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cherryredstars · 1 year ago

Note

hello cherry!!

I really love your work, and I was wondering if you could do a second part of Miguel being CEO (In the job description)

I'm very sorry if I don't express myself well, English is not my first language

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut with Some Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Use of Vibrators, Penetrative Sex, Mirror Sex, Slight Slapping

Summary: Don’t accept gifts from your boss…or wear it.

A/N: I made an alternate version of this (basically part 1.5), so let me know if you guys want me to post that one!

Word Count: 3K (Not Edited)

Reverse AU Part 1 Part 1.5

It was extremely unprofessional.

That’s what you thought when Miguel passed by your desk the morning after your little… moment in his office. He gave you a fleeting smirk as he placed a medium-sized black box right in front of you. A deep blush spread across your face, unable to meet his eyes while he stared at you for a few minutes before walking away and shutting the door to his office. An uneasy feeling filled your stomach as you watched the door before sliding your eyes over the box.

It was the type of box someone would get clothes in for Christmas, only pricer and better quality. A pretty silk ribbon held the lid and bottom together, in a matching matte black color. Carefully, you pulled at one of the ends, the bow easily unraveling. When you took the ribbon off, a deeper blush spread over your body as you saw the words engraved into the cardboard.

Stamped on the box was the name of the popular lingerie store in the shopping district. It was a store you passed by daily on your way to and from work, and a store that was most definitely out of your price range even with the gracious salary you had. Your hands instantly slapped over the words, leaning over your desk to see if anyone was coming or if Miguel was making any move to leave his office. When the coast was clear, you hesitantly sat back down.

You cleared your throat nervously, staring at the box before giving into your curiosity. As gently as possible, you lifted the lid of the box, face slightly hiding behind it to obscure your view. An exhale leaves you as maroon tissue paper covers whatever is inside. You take another deep breath before leaning forward and lifting one flap of the tissue paper. A surprised gasp leaves you, staring at the 3 pairs of lacy underwear in the box.

Each panty is made from lacy material, making them slightly see-through. When you run your hands over them, they’re delicate to the touch and you can tell its high quality stuff. Each one is a different color. The first is a set of white panties to replace the ones from yesterday that Miguel claims to have no idea about. The second one, a deep navy blue that is fairly similar to the navy blue of Miguel’s favorite designer suits. And lastly, a blush color that rivals the one across your cheeks.

You’re so caught up in just marveling at the contents of the package, that you don’t realize Miguel is standing in front of your desk until he starts speaking. “I take it you like them?”

You’re instantly jolted and clumsily try to cover up the panties and close the box. You’re sure if someone saw your face, it would be a damn near perfect color match to one of those pairs of panties. You shyly look up at Miguel clearing your throat and leaning back in your chair to create more distance between the two of you. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A lazy smirk spreads against Miguel’s face before he shakes his head in amusement. “I was calling you into my office, but you didn’t seem to hear the buzzer.” He hums, eyes trained on the black box he gifted you. You can tell he’s tempted to say something by the way his mouth straightens and his brows furrow slightly, but he ends up not commenting on it and continues what he was saying before. “I was going to tell you that the charity fundraiser is this weekend, and we have to attend to meet the new potential merger.”

His words make you want to grab the box on your desk and slam it against your head a few trillion times. It’s no secret that both you and Miguel hate the monthly fundraisers. Okay, that sounds bad. Both you and Miguel are happy that somewhere over a hundred grand gets donated to great charities, it’s just the whole business aspect of it you hate. Having to sit around with smiles that are so fake that they cause the muscles of your cheeks to ache, listening to some old CEO who is in dire need to retire spew on and on about very old fashioned beliefs, and the undercooked batches of pasta they serve at the venues are barely anything to gush about.

Miguel can sense the discontent rolling off of you in waves, an apologetic sigh leaving his lips. “Do you need a dress or shoes? It’s the Unique charity this year, black-tie event as per usual.”

A heavy sigh leaves you and your finger traces the edge of the box. You mentally go through your closet, trying to remember if you have any appropriate dresses that you haven’t worn in previous years. You come up blank, an oncoming migraine forming at your temple. “I’ll figure something out.”

Miguel gives a displeased hum, knocking his fists against your desk. He leans away, fixing the sleeves of his button up and ruffling his hair. “No worries, I’ll have LYLA send you authorization for my business card and a few dress and shoes options.”

You’re about to protest, but the sound of his phone ringing interrupts you. Miguel rolls his eyes as he sees the contact, answering it and turning away as he grumbles out a greeting. He walks towards his office and turns to give you one last nod before entering. A deep sigh leaves you and you close your eyes as you lean back into your chair. You squint one eye open, eyeing the box before stuffing it in your bag with a huff.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵

“Oh god, oh god, oh god!”

You run around your small apartment, nothing but a towel covering your body. Your hair is the only thing done, going for an easy blow drying and curling. You groan when you see the pile of laundry in your room, rummaging in your panty drawer to find nothing but a few that are in desperate need to be thrown away due to their worn out state. You’re on the verge of crying when you see the black box thrown carelessly on top of your other drawer.

You bite your lip, nerves swallowing your being. You weren’t ever planning to wear them, I mean they’re from your boss for god’s sake! But really, you have no choice. With an annoyed groan and exhale, you grab the box and grab the navy blue pair, the color matching the color of your dress. You hastily slip them on, rushing back and forth between your bathroom and your bedroom to do your makeup and get dressed.

By the time you finish the struggle of zipping up your dress, your phone rings with Miguel’s number. You grab your phone and your purse, answering as you slip on your heels. Miguel’s gruff voice echos as you press the speaker option and unlock your door. He grumbles that the driver is outside your house and you hum in acknowledgement as you check your bag for everything you need as you shut the door behind you after locking it. You rush down the hall and into the elevator, tapping your foot impatiently as you wait to reach the ground floor.

Once the doors slide open, you’re speed walking to the exit and instantly spotting the sleek black car right against the curb. Miguel stands by the car door, a loud ping ringing from his phone that causes his brows to furrow. He looks up at the sound of your heels, that furrowed look still on his face as he eyes you up and down. You copy his facial expression, asking him what’s wrong. He only looks back down at his phone, dismissing whatever it was and opening the car door for you.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵

You have no idea how you got here.

The second you and Miguel entered the venue, the both of you had down a flute of champagne and gone through the agonizingly long process of greeting every current and future business partner that was present. Everything was going fine, your fake smile was yet to ache and the desserts looked promising. That was until, of course, a sharp zap ran up your spine as you felt something vibrating against you.

You had choked on your words, trying to play it off with an abrupt sip of alcohol and a strained laugh as you conversed with some of Miguel’s business partners while he dismissed himself for a quick run to the bar. It had been sudden, maybe a trick played on you by your own mind, until it started again. But this time, it was more intense. You had hurriedly excused yourself, making up some excuse before dashing towards the bathroom.

You rushed through the door, sighing in relief when no one else was inside. You hurried to the counter of sinks, leaning your elbows on the surface as you bent over and hissed. The vibration, that was most definitely coming from your fucking panties, just seemed to be more intense as you shifted from leg to leg and clenched your thighs to relieve the feeling. A struggling whimper left you as you lifted your head to look into the mirror, jumping when you see Miguel leaned against a bathroom stall and staring at you. You must not have heard him enter through the foggy mess in your head.

You instantly snap up, legs crossed as you turn around and clutch the edge of the counter tightly. You open your mouth, about to scold Miguel for being in the women’s bathroom, but another desperate whine leaves you as the vibration around your clit focuses on the perfect spot from your new stance. Miguel’s brow raises as his eyes ghost down your form, catching the way sweat begins to break on your hairline. A lazy smirk crosses his face when he pulls out his phone from his dress pants, tapping around it a few times before you slouch.

A sense of relief fills you as the strong vibrating stops and your clit is given a break. A heavy sigh leaves you, head tilting down before the realization hits you. Your head instantly snaps up, your wide eyes meeting Miguel’s mischievous ones. Of course. What else would he do but give you fucking vibrating panties. Your eyes trail down to his phone, watching as he taps it with his thumb again and suddenly the vibration is back. Your body tenses up again, and you watch helplessly as Miguel walks over to you.

He presses his hand into the front of your dress, directly over your panties. The pressure of his hand makes the vibration stronger, and a choked gasp leaves you. Miguel hums, feeling the strong vibrations through your dress, his eyes moving to your face. “I didn’t think you’d ever wear ‘em.”

That makes two of us, You think as your eyes squint into a glare, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent a noise threatening to spill out. Your hands come up to hold onto Miguel’s wrist, trying weakly to take his hand away. He only chuckles, pressing his hand harder against you before taking it away. Your hands fall from him, insead returning to grip on the counter when he turns you around quickly. A wave of deja vu hits you when he presses down on your lower back so your chest is fully pressed, his hands hurriedly gathering your dress so the surplus of fabric bunches around your waist.

His hand skims the center of your underwear, two fingers pressing against your clothed clit. A moan leaves you as the vibrations grow stronger under his fingers, your hips squirming to get away. Miguel’s hand tightens around your waist, making it harder for you to move. He watches you from the mirror, enjoying the concentrated and tortured look on your face.

“You know,” Miguel starts lazily, fingers starting to draw slow circles on your clit, “You never answered my question before.” A loud gasp leaves you and you hiss out his name after his hand comes to give your clit a firm slap. “Do you like my gift?”

A weak sound leaves you as you bite your lip. Your hips try to press into Miguel’s hand when he starts his slow circles again, crying out when he removes his hand completely. You hear the rustling of a belt buckle and pants, your gasp in sync with the hiss Miguel lets out when he presses the head of his cock into your panties. The vibrations play against his head, his hand holding his base as he rubs himself up and down the length of your panties. His eyes flutter shut, mouth dropping open in a silent moan as he enjoys the feel of your increasingly wet panties and the vibrating.

His hand pushes your panties to the side, his cock falling forward to poke at your glistening entrance. Even though the vibrating panties aren’t directly over your clit, you can still feel them from their place right besides it. Your own eyes flutter shut, moaning at the feel before Miguel’s hand grasps your face from behind. His large hand squishes your cheeks together and your eyes flutter open to see his face right besides yours in the mirror. Both Miguel’s and your eyes meet in the mirror, his demanding while yours are hazy.

His tip slightly slides into you and you groan. Miguel’s hold tightens on your face when he pulls out. “Answer the question, preciosa.”

A weak nod leaves you, a puff of air escaping your nose as you lean your hips back to grind slightly against Miguel’s cock. A strangled grunt leaves him and His eyes fall down to where you’re grinding before looking back at you. His breath is hot against your cheek, causing shivers down your spine. “Don’t look away. Just watch.”

Without warning, he slams into you. A loud scream leaves you, eyes threatening to roll back as you watch him. His eyes are dark and focused on where he thrusts brutally into you, your body sliding closer to the mirror before he pulls you back towards him. You make a weak attempt to talk, stuttering out something about the door before he grunts and replies it’s locked. It does little to conceal your worries. As if sensing it, Miguel’s hand slides up to your mouth to cover it, muffling the noises you’re letting out.

The only sounds that can’t be muffled are the soft, wet sounds that come from his heavy balls hitting against your wet heat. You’re so wet that you’re coating him, a stickiness connecting his balls to your cunt as he thrusts. Your eyes roll back and a harsh slap is thrown against your cheek. Unfocused eyes meet Miguel’s angered ones, his thrusts turning harsher and more punishing as he looks at you disapprovingly.

“I told you to watch. Keep your eyes on the mirror or I'll stop.”

A sound of protest leaves you, mumbling out sorry repeatedly as you try to keep your eyes focused on the mirror. The view is shaking from the way your body jolts with each pump of his hips, but he doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it makes him go faster and try to see how shaky he can make your vision and your legs. His hand gives you one more smack to the cheek before covering your mouth again.

Your legs feel like they’re about to give out and that hotness is forming at the bottom of your stomach. Miguel’s is fast approaching too, the sensation of your tight, warm walls sucking him in and the slight vibrations running through your walls from the vibrating panties. His hand leaves your hip, moving in between your legs and moving the shaking fabric back over your clit. The angle is awkward, trying to find it under layers of falling fabric from your dress while he’s hammering his cock into you. But eventually he gets it, and you instantly fall apart.

Your scream is muffled by Migue’s hand, your body shaking as you clench tightly around him and gush all over his cock. Miguel lets out a curse, his thrusts stuttering and becoming clumsy. You call out his name weakly, and he’s gone. He stills with a deep groan, filling you up with his warmth. You both stand there for a moment, basking in the aftershocks of pleasure before you start suffering from overstimulation from the still vibrating underwear.

You weakly cry out to Miguel, who hurriedly turns on his phone and kills the vibrating. A deep, grateful sigh leaves you as you slump forward. A small moan leaves you when Miguel pulls out, reaching up to the tissue paper dispensers to wipe you and him down. He rebuckles his pants, pulling your panties back in place and your dress down. You flinch when the drenched fabric meets you, half expecting for it to start vibrating again. Instead, another piece of paper tissue is dabbed against your face and neck as Miguel tries to rid your skin of sweat without fully removing your makeup.

