#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.”

[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.”

[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 ✨️)

[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)

[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!"

[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.

[kittenofdoomage]

Hot For Teacher

Summary: He never forgot the teacher that had the most impact on him.

Prompt: Dean Winchester, in class, crushing on the teacher

Pairing: Dean Winchester x older!female!teacher!reader

Word Count: 5643 words

Warnings: fluff, crushes, slight angst, some mentions of John’s stellar parenting (don’t @ me, I love him, but I can be character critical), smut (nothing underage), flashbacks, reader is approaching forty, some humor about sex in later life.

Ao3 Link

“I’m telling you, man, this isn’t our thing,” Sam dismissed, following Dean through the doors into the high school reception. His brother grunted, flashing his badge at the security guard, who directed him to the desk where a gentleman was quietly reading.

“And I’m telling you, it might be.” Dean retorted, fixing a professionally fake smile onto his face, leaning on the desk with one elbow. “Agents Townsend and Daltry, we’ve got an appointment?”

The man peered at him over his glasses, pursing his lips for a split second as he glanced at the identification Dean was holding. After a second or two, he looked down, checking the clipboard wedged underneath his arm, before he smiled back at them. “Principal Matthews is in her office, I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Dean nodded, turning to move a little further away out of earshot. “We got five kids, swearing they saw a monster.”

“Yeah, highschoolers, seniors in their final year, acting out an urban legend,” Sam replied. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry right now.”

“Yeah? Got any leads?” the older man challenged. “Because last I checked, we had bupkis to go on.”

Sam sighed, but the argument was cut short as a door opened, and a tall lady with grey hair looked at them. “Agents?”

The office they stepped into was large, decorated sparsely with modern furniture, and a large flag behind her desk read “Gellar Gators, Go, Go, Go!” with a cartoon alligator in a football helmet. As Principal Matthews took her seat, both men turned to face her, though Dean was still inspecting everything.

“I assume this is about the recent attacks,” she started, folding her hands in front of her on the desk. “I’m not sure what I can tell you that I haven’t already told the police. They took all our security camera footage and -”

“Nothing to be seen,” Dean interjected with a nod, pulling out a notepad and a pen. “We’re just following up, seeing if anyone remembered anything different. Maybe something they didn’t want to tell the police?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” the principal asked, obviously confused. “I know some of the other children were saying it was a monster, but we all know how children can be.”

“We’re just trying to make sure no one else gets hurt,” Dean continued, keeping his tone gentle. “You’re aware that there was another victim last night?”

“Danny Elderman, yes, I’ve been told,” she murmured, shaking her head sadly. “His mother said he would make a full recovery though.”

Sam dragged his hand out of his pocket, gesticulating slightly. “All the attacks took place on school grounds, Principal Matthews.”

“And the police searched the whole place,” she defended. “I can assure you, Agents, we are taking this seriously. The students have all been instructed to report anything strange and there’s a curfew in effect.”

The brothers shared a look, realizing that this wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Dean cleared his throat, stepping a little closer. “We’re gonna stick around, speak to some of the students, if that’s okay.”

Principal Matthews nodded, gesturing to the door. “Of course, anything to help.”

Turning on his heel to head for the door, Dean’s gaze caught sight of a board, showcasing the faculty members with photographs and a brief description of their position. A single face jumped out at him, and for a moment, he was seventeen again. He froze, staring at it, before Sam’s fist jammed into his back and forced him to keep going.

Once outside, he stopped entirely, spinning around to face his brother. “Did you see her?” he asked, feeling a little breathless.

Sam’s face scrunched up. “Who?”

“On the faculty board. Miss. Y/L/N -” He laughed, shaking his head. “Outta all of the schools in the country -”

“Wait a minute,” Sam mumbled, remembering the name. “The math teacher from Luther High? That Miss. Y/L/N?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied excitedly. “Wonder if she remembers me?”

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. “She’s probably married with kids by now, Dean, it’s been nearly twenty years. It might not even be her.”

“It was.”

“Fine, say it is. What are you gonna do? Go tell her you had a crush on her when you were a kid?”

Dean pulled a face, irritated by his brother’s attitude. “Not hurting anyone if I just say hi,” he muttered bitterly, “and I didn’t say you had to come with me.”

Sam seemed glad of that, at least, and decided to leave Dean to make an ass of himself alone. The gentleman at the desk was more than happy to provide the “agent” with the classroom he needed, and as Dean strolled down the corridor towards her class, his mind began to wander back to 1996, and his three months in Dawney, Montana.

It wasn’t that he hated school, he just didn’t see the point of it, not when there were more important things in the world, like hunting. His dad had left them in this crummy mountain town while he tracked something through the forest, and Dean didn’t know how long they were going to be there. Attending high school was at least a way to pass the time, and it kept social services off their backs, as well as providing a useful tool for keeping an eye on his troublesome younger brother.

Sam was happy to be starting school again. Summer had dragged, and they’d been at loggerheads in their small rented room, with little to do to occupy the time. Luther High School wasn’t a huge campus, and it had barely four hundred students, so Dean was relieved of the pressure of trying to make friends when he didn’t want to.

The first day back, and he’d already managed to irritate the science teacher and the coach. His third period was math, and when the teacher walked in, Dean wasn’t sure she was a teacher at all. She was young, maybe a few years older than him, and she looked nervous as hell as she addressed her only senior class of thirty.

“Okay, good afternoon, everyone,” she greeted, dropping her stacks of paper onto the desk. “Hope you’re not too bored of learning after the summer break already.”

A kid in the middle raised his hand, and she pointed at him, waiting for his question. “Are you really our teacher?” he snorted. “You don’t look much older than us.”

She chuckled, tugging her blouse back down where it had ridden up. “I am definitely your teacher. Well, I’m a student intern. I’ve got a degree, I’m just working towards certification now.” Picking up a piece of chalk, she turned to the board and wrote her name out in neat cursive before turning back. “I’m Miss. Y/L/N.”

Another hand went up but this kid didn’t wait for permission. “How old are you?”

Miss. Y/L/N smiled. “Now didn’t your mama tell you it’s rude to ask a lady her age?” she chided. “If you really need to know, I’m twenty-two. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll hate me as much as if I was fifty,” she joked, picking up a sheet. “Anyway, we’re here to learn math, so why don’t you open your books to page thirty-three and we’ll crack on with some calculus. You’re gonna have to bear with me - they told me I was teaching ninth and tenth, so I wasn’t exactly prepared.”

