five-year-old.”

Lena barked out a laugh and made her way over to the blonde with a smile, fitting her hands in her coat pockets,  “What a surprise, Kara” 

The blonde’s head whipped around to face her. She stood from the children’s chair, only to have it lodge itself around her hips. The firefighter fumbled for a moment, but miraculously got it unstuck before setting it down on the floor. 

She inhaled deeply and offered Lena a dopey smile, longing to reach out and peck her girlfriend on the lips or wrap her in a brief hug. But, they were in the workplace, and their relationship was just theirs, as of now. 

Lena clasped her hands, “What are you doing here?”

Kara smiled brightly, holding up a brown bag, “I’m on my lunch break and I thought I’d bring you and Eliza sandwiches.”

She wanted to add that it'd been a slow day, but she knew what would happen if she said that aloud.

The brunette inched forward, but before words came out, her attention was drawn away by another presence.

“Hi, sweetie,” Eliza walked up to Kara and placed a kiss on her cheek, “What are you doing here?”

Kara repeated with a smile, “Brought you and Lena lunch.”

Eliza grinned gratefully, “That’s so thoughtful, sweetie. Should we eat together in the courtyard?”

Kara checked her watch, “I have some time,” She looked at her mother and Lena, smiling as they started walking, “How’s your day been?”

_

Eliza was the first to bring up something unrelated to surgery while they were operating, “Dr. Luthor.” 

Her words were soft and nearly quiet, but Lena noted they were laced with something.

The Chief of Surgery hummed without losing concentration, “Dr. Danvers.”

“How long have you and my daughter been together?” Eliza asked without missing a beat. 

The nurses, though forced to listen to their conversation, kept quiet.

Lena’s hands never lost their momentum. The surgery was muscle memory at this point, and she was expertly going through the motions. She inhaled through her mask, “A little over a month.”

Eliza nodded, watching Lena’s movements. 

She stayed silent until fifteen minutes later and the two surgeons were scrubbing out, “I can tell you two care a lot about each other.”

“We do,” Lena nodded as she dried her hands.

“Are you happy?” Eliza asked caringly. 

Lena hummed, her tone and words left no room for question, “I’ve never been happier than I am when I’m with Kara and I’ve never loved anyone as much as I do her.”

Eliza smiled, “That’s all a mother can hope for,” Shectossed her towels in the trash, “It’s not my business and I’m sure you’re already aware,” 

Lena nodded.

“My daughter,” Eliza cleared her throat, “Kara suffers from serious PTSD. I’ve seen days where she doesn’t know where she is, or who I am. She’s changed since her time overseas.”

Lena swallowed, “I don’t mean to sound rude, Dr. Danvers, but where are you going with this?”

“I want to make sure that you’re safe with her and that you’re strong enough for those days because,” Eliza inhaled shakily, “Each one will destroy a part of you.” She wiped her wet eyes, “I want nothing but the best for you both, sweetheart. But I need to know that when the going gets tough, she can rely on you and you can come out the other end alright too.”

Lena inhaled deeply, “Of course. I love Kara so, so much. At the end of the day, I want her to know that I will always be there for her. I can handle the hard days, without a doubt Dr. Danvers.”

Eliza stepped forward and wrapped Lena in a hug, “Call me Eliza, dear.” 

Welcome to the family."

Well, what did you think? This will be part of my 8th installment to Your Love Was Home Supercorp series on AO3. I'm working on the 7th right now. It was a big challenge to limit myself to 1k words. I had to take so much out, which I will put right back into the 10-15k one shot, including Alex and Maggie's "reaction".

[alice-steel]

Man dies, goes to Hell. Not surprised to be in Hell, bit surprised by pleasant hotel front on arrival, polished oak furniture and reception desk, velvet curtains, lots of real gold detailing, bar with every drink he's ever heard of, restaurant with food from all over the world. Receptionist's a beautiful succubus with raven hair and green eyes, who welcomes him like a favourite customer. Behind hotel, patio, cream teas, ice creams, people having great time, 25 x 15 m swimming pool, 500 m tall waterslides, 18-hole golf course, forests, archery range, beautiful green hills. Demon in a golf cart offers to show him around. Tour of country lanes, crown green bowling places, dance halls, pubs, breweries, orchards, farmers' markets, cafés, sailing clubs, bird-watching places, hiking trails, all rather nice. Man asks Demon: "This Hell? Seems rather nice."

Demon replies: "Nice enough, nice enough. Heaven's better, 'course. They have mahogany and platinum in Heaven, and Ambrosia. Can't get Ambrosia here. Their golf course has 27 holes, their water slides are 1000 m tall, their receptionist's a redhead, so better, but we do alright here."

Tour goes on, jazz band, white-water kayak course, aquarium, skateboard park, and man's getting relaxed until golf cart crests ridge and landscape beyond is blasted rock, pock-marked from impacts, clouds of corrosive gas drifting over it, flames spurting from cracks, surrounding a great peak cloven as if by a huge axe, the chasm lit by the lava lake boiling within it. Damned souls climb the sides on fingers scraped and burned raw, only to be plucked from the rocks and hurled back into the fire by a great, scaly Demon with huge horns, tattered, bat-like wings, four arms and a whip covered in red-hot spikes.

Man sits bolt upright and screams.

Demon says: "Don't worry! Don't worry. Nothing to do with you, that. Not your problem. You're not going there."

Man turns to stare at Demon.

Demon explains: "That's the American Evangelicals."

Demon tells him: "We put it in specially for them. They insisted!"