A grateful noise leaves you before you stand up when Miguel steps back. When you turn your head towards him, a soft kiss is pressed to your cheek. Miguel strokes the spot with his thumb, eyes trailing to yours before he looks away and moves towards the door.

“Not going to steal my panties this time?” You can’t help but call out, hands still gripping the edge of the sinks tightly.

Miguel turns with a teasing smile and shrugs. “Nah, you can keep them this time. Just make sure to wear one of the other pairs to work on Monday.”

A deep flush flows across your face at his innuendo, watching as he unlocks the door and slips out. A deep sigh leaves you as you turn towards the mirror again, an annoyed noise leaving you as you spot imperfections in your makeup. You open your bag, working on small touch-ups as you think back to what occurred a few minutes ago. A small smile crosses your face and you shake your head before you head to follow Miguel back out for another hour of socializing.

Just benefits of the job.

Join the Taglist!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #cherry's requests🍒#miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 #atsv smut #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #company matters series💎

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rae-writes · 7 months ago

Text

part-time

N.M || 0.8k || some romcom for a man I don't even have any solid thoughts/feelings on but the inspo slapped me in the face. violently.

You would think that after attending Yuuei for three years now and being classmates for said three years with dumbasses like Denki Kaminari, Kirishima Eijiro, and Izuku Midoriya (yes, class 3-A’s golden boy. You just have to catch his dumbassery at the perfect time) that you would learn to…not engage in their ideas that lack common sense.

But either you haven’t learned or you just don’t have any self preservation, because that’s exactly how you got here:

Pulling open the door to the infirmary, mumbling curses under your breath (still grinning, might you add— it had been funny as shit, even if you got a sprained arm for the trouble). Though, as you looked around, Recovery Girl didn’t seem to be around.

But Neito Monoma was.

“Oh, fuck no.”

Listen, you honestly didn’t have a real problem with Monoma. He was just…

A prick. All because your class starts with an ‘A’ and had its fair share of spotlight encounters (mainly with villains— all of which were highly unwanted, thank you very much).

“It’s so good to see you, too, Y/n.” Monoma’s annoyingly condescending voice managed to come out sickly sweet, immediately making you turn around and start to go right back out the door.

But unfortunately, he’d caught sight of your swelled arm- which had started to bruise pretty badly- and stopped you from relieving yourself of his presence.

“Now, now. I am here assisting our lovely Recovery Girl and I can’t just have you leaving while still injured, that would make me look like I’m not doing my job.”

You deadpanned, reluctantly sitting on the edge of one of the beds. “No offense, and by that I mean full offense, but I’d rather just walk it off than let your lips come anywhere near me.”

His copy quirk is what allowed him to help out as a healer in the first place— and Recovery Girl’s quirk healed by kisses. You’d be damned if you were letting him have the privilege of kissing even a sliver of your skin.

“Oh my, so rude. You’re breaking my heart.” His grin was a little too smug, but Monoma couldn’t help it. He’s had a stupid crush on you since year one: this opportunity was just too perfect.

Not that he would ever admit it. Especially the part where his heart was fucking racing faster than Iida could run right now.

“Good. Perish.” you groaned, looking away with an apprehensive frown. Your arm was starting to hurt as the adrenaline slowly wore off and…you did come all the way to the infirmary to get healed…

Was it weird that your heart was thudding in your chest? You barely even knew Monoma, for fucks sake, he was just…an academic rival at best.

‘And pretty.’ Your brain supplied. To which you promptly told it to shut up…which it didn’t, because Monoma’s pretty face was currently all up in your business.

“That arm of yours looks painful. Are you really too prideful to be healed by me? That’s not a good heroic quality, you know.”

He sincerely hoped you would cave before he just started begging— and the embarrassing part is, Monoma wouldn’t have to even think twice about it. That’s how..tightly you have him wrapped around your finger.

“Shut up. You’re one to talk about pride, smug bastard.” Your words didn’t really have the bite that you intended- and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn- so with another colorful curse, you relented.

“Fine.”

Except no kiss came after your agreement. You’d even tensed up your arm in preparation for his touch but there was nothing. That was funny— he was so smug just a second ago and now he’s all quiet.

“Monoma, are you gonna heal me or not-“

As soon as your head turned towards him, his lips pressed against yours. It was as shocking as seeing Bakugo Katsuki be nice, which was pretty damn high up on the ‘what the fuck is happening’ list.

But it felt…good.

Monoma himself was surprised, not at his actions, but at your own: the reciprocation of his kiss (when he was so sure you’d pull away and knock his block off), the way your hands- both of them now that your arm was healing- had cupped his jaw, pulling him closer.

It was like the room was spinning, but..softly. With warmth being woven in, making you feel fuzzy starting from the tips of your toes and moving all the way to your fingertips.

When the kiss finally broke, it was quiet, only unsure breaths filling the air. Oddly enough, he felt nervous and had to fight the urge to apologize.

“Well? How was that for healing?” Is what came out of his mouth instead.

And you didn’t even have a witty response to give back, too dazed and flustered to even care at that second.

“Do it again…still hurts.”

‘Academic rivals’ be damned.

inspo credits:

(I found the text post on Pinterest so I just screenshotted it because who knows how old it may be oasjihrugoajfk but their user is still the same: @energon-with-a-curly-straw)

#mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #monoma x reader #monoma neito x reader #neito monoma x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha drabble #bnha drabble

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blackknight-kai · 2 months ago

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wukong is the type to bring you shit he stole for you bc he thought you would like it the way a cat brings its wonder dead bird n frogs through the cat flap.

Yes. This. 100%

At times is so damn sweet because he knows what things you likes, he pays attention!

Other times it’s a bit…well. He brings you things HE thinks you should want/need/or have. He also brings you things HE finds interesting and I’m sure some of his interests may not…be the same.

He is also a mischievous shit. So he’d bring stuff maybe enchant it to look like something else but, oh look suddenly you’re holding a giant squirming slimy maggot and not the pretty thing he handed you 2 seconds ago.

But really he likes to bring you stuff to see you smile or laugh. Enjoys that HE can do that for you. Likes it too when you put the stuff he brings you on display, puffs his chest up every time he sees it.

Even just absentmindedly mentioning something might be interesting or you’d like it his ears have locked on to your words and stored the nugget for when he goes out. You might find 10 of the thing you mentioned a week ago and all high quality for you to choose the best from.

(Sometimes the stuff he brings is definitely stolen and it causes issues once in a while but we love him anyway)

On a side note Destined One does this too. Hes more silent about it, you just fine the object near you when you wake up or it’s just there. When asked “Where did you get this?” He just shrugs and pretends like he didn’t do anything, but the way he watches to make sure you like it and the way his tail swishes when you smile says everything.

#black myth wukong #black myth wukong x reader #sun wukong x reader #sun wukong #bk kai writes

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stitchposts · 1 month ago

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OK, so while I sew a lot, I've always thought of embroidery as something I Just Can't Do Properly, because I was bad at it when I tried to learn it, while other crafts I've picked up easily.

And then I realised what had happened.

Mother often offloaded me on her three great aunts when I was a kid and they had the tools, knowledge and supplies for knitting and dressmaking, and soon figured out that teaching me to Make Things was a great way of keeping me quiet.

And they'd all done a lot of embroidery when they were young, beautiful tablecloths and things, BUT they'd stuck to more practical things as soon as they were out of what passed for school then, so they didn't have the stuff for doing embroidery, so when they tried to teach me it was with a crappy kids' kit with a plastic hoop that couldn't hold its own shape never mind the fabric and a blunt needle, so no wonder I sucked at it.

What would be your recommendation for someone getting started?

Hey there! Damn, that's pretty insightful for you to realize and it makes a lot of sense. I'm happy to help you get started!

My usual recommendation from absolute zero is to just buy a kit with everything you need from a reputable vendor. Since you have a crafting history I think you're good to not be overwhelmed by the stuff you need to buy. You'll need:

a pattern

a hoop (plastic are totally fine, just not the kids ones you used)

non stretchy fabric (I like kona quilting cotton for beginners, it's a name they can search for easier, is widely available, and good quality without being expensive)

embroidery floss (dmc, anchor, or cosmo are available worldwide depending on where you are and are high quality)

embroidery needles (larger eyes, sharp tip)

scissors

way to transfer your pattern to your fabric

Transferring a pattern is as simple as using a window as a tracing pad and copying the pattern from the paper printout to your fabric using a washaway or heat erase pen. You can also use chalk. There are fancier ways to transfer, let's keep it simple for now though.

I like patterns that casually integrate a large amount of stitches into a design. The ones that are like, carefully laid out sections of DO A BACKSTITCH 5 TIMES. DO A CHAINSTITCH 5 TIMES. DO 3 FRENCH KNOTS - those don't teach you anything in a way that matters. it's not enough repetition to make the stitches stick in your mind nor is it integrated learning to see how stitches look in situ in order to get a grasp of how to use them for your own art.

To learn to do stitches, I like the Royal School of Needlework stitch bank. Other stitch banks online don't give the historical citations for their stitches and often make shit up just to look more impressive or have options not on any other site. Yeah, of course other sites wouldn't have your made up stitch name.

DMC's free patterns are high quality, tell you what threads to buy, and are aimed at all skill levels. I'm linking the list of the ones I personally think are good for beginners to learn on under a cut here because this is getting long!

Blue Hill - wreath with blue flowers

Etoile Constellation - celestial star/moon/sun tableau. Ignore the call for etoile threads tbh and just use the number codes for the plain colors

Etoile Magic Star - tri-toned shooting star. Ignore the call for etoile threads tbh and just use the number codes for the plain colors

Strawberries - a scattered ditzy design with strawberries, leaves, and flowers

Lemons - a scattered ditzy design with lemons and sprigs of flowers and leaves

Oranges - a scattered ditzy design with whole oranges, orange slices, and sprigs of leaves

Raspberries and Roses - a scattered ditzy design with raspberries, roses, leaves, and flower bits

Toadstool - an amanita mushroom scene. This one's really fucking popular online, you see it a lot.

Jellyfish - uses a variety of stitches to give texture to the titular sealife

Octopus - uses a variety of stitches to give texture to the titular sealife

Seahorse - uses a variety of stitches to give texture to the titular sealife

Shrimp - uses a variety of stitches to give texture to the titular sealife

An Hee Jin, Toucan - cute lil toucan on a branch with leaves and flowers

Flying Snakes - snakes but theyre circus performers. lean into the whimsy. life is short.

Woodland Bear - forest scene with a bear. Lots of french knots for the trees, still a beginner pattern. Get that practice in.

#chatter #embroidery help

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deesseshesca · 4 months ago

Text

PAC : What's the wildest sexual experience bound to happen with your s/o ?

Is not because I ain’t takin that I can’t keep up with love

Good afternoon, pretty souls, today we are diving into the sexual destiny of your relationship.

FLASH SALE

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION

Rules and Disclaimer

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST

Basing myself on the legal age in my country which is 18

PILE 1

4 cups, Strength, High priestess, Knight wands

WILD SEX : INVOLVING A THIRD PARTY

Prostitute, stripper or an unicorn

Check in : You guys have a very wet cooch. No need for a lube. If you are a man , you know how to move your hips smoothly…hihihi

I’m sorry babe but you’re man/woman ain’t shit. I see you wearing sexy good quality lingerie walking around lather in lotion and perfume and he/she keeping its gaze on the TV. While you are waiting to get into some hardcore sex. If you are a man , I see you walking around in gray sweats, fresh cut and some good cologne. Some of y’all even go as to applying some lip balm but nothing she/he is more preoccupied with their phone. The worst you deserve is all the hype after all the effort you put in. Back then yall used to go round and round, night until sunrise. Now we are getting out off in the shower. He/she can’t bring himself to care. While there are people out here that would kill to be in his/her place. From their perspective y’all need to add another person to bring back the spark. Hey, I am the last one to judge sexual needs but their intention ain’t it. They want the 3 of y’all in a car,fucking. How is that even going to work ? The car is already small for 2 people. The reality is that they don’ t want look at u or even deal with you while y’all fucking. And that right there tells me all I need to know. They don’t care for you any more but they keep you around to satisfy their sick ego. Sorry to announce, he is never going to ask your hand in marriage. If it is a women, she will never accept a long term commitment with you.

💌Don't listen to one word coming out of their mouth. You got me feeling all the way hot a front of my screen. So damm sure you are the Bomb.com. Anyway if you want more insight regarding you next sexual encounter, you can always message me especially now since my readings are on sale.

Much love, Shesca

FLASH SALE

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only (Link at the end of the post )

PILE 2

5 cups, 6 cups (reverse), ace wands, 9 pentacles (reverse), ‘’I was hidden my true feeling because I was scared of commitment and did not want to lose my freedom !’’

SHE (FEMININE ENERGY), HIM (MASCULINE)

Before you go further, know that it doesn't matter about the gender but which energy you embody. Because there is a clear difference in this one.