In any other situation, Dean was sure he would have gone out of his way to make this poor woman’s life hell. He wasn’t a model student, and never had any intention of being one, but for some reason, as he watched Miss. Y/L/N fluster over her notes, apologizing repeatedly for the slightest thing, he didn’t feel the urge to be his usual irritating self. Instead, he kept his head down - when he wasn’t looking at her - and worked quietly, though he was certain he was getting every answer wrong.

The class ended, and the other students rushed to get out and onto their last lesson of the day, but as Dean went for the door, Miss. Y/L/N stopped him. He froze when she called his name, suddenly panicked that she had caught him staring, but the gentle smile on her face didn’t scream “trouble”.

“Dean,” she said softly, “sorry, I didn’t want to pick on you in front of everyone.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked carefully, the ever present concern of social services in the back of his mind.

“No!” she insisted, laughing lightly. “I was told you were new here, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t have trouble following. These guys can pick up where they left off last year, but sometimes high schools don’t always follow the same plan, y’know?”

“Oh, uh,” he scratched his head nervously, “I’m fine, y’know. It’s math.”

A bright smile lit up her face, and his heart did a funny fluttering thing that left him slightly breathless. “That’s great,” she enthused. “If you have any problems, feel free to come to me, okay?”

He smiled back, struggling to contain the boyish crow that wanted to burst out of him at her attention. “Sure,” he replied through gritted teeth, “thanks.”

It didn’t feel like he could get out of there quick enough. His last period was a blur, passing by him as he sat at the back, unnoticed by the graying gentleman trying to teach them about ancient Europe. Miss. Y/L/N’s smile haunted his thoughts, and he couldn’t focus on anything, even when he met Sam at the school gate.

“Dean?”

His brother’s voice snapped him out of his stupor as they walked home. “What?” he mumbled, staring over at him cluelessly.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“You weren’t paying attention to anything I just said.”

Another shrug. “Was it important?”

Sam scowled. “No, but -”

He groaned, picking up speed a little. “C’mon, man, I’m tired.”

There was a small hope that his newfound level of infatuation with the opposite sex was only a fleeting thing, but when Miss. Y/L/N walked into class the next day wearing tight fitting pants with a red blouse, he knew it wasn’t. He’d had plenty of experience with girls his age, and though she wasn’t much older, he wasn’t sure his experience would lend him any favors.

The worst part was wanting to please her. He actually paid attention, making an effort to understand the numbers instead of half-assing it like he’d done his entire life.

Confiding in Sam after school didn’t leave him with any more hope either.

“Dean, she’s a teacher.”

“She’s a student teacher.”

“I don’t think that matters much,” his brother denied. “Besides, aren’t we supposed to stay out of trouble? Social services aren’t gonna look the other way if you seduce a teacher.”

Dean grumbled unhappily. “I’m eighteen in a few months,” he complained.

“You really think we’ll be here then?” Sam asked, sadness in his voice. “We’ll be lucky if we’re still here for Halloween, Dean.”

“Guess I have to hope Dad comes to get us soon then,” he sighed.

John didn’t come back for them soon. He checked in every week, promising it wouldn’t be long, but weeks rolled into months, and Dean’s crush grew, developing into something his teenage heart wasn’t sure what to do with. Channeling his nervous energy into actually doing his work was landing him with good grades, and two months in, he brought home his first report card that didn’t include an “F”. Of course, only Sam was there to celebrate it, but he was a little proud of himself.

Two months into their tenure at Luther High, and one Wednesday after class, Miss. Y/L/N asked him to wait after class again. This period was the last of the day, so he didn’t rush, waiting until she’d cleared everyone out.

“I wanted to catch up,” she began, leaning against her desk and bracing her weight on her hands. “See how you were getting on.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, giving her an awkward smile. “Good, I guess,” he mumbled, the same nerves from their last chat reaching up into his throat to strangle him. He coughed lightly, shrugging. “It’s nice here.”

“Hmm,” she agreed, glancing out of the window. “It is. Not somewhere I’d wanna live forever though. What about you?” He shrugged, and she smiled gently. “I’ve read your file, Dean. Are you an army kid or -”

“My dad travels for work,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Can I ask what he does?”

He tensed, keeping his mouth shut, retreating to the safe behavior of brick walling it. Despite that instinct, there was an urge, something inside him telling him that she wouldn’t laugh at him or call child services, and it was getting harder to ignore as she eyeballed him for an answer.

She stood straight, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re a smart kid, Dean. You’ve shown that in your grades, that even with all the disruption, you’ve got a brain in there. Have you… have you considered what happens after school?”

He shrugged again. “The family business.”

“What does that mean?”

His heart thudded in his chest. “My dad, he…” Don’t do it, his father’s voice instructed sternly in his head. It never ends well. He swallowed again, trying to turn his voice to steel, to put her off like he had so many others. “He’ll be coming to get us soon. You’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t think I am,” she replied, ignoring the warning in his voice. “I don’t consider trying to help anyone to be a waste of time. And I feel like you might need some help. Even just - even just to talk to someone. Without judgment.”

An unattractive snort escaped him. “They all say that, sweetheart,” he advised her, the cockiness seeping out of him, “but that disappears when they hear what I gotta say.”

“Try me.”

The solidity of her challenge gave him pause, and he finally met her gaze, holding it for a few seconds. Even though he was significantly taller, she made him feel small, like she was seeing through him, and he shuddered, letting the guard drop.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “You’ll call some social worker. I’ve been through this before, and I’m not putting Sammy through that again.”

Miss. Y/L/N frowned, dropping her hands to her sides. “Your brother is Sammy, right?” He nodded. “I’ve had him for a couple classes. He’s a smart kid,” she paused, smiling, “just like his brother.” 

Dean watched her warily, feeling like prey on its back, belly exposed and vulnerable.

“The bonus of being a student teacher,” she continued, slowly walking to the door and closing it, “is I’m very good at missing things.” The lock clicked as she slid it into place, and she turned back to him. “Safe space, Dean. Whatever you need to get off your chest, I promise I won’t say a word to anyone.”

He stared at her, too terrified to move for a second. It wasn’t like his father was going to break the habit of a lifetime and build a life here, so telling her might not have many consequences, but then again, it was ingrained into him not to tell anyone about the family business.