You guys already had crazy sex. I don’t even think it is about the kinky level but is more about the overwhelming emotions shared in that intimate moment. I’m talking about your most recent ex, some of y’all (especially women) it was your first relationship. Let’s start from the beginning. He used to send you cheeky pics of him after a workout or a shower. Y’all are not better, out here sending lingerie haul and voice memo. Knowing damn well that your moan drives him crazy. I can’t exactly see how we got into the fucking scenario but I can see bits of the whole thing. He grabbed your waist and pushed you on the bed. Leaving hickeys on your neck and breast. While nibbling kisses on your stomach and leaving love bites on thighs. Before latching on your clit like a man on a mission. When he finally let himself inside, you were a whimpering mess. I keep hearing: ‘’ You can take it princess. Everything is fine. You know I’m in love with you, right ? You are so gorgeous’’. Plus he gets easily aroused around you. Some of y’all had a place that you were banned from kissing before going. I see 2 clear incidents. One before meeting your parents, y’all make out a bit in his car then y’all have to wait because of boner. Y’all at school just after one kiss, he has to go in the bathroom, to calm down. Because of you he started wearing sweat, yes to please you but most importantly because is his best bet to hide the constant boner he has around u. As of now he still gets off from flashbacks of y’all shared moments. Believe me Pile 2, he did not move on. He let you go because he wanted you to pursue your dream. He doesn't want to be the reason to stop you from your potential. I’m sensing that y’all work or study abroad at the moment. That’s why he prefers a sad break up with much love rather than a messy one where he might do the ultimate act that he despise : hurting you.

BONUS

WILD SEX: LOVING DOM

8 wands, High priestess, Page wands, Magician, ‘’I know you are my soulmate babe ! Our bond is magnetic ! I’m seeing all the signs’’, ‘’ I didn't feel like I was on your level ! You are a boss ! I’m very insecure ! ‘’

Lucky you, your guides allow me further more access to your energy. I never getting deeper than I am allowed without having a signal. You guys are going to meet again. Is inevitable. Some he might text you drunk, after his friend tries to keep his phone away from you the whole night. They are love sick. The next first touch,I see an extremely tight hug in the middle of the airport. Him coming with red roses to you. You are jumping in his arms. I see y’all going crazy with each other not even being able to wait to make it in your bedroom. Is not just lust, it is the most intimate discord that your soul has with each other. When y’all having sex. If he did text you and promise you a surprise: is a small vibrator. See clothe flying, your ass up face down on the floor while his pounding into you, in the kitchen. Some of y’all are not even going to make it until the kitchen, losing your mind in the door hallway. Y’all are going rounds after rounds. The last scene, you are on the bed, missionary position, crying from overstimulation. He is usually assertive but now he’s like an emotional dom. Thrusting in you hard and slow while opening up: ‘’ Don’t you dare cum. You know how much I missed you. You know how hard it was for me �� to let… u … go’’

You are barely able to formulate an answer: ‘’ I know, I know, I’m sorry baby …’’ Completely dizzy on orgasm .

💌Girl, how can you handle all this intensity ! Anyway lucky you, if you need further confirmation regarding your situation, you can always message especially now that my reading are on sale.

FLASH SALE

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only (Link at the end of the post)

PILE 3

8 cups (reverse), 9 cups, 7 cups (reverse), World, ‘’ I want a second chance ! Not being with you is killing me !’’, ‘’ Telepathic Communication’’

WILD SEX : WORSHIPING KINK

I’M USING ''SHE'' BECAUSE I’M SENSING HEAVY PREGNANCY ENERGY

Check in : Good afternoon to my plus size babes. Some of y’all or only pregnant while others of both. You have a big butt. The stretch marks and cellulite and you love it. You love yourself the way that you are. With the rolls and belly. I am obese with your energy.

You know who else is obese? Your boo thing. Pile 3, y’all are mean. You just block your fiancé/husband after sending a risky picture. Just because. On a random Thursday morning. He is out here losing his mind in the break room. Trying to understand what he has done to deserve that treatment. Did he forget to put the garbage out ?, did he not walk the pet?, did he forgot to start that diy project in the garden ? or did he forget to get your coffee this morning ? What’s going on ? He is losing it in the middle of a team meeting. While you are smirking, living the dream life. Y’all look like a regular couple, kids, pets, house in the suburb with 2 garage doors. And your dream car brought by yours truly. They don’t know how freaky y’all are. Sex toys, sexting, latex lingerie and fucking in the walk in closet he build. If necessary, y’all don’t mind calling the babysitter so you can lose it in a hotel room. But y’all favorite experience is a good old missionary. He’s caressing your legs, while looking deep in your soul with nothing but love. While you are forever grateful to have found the one that cherishes you forever

💌Y'all better teach me your ways. You got that on Amazon, Target maybe it was a private sale. Anyway congrats on your pregnancy/engagement and keep the good energy, if you want to dive more into upcoming events regarding your life, you can always message. Especially now that my reading are on sale.

FLASH SALE

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only (Link at the end of post)

#love tarot reading #pac reading #paid tarot reading #pick a card #pick a picture #psychic #18+ tarot #relationship tarot #future spouse tarot #tarot cards #tarot spread #tarot community

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nitrowyverine · 6 months ago

Text

I thought playing Obscura would help me get rid of my brain worms. no, it just gave me new ones. For Obscura, specifically.

I'll be adjusting the format from my TOUCHSTARVED expanded thoughts post. Brain dump after the cut!

[Demo/CH 1 spoilers are included]

(Header Image from Itch.io page! All images in this post are either from there or the Rotten Raccoons tumblr page)

Design/gameplay thoughts:

In full honesty without fluff: this game fucks immensely.

The setting for Obscura might be my new all-time favorite, like, ever. Mystery underground scandalous marketplace??? Under a mountain???? it's a diverse and vast city that's still elegantly contained and claustrophobic, but in a spicy way. The worldbuilding and flavor is excellent. I really want to run a TTRPG in a similar setting now, since its an area with so many possibilities.

CH. 1/the "demo" has a LOT of meat on it. It's got different endings, variations, a whole soundtrack. Speaking of sountrack-

Obscura is also one of the few games I've put on the soundtrack to just to vibe to. The soundtrack is SO good, and sets such a strong mood/tone. I think it complements the game perfectly.

Allot of people have mentioned it, but I am also a fan of the Safeword pause menu. It's a nice and comforting touch, especially when the game can get so intense. It lets players take a breather if they need it, but also doesn't interrupt the intensity/mood of the game for someone who doesn't want a break from the narrative.

Now, onto character specific thoughts!

Cirrus:

IN MY HOUSE WE DON'T BELIEVE IN NOT STARTING OUT STRONG

Shout outs for having your asexual option in the dating sim be. The kinkiest guy there

Cirrus is a bit too intense for me, however, that is NOT a bad thing in the slightest. I think his route is well done for those who are up for his brand of intensity.

I might still play his route because. damn this boy's issues got me curious about his backstory. ($10 on mommy issues)

I had the hardest time getting to Cirrus's good end during my playthrough because having pretty much any self-preservation instinct around Cirrus gives you a bad/neutral ending. He's the only one I had to pull the guide out to get the best ending. (I think I'm just too sassy)

I get medusa vibes from Cirrus. The snake imagery is more likely tied to the lunar church, but his staunch reluctance to take his own mask off makes me wonder (this is mainly referenced in asks answered by the Rotten Raccoon studios). Refusal to let people see his eyes + snakes + power + slightly unnatural abilities to influence is, something.

I am shaking this man like a snowglobe WHAT IS YOUR DEAL I MUST KNOW MORE

(I am. metaphorically shaking him like a snowglobe. I would never shake this man im terrified)

CONCLUSION: Most likely to shame you for your anime choices. Least likely to be normal about it when you ask for help peeling an orange.

Keir:

HERE COMES BIG MAN

yeah he's tied for favorite right now. the slow burn in his plot is just too good? big man....freckles...secret soft side...im weak

he's so nice I keep forgetting. He kind of kidnaps you? not even kind of he just drags you off the street and goes "you live in my house now". Even Griff calls MC a stray early on. My man really said "Here's a convenient lost human I'm dragging them home now"

oh my GOD they were ROOMATES

I definitely was too nice to him in my first playthrough until I realized he does need (and want) to be sassed to death.

this man is like 6'6 and the canon-ish Vesper height from the CG is 5'4. THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE. This kills the man (me)

The sprite of Keir's ears blushing SENDS ME INTO A FRENZY

I quite liked the gameplay style of Keir's route. I was so focused and invested as soon as I realized I needed to remember specific directions to save the heist group during timed decisions

Something I haven't seen discussed yet: I'm mega curious about the dagger Keir has on his outfit. It's specifically pointed out in text that it's high-quality, and I vaguely remember an ask that Rotten Raccoons answered that said it's a status symbol. (The dagger also just looks SO cool. and....it looks like Francesco's...?)

(My bet is that he either 1. stole it. or 2. got it from Oleander during their tryst (WHICH WE ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT-))

CONCLUSION: Most likely to be gifted a "WORLD'S BEST DAD" mug from his similarly-aged peers. Least likely to live down that one time he ate soap because he thought it was edible.

Francesco:

someone keep the "silver dust" away from this lad im scared

Originally, I was least looking forward to playing Francesco's route since I just wasn't interested in his initial concept. After playing his route though? It was excellently done, and I genuinely had fun. It was refreshing to have a character more naive than Vesper, so more cultural aspects were explained and we got a good alternate perspective on the marketplace. Also, it got REAL spicy in new and exciting ways the other chapters didn't. I'm really looking forward to the next chapters with his route!

I totally love the contrasts in his design and his character. He's got both bright red and blue highlights in his design, his outfit is very pointy and angular while his hair/smile is soft and flow-y.

And in his personality, he's both sweet and open, but extremely cagey about some information, and quite pragmatic when he wants to be. I think he's way smarter than he lets on.

that doesn't mean I don't want to bridal carry him and tuck him into bed at night after a all-nighter party

I do think Fran's slightly looser demeanor could lead to him being even more brutal than the other LI's. Remember that one anime clip (Found it, it's this one from Danshi Koukousei) where a group of friends wants to fight for fun, but one of the friends asks why they need rules in a fight? And said friend is shown like secretly holding a rock and was ready to use it? that's Fran. He would not have chill and does not heed the rules.

"Protect the boy", but mostly to prevent him from tasting blood. Because if that happens we're all fucked

CONCLUSION: Most likely to eat that M&M off the ground because you dared him. Least likely to beat the puppy allegations.

Oleander:

Oleander is tied for favorite with Keir. Oleander is just *chefs kiss* LOOK AT HIM. inscrutable......

Somewhere in an ask answered by Rotten Raccoons studio, they mentioned that for Oleander's route, they were going for a "Sexy boss situation that doesn't feel like a work safety violation". They hit that right on the nose; there's intrigue and a power imbalance, but in a non-restrictive or terrifying way.

I love being involved in the business part of his route. I keep making decisions like "Hmm yes my primary goal is to romance Oleander. But what would be the smartest business move here? How do we advance our agenda?"

Also, I do love playing a sexy evil secretary in a vn. love having a job and being evil at it AND being paid money. 10/10

That dance scene is everything I could have ever wanted no notes

I am fascinated to find out more about what he's been up to since his last trek into the marketplace. Seems like people are trying to kill him all the time anyway, so what would be enough to cause him to leave?

he's like an angler fish, but the lure is his booba

I relate to Oleander in that. I have too many online usernames because I can't stick with one. People get my 800 online names mixed up often. He has the same problem, we're basically twinsies

This man is pretending to be a himbo like his life depends on it (It probably does). He's too smart though, I know for a fact he has at least three different schemes going at any given time.

CONCLUSION: Most likely to be able to help you properly lace a corset (this man knows the boot-to-the-back necessity of the process). Least likely to be allowed to be banker during monopoly night.

Vesper:

black mask enjoyer 4 life

(all three are good I just wanted to say which one I picked. And to add my conclusion section)

CONCLUSION: Most likely to get their shit rocked by a falling piano. Least likely to survive an argument about pineapple on pizza.

Concerns:

With how separate the four routes are, the game could potentially feel like four separate visual novels all in one universe. Maybe I haven't played enough VN's, but there is a feeling of separation between the routes.

In the very beginning of the game, when you're picking your route, I wish there was a bit more heads up/information between who you're picking. For example, I had a rough idea that going into the church is where you'd find Cirrus, but only from information outside the game. I didn't know sticking around for the brawl would push you into Kier's route. It's overall pretty vague to which route you're going based on only in-game information.

Misc thoughts:

Vesper: "How are you going to keep me?? ;)" Keir and Oleander: "crimes" Vesper: "Wh-" Keir and Oleander: "you're an accomplice now congrats we're in this together. wanna get drinks"

catch my socially anxious ass wanting to be under the mountain and wear masks so I don't have to make eye contact with strangers all the time. at least its a fun thought to have when I mask for covid

OKAY FRANCESCO AND KEIR'S DAGGER MATCH? AND ARE RED/BLUE LIKE FRANCESCOS OUTFIT? DOES IT MEAN ANYTHING??? probably not but I do like the pretty knives....

For real, I got the brain worms for this game, I'm on the edge of making a big ol playlist. the headcannons? They go on my friend. they go on. I'm laying awake at night thinking about what each character would order at a coffee shop

by the time I publish this post. I did start working on the playlist

yes, I've also designed my own vesper, its such a prime opportunity for character design.

Obscura also may or may not have inspired me to get involved with an otome jam game team, more on that in the future possibly.....

OVERALL: I got the first chapter/demo of Obscura for free from Itchio/steam. High marks for writing, sound, art, game design, all of it! I am on the edge of my seat waiting for CH2.

TL;DR: If you haven't played it, and love spicy and dark stories, go play it! Part one is free! and fantastic.

Itch.io

Steam

#obscura vn #rotten raccoons #obscura cirrus #obscura keir #obscura francesco #obscura oleander #i've been writing this post for weeks and i just keep editing it. going to hit send now

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lacunazai · 7 months ago

Note

I get that tbh so let me give you this:

Drunk and clingy Chuuya who won't let anyone touch him besides his beloved <3

oh drunk clingy chuuya my roman empire ( while writing this I realised gradually that i was not at all prepared to write this evening. oops. ) (( it's fine the post won't get far I think ))

it's just a port mafia party, some celebratory banquet for completing a rather large tradeoff mission. of course chuuya is the one that cracks open the fanciest bottle. the one with a few too many digits and zeros for any normal person to glance twice at. but he's always been an extravagant guy, and the more expensive it tastes the better quality it is. that's what he thinks, anyway.

he doesn't particularly bother trying to limit the glasses he intakes, why should he? koyo was staying sober, so was hirotsu, enough people that he'd be perfectly fine if anything severe happened. might as well enjoy the night as it lasts.

It's when his vision starts to blur that the first problem arises. his movements are more staggered as he struggles to keep his balance - and he lets out an almost embarassingly high pitched whine of frustration to avoid when koyo reaches out a hand to try and help stabilise him.

chuuyas knees hit the ground, a few heads turn, but its nothing too interesting. the executive had been known for not bring able to handle his alcohol too well, after all. It's when koyo leans down to help him up, and her hand is slapped away - that more people have their eyes on the scene before them.

after all, nobody who'd responded to her with violence was treated kindly in the past.

but she knows different. chuuya wouldn't do that to her - the 15 year old she spent nights trying to teach basic table manners wouldn't hit her with aggression in mind. so it had to be something else.

she let's out a gentle sigh as she calls your cell. if anyone had noticed how chuuya has a painful softspot for you, it was her. if anyone could help with a situation like this, it'd be you.

the conversation doesn't last long. a simple polite request for you to come pick him up, to see if he'll let you pick him up. and when you arrive, he obviously sees you before you spot him, a slurred whiny call of your name cutting through the crowd. one that'd have a sober chuuya breaking brick walls with his skull to forget about it.

you move over to him, listening to his unintelligible blabbers as he clings to your leg. the gentle sobs as he nuzzles into the fabric of the trousers you'd lazily thrown on. the whimpers of "I missed you s'much.." "where were you?.." "my pretty thing.."

it takes a moment to get him onto his feet again, feeling his full weight lean into you as you do so. you call a thanks to koyo, hearing her gentle giggle as you lug your boyfriend out of the party. a response of "good luck with him!" rings past the music on the speakers.

getting him home was an effort. dragging him into bed with his entire damn weight on you should've got you an olympics medal. but seeing his hazy eyes search for you, a blubber of your name as he spots you. and those gloved hands reaching like you're the only thing he'll ever need in life. it's hard to stay mad.

you settle beside him in bed, letting him wrap around you like a koala. chosing to not comment on the smell of his breath as he whispers love to you for the simplest things. he's always been sweet to you like that.

you feel the way his hands still as he drifts to sleep. from idly fiddling with your clothes to completely stone on your side. listening to the way his breathing relaxes. he felt so safe around you. it'd always been you. that's how he liked it.

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iznyangwoni · 4 months ago

Text

EASY TO LOVE | chapter fifteen !

warnings! smut (MDNI!), suggestive, mention of drinking, mention of getting high

You all spent the next day at home, swimming in the pool, playing dumb games, getting high.. and with that comes chemical hunger, which is why you, Jay and Wonyoung are making a birthday cake while everyone else is playing outside.

“You and Jungwon look way closer than i thought.” Wonyoung says, her shirt full of flour, you’re sitting right next to her, eating the remaining chocolate cream from the spoon now that Jay is done with it. “Don’t lie now, i treat him just how i treat all of you.” “You never cuddled me to sleep after getting drunk tho.” Jay adds, and you glance at him.

Last night Jungwon got a bit more drunk than anyone else, and you did help him not only throw up, but also get clean and you got him to sleep next to you. You roll your eyes, you really cant tell why you act like this with Jungwon, sure he acts cute while at the same time he’s hot as hell and you’re sure he has many great qualities, but the cons are a bit higher when it comes to him. “He was sick, i was helping a sick person.”

Wonyoung laughs as she smears some of the cream on your cheek and nose, then licking it off her finger. “I think you like him.” That makes you laugh. You? Liking someone? Thats new. As popular as you are, you’re never really had a serious relationship, only played with a bunch of guys, and dated one or two, but that lasted only a couple of weeks before you got bored. “That’s so stupid… why would i like-“

Before you can even finish your sentence Moka comes in running, her hands on the chair as she takes a breath, damn, the girl is fragile. “Sunghoon and Jungwon are fighting again.” You sigh loudly, looking back at Wonyoung while getting up from your chair. “See what i mean?”

You go down the stairs, the spoon still in your hands, they’ve been fighting since you got here, so you’re not too worried. Or at least that is until you hear them yell at each other, Nicholas in the background trying to calm them down. “The fuck do you mean that bitch ass friend of yours blackmailed you and you did nothing? Have you fucking lost your mind?” You hear Sunghoon say that, so you walk faster, how does he know about minji?

Jungwon looks pretty calm from the outside, but his brows are furrowed just like last time, when he was mad at you. “Do you even fucking know what Y/n went through?” “Sunghoon-“ You try to intervener but both guys look at you as if you just insulted them. Its unusual, but for once you feel intimidated. Nicholas gets next to you, his hand on your back.

“Did you know? Y/n? That Minji was all up his ass too?” You gulp, of course you know, Jungwon told you. He told you everything without asking questions, so you nod, but that only seems to anger Sunghoon even more. He turns to Jungwon once again, this time stepping closer to him. “You should’ve protected her.” “I see her more than just a damsel in distress.”

“You don’t know shit.” Sunghoon steps even closer, the height difference between the two is really noticeable now. “I don’t know shit because no one tells me shit! I have no damn clue about what happened last year or why Minji is so obsessed with her! You can’t blame me and then not tell me a thing!” The two start pushing each other like little kids, its honestly pissing you off, did they really have to do that on your birthday?

“That’s the thing, you will never know, you shouldn’t be here in the first place.” Now that’s pissing you off even more, “Sunghoon!” You call him, walking towards them, but they don’t hear you, instead they just get more violent. “Can’t you just ignore each other for once?” You manage to get hold of Sunghoon’s wrist, stopping him from punching Jungwon. “Do you really have to make a scene on my birthday?”

“I’m doing this for you.” Sunghoon gets off of your grip, stepping away from both you and Jungwon. “But i dont want you to.” Jungwon tries to take your hand, probably wanting to calm you down or something, but you just shrug him off, and you hear him sigh behind you. There are a few seconds of silence where you just look at each other, you can tell that Sunghoon is mad, and you can’t really blame him.

Its barely been a year and you’re already acting like nothing happened, you know you’ve been acting immature all this time, with Jungwon, with your friends, at school. And no one better than you knows its gonna cause some repercussions, but right now you don’t want to think about it. It’s your birthday, you’re here with the people you care about, you want to have fun for these two more days.

Sunghoon sighs before walking away, not saying a thing, you don’t try to follow him, you know he’ll calm down on his own. You close your eyes before turning around to look at Jungwon, you try to say something but he shakes his head. His jaw is clenched and his brows are still furrowed.

You hate how damn hot he looks when mad, he’s able to attract you yet make you feel intimidated. “Jungwon can we talk-“ “I need a couple of minutes.” The coldness in his voice makes you shiver. You look at Nicholas, who immediately gets the memo and starts walking away from you two.

“Are you mad at me?” You dont remember the last time you asked something like that. But it surely brings you back, you feel so little in front of him, he’s barely looking at you in the eyes, his whole demeanor so cold, it makes you shiver. “Y/n, I said I need a few minutes.”

You bite your bottom lip, feeling so nervous about this whole interaction. You just nod and start walking back into the house, hands in your hair as you try to think about what you did to fuck this all up. Is he mad because of Sunghoon’s words? Its true Jungwon doesn’t know a thing, and that he probably won’t ever know the truth, but why does he care so much? why do YOU care so much?

A couple of hours pass, until its two in the morning. You can’t sleep, not after you got used to Jungwon sleeping next to you yesterday. You sigh, thinking that maybe the only thing that could ease your mind at the moment could be a late night swim in the indoor pool. So that’s what you decide to do, with a towel in your hands, wearing your bikini under a big white shirt, you go downstairs.

You close the door of the indoor pool and stand there for a few minutes when you realize Jungwon is already here. He’s standing on the border of the pool, he’s drying his hair with the towel, no shirt on, fuck. You can’t really be thinking about this now. He notices you staring and, before he can say something, you stop him.

“I didn’t know you were here.” The pool isn’t exactly small, so there’s really a few meters apart between the two of you, you would get closer but you’re still scared about him being mad at you. He lets out a quiet chuckle before smiling at you. “Why so far, pretty? I swear i’m not gonna eat you.” You pout.

You dont really want to listen to him right now. The audacity to act so cocky after scaring you so much is honestly pissing you off. So you put the towel on one of the chairs, same with the white shirt you had on, and then you just dive into the water. When you resurface he’s looking at you, his eyes the same ones as that time in his changing room.

“Is this close enough for you?” “Not at all.” He’s quick to say it, but he’s even quicker to get into the water with you. His hands immediately on your waist. “This is.” You look at him in the eyes, you know that look, you know what he wants. But you need to talk to him now, you put your hand on his arm, caressing his bicep with your thumb. “Are you still mad at me?”

He smirks, before leaning in and biting your lobe. “I am. Not as much though.” Your free hand goes to his jaw, making him look at you in the eyes, and making so that he doesn’t bite you again. “Can we talk?” He shakes his head, and that makes you even more disappointed. “Don’t feel like it.” “You never feel like it.”

Jungwon’s eyes turn cold the second you snap that. But you’re way too disappointed to think about it. You get off of his grip and start getting away from him, he stands still for a few seconds before catching up to you. “Y/n…” Its making you mad and, surprisingly, its making you even sadder.

He grabs you by your hips and you hit his chest lightly to let you go. Even if in reality you really dont mind the closeness between you two. Still, you are pretty angry at him. You don’t like how he’s been acting, first he’s all cuddly and lovely, then he gets mad at you for no reasons, and then again he looks at you as if he’s dying to fuck you. Right now he’s a mix between the last two.

“Why do you even want to talk in the first place? I know you wont tell me a thing anyway. Its useless talk we could spend on kissing instead.” You sigh, its true you wouldn’t tell him the whole story, but you could give him some hints, and as plump and soft his lips look right now, you dont want him to win. “Dont feel like it.”

“You’re cute when you’re sulking.” You dont say a thing, but your heart gets a weird reaction when he says that. You’re still pouting when you rest your head on his shoulder, your hand on his arm. “I don’t like fighting with you.” “I know.” “But you always do this weird thing where you dont want to talk and it makes me feel like.. like its not important to hear what i have to say..”

You say the last sentence way quieter than it needs to be, but he still hears it, and his eyes widen for a second before he looks at you again, his hands holding you closer. “Don’t say that.” “I know we both dont like talking about feelings and shit like that, but i can never figure out whats in your head and its driving me crazy.”

You try to say something else, but he moves your head with his fingers, and only know you’re realizing that he’s sitting on the steps of the pool. “Y/n” “No Jungwon let me finish-“ “Y/n.” “What i mean is“ Jungwon rolls his eyes before grabbing your head with both of his hands and kiss you.

“This. Is all i can think about when i see you. I am mad at you yes, but i can get over it.” You’re still sulking, your thumbs trace his furrowed eyebrows, your voice quieter once again. “I dont want you to be mad in the first place.” “Sit on my lap and i’ll forget it.” You gulp before doing wait he says, the second you sit on his lap he pulls you closer to him, his lips attacking yours before you can even realize it.

You kiss him back with as much hunger, you can feel him smirk through the kiss, if it can even be called something as simple as that. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as he slowly makes your hips move on him. He usually talks so much when you’re in these situations, and the fact that he’s being so quiet is enough to make you realize how mad he actually is.

His hands wonder all over your body, eventually playing with the strings of your swimsuit, pulling them, wrapping them around his fingers, until he pulls the strings of your bottom so hard to open it. You whimper, but he only does the same with the other side. You pull out of the kiss, and he just starts biting and kissing your neck and chest, the bottom part of your bikini now long gone.

His fingers go between your legs, playing with your folds, slapping your cunt a couple of times. Your mouth opens to moan, but you try your best to be quiet, not wanting to wake anyone. His hands go back to your hips, grinding you against him even more now, faster than before. “Jungwon.. fuck,” You cant even think straight right now, the feeling of the cold water, his swimming shorts, and his fingers around you are just making you go insane.