Miss. Y/L/N waited, patiently, moving herself away from the door and back to her desk, giving him the space, and the exit, if he needed it.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” he finally asked softly, unwilling to meet her gaze just yet.

She shrugged. “I don’t not believe in them,” she replied. “I’ve never seen one myself.”

“And if I told you they are real? Like really real, and my dad kinda hunts them.” He rushed it out, still unable to look at her for fear of her reaction. “Other things too,” he whispered. “I’ve… I’ve seen things that… that give me nightmares.”

Her silence felt judgmental but when he eventually managed to look her in the eye, she was only staring at him with compassion. “That sounds terrifying,” she said quietly. “I can’t imagine anyone would sleep well with that knowledge.”

“Which is why I shouldn’t be telling you anything,” he growled, frustrated with himself. “Rule number one, don’t tell anyone what we do. And I went and broke it because -”

The abrupt end of his outburst made her frown. “Because?” she prompted, and he grunted, running a hand through his short hair. “Because?” she asked again, stepping closer.

“Because I like you,” he murmured, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Because you don’t look at me like I’m some kind of freak.” He turned away, embarrassed and ashamed, and ready to throw the towel in on the whole school thing.

Her hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, alert green eyes meeting hers in surprise. “I’m flattered,” she whispered, smiling gently. “And you’re not a freak. You’re a kid with a hell of a weight on his shoulders.”

It would have been lying to say he didn’t appreciate the validation. “I’m eighteen in January,” he muttered.

“Still illegal,” she chuckled. “Position of authority and all that.”

“I can assure you, I have no respect for authority,” he tried, turning on the charm, but it only made her giggle. The laughter didn’t hurt him, which was surprising, but he already knew he had no shot at her, legal or not.

“I’m not gonna pretend the thought of things being real isn’t terrifying,” she said slowly. “Obviously, I can’t relate. But I was seventeen not so long ago, and I remember how scary just regular life can be. You’re Sam's primary caregiver, right?”

“Uh-huh. When my dad’s not around, and -” He shrugged, trailing off, leaving the implication that his father wasn’t around much in the air.

“That’s a lot of responsibility at a young age. And Sam’s such a good kid, you should be proud.”

“I am.”

Miss. Y/L/N smiled, placing her hand on his shoulder again. “You’re a good person, Dean Winchester. Whatever you decide to do with your life, just don’t forget that, and I’ve got faith you’ll be okay.”

Two weeks later, Luther High School was in the rearview, and they were moving on.

She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered her. Standing outside her classroom, staring at her through the square window in the door, he felt seventeen again. Of course she’d aged, so had he, but for a woman pushing forty, she looked great.

Her class seemed focused on everything she was saying, and she seemed to be in her element at the front of the room, running through a mathematical problem on the board. Dean stepped closer, and the movement made her gaze dart to the door, her whole body freezing as she saw his face. Her lips stopped moving, eyes wide; the bell rang, saving her from her class noticing her sudden distraction, and she quickly dismissed them.

He waited outside the door until the room was empty, then stepped in, closing the door behind him. Miss. Y/L/N - he noted her name on the board, internally crowing that she was not married - smiled, folding her arms across her chest as she watched him approach.

“Dean Winchester,” she breathed. “That smart kid I always wondered about.”

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he greeted. “Best teacher I ever had. Can’t believe you recognized me.”

Her smile widened. “How could I forget a face that handsome?” she chuckled. “And it’s Y/N, please, we’re both grown ups now.” She looked him up and down, not even bothering to conceal her appreciation. “Never thought I’d see you again.”

“You’re still teaching,” he commented, looking around.

“I am. What about you?”

“Family business,” he murmured hesitantly, unsure if she’d remember. “Guess I never found another path I liked enough.”

She hummed. “Are you happy though?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “for the most part. Yeah.” His awkwardness was showing like twenty years had never passed, and he smiled, shoving one hand into his pocket. “What about you? Husband, kids?”

“Hmmm,” she mused. “Two cats and a ridiculous amount of books about monsters,” she confessed after a second or two, and he blinked at her in confusion. “Guess I couldn’t quite drop the questions after what you told me. Only reading though, I don’t ever want to meet one in person.” Her face contorted in horror. “Oh, god, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? The attacks - is it a monster?”

He pulled a face. “Not sure yet. My brother and I are looking into it -”

“Wait, your brother, Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“You weren’t kidding about family business,” she muttered.

“I take it you didn’t see or hear anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I don’t stay past dark, and I only teach the juniors now. You’d be better off talking to Mr. Harrison, several of his students were involved.” A knock at the door made them both turn, and Dean waved at Sam on the other side. “Is that Sam?” she asked, sounding a little shocked. “Wow. He got tall.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, he did.” He looked back at her, a smirk on his lips. “Listen, when we’ve dealt with this,” he began slowly, “I’d really like to buy you dinner. I don’t think I gotta worry about getting you in trouble now we’re both graying adults.”

Her laughter was music to his ears, and she turned to her desk, bending to scribble her number on a scrap of paper. Dean took the opportunity to admire her ass in the tight-fitting black pants, and his cock reacted at the thought of finally getting what his teenage fantasies had been made of.

She straightened and slipped the scrap of paper into his hand, closing his fingers around it. “I’m certain we can still find plenty of trouble to get into,” she purred, the sudden seduction making him flustered as Sam knocked on the door again.

“I bet we can,” he stuttered out, backing up towards the door. “I’ll call you, Miss….” He laughed nervously as he corrected himself. “Y/N.”

It hadn’t taken more than another few hours to figure out the case was vampires, and Mr. Harrison was actually the creature in question. He’d been turned on a wild weekend and had decided to attempt sustainable feeding, using his young students as walking blood bags. Unfortunately, the light snacks weren’t enough to keep him going, and it was only by the grace of Sam and Dean’s presence that the final victim wasn’t a casualty.

Dean was nervous to call her when they were finally done hunting the vamp down and when he finally dialed the number, he was half-expecting it to be fake. She answered after four rings, and he stumbled over his words as he asked her if she was still interested in dinner. Her answer was a resounding yes, and he let her take the lead on a place and time.

“You’re going on a date?” Sam asked, disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m going on a date,” Dean snapped, buttoning up his nicest shirt, one of his newer red plaid button downs. “One, I haven’t had sex in months, and two, she’s literally my teenage fantasy.” He paused, tossing his brother a dirty look. “Three, maybe you should consider getting laid.”

Sam sneered at him, then threw himself on the bed, switching the tv on. “I guess I’ll stay here then.”

“You do that,” Dean grinned, grabbing his jacket. “Don’t wait up.”

She was waiting for him in a little Italian place downtown, and it was all he could do not to grin like an idiot when he walked in and saw her. Her smile was bright as he sat down opposite her, both of them remaining silent as the server handed them each a menu.

“Hi,” she whispered, leaning in. “You look really good.”

Dean let his gaze drop, admiring the view of her cleavage in the little black dress she’d paired with leggings. “Hi yourself,” he murmured, smirking lightly. “That’s a very distracting dress.”

“Would you have preferred I wore a pantsuit?” she teased, giggling when his cheeks turned red. “This place is great, any of their pasta is amazing.”

“You eat here often?”

She nodded, smiling at him again. “It’s my favorite place.”

He didn’t know what it had been about her all those years ago, but she was the same now, coaxing him into an easy conversation. They talked about everything from her life to snippets of his, though she avoided asking about anything too intense, and he avoided sharing anything too disturbing. It was nice for once to just be a regular person, without the need to be incredibly guarded about his secrets.

Dinner moved onto dessert, and they kept talking, flirting with each other as the restaurant emptied around them. By the time their meal was finished, Dean had begun to envision what happened after, but when it came to propositioning it, he found himself unusually nervous.

She called for the check and insisted on paying, so he didn’t argue, sitting nervously as she thanked and tipped the server. When they disappeared again, leaving them alone, she turned her attention to him, smiling almost coyly.

“I’m not gonna pretend this is anything more than what it is,” she said suddenly, keeping her voice even and quiet. “One night between two adults, who they’ll probably never see again, right?”

He sighed with a tiny laugh, leaning his arm on the table. “I’m not the type to settle down,” he replied calmly. “And this life…”

“I get it,” she whispered, taking his hand. “I’m not looking for long haul. But I wouldn’t mind making a happy memory or two.” Her lips twitched into a smile. “Besides, I don’t wanna have gotten all dressed up for nothing.”

“I can assure you,” he replied firmly, “you did not.”

She grinned. “My place is about four blocks away.”

“My car’s outside.”

His inner seventeen year old, if such a thing existed, was jumping for joy as she led him out of the restaurant. She admired his car openly, prompting him to act out just a little, showing off his baby with pride before driving them back to her apartment. The aforementioned cats were meowing loudly when they entered, and he followed her into the kitchen, shedding his jacket as she fed the whining felines.

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly, returning to him once she’d washed her hands.

He smirked, bypassing conversation as he slid his fingers along her jaw and into her hair, pulling her into a passionate kiss that made her sigh when he pulled away a few seconds later. “Wow,” he murmured, staying close, noses tip to tip. “You know how many times I dreamed about doing that?”

“Did you ever dream about being in my bedroom?” she teased, twisting her finger in the collar of his shirt.

“Actually, most of the time, I was thinking about bending you over your desk,” he grinned, sliding his other hand over her hip. “I’m guessing you don’t have one in here?”

“No,” she giggled. “Will the bed do?”

“Lead the way.”

Her shoes were abandoned by the time they reached the bedroom door, with his shoes following just inside. Pants, shirt, and dress landed in another pile, and as they hit the bed, her leggings disappeared, his t-shirt following in rapid succession. His hands were everywhere he could put them, lips kissing every patch of skin revealed unless he was preoccupied by her mouth, and she whimpered when his fingers deftly unhooked and discarded her bra.

If only seventeen-year-old him had known this would happen one day.

Finally, he broke away to catch his breath, chuckling when he noticed her breathing heavily too. “If this had been ten years ago,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Tell me about it,” she agreed, reaching for the drawer beside her bed, opening it and pulling out a box of condoms. He happily took one but didn’t open it, flashing a grin at her. “What?” she asked.

“You’re rushing me,” he chided softly. “I have no intention of doing anything but savoring this moment.”

Any reply she had to that disappeared as his fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties, finding her already wet. Her moan drowned out his, and she clutched his shoulder as he eased a single finger into her, thrusting it back and forth to coax more wetness out of her.

“Oh, fuck,” she whined, arching a little, hips canting toward him in an effort to get more friction. “Oh, fuck, Dean -”

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, “can’t wait to have this pussy wrapped around me.” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder as he added a second, opening her up. “But I want you to cum first.”

It was pointless trying to quiet her own noises, giving up when biting her lip didn’t cut it. Dean worked her higher and higher, watching her facial expression crumble as she reached her peak, her cries turning silent when he twisted his hand and grazed his thumb against her clit.

“I really wanna eat you out,” he murmured, lowering his voice to a rumble, and she quickly nodded, giving him the permission he was seeking. Withdrawing his hand, he left her teetering on the precipice of an orgasm as he removed her panties and slotted himself between her thighs.

His tongue was warm against her sensitive sex and she cried out again as he explored her, figuring out what made her tremble. She was drowning in a haze of arousal, unable to think about anything beyond his mouth on her cunt, and when he sank two fingers into her again, she had to fight the urge to close her thighs against the pleasure.

Dean was in heaven, working her into a frenzy with his tongue and fingers. He’d had a lot of time to think about this particular fantasy, and having her here, wet and warm and inviting, writhing underneath him, he was certain he’d peaked. He knew he would be replaying this one on repeat forever.

“Deeean,” Y/N whimpered, fingers tugging on his short hair. “Fuck, I’m so close -”

He broke away, working his fingers into her harder as she spread herself open a little more. “Don’t worry,” he growled, “just let go, baby.”

Her cries echoed off the walls when he sucked her clit into his mouth, teasing the bud and crooking his fingers inside her to find that extra sweet spot. It didn’t take long; she wailed as her pussy clenched around him, her pleasure ringing in his ears, but he didn’t stop, working her through the climax until she went limp.

He couldn’t keep the filthy smirk off of his face as he got onto his knees and retrieved the condom from where he’d dropped it. “You doing okay there, Miss. Y/L/N.”

“Don’t,” she panted with a giggle. “You’ll make it awkward when people call me that.”

“Spoilsport,” he chuckled, opening the foil packet and tugging the condom free. “You still want this?”

She pushed herself up on shaking arms. “Uh-huh.”

A few seconds later and the condom was on. He stroked himself a few times before leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss, guiding the tip of his cock through her folds until she whimpered into his mouth. Her pussy was dripping, eagerly accepting every inch as he sank inside her, drawing back a couple of times when he met resistance, but not stopping until he was buried deep.