You can feel how hard he is, you want to touch him too, you want to feel him so deep into you that not having him right now is making you want to cry. You let out a louder moan when he grinds you against him with more force, and he lets out a laugh. Your hand travels around his body, you want to feel all of him so much more, his toned chest and abs, his biceps, his whole body is so fucking perfect to you. But your hand goes lower, and lower until you meet his shorts, you want to take them off right now.

“Not now pretty.” You whine in disappointment, biting his shoulder, which only makes him slap your cunt once more. “Get up. Wanna eat you.” You legs are shaking like crazy, but you still manage to get up, his hands keeping your thighs steady and open. He looks at your directly in the eyes at each move he makes, biting your thighs, kissing your stomach down to licking your slit.

Your hand instinctively goes to his hair meanwhile the other one goes to your mouth. You can barely breathe as he continues, you’ve never seen heaven so up close. You love how he keeps making sounds even when down there, it takes all of you to not scream when he puts a finger in. “Won.. Wonie.. too much..” He smiles, and his kisses go up again, eyes still on you.

Jungwon pushes you down, you’re still trying to catch your breath meanwhile he is taking off his own shorts. You gulp looking down, definitely not expecting him to be so.. so… fuck. “Jungwon..” You call him, and he chuckles again, kissing your lips. “Are you going to just stare or?” “Maybe help me?” He kisses you again, and opens your legs enough to make you sink down onto him in a much easier way.

Your eyes close out of pleasure, you would’ve never thought that being so close to him would make you feel so damn good. He’s kissing you all over while you adjust to his size, and when you nod, he knows its the perfect time to move. Between his thrusts and the water splashing, its as if your moans are just a background sound.

You hands are shaking as they wonder on his chest and neck, you try to kiss him more, but its so hard between the movement that it makes you laugh. “You’re so pretty, so damn pretty. Want to have you like this all the time.” And there he goes again, talking you through it as usual. “Yeah? I wouldn’t mind that.”

You manage to breathe out, and you feel him twitch inside you at that sentence. He bites your lips before closing his eyes, his moans are so pretty to you, so soft and so damn soothing, you still dont know how he manages to be so perfect. “I’m close pretty. Get up.” You do as he says, helping him with the last few strokes as he finishes, immediately kissing you after.

“Still mad at me?” He shakes his head no, a dumb smirk on his face as he catches his breath. You tie up your swimsuit back again and he pick you up, peppering your face with kisses, you could really get used to it. You hate how he acts sometimes, how confusing he is and the fact that being even near him is troublesome. But the kisses… you could get used to those.

“Lets to go upstairs, i’m gonna make you finish a dozen of times before you can even think about sleeping.”

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changbinsboobs · 2 months ago

Note

haii can you do skz ideal types? like physique and personality. thank youu

Hi:) since i want to do those readings properly im gonna do them one by one and since i already have some for individual members i'll use this ask to start with chan:)

So, i originally started doing an Ideal Type reading but it got hijacked😅 so i guess im reading on his current energy. I'll try to still add something about his ideal type if i manage getting past the bitter energy but i think ill have to redo it some other time since i believe his opinion would be very influenced by his current feelings right now.

Take it with a grain of salt!!!

Chan's current energy / Ideal Typ

For his physical type i got pretty weird cards ngl, 3 of them are the tower, 5 of cups and 5 of wands, the 4th one's queen of pentacles. Tbh i didn't really get any hints about anything physical. He seems angry and bitter.

I think this reading is gonna be hijacked by something else he wants to talk about. I sense he has had a bitter experience thats still fresh in his mind, i think he got dumped tbh!

Like im seeing a situation with lots of bickering. Ogmg ok wait i have so much to say about it this situation has so many layers!

He feels like he lost something great and regrets his stupid actions.

At the same time tho he thinks its that persons fault and if they were better he wouldn't have acted in a way that would get him dumped.

But then again he feels like he's at fault and regrets it a lot.

But he's also so angry cuz they kept having fights, and she kept exhausting him and he kept not being enough. He feels horrible when he's not enough! He doesn't want to feel like that. He wants to live up to her expectations, to peoples expectations. But he just couldn't in this situation with that person.

It seems like he actually got himself a high quality girl - the he couldn't keep obviously. And he's in so much distress with all his conflicting feelings and thoughts. Im sry but im getting a bit angry at him here🙄 its that male stupidity with lack of accountability whatsoever! You cant expect to give the bare minimum, to be an excuse of a "man" and except to get all the perks real man and masculinity gets you! Deal with the consequences bro🙄 -> not necessarily meaning him, im just seeing the picture from his view, so idk how "horrible" he actually was, i was rather talking about the general population of useless men that just have the audacity to expect the best when they themselves aren't worthy of it and then get mad when they can't keep it.

Anyways back to chan - im also getting mommy's boy vibes here omg its getting worse😩😭 i feel like with this situation he's like "forget her bro, she's not worth it. Your mom used to cook and clean, and take care of 3 children and do everything by herself and she didn't whine and was always so giving. I want a woman like that! This girl wasn't lie my mother - she's not worth it, get over her and stop feeling guilty." Don't take that monologue word for word i was rather training to paint the feeling behind his thoughts.

So yeah we have that...tbh i didn't expect him to have a reaction like that like with the comparison to his mom. The rest i expected, but this? Damn🥲

Also this whole situation seems very dramatic, but what I've noticed in the male population overall is that they tend to blow things way put of proportion, and so knowing chan and his tendencies for a victim-complex, pick me, delulu and stuff - im pretty sure this situation might've been not dramatic at all. Just 2-3 little discussions (not full blown arguments and fights as he depicts it) or even just opposing opinions, where he just felt attacked in some way just by her disagreeing or something...and then after a few dates or weeks of dating she politely told him she doesn't want to see him anymore cuz they don't see compatiable and he broke down.

Again idk how things are for real cuz i haven read the other girls energy nor have i read just the energy itself, im just reading HIS energy and perception, but it feels really needy and excagerated so thats whats leading me to believe that it might not be nearly as bad.

So i managed to get some cards on his ideal types personality only and i got those: 3 of cups, 6 of pentacles, page of cups & king of wands.

His types a younger, more innocent and inexperienced girl he can take care of and teach and lead.

She likes a girl that's social but shy. Someone he can take with when meeting his friends and show of. But as i said - social enough for him to be able to do that - but but also shy so he stays sure that theres no risk of her "going wild" (goddamn bro u forreal?🫠)

Im actually getting something about physical appearance - slender, middle hight, like just a bit shorter than him, prefferably forreign with lighter skin and ginger or light brown or dark blonde hair. Im also seeing big head? Like yk this type of body with very slender narrow shoulders, long lanky arms and legs, but a bigger head where it also seems disproportionate to the body? Its so specific i almost think thats what his last girl looked like.

And he also wants a girl thats submissive and will see up to him and make him feel like a boss or a king or a ...daddy (🤢 im sry i just cant hold in the cringe)

In conclusion - i think this ideal type i got from the cards isn't his true ideal type but rather something that came out of spite. Like if i had to guess he's describing the girl he lost, but without her empowering qualities so that he doesn't get hurt.

Judging on the energy of this reading and previous ones ive done i think he has had a think for strong dominant women because he's fascinated with inner strength and power and always wanted to conquer a woman like that because in his head it meant he has that amount of power and strength the said woman had and even more - since he has managed to tame and conquer her. Now that he's tried tho he got met with the cold reality and got a slap in the face realizing he might not be fit for the task just yet and is just sour about it😃

As weird and unexpected this reading was i really enjoyed it cuz it was really shocking to me actually and even gave me a bit of a slap in the face, reminding me how he's just a man...and that he apparently does stupid things like any other guy too.

#tarot reading #skz #stray kids #kpop #bang chan #ideal type

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gouraminnow · 7 days ago

Text

Galley on 4th

Pt. 1 (Modern AU- Yandere Thatch x gender neutral reader)

On Ao3

Raising your kid sister all by yourself is hard enough on it's own. But add classes, poverty, and several jobs to juggle and the pressure builds awfully fast. Most employers will drop you on a whim and it's all you can do to stay afloat... So when you somehow manage to land a well-paying position at The Galley on 4th Avenue, a famous, high-end place run by some well renowned Chef- You're desperate to hold things down. Good thing your new Boss is so friendly and understanding, huh?

Warnings: General yandere sketchiness. Pretty light this chapter but Thatch is a liiitle creepy. Panic attacks, reader injury, very brief mention of an overdose(not reader) and THE LENGTH OF THIS DAMN THING.

Thank you @hannahbarberra162 for beta reading this monstrosity and helping me iron out some bits!

Biking uphill is such a pain.

It’s cold today, a soft gray drizzle gradually soaking through your clothes. The cold brings a slow, tired ache to your joints too, not at all aided by the deadweight of the backpack pulling the meat of your shoulders down and back. Your chest is almost painfully tight, the fog of your labored breath released in short, steady puffs as your left foot occasionally catches awkwardly on its respective pedal. Even through the thick soles of your work boots, you could feel the wad of duct tape you had hastily wrapped it in when you found a jagged crack down the center, “hamburger style” your little sister had said.

At least the view was pretty. You were high up enough to see over downtown, a sliver of the beach and boardwalk, and the darkened water beyond it. Rays of light pierced through the cloud cover, illuminating sheets of rain as they fell like gauzy curtains onto the dreary cityscape below. The air smelled crisp, and if it weren’t for the chill, you might prefer to stay outside and find somewhere to relax. But your shift starts in twenty minutes. Thankfully, you’re making good time despite your exertion.

Once you hit the top of this hill, The Galley on 4th Avenue would be three blocks away. It’s your second job, and far nicer than the little diner you worked some of your mornings at. Not that the bar was all that high, of course. You hadn’t known it when you went in for the interview, but apparently the owner was somewhat famous, which explained why the place was fancier than you expected. Thatch Newgate, part of some hotshot rich family, or something like that. You had more important things to care about. At least he was nice. Hopefully this would translate into higher wages- lord knows the diner owed you one after single-handedly reorganizing and repackaging everything in storage to avoid food safety violations- but you weren’t gonna get your hopes up. At least the starting pay here was higher and the place was clean before you got there. Your sister would get mopey if you refused to bring her anything from this restaurant job, too.

Speaking of, what should you bring back for the little Grub? You didn’t get food from work often- it was a treat you save for the end of the week or special occasions. Employee discounts don’t do much, especially with how much nicer this job is. You’ve admittedly been spoiling her- you’ve only been a server at The Galley for roughly a month, and your proximity to quality food is just too tempting. There was a new soup you haven’t tried- a fragrant stew with tender lamb and little pearl onions. You could get a couple servings to take back, and some of the buttery rolls you both like. Maybe you could finally spring for one of those cartoonish roasts with the bone still sticking out, that would leave you both with leftovers. Or, you could forego a hearty main course and bring her one of those fancy desserts, instead. She hasn’t tried creme brulee before and you’re sure she’d love it-

There’s a sharp jolt, and your train of thought is utterly derailed when your front tire catches on a pothole concealed by a shallow puddle. “Ugh! Shit!” You scramble, feet struggling to steady yourself against the ground, but you’ve already lost control, awkwardly tumbling to the left and onto the wet asphalt. You catch yourself with your hand, the cold sting of rocks and pebbles digging into the meat of your palm as the sharp jolt of the impact shoots from your wrist up to your elbow. “Fuck!” You hiss, hauling your bike up onto the curb. Ugh, the water’s in your shoes. Your socks are utterly soaked. You swing your old backpack off, an old canvas thing you’d found second hand after the one you’d had since you were 12 finally gave up on this world and fell apart at the seams. Checking it over, it thankfully wasn’t soaked. You had your work uniform and a nicer pair of shoes wrapped in plastic grocery bags, but your textbooks had nothing. It was the wild west for them. Maybe you should wrap them up… following that, you properly turn your attention to your hand. A sizable scrape accompanied by a few small pebbles embedded into your skin, specks of grit littering the surface. You wince as you try to gently pry them out, wiping your hands on the front of your sweater. A small jolt of pain shoots up your arm again at the motion. Shit. Did you sprain it? Oh, god damn it!

You sigh. Well, your job is less than a block away. Grumbling, you stand your bike up, deciding to walk it for what remains of your route. You gently rotate your injured wrist as you go, trying to gauge how bad it is. It’s not quite a sprain, you think, though the adrenaline could be dulling some of the pain. You sigh, guiding your bike to cut across the parking lot and behind the building. You always lock it up there, in the nice little patio area the back door opens up into. There were a couple tables with four chairs each, and wooden benches facing inward whose backs formed a sort of fence along the perimeter. The whole thing is topped with soft string lights hung from the pale-brown awning sheltering the concrete brickwork of the patio floor. The little rest area was nice enough that occasionally some… “difficult” customers claimed to mistake it for a smaller outdoor seating area. Maybe you’d believe them, if it weren’t for both the signs saying otherwise and it being very clearly separate from where they were actually meant to sit- the much larger and better furnished patio on the right side of the building that also happens to be lacking in nearby dumpsters.