He had to stop then, feeling how hard his heart was racing. She caught his jaw with her hand, kissing him softly, lifting her right leg to press her knee against his side, allowing him to slip a tiny bit deeper. “Dreams do come true,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers.

“You always were hot for teacher,” she joked, and he chuckled, kissing her hard again before starting to rock against her. He didn’t rush, enjoying every thrust, relishing the way her body drew him back in, keeping him close. She didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t in a hurry, letting him push her into an easy orgasm. His hands wandered, toying with her tits when he was going slower, grabbing her hips when he got faster, a little more urgent.

“Want you to cum again,” he growled, holding her leg in place as he fucked into her, “Wanna feel it right around my dick.”

“Uh-huh,” she managed, clinging to his neck. “Wanna feel y-you too.”

He nodded then kissed her, focusing on nothing but how good she felt in his arms, underneath, around him. So soft and wet, warm, inviting, his literal dream come true. Even if this was only one night, he knew he’d never forget her.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “Dean -”

Her whole body quivered, thighs clenching around him as her pussy tightened, and he couldn’t hold it off, reacting with his own climax. His vision swam, and he couldn’t think beyond her warmth, her taste, her moans as she came for him. She clung to him until they were both done, collapsing with him onto the bed. Breathlessly, he kissed her one last time, withdrawing reluctantly to lay beside her.

“Holy shit,” she groaned, flinging an arm over her eyes. “I’m not gonna lie… the bar was low. You obliterated it.”

Dean chuckled, folding his hands behind his head, allowing the swell of pride in his chest. “That - that was awesome,” he agreed. “A dream come true. Literally.”

Y/N yawned, reaching over to place a hand against his chest. “I hope you’re not expecting a round two.”

He grinned. “Maybe in the morning.”

Thanks for reading! Please consider reblogging, maybe even leaving a comment? 😘

[zapreportsblog]

↱ debts and new beginnings ↰

➘ summary : Tobikichi Usahara didn’t expect to ever clear up his debt. Turns out all he needed was a push in the right direction.

 ➘ Tobikichi Usahara x reader , Life Lessons With Uramichi Oniisan x Reader

Tobikichi Usahara gazed out of the window, his mind swirling with a mixture of anxiety and uncertainty. The bustling city below seemed like a blur as he grappled with the weight of his mounting debts. Despite the vibrant colors of the streets and the cheerful chatter around him, his thoughts were dominated by the shadows of unpaid bills and overdue loans. His days on the set of the popular variety show "Together with Maman" were filled with laughter and camaraderie, but his nights were haunted by financial worries that refused to let him rest.

Tobikichi's co-worker, Yuki, who played alongside him on the show, noticed his distracted demeanor during a break. Yuki had always been perceptive and quick to offer support when needed. As the crew dispersed, Yuki approached Tobikichi with a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Tobikichi, I've noticed you've been a bit down lately. Is everything okay?"

Tobikichi sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's these loans, Yuki. They're closing in on me, and I can't seem to find a way out."

Yuki nodded understandingly. "I've been there before. But you know, there might be a way to get some relief. Have you heard of Business Loan Helpers?"

Tobikichi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Business Loan Helpers? What's that?"

Yuki leaned in, her voice lowered as if sharing a secret. "They're an organization that specializes in helping people like us who are buried in debt. They pay off your loans in exchange for your commitment to work for them. They offer various jobs, and you work off your debt through your hard work."

Tobikichi's interest was piqued, but his skepticism lingered. "Sounds a bit sketchy, doesn't it? What kind of work would they make me do?"

Yuki grinned, reassuringly. "It's not as bad as it might sound. They focus on community service – things like making delivery runs, assisting at animal shelters, and helping out at homeless shelters."

Tobikichi's curiosity battled with his reservations. "Community service? That doesn't sound too bad, I suppose."

After a few days of contemplation, Tobikichi found himself standing in front of the Business Loan Helpers office. The sleek glass doors and modern interior design gave an air of professionalism to the place. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and entered the reception area.

A young woman behind the reception desk looked up from her work and greeted him with a warm smile. "Welcome to Business Loan Helpers! I'm (Y/N). How can I assist you today?"

Tobikichi cleared his throat, feeling a mix of nerves and hope. "I've heard about your services and thought I'd come to learn more."

(Y/N) gestured towards a comfortable seating area. "Of course, please take a seat. I'd be happy to explain everything."

As Tobikichi settled into a chair, he took in the office's clean and inviting atmosphere. "(Y/N), how exactly does Business Loan Helpers work? How can you help me pay off my loans?"

(Y/N) leaned forward, her expression empathetic. "We believe in providing individuals with a fresh start. We pay off your loans for you, and in return, you work for us. The work we offer focuses on community service – things like making delivery runs, assisting at animal shelters, and helping out at homeless shelters."

Tobikichi leaned back, considering the proposition. "So, I'd essentially trade my debt for my time?"

(Y/N) nodded, her smile warm and encouraging. "Exactly. It's a way to not only alleviate your financial burden but also make a positive impact in your community."

Tobikichi's skepticism still lingered, but a glimmer of hope began to emerge. "It's an interesting concept, I'll admit. But is this all above board? I mean, it sounds almost too good to be true."

(Y/N) chuckled softly. "I understand your concerns. We're a legitimate organization, fully registered and operating within the bounds of the law. Our aim is to help individuals while also contributing positively to society."

Tobikichi tapped his fingers thoughtfully. "It's a unique proposition, no doubt. If this is a chance to finally break free from my debts, maybe it's worth a shot."

(Y/N)'s smile widened. "That's all we ask for – an open mind and a willingness to take a step towards change. We'll provide you with all the details, and you can decide if this path aligns with your goals."

As Tobikichi walked out of the Business Loan Helpers office, a mix of uncertainty and newfound hope churned within him. The idea of swapping his debts for meaningful work was intriguing, but he knew that challenges would undoubtedly arise. Little did he realize that this decision would not only reshape his financial landscape but also lead him on a journey of self-discovery, unexpected friendships, and the opportunity to make a tangible difference in the lives of others through the act of service.

Weeks turned into months, and Tobikichi's days became a whirlwind of activity as he juggled his responsibilities on the set of "Together with Maman" and his commitments to Business Loan Helpers. With each passing day, he felt a growing sense of fulfillment that he hadn't experienced in a long time. The weight of his financial burden was gradually lifting, replaced by a newfound purpose and a community of like-minded individuals.

Tobikichi's interactions with his co-stars and the crew on the variety show began to evolve as well. He found himself sharing his experiences with Aoi and Yuki, his once-private struggles now serving as a bridge to deeper connections. The camaraderie that had always existed on set deepened, as everyone rallied around each other's victories and challenges.

One afternoon, during a break on set, Yuki approached Tobikichi with a smile. "You seem more alive these days, Tobikichi. Something's changed."

Tobikichi chuckled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "It's true. Ever since I joined Business Loan Helpers, I've found a sense of purpose that I didn't realize I was missing. Helping out at the shelters, making those delivery runs – it's been eye-opening."

Yuki nodded, clearly pleased to see the positive impact that Tobikichi's decision had brought to his life. "It's amazing how sometimes the most unexpected choices can lead to the most fulfilling outcomes."

As time passed, Tobikichi's involvement with Business Loan Helpers became more ingrained in his routine. He became adept at his delivery runs, navigating the city streets with ease. He formed bonds with the shelter animals, providing them with much-needed care and affection. And as he helped out at the homeless shelters, he began to understand the stories and struggles of the individuals he encountered, building bridges of empathy and compassion.

One day, after finishing his shift at the animal shelter, Tobikichi received a call from (Y/N), the founder of Business Loan Helpers. Her voice held a note of excitement as she shared some news.

"Tobikichi, we've noticed your dedication and the positive impact you've been making. We'd like to offer you an opportunity to take on a leadership role within our organization."

Tobikichi's heart raced, a mixture of surprise and pride welling up within him. "A leadership role? What would that entail?"

(Y/N) explained, "We've seen your commitment, and we believe your experience and enthusiasm make you a great fit to help guide others who are starting on this journey. You'll be responsible for mentoring new participants and helping them navigate their own path toward debt relief and community service."

Tobikichi's mind raced as he considered the proposition. The idea of mentoring others resonated deeply with him, a chance to pay forward the support and guidance he had received.

"I'd be honored to take on that role," he replied, his voice filled with determination. "I want to help others discover the same sense of purpose and empowerment that I've found."

(Y/N)'s smile was evident in her voice. "We're thrilled to have you on board, Tobikichi. Your journey is just beginning, and we're excited to see how far you'll go."

As Tobikichi hung up the phone, he couldn't help but reflect on how far he had come since that first hesitant step into the Business Loan Helpers office. The shadows of his financial worries had gradually given way to the light of meaningful work, personal growth, and the warmth of new friendships. With a renewed sense of purpose, Tobikichi looked toward the future with anticipation, ready to embrace the challenges and joys that lay ahead on his path to financial freedom and a life rich with purpose.

As the days turned into weeks, Tobikichi's involvement with Business Loan Helpers deepened. He embraced his new role as a mentor, guiding others who were walking a similar path to the one he had embarked upon. His enthusiasm was infectious, and he found solace in knowing that he was making a real difference in people's lives.

Among those he mentored was a young woman named Mari, who had recently joined the program. She had the same initial skepticism that Tobikichi had felt, but his stories of transformation and growth had inspired her to take the plunge.

During their first meeting, Tobikichi found himself recounting his own journey, the doubts he had overcome, and the unexpected rewards he had reaped. Mari listened with rapt attention, her eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and hope.

"You really think this can work for me too?" Mari asked, a trace of uncertainty in her voice.

Tobikichi smiled warmly, his own experiences lending him a newfound sense of confidence. "Absolutely, Mari. It won't be easy, but if you're willing to put in the effort, you can change your life in ways you never thought possible."

As Tobikichi continued to mentor Mari, he found himself reflecting on the impact that (Y/N) had on his own journey. Her guidance, encouragement, and unwavering belief in him had been pivotal in his transformation. And as he spoke about her to Mari, he couldn't help but notice a growing warmth in his heart.

The more time Tobikichi spent at the Business Loan Helpers office, the more he found himself drawn to (Y/N). He admired her dedication, her passion for helping others, and the way she seamlessly balanced the demands of her role. Her presence brightened even the gloomiest days, and he felt a deep sense of gratitude towards her.

One evening, after a busy day of mentoring and community service, Tobikichi found himself alone in the office with (Y/N). They had just finished discussing the progress of some of the participants, and (Y/N) turned to him with a smile.

"I've been hearing such positive feedback about your mentoring, Tobikichi. You have a way of inspiring others and helping them find their own strengths."

Tobikichi's heart swelled with pride at her words. "(Y/N), I have to admit, your support and guidance have been instrumental in my own journey. I wouldn't be where I am today without you."

(Y/N)'s cheeks tinged with a faint blush, her smile softening. "I'm glad to hear that, Tobikichi. It's always rewarding to see the impact we're making in people's lives."

As Tobikichi looked into her eyes, a warmth spread through his chest. He admired her even more for her humility and dedication, and he couldn't deny the growing affection he felt towards her. But he also couldn't shake the feeling that pursuing anything beyond a professional relationship could complicate things – not just for him, but for the participants who looked up to him as a mentor.

As the days turned into weeks, Tobikichi continued to spend time with (Y/N) while focusing on his mentorship role. Their conversations deepened, and he cherished the moments when their paths crossed. And though he kept his feelings in check, he couldn't help but wonder if (Y/N) sensed the subtle shift in his demeanor.

With each passing day, Tobikichi's admiration for (Y/N) grew stronger, and he found himself more thankful than ever for the chance Business Loan Helpers had given him – not just for the debt relief, but for the opportunity to connect with someone who had played a significant role in his journey towards a better life.

[cursed-angelic-art]

Title: Rivers and Oceans Author: me! Rating: M Relationship: Furina (Genshin Impact)/Neuvillette (Genshin Impact)

Dear Neuvillette,

I request your presence at my residence next Thursday evening at 18:00. There is a matter of some importance that I wish to discuss with you. I will provide dinner.

Sincerely,

Furina

Neuvillette sits in his office at the Palais Mermonia, light streaming through the grand windows, casting an array of cool colors over his still features. He has sat like this, letter in hand, unblinking, no longer scanning its contents, for a solid five minutes. Sedene has started to wonder whether she should ask if all is well when he finally shifts, setting it on his desk, and sighs.