You lean your bike up against the back of the bench, securing it with an old corded lock looped through the wooden slats, and make your way inside. Pushing open the door, you sigh when the rush of warm air envelops you. You take a moment to just stand there and enjoy it, before heading to the breakroom. This was the nicest rest area you’d seen at any of your jobs, let alone a restaurant. At the diner, you’d just sit in one of the booths, but The Galley practically had a lounge in comparison. One large red couch pushed against the back wall, accompanied by a coffee table and a small, squeaky arm chair. There was a kitchenette on the other side of the room, but you’d seen your coworkers use the main kitchen on their breaks if things weren’t busy. It made you nervous, but you weren’t a snitch. In the adjacent corner to the kitchenette rests a larger table, a sturdy wooden piece a few shades lighter than the dark oak flooring. There were a number of differently colored tablecloths that could be swapped out- right now, it was a red and white checkered pattern, like a picnic blanket.

You set your backpack down on the armchair, the bite of the old canvas straps fading into a dull ache, and roll your now unburdened shoulders with a satisfied hum. You go to fetch the first aid kit from under the sink- one of several on the premises, of course. You crouch down to open the blue laminate doors- leaning forward to grab the bright red box and-

BANG

The doors to the kitchens slam open and you jump, banging your head on the ceiling of the little cupboard. “FUCK! UGH!” You yell before you can help yourself, whirling around to see the shocked faces of… Millie, a younger coworker with promising culinary talent, and your boss, Thatch. The man is mid-wince, with a light lopsided grimace on his face as he sucks some air in through his teeth. Millie has her hands raised in front of her mouth, wide eyes framed by her messy brown hair and the big circular glasses she wears. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” She starts, rushing towards you as you rub your head, wincing at the jolt that runs through your wrist. Right. Bad arm. Your good one has the kit. Well, if there’s a good time to be injured, you guess it would be now. “I didn’t mean to slam the door like that, I just- I’m sorry for surprising you!” She continues, sinking to the floor beside you. Poor kid can be just as nervous as she is talented. It rarely fails to activate your “Big Sibling” mode, which is funny since your own sister isn’t anxious like that at all.

“I-it’s fine, kid, don’t worry-” You start, but Millie keeps going.

“Were you getting the- here, let me help! I know you’re the med student but I can take a look at your head-” She reaches for your face and you instinctively jerk away.

“Millie!�� She stops, shoulders tensing, hands held against her chest. “Millie, I’m serious, it’s really not that big of a deal,” you try to assure her, but judging by the looks on their faces, your smile is just as strained as it feels. Millie’s lips are pressed into a thin line, wobbling slightly. You try again. “Sorry, sorry for yelling. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” You reach for her shaking hands, gently clasping them between your own. “This isn’t something to get worked up over. I was more surprised than hurt, honestly. And even if I was, it was an accident. You can chill.” Millie exhales slowly, slowly relaxing a little bit. That’s good. Your eyes slide over to Thatch and his… impressive hairdo. He’s watching quietly now, arms crossed with a soft smile. “My only worry is getting in trouble for ‘unprofessional language’ at the moment.”

That earns a good-natured snort from your boss, who waves a hand dismissively. “Oh please, if I had an issue with that, I’d have to fire every line cook we’ve got. And you always get here early, so there are a couple things I’m willing to overlook. If anything, you’ve earned the profanity.” You quirk an eyebrow, releasing Millie’s hands to gather the kit and stand up.

“Kinda sounds like you’re keeping track. Is it measured? Do I earn swear words based on how many times I get here before my shift, or is it based on the number of minutes left before it starts?”

“Hmm. We can workshop it,” he says jovially, and when you hear Millie giggle, the strained smile you’d plastered onto yourself relaxes into something more genuine. “So, what were you getting that out for, anyway?” he asks, gesturing to the kit you’d risked life and cranium for. “Does it have to do with how drenched you are? It isn’t raining that hard.”

You chuckle nervously, opening your mouth to assure him it’s really no big deal, to just let you take care of it, when your thoughts are interrupted by Millie exclaiming “Oh!” You both turn to look at the girl, who is looking at her hands with that same wide-eyed anxious look. “Y-you, um, you bled on me? You’re bleeding?” She says, holding out her right hand to show the little bit of blood you’d accidentally smeared onto the back when you tried to comfort her.

“Ah! That’s- oh my god, that’s so gross, I’m sorry kid,” you start rambling. Now it’s your turn to be flustered. You look down at your hand, and sure enough the blood is still oozing out. “I just fell on my way here. I wasn’t thinking about it when I touched you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! M-maybe I could look at it?” Millie starts, but Thatch gently puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Nah. Why don’t you go wash your hands, and head back to the kitchen to tell the others about that appetizer idea you had? I’ll take care of our friend here. Don’t worry about it.” Your eye twitches a little bit at that. He’s not your friend- he’s your boss, and you have boundaries regarding superiors getting buddy-buddy, thank you very much. But it’s not worth mentioning, at this point. It’s small, he’s saying it to comfort Millie, and he’s already doing you a favor. He’s never actually crossed the line, you’re just… a bit jaded, maybe?

“Are… are you sure?” Millie asks, glancing between you and the blood smeared over the backs of her knuckles.

You smile gently. “Yep. It’s all fine. Go tell everyone about the thing. And let me know too, if you find a minute once I’m up and running.” You assure.

Millie flushes, tilting her head and looking off to the side bashfully. “It’s nothing that special…” she mumbles, shuffling past you to use the sink. “We just have a lot of cauliflower and only two menu items that call for it…”

You giggle at the comment but nearly jump out of your skin when your boss lays a hand on your right arm. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, hands raised flat in front of him. “Would you hand me that? Let me see your hand.” His voice is soft, and he’s looking at you with that warm look again- the one that really accentuates the crinkles around the older man’s eyes.

You aren’t sure how to feel.

Your boss is pretty friendly, to say the least. It really threw you for a loop when you first started working- you’d been preparing yourself for the predatory bloodsuckers you were used to, the ones who’d wring as many hours as possible while looking for any excuse to dock your pay. Practiced smiles and an ego stroked by exacting power over impoverished retail and fast-food employees. Any friendliness out of these people came with an agenda, and you’d always found it endlessly infuriating how someone so pathetic held so much sway over whether or not you’d get to eat. The Galley was probably the nicest place you’d ever worked- so you expected the attitude to be similar. You went in with your guard up, but the friendliness you’ve been met with thus far seemed genuine. The way that man effortlessly pulled you in despite your reservations was… unnerving. You barely even register that you’ve handed him the bright red box until he’s already holding it.

You blink, then mentally shake yourself off, choosing to finally shuck off your sweater. At least it’s wool, so you aren’t all that cold despite being soaked. The sink shuts off, and Millie rushes past both of you with a quick “See ya!” You smile softly again. She’s a good kid.

“Could I take a look at that now?” Your boss speaks up gently. You look back up at him, at the concerned crease in his brow, the dark eyes scanning over your wrist.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, sir, I can t-take care of it myself,” you try to assure, tensing when he frowns.

“I’m sure you can, but you don’t have to. Hmm… it’s swelling,” he says, moving a warm palm gently resting against your forearm, slowly lifting it. Now that you get a better look at it, you wince. Shit, it’s probably a sprain after all. He clicks his tongue, eyes sliding from your wrist to your face. You don’t meet his gaze. “What happened?”

“I fell on the way here, like I said. Dumb accident,” you mumble. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at you. You start to sweat a little. Thatch knew you biked here- but even so, transportation was something you preferred to be vague about. Even if he knew you didn’t have a car, you didn’t want to draw attention to it. Incidents like this could be used against you, potentially creating the argument that you didn’t qualify for the position due to a ‘lack of reliable transportation.’ It was bullshit, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t do it. “It’s not a big deal, I promise. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time,” you insist, and he sighs.

“Do you want to take a night off? We both know this doesn’t look good…” he speaks tentatively and gently, but you still jolt, finally looking him in the eye.

“Wh-? No! No no no, it’s fine, I can still work!” You cringe inwardly for sounding so frantic. You’re reminded of a time where Grub had gone home with a school friend without telling you, sending you into hysterics when she hadn't gotten off the bus. You shake yourself off- you aren’t anywhere near that freaked out at the moment, but it was a memory that always encouraged you to calm down. “I can still… I’ll just carry less plates at one time, or something. I promise it’s fine,” you say, calmer this time, but he doesn’t seem convinced.

“C’mon, I know you’re pre-med,” he says softly, lowering your arm.

“Yeah, so I’ve got a decent idea of how bad it is, and what my limits are,” you huff impatiently. The sooner you can go change, the sooner you get this shift over with.

“So you know that it’s probably a sprain.”

Your eye twitches. “Yes, and I know how to wrap and tape it. There’s an elastic bandage in the kit.” Goddamnit, drop it. You need this shift, you promised Grub something good to eat, and you need to get her some decent winter boots.

He tries again. “You should see an actual doctor.”

“Not bad enough to be worth it with my budget.”

“Carrying dishes out to customers could make it even worse-”

“I’ve done harder jobs in worse condition.” Your voice raises slightly.

His brows furrow. “You shouldn’t-”

“I have to!” You spit, cutting him off before you can stop yourself. “I need the fucking hours, don’t patroni-” you cut yourself off abruptly.

There’s a beat of stunned silence. The blood rushing in your ears far outweighs the clatter of dishes and pleasant chatter of coworkers drifting in from the kitchens- people whose names you haven’t even memorized yet. You tuck your chin against your chest and stare down at the floor. You… can’t talk like that. Your body goes rigid, stomach clenching. You absolutely cannot talk like that. This is the best job you’ve had. “Sorry, m’sorry, sir.” It’s a whisper, and the sentiment feels laughably hollow. Your tongue feels heavy and numb in your mouth, like a big useless hunk of lead. You’ve been fired for less. How could you be so stupid? So utterly, laughably stupid? Damn it, damn him- you’d never argued like that with other employers, you knew better. His grating, incessant friendliness, despite your caution, despite knowing from the start that it could lure you into a false sense of security, must have gotten the better of you. You got too comfortable somehow- there’s no other explanation for how you hadn’t even spared a second thought to the idea of arguing with your damn boss. Should you plead your case? Apologize again? No, it’s over. It has to be. “I’ll…” there’s a painful lump in your throat. Getting the words out feels like dragging boulders up and out of your own big, stupid gullet. “I can just go. I don’t… k-keep anything here, anyway. Nothing to… clear out…”

There’s a movement, a flash in the corner of your eye- the shadow of a familiar raised hand is pulled from the depths of your brain and you jerk backwards, eyes blown wide, reflexively guarding your face-

Both of you are frozen for a moment. You can feel him staring at you, hear your name being called coaxingly.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Just… Come sit down and let me wrap that up for you, okay?”

“...Right.”

You don’t really make any conscious decision to sit down so much as you just find yourself at the table in a chair turned sideways, facing your boss with your arm outstretched. His hair blocks out one of the lights from where you’re sitting, and it almost makes you crack a smile, but you don’t. You’re wordless as he gently dabs your palm with a disinfectant pad, eyes searching your blank face for something. His brows furrow a little. Does he want something? Are you being too quiet? There’s a soft inhale. “You…” He pauses, sighs, broad shoulders slumping as he leans forward- you instinctively move back, and he stops. “Sorry.” He’s quiet for a moment, maybe waiting for you to say something. When you don’t, he continues. “You don’t need to be so nervous, alright? I try to take care of my people here,” he speaks softly, laying a light square of gauze over the angry red flesh of your scraped palm. There’s another small jolt of indignation. Again with the familiarity. You aren’t his anything.

… But you really can’t risk another little outburst.

“You don’t need to work tonight,” he says, warm murmur grounding you as he starts to wrap your arm. “But I won’t make you leave, either, if you’re… Really sure about this.” Your brows furrow. You don’t understand why he’s being so… Nice. You’d had a dishwashing job before this- it was mostly fine, until Grub came down with the flu. You had to take five days off to take care of her, and once you’d come back, they started cutting your hours. Shorter shifts, to losing days, to finally being “laid off.” All because you missed five days of scrubbing plates. If you’d argued with your manager there, you’re sure he would’ve smashed a glass over your head.

You sniffle, rubbing your eyes with your good arm. “I-I don’t get it,” you mutter. It still hurts to try and speak. It’s all so embarrassing.

He chuckles, a gentle rumble resonating in his chest as he applies the little bandage fasteners. He gently turns your wrist, examining the bandaging job, before gingerly laying your arm back down on the table. “Please. You think you’re the first struggling employee I’ve had?” He asks. You can tell he’s looking at your face, but you don’t feel ready to meet his eyes. He continues, seemingly unbothered. “I try to be decent, that’s all.” You nod slowly, and he hums. “You’ve still got some time before your shift. I’m gonna go check in with the fine folk in our kitchens, and you take some time to calm down. Let me know what you decide once I get back, alright?”

You blink. That was it? You aren’t even being reprimanded? You… probably should be, at least a little bit. “A-alright,” you parrot, voice faint.

He pats your shoulder before rising to his feet. Good god, he’s tall. “Great. Think about what I said, alright?” And then he’s off.

That’s it.

You don’t move, at first. It takes you a minute of just sitting in that chair, listening to the sounds of the kitchen. Then something finally clicks and you own your body again, springing to your feet and grabbing your backpack as you scramble to the staff bathroom to change- something you manage without incident, surprisingly, considering your night so far. And when you’re done, you amble your way back to the armchair, dropping backwards onto the worn leather. You should… try to clear your head. You need to be able to act like you have yourself together when Thatch gets back.