The letter, upon reception, had filled him with a cautious joy. It has been more than two months since Furina moved out of the Palais Mermonia, and the times they have spoken since have been brief, countable on one hand. They had lunch at a cafe a few weeks ago, after her performance in The Little Oceanid and the meeting was a bittersweet thing. He had been struck then, as he had been struck many times before and since, by this particular sorrow: Here was his most intimate companion of 500 years, yet he had never thought to ask why the bravado she carried was always so ill-fitting, always sat so heavily upon her. How else has he failed her? What else has escaped his attention? His mistakes are as innumerable as the sands upon the shore.

What doesn’t escape him now is the lack of a ‘my’ before ‘Dear Neuvillette.’ There is little to be gleaned from this perfunctory note except for the lack of familiarity he is used to in their missives. It would appear Furina now feels just as cautious around him as he does around her.

Two months…Never has time felt so precious a commodity to one so old.

Read the whole fic

[amyriadfthings]

Rewatching the scene where Varian receives Thomas´ letter and the moment it hits him who it´s from he´s literally taken aback: you can see him shift his weight and he even has to let go of the letter with one hand to reach out to the reception desk for support. (It´s a subtle move bc the desk is out of frame, but I love that you can tell.) Of course then the camera also cuts to Paul´s face, making it even clearer to us how obvious the impact of the letter is to an observer.

I don´t think the letter itself is very long, but when Paul turns away to get the map Varian asks for oh so businesslike and casual, it looks like Varian is reading it again. (Beautiful eye, brow and jaw work there, Mr. Smith🏆 )

It´s so clear that Varian just got hit by something heavy even though he remains so carefully stoic. It´s also clear that he´s not succeeding in hiding all of his emotions as hard as he tries. By the end of this short scene we´re made aware something big is coming Varian´s (and our) way.

[anysin]

The Loophole

For the anon who wanted dark!Jon, Tim and Danny with "dating the enemy's sibling" prompt, here is a ficlet for you! Set in an AU where Danny survived Stranger but is massively traumatized, which leads to Jon maneuvering things a little differently in S2. SFW but creepy Jon.

The Loophole

Tim, who usually knows his place, shocks Jon today by barging right into his office.

"Stay away from my brother," he sneers.

Jon glares at Tim, then at the open door. "Close the door so we can discuss this properly," he says.

"I think not." Tim strides over to Jon's desk, leaving the door gaping open. He slams his hands on Jon's desk, hard enough to make Jon jump a bit. "I have tried to tolerate whatever is going on with you for weeks, even though you have been an absolute freak this whole time. But I draw the fucking line at you messing with Danny."

Jon frowns before standing up, so he can be more at the level of Tim's eye.

"Have you ever stopped to consider," he asks, "that maybe he likes it?"

Tim's eyes flow wide. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your brother has his problems for sure. But he still very much has a will of his own." Jon let himself smile a bit. "Do you really think he would tolerate my presence if he didn't, on some level, enjoy it?"

"You're lying." But Jon can see it in Tim's eyes, how hesitation settles in. Jon takes advantage of this, leaving Tim lingering by his desk while he goes to close the door. He doesn't need Martin or Sasha listening to them.

Not when he finally has Tim right where he wants him.

"Your brother is very lonely," he says, shutting the door. He considers locking it for a moment, but decides not to; Tim already must feel trapped. "His trauma may have made him lock up into his home, but he still longs for the rest of the world, and people in it. He was very receptive to me when I came to him."

He turns towards Tim, who is still standing by his desk. Tim is gripping the edge of it, his knuckles pale.

"You think you protect him, and to certain extent you do. But you have also enabled his isolation, encouraged it." Jon paces over to Tim, stopping right behind him. "I think you like it that way. Him away from dangers, less worry and concern for you."

"You know nothing." But Tim's voice is quiet, wounded. He is trembling slightly.

"I know enough." Smiling behind Tim, Jon reaches up for his shoulder, resting his hand lightly down on it. "I know you think that's love. It's not."

He is prepared for a violent reaction, perhaps even a punch. Tim yanks his shoulder away from Jon's reach, but he doesn't try to attack him, moving away instead, heading back towards the door. Jon lets him go, watching him until Tim is grasping the door handle.

"If you want me to stay away from Danny, you should ask his opinion about it."

Tim's grip tightens around the handle, but he doesn't open it. He stands there instead, silent, shaking, the very picture of helpless rage.

Jon quite likes the sight of him that way.

"I will," Tim replies. "We're not done."

But Tim's exit is much less brisk than his entrance, his steps full of doubt, and Jon knows he has made the impact he has wanted.

It won't take Tim long to break.

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

TH had almost more streams in Thailand than they have active Spotify users. Does that sound organic? 20% of Slow Dancing’s entire day one streams came from Thailand. 20%. Almost a quarter of his streams came from one country, a country that has a small Spotify user base. US has the largest amount of Spotify users. I think like 80mil? Whatever it is, it’s a lot. SD got like, 380k streams from the US and then dropped off the charts day two. The US is the biggest music market, with the highest number of Spotify users, and he couldn’t even stay on the charts more than a day, with a debut lower than Jimin’s b-side.

And let’s not act coy and pretend like a lot of SEA fans aren’t widely known as monster streamers. It’s not a big deal. A lot of ARMYs appreciate and rely on those streaming methods for good debuts and longevity, and obviously it’s not all or even most SEA fans. All fans are equally valuable and appreciated. But if we’re having a conversation about how successful TH’s debut was, I think it does matter that he underperformed in the biggest music markets, and it’s relevant the bulk of his streams came from places known for their aggressive streaming methods, and that a third of his albums came from a single country known for bulk buying.

Also longevity? Dropping a whopping 4million streams on day 8 aside, Taehyung’s debut just showed he completely failed to break outside of the ARMY bubble (which is the same for most of them tbf). And actually, I wonder if all those loyal tkkrs are even watching his ‘super amazing’ tiny desk performance looking at the views. Literally no one outside of ARMY cares about his “live” performances because no one is even watching them, so what does that have to do with longevity? And maybe the fact that the majority of his fans are shippers could explain why his music seems to have tanked on all relevant charts. And I hate billboard and I wish it didn’t matter because they suck and this competition with numbers is stupid. But it’s what the company is paying attention to, aggressively marketing towards, and obviously BTS cares. Remember how they reacted to their first #1? The way they flexed all the #1s that followed? TH did fine, but he definitely didn’t gain any substantial achievements that made his debut stand out. And if you’re going to talk about album sales, then you better be saying that Stray Kids and Seventeen are bigger than BTS.

And Jimin will be just fine. He gained so much prestige and clout from that bb#1, as well as his big and surprising success in the UK and other charts. And the way he did that without major company push? Just the bare bones rollout they all got (with the expedition of JK)? For an album that was more of a personal project for him than anything else, with just a small in-house team from BH? Yeah. And then look at the kind of impact he had on their stocks, an impact that was directly attributed to him. No one cared about the stupid encore outside of kpoppies who all have LC on their playlists anyways, or antis who are always desperately looking for things to drag. Now every time Jimin does something he has that highly coveted bb#1 artist attached to his name, and that’s a huge boon for him and his solo career, as stupid and obnoxious as billboard is. Not to mention how incredibly pleased his fans were by his music and performances, which is the most important aspect. I’m sure there are TH stans who really love his music but… well… we all saw the ARMY reception to SD vs LC. TH's music is divisive at best, and no, that doesn’t mean he has more artistry or whatever you want to say. Because Indigo was also more alternative and niche, but had a completely different and more positive reception. Also R&B is an incredibly popular genre.

And let’s not even get into a conversation about artistry. Taehyung’s lyrics literally had no depth, he didn’t have a single credit on his album, and he didn’t even have choreography to add any layers to his performances. His MVs were pretty, but weren’t even interesting. One of his gimmicks was literally having his dog walk out on the stage? It was very cute and I love how much he loves Yeontan, but artistry? When we were decoding German poetry and talking about philosophy, gender identity, escapism, psychology? Interpreting lyrics and choreography and even the name of the album and the promo material? It’s not even close. Tell me what was Layover even about? What was the story? What in there was personal or meaningful to him? Nothing wrong with just doing fun, shallow music sometimes, it can be awesome and I hope JM dabbles in that, but KTHs are the ones trying to spin this whole narrative about artistry to put down other members and feel better about an album that got a lukewarm reception and actually has little to no depth. It’s just surface and visuals and aesthetic. Not to mention the actual music aspect where JM tried and explored different genres, experimented with his voice, and pushed himself as an artist... All my respect to TH who did just fine, who did amazing by any non-BTS ML standard, all that should matter is if you like the music at the end of the day, but let’s not pretend his debut was something it wasn’t.

I'll just post this because you wrote so much 😅 but it really shouldn't have been turned into such a big deal because it wasn't. Like crazy also gets "bots streams" accusations and I'm surprised a Taehyung fan wouldn't know that, since it was actually them who spent years saying pjms bought streams for Jimin.

And one more thing I'll say is that I live in a 3rd world country. We've had more than 100% inflation rate this year so far, and the year isn't even over. A dollar costs 70 times more than our money, and Spotify cashes us in our local money, but it's the equivalent to the price in dollars. Add to that the government taxes, which is the price in dollars + 65% of it in taxes only. It ends up being a lot. I only have one family premium Spotify account that I share with my cousins and siblings.

So I didn't take their pity party seriously because 1) they were rude for no reason instead of trying to have a conversation about it 2) I obviously never meant it that way and I would never make fun of underdeveloped economies since I'm literally living in one lmao

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

It’s not that Harry hadn’t understood Tom’s desire to rule the world someday, somehow. It’s just that…well, he hadn’t.

Harry knew one thing: Tom worked harder than anyone else. Even if Hermione sometimes shook her head in disbelief, Harry would insist. It was a fact he refused to shake.

He had watched Tom’s every step: picked him up from the orphanage during summers, sat with him in magical and muggle libraries alike, and saw him cast spell after spell to prepare for every practical, every test. And when Hogwarts was over and done, Harry watched how Tom climbed the political ladders, smooth-talked the right people, made the best connections, and cared for worthy causes. Tom didn’t just get handed the Minister’s desk; he earned it.

And sitting in Tom’s office, behind this desk, waiting for the Minister—waiting for his husband—leaning his forearms on the smooth glossy wood top and letting his fingertips trail official documents too silky soft to be made of any standard old parchment…Harry could maybe see the appeal. He could finally understand the why. 

There was a kind of rush sitting here, the type that only spurred from certain knowledge and a level of instilled confidence that most probably didn’t have, weren’t taught, weren’t born with, or didn’t need. That giddy feeling like he was suddenly unstoppable. And it came with a package deal, the desk, the office, the title and all.

But Tom was someone with plenty of confidence and certainty in his knowledge. Harry would definitely describe him as someone naturally unstoppable as well. So was the shine of everything just a facade? Did it hide a type of reassurance, maybe?

Tom seemingly didn’t need something like reassurance, but coming from nothing surely had its impact. So even if he had all those qualities in spades, all the shine and extra little things—parts to a whole picture that made up the idealised vision Tom had of power—maybe they gave Tom the proof he needed more than anyone else. 

And if that were the case, Harry would just have to continue to strive to support Tom no matter what. Show him he didn’t require all of this, hadn’t had it all this time, and wouldn’t need it later.

Harry continued to admire the room and desk in a newfound light, lost in his thoughts. The feeling of the office wards parting like liquid, a waterfall of severing magic, brought him out of his musing.

He called out, lilting, “I’ve been waiting, you know.”

“Long?” Tom’s voice trickled in from the other side of the slightly ajar door. After all, one couldn’t just apparate directly into the Minister’s office. There was a floo room for the reception of guests and where Tom’s assistant would eventually make base.

“Hmm, no. Not very.” Harry rested his head on his palms and watched Tom enter the office. His eye sought Tom’s playful smirk immediately.

“Really?” Tom scoffed. And it was music to Harry’s ears. “Odd, considering you look oh so comfortable.”

“Well, I figured I’d make myself at home. Merlin knows you’ll be living out of this office soon enough.“ He spun and pointed to a random wall, “I’m thinking of requesting a bed in that corner. What do you think?” Harry asked teasingly, pleased to hear Tom’s soft, breathy laughter, catching the tail end of Tom’s shaking head as he turned back around. The slow kind filled with fondness.

Harry personally thought it would be a great place for a bed, considering the beautiful window with a magical view of anywhere they picked on the wall just across from it. Ah, well. One could dream. 

Or… Harry grinned. “So, do you have enough time to christen the office, Mister Minister?”

Tom paused, stopping just in front of his desk. “No…” He said, yet took Harry’s hand and brought it to his lips, placing a warm drawn-out kiss on the back of his palm. “But for you? I’ll make plenty.”