You still aren’t sure what to make of everything. He’s so painfully nice, but you still can’t help but think you’ve really, really fucked up somehow. But one thing is certain- you have another chance, and you really don’t want to ruin it.

When Thatch finally comes back, you don’t miss the way his face falls once he sees you in uniform. “... I see you’ve made up your mind, then.” You shift under his gaze, clumsy fingers fumbling with the thick seams of the right armrest. He talks nice, and plays the part of a concerned party very well, but you still can’t help but see it all as a possible ploy to get rid of you. You needed to prove yourself, so you could stay. You had to. So you just nod.

“Yes, sir.”

You have practice putting on your customer service voice. The empty smile, deliberately flexing your cheeks just enough that it looks like it reaches your eyes. The friendly voice you put on too, gratingly chipper to your own ears. The shift isn’t that bad. There are a couple tables that express concern, asking about your bandaged wrist, but you’re able to laugh it off and give a vague answer. Taking orders isn’t much of a problem. Holding the little notepad does send twinges of pain through your wrist, but it’s manageable. One table praises you for being oh-so careful with their food, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. They end up tipping very well, anyway. Multiple tables do, actually. Maybe you should wear a bandage more often.

It’s not until you’re two hours in that something eventful happens. You’re on your way to deliver an order to the kitchen staff when you see her. Millie is loitering just next to the doors to the dining area, chewing her lip with a platter of appetizers in hand- a bread basket, shrimp tartlets, some of those fancy cheeses and a portion of breaded calamari, it looks like. Millie is just staring down at them, buckling at the knees in a pigeon-toed stance. “Mills?” You call softly, and her head snaps up to you. “Millie, are you okay..? What’s wrong?”

“Ah, i-it’s nothing,” she stammers, but the way her voice is trembling says otherwise. “I o-only need a moment, a-and I’ll be just fine! It’s just fine!” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she visibly cringes, the rattle of lightly jostled silverware filling the brief silence.

“... Millie,” you start gently, crossing your arms as you automatically slip into your concerned-big-sibling mode. “It’s obviously not fine. What’s the problem? What has you so shaken up?”

Her lips wobble. “It’s dumb,” she mumbles. “Not even that bad…”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You’re a nervous kid, but not without reason. Tell me what’s up, okay?” You say, adding a touch of firmness to your tone.

She sighs, shifting on her feet, looking anywhere but you. “I-it’s just… there’s this table of business-man types, and um… a-at first they were just kinda looking at me weird, but…” Your body goes rigid. “I came back to take their orders, and one of them says I’ve got pretty hair, a-and he wants to brush it out for me? Which is j-just weird, I guess, but it made me uncomfortable, and then another one says our uniform supplier sh-should bring the skirt length up by a couple inches and everyone laughed… and another said to lower the necklines too, while they’re at it. So um… I just…” You put a hand up.

“Millie, you don’t need to say anything else. That’s fucking gross and you’re not stupid, okay?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, before looking back up with a stern expression. “Alright, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna handle that table. You’re getting an early break- go take a little bit to calm down, okay? I’m taking over as server for those creeps.”

Millie splutters, but you’re already taking the platter. “W-wait, no! I can do it, it’s fine!” She reaches out to take it back from you, but you shoot the poor girl a stern look.

“If anything happens, if anyone asks- throw me under the bus. You have my permission. I’m not gonna let you deal with that shit if I can help it, okay?” You say, maintaining eye-contact with the wide-eyed girl. “Tell me you understand.” She just nods, hugging herself now that her hands are free. Your face softens. “Great. Now go take that break, okay? It’s just fine.” You want to pat her shoulder, but your hands are full. She just nods, mumbles out the table number and a thank-you, then scurries away. You take a deep breath, before pushing the door open with your back, and spinning around to face the public dining area.

You don’t bother putting the customer service smile back on. You walk up to that table with the blankest, most unimpressed expression you can muster. They’re in a corner booth, three men in suits. Two seem about middle aged, one with dark hair and the other gray. The third is a younger brunette- he has his coat draped over the back of the booth. One raises a brow as you approach, but you don’t react. Wordlessly, you set the carrying platter down, before removing each appetizer. “Shrimp tartlets, bread basket, tempura, cheese platter,” you say flatly, retrieving the platter with your good hand, before saying the dreaded next lines. “The main courses will be out shortly. Is there anything else you need.” The men look at eachother, scoffing, one shaking his head and another doing a breathy sort of laugh.

“You’re not the girl we had before. What happened to her?” One of the older two asks.

Your eyes narrow, ever so slightly. “She’s busy,” busy taking some time to herself, hopefully. “-So I delivered your food. Now, is there anything else you would like to order?”

“How about a smile?” The younger one says, leaning towards you.

You’re unable to keep the sharp glare off your face. “That is not a menu item. My coworkers and I are here to serve food, and nothing else. Now, is that all?” You ask, holding the brunette’s gaze. You don’t flinch, you don’t falter, not even when you jostle your injured wrist. You can tell they feel awkward, glancing around at each other. Nobody says anything for a good few seconds, until you speak up again. “Right. We’ll have the rest right out for you soon, sirs,” before turning and swiftly retreating. Could be better, could be worse. As anxious as you were about job security, you were far more pissed with men like that. You couldn’t deny you were jittery though- your nerves wrung tight with everything that had happened thus far, and the simmering anger at the idea of anyone upsetting Millie.

You just keep going, denying the exhaustion creeping through your body. Fake smile bright, voice chipper, laughing off your injury even when it sent jolts of pain all the way up your arm. You don’t pay the few comments much mind, save for the one-armed regular who frequents the bar with his friends cracking a good-natured joke about taking better care of yourself, lest you end up matching him. You snort, letting the facade slip a bit. The smile you give him is tired, and doesn’t show any teeth- but it’s genuine. “I dunno, man… I think I could pull off the facial scars pretty well,” you quip back. You almost worry that you could cross a line with that, but your worries are quickly assuaged by drunken laughter.

Thankfully, you don’t have to serve those men again. Neither does Millie. By the time your break rolls around, another coworker greets you- the tall, scruffy line cook with patchy facial hair who’s always chewing on a toothpick, what was his name again? He usually looks like he’s bored out of his mind. He informs you that the poor kid is in the kitchens again. She’d had an emotional conversation with Thatch, but he hadn’t heard the details, so you fill him in on the creeps she’d been serving. He smirks. “Ohoh. Well, those three won’t be back now that she’s told him, I can promise you that. Thanks for covering for her, by the way.” His eyes narrow. “Hey, what happened to your arm?”

You blink, barely swallowing a yawn. “Oh, th- it’s just a sprain. Fell on the way here.”

“And the boss didn’t give you the night off? No offense, but you look trashed.”

You wince, glancing at the little mirror above the bathroom sink. You guess you do look pretty tired, your eyebags are very prominent. “He, uh. Tried too? I need the hours.”

He’s still for a second, before the bored expression morphs into a pitying look, clapping a hand on your shoulder and leaving it there. “Listen, I know how lots of places are, but the boss ain’t one to screw you out of PTO,” he drawls, toothpick waggling as he speaks. “If he offers something, he means it, alright?” He says, looking you right in the eyes.

“Oh,” you mumble rather dumbly in response. He gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“Just… try taking him up on it, the next time he offers you something, alright?” He says, retrieving his hand and sauntering off. He moves with a hunched, somewhat bow-legged stance. Right before he opens the door to the kitchens, he turns to call back to you. “If it doesn’t go well, I’ll saw my own foot off! Like in that one movie with the guys in the bathroom… aw damn, what’s it called?”

“... Saw?” you offer tentatively.

He snaps his fingers, giving you a grin. “Yeah, that’s it! I’ll saw my foot off, just like that movie Saw!”

A nervous little chortle bubbles its way out of you. “I, um, don’t want you to do that, though?”

“Well that’s good, cuz I won’t have to!” He says, flashing a grin and a peace-sign before the doors swing shut behind him.

Huh.

He’s a nice guy. You should really get his name…

You roll your shoulders back, exhaling. You’ve got the break room to yourself, for right now. You fetch your backpack, lugging it one-handed to the table. Gingerly unzipping it, you grunt as you clumsily slide the hefty nursing textbook out of your bag. You can probably manage about half an hour of cramming before you’re back out on the dining floor. The book is dropped onto the table with a loud THUNK! Before you pull up a chair and crack it open. You ought to pat yourself on the back, you think. You’re getting a lot of shit done, despite everything that has happened tonight. You squint, staring down at your book. Ugh. Your eyes are scanning over the words, but you’re not really taking anything in. Okay. Well, you’ll get up and fix yourself some tea with the little stove. Sighing, you stand back up, trudging your way over. Wow, your limbs feel heavy, huh? You need to reset your brain. Just take a second to get your bearings. The tea will help with that, you think.

You manage to set the kettle to boil with one arm, having had to awkwardly brace it against your chest to pour the water in. You pick one of the options kept in the cabinet, until finding one that seems appealing and leaving it in a pre-prepped mug. The piercing whistle of the kettle sounds, so you turn off the little stove and pour the water. There. Time to grab your beverage and get back to it. You walk back over, sit yourself back down, and look at the page. Elbows on the table, head resting on your hands. There isn’t much left to read. Just a couple chapters, maybe? You’re allowed to annotate. Highlight text, write notes and shit. God, the text really is bleeding together though… you want to pull your hair out. You take a sip of tea, instead, letting the warmth spread through your mouth. Rubbing the heels of your palms against your eyes, you sigh. You can rest your eyes for a second. You cross your arms over the open textbook, laying your head down. Only for a second. Just for a second.

This doesn’t feel right.

You huff, brows furrowing at the dryness of your mouth. Ugh. You have your tea though, you think, fingers digging into the cushions of- you stop. Cushions? Wait. You’re at the table- no, you aren’t. You aren’t sitting anymore, you’re lying down-

You shoot up, hands flying to rub your eyes fiercely- wrenching a strangled yelp out of you when the taut sting of pain returns to your injured wrist. A white shape slides off your body with the soft rustling of fabric. You blink the sleep out of your eyes- it’s quieter now. You look around- you’ve moved to the couch. You fucking fell asleep. Why didn’t anyone wake you? And did you lay yourself down? You don’t remember that. Your tea, now cold, sits on the coffee table on a branded coaster, your textbook closed next to it with a bookmark slipped between the pages. And beside them, three… generously sized to-go bags. Your body goes numb. You feel like you’re gonna throw up.

Did you�� pack up more food then you’ve ever taken before and then just go pass out? You wouldn’t have, right? Your hands are trembling, it feels hard to breathe- you wouldn’t. You know that. If you did, it would definitely be over. Back to stints in retail and fast food and lord knows they don’t pay as well. If you’ve blown this, there goes any chance at saving up money. You stifle a sob, pushing the ache in your throat back down into your chest. You sniffle, furiously wiping away the tears beading up in your eyes. Why didn’t anyone wake you up? It was busy! Little hiccups crawl their way out of you, feeling so much louder in this quiet, empty room. Your good hand slaps over your mouth, trying to stifle the pathetic sounds. Come on, get your shit together. You didn’t do this. You know that you would be too afraid to. It clicks into place when your eyes fall to the white fabric puddled on the floor by your feet. A chef’s coat- one a couple sizes too big to fit any of your peers.

Your boss’s coat draped over your sleeping form, the food you never would’ve had the balls to order for yourself, his aggravatingly friendly demeanor- you feel the heat rising to your face, resting in your cheeks and the tips of your ears. The familiar burn of the twin-flames, shame and embarrassment. Thatch moved you. Picked you up and laid you onto the couch himself. Who else? Millie couldn’t, and the coat was too big to fit… the Saw Guy. You bend down, gingerly picking up the white coat. You rub the fabric between your fingers for a few seconds, staring down at the garment now bunched up in your lap. Another sniffle, another rub of the eyes- and you drape it over the back of the couch with a shaky breath.

The food smells… really good, but you can’t bring yourself to examine it properly. You sit there in silence for a long moment, staring down at your hands. You feel… far away. This is all so weird. What does your boss get out of this? Your coworkers all seem to adore him, yes, but you just…

You don’t want to get your hopes up.

The doors to the kitchen swing open, but you don’t look. You feel a bead of sweat roll down your neck, the sensation sending a shiver through you. The familiar voice of your boss calls out to you, but you say nothing. You hear his footfalls echoing through the empty room, coming to stop on the other side of the table. You can see his figure in your peripherals. “Hey,” he calls softly.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “... Why didn’t you wake me up?” You choke out.

“... I suppose I felt bad,” he confesses. His voice is soft but… almost tight. “I have some bad news.” You immediately tense, the fingers of your good hand digging into your leg. “Well hang on, it’s not like that!” He says hurriedly, already knowing what you thought. Now you look up at him, searching his weathered face. He’s got a plain black shirt on- yep, the coat’s his for sure. He rubs the back of his neck, and there’s no hint of a smile. Despite his assurances, you feel like a fist is squeezing your heart, a thick anxious weight in your throat. “Millie came to talk to me earlier. I appreciate that you helped out, of course, it’s just…” He sighs, screwing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, he looks you in the eyes, and your gaze dips before you can stop yourself. “She went out onto the back patio to calm down like you said, and… someone had stolen your bike.”

It takes a moment to hit you. “Th-that old thing?” You breathe incredulously, eye twitching just barely. “Why the fuck… that old p-piece of..?” You stare at him. Is he fucking with you? But the way his mouth is pulled unevenly, brows drawn tight, the slight scrunch of his upper nose bridge… and his eyes are awfully soft.

“I’m afraid so,” he says softly. Your throat falls into your chest and your heart falls into your stomach. Of course. Of course! Is fucking everything happening today? You’re caught somewhere between the urge to laugh or burst into tears- you just lean forward with a choked wheeze, anxious hands pulling at your hair. Don’t- don’t break down in front of this man-

You already can’t afford a car or proper daycare a neighbor is watching your sister for fuck’s sake

Your good hand slides down to your mouth, roughly clamping over your lips in a desperate attempt to stifle the lurching wail of frustration you know is trapped in your chest. A strangled whine leaks past your rigid fingers anyway.

She needs winter boots a new coat too but the bike the fucking bike you can’t earn money without it everything is over

The couch cushions dip, and a warm hand rubs your upper back. You jolt. When had he moved? “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “Let me give you a ride? I already do it for Millie, when her dad… can’t.” You look up at him, peeking between your splayed fingers.

“A ride,” you repeat dryly, voice hoarse. “Don’t suppose you’ll be driving me to work, as well?”

“... If that’s what you need, I can make it work. It’s not like biking is a good idea with your wrist like that, anyway.” You’re quiet for a long moment. He does have a point, as much as you hate to admit it. You change the subject for now, gesturing to the bags on the table.

“And the, uh… pity rations?” You ask. Thatch snorts, leaning back and crossing his legs.

“Millie felt pretty horrible about the bike situation, especially after the favor you did her-”

“Wh- that’s not her fault!” You interrupt before you can stop yourself. He gives you another look you don’t like, a strange warmth with a glint you can’t place.

“No, of course not,” he says, reaching over your shoulders to pick up his coat where you’d laid it out. “But you know how she is- the poor kid was broken up about it all the same. Didn’t know how to tell you, so I said I would. She made most of that for you- Genkei invited himself to help her, when he found her still sniffling over a pot of chowder.” Ah, Genkei… you remember now. Saw-guy’s actual name.

“Oh god, kid…” you mumble to yourself, shaking your head. “She’s… gone already, then? I can’t thank her?”

Thatch nods, smiling at you softly. “I wouldn’t worry about it- you can do that next time you come in. Neither of you are leaving this job anytime soon- not by my hand, anyway.”

You look to your boss, then back at the packaged food. It all still feels too good to be true, but… what option do you have, really? Even if you did still have your bike, Thatch was completely right. Biking with a busted wrist wouldn’t work out. “I just…” you start, then pause. This… puts you in a strange spot, though. You’ll… owe him after this, won’t you? Is all this gonna be hung over your head? Genkei didn’t seem worried about anything, but… but…

“What do I need to do to convince you that you aren’t in any trouble?” Thatch asks, warmth slightly cut with exasperation. You cringe.

“I don’t… I don’t know? I just…” You struggle to find the words. “... Sorry?” You offer.You aren’t looking at him, but you can feel him staring at you.

“None of that, now,” he says, waving you off. “How’s this to start? Let me help carry your things to the car.”

Well… you can’t do it yourself, you think. “Okay,” you relent, nodding. “... Thank you.”

It turns out that when Thatch said “Let me help carry your things” he’d actually intended on carrying all of it. He had your backpack and two of the take-out bags looped around his arm, while you were left with the smallest of the three. He whistles a tune while you follow him out to the darkened staff parking area- street and building lights casting strips of ruddy yellow-orange over the lot. You trail behind him, watching as he goes from a silhouette, to being outlined in amber light, to a silhouette again- staring at his bobbing pompadour as he leads you to an old, brown ford bronco with tan paneling. You blink. The paint is chipped and worn away in places- this is an old beater car. Nice when it was in its prime, likely still efficient. You’d expected something fancier from some sort of… well, you weren’t sure if celebrity is the right term, but he was a big deal in culinary circles and he came from a rich family.

He leads you to the passenger side door. With one hand, he fishes his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the vehicle and opening the door with a smile. You blink, taken aback for a moment before you thank him, sliding in and placing the one bag you were allowed to carry at your feet. Leave it to him to make being down a limb look so effortless. You exhale, trying to relax against the cracked leather seat, cradling your wrist in your lap when Thatch slides into the driver’s seat. He turns the key, then turns to you. “How’s it feel?”

You glance at him, half his face shadowed, then back to the bandaging on your wrist. “It’s… fine when I don’t move it,” you admit. That was mostly true. You suppose there was a dull ache but you were good at tuning that out. “I’ve got painkillers back home, that should help a little…” you muse, earning a hum in response.

He starts the car, asks your address, and the two of you are off. It’s mostly quiet, just the hum of the engine and the passing streetlights. What are you going to do about the bike? You don’t have work for two days, but you can’t get a new bike in that time. You glance at your boss through the corner of your eye. You… really don’t want to rely on him for this. Calling your boss for a ride to work feels wrong. Maybe you should’ve asked Saw g- er, Genkei… no, you barely know that guy, either. Ugh.

“Uh… thanks again,” you force out, when the two of you are stopped at a red light. “Grub’s gonna be really happy about the food…”

“Grub?” He asks, and you can imagine the quirked brow even if you can’t currently see it.

“Yeah, my baby sister.”

“Ah, right,” he says, looking to you then back up at the light. “Guess I never heard you mention her name.”

“You haven’t..?” You mumble to yourself. “Well, it’s… not her legal name. I called her that once to tease her, but it completely backfired and now she refuses to go by anything else,” you explain, feeling a smile start to pull at the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles softly. The stoplight switches. “She sounds like a funny kid,” he says, accelerating forward.

“She really is.”

“You take care of her on your own, then? No parents?” There’s a sharp jolt in your chest.

“... No parents,” you confirm after a long moment. The tightness in your voice is clear. You’re worried he’ll press you for more- you can feel him look at you again.

“... I see,” is all he says, voice quiet and sympathetic. You’re grateful for it. He drives in silence for a little while, making a turn. “Got lotsa siblings myself,” he muses after a while. “All of us adopted.”

You blink, glancing back over at him- but his eyes are focused ahead again. “Oh. That’s…” you aren’t sure what to say. “I-I’m sorry,” you settle on.

He huffs good naturedly. “Nah, don’t be. Oyaji’s great. I wouldn’t have things any other way.” Another pause, another strange pitying glance. “I’m sorry. This sort of thing… none of this is easy to do on your own.” You blink- finding yourself fighting back sudden tears. His voice was so much softer when he said that, so… earnest.

Why did it hurt? Why did it feel so good to hear, at the same time? He hasn’t said anything revolutionary. Of course it was fucking hard. Is it because he’s your boss, that the acknowledgement hits you so sharply? The novelty of it all that knocks you off-kilter?

You focus on swallowing that lump in your throat again. “Thanks,” you force the word out, unsure if you actually mean it.

Thatch regarded you with pity. You were far from the first employee who’d had it rough when he took them under his wing- hell, Genkei got the job a week after surviving an overdose. The ambulance ride alone put the poor bastard in debt, not to mention the actual treatment. Not that he disclosed that, but he had looked like hell during his interview and it wasn’t difficult to find out when one of your brothers has connections in every local hospital. No, Thatch was no stranger to what others would call charity cases (Though he preferred to regard them as “investments”). But matters of family never failed to tug on the Chef’s heartstrings.

He didn’t know exactly what your story was, beyond the poverty and custody over your sister. You tried to keep to yourself, bottling everything up until it was impossible to keep it in. But he could infer some things- your parents were probably either dead, or… unfit to care for children. Not unlike Millie’s parents, in his opinion- if Thatch’s father could somehow balance the amount of kids he had, Millie’s had absolutely no excuse for blatantly favoring her brothers.

… Could be worse, though… at least she had a proper roof over her head, but the apartment lot he had just pulled into left quite a bit to be desired. This complex was notorious- barely maintained structures, leased to those unlucky enough to be without alternatives. He can see you curling in on yourself the closer he gets, staring down at your fidgeting hands.

Poor thing.

Though your reservations weren’t without merit, and he had found your earlier outburst endearing- like a sad, wet puppy snapping at him before recoiling shamefully, he wished you were more receptive to being cared for. This was a step in the right direction, he supposed, as he pulled into a parking spot in front of building eight. Your apartment was on the second floor, so he’d be lucky enough to assist you in bringing your things inside as well. Even if you were embarrassed, he needed to know what type of situation he was dealing with.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say softly, hugging yourself.

“Well, of course. Wouldn’t do to strand you at my restaurant, now would it?” He keeps his voice soft for you. He unbuckles, opening the door, and you look back up at him in confusion.

“Wait, what are you-?”

He stops, turning to face you and raising a brow. “I’m helping you carry everything up, of course.”

He softens at the look you give him next, eyes widened and head shaking. “N-no, that’s okay, sir! You can just drop me off, you d-don’t need to-”

He tuts in disapproval, a little pearl of guilt welling up when you flinch. He knows you’re afraid of letting him see the conditions of this place, of the judgment you were no doubt used to receiving. But he wanted to see- it made helping easier. “I wouldn’t have let you carry your things to the car, so I’m definitely not letting you do it up a flight of stairs. That textbook of yours is awfully heavy, you know.”

You sputter as he exits the vehicle, and by the time you're done fumbling with your seatbelt, he’s already opening the door for you again. You breath shakily, looking up at him all flustered. “You don’t h-have to…” you try to insist, but he just chuckles, shaking his head.

“I want to,” he asserts, giving you a warm smile. You look like you’re going to say something else, but decide against it, closing your mouth and looking down with a huff. You timidly shuffle out of the car with your one bag. That one has mostly appetizers and desserts, so it’s the lightest. He closes the car door behind you, going to fetch the other bags. Your backpack, the other generously packed bags- one with Millie’s clam chowder, a seafood gumbo, and a hearty chili, while the other had two steaks with a portion of roasted vegetables and potatoes. He also portioned some of that roast he’d seen you eyeing- cut up so it could fit in the container easier, of course. He didn’t pack much seafood outside of the soup- he knew it wouldn’t keep or reheat as well.

He follows you, this time- glancing over your shoulder at him, your sweet face contorted in anxiousness. He idly whistles as he goes, slowing his pace so as not to overtake you. You’re fumbling with your own keys, standing in front of apartment number 404- when the door swings open, and a blurry form shoots forward to throw her arms around your legs. You stumble, instinctively reaching to pat her head with your injured hand- wincing empathetically when you inevitably jolt. The kid looks up with a big, gap-toothed smile, sparkling eyes peeking out from behind her bangs. “MISS HOWELL! EARWIG IS FINALLY HOME!” she shouts, earning an exasperated groan from you.

“Earwig babies are called nymphs, kiddo.” You correct teasingly. “At least pick a bug that actually has grubs, huh?” She pouts, sticking her tongue out and blowing a raspberry at you, before finally noticing Thatch. He smiles, giving the little girl a small wave. The sleeves of her sweater are a couple inches too short- the same as her pants, with mismatched patches sewn over both knees.

“Hey, who are you?” She asks, unwrapping her arms from around you and pointing at him- or rather, up at his hair. “You look like bread.” She states plainly.

“G-grub!” you exclaim, voice rising with your nerves, but Thatch busts up laughing before you can really admonish her- a hearty jovial sound. Children are children, it would take far more than that to upset him. His own family had said much worse.

“My name’s Thatch, kiddo,” he says, crouching down and extending his free hand to her. She narrows her eyes, glaring at his hand for a moment, and then his face. “You must be Grub, yes?” She nods, reaching out to shake his hand. She grips as hard as her little hands can, yanking up and down with a fervor that has him laughing again.

As she does so, an elderly woman appears in the doorway as well- dressed in loose, flowing clothes with her graying hair tied up in a bun. “Thank you for looking after Grub, miss Howell,” you speak softly- a tired, but genuine smile on your face. It’s a sweet look on you, he notes, before turning his attention back to the glaring child. She’s let go of his hand now, opting to cross her arms and attempt a staring contest.

“Oh hush,” chides the old woman. “You know I adore that girl, really- oh dear, what happened to your arm?” She asks, reaching out towards your bandaged wrist before clearly thinking better of it. At these words, Grub’s little brows furrow and she spins around, Thatch all but forgotten.

“What?! Something happened?!” She exclaims, before she sees your wrist and gasps. “Something DID happen!”

“I-it was an accident! N-not a big deal! That’s why Thatch is here- he h-helped me get home!” You sputter, gesturing to where he stands behind Grub.

“Oh, he did, hmm?” This Miss Howell turns to face him, hazy eyes regarding him with warmth. “Well, it’s much appreciated,” she says, shuffling forward to pat him on the arm, smiling widely when he gives her a nod before moving past him. “But this old woman is up past her bedtime, so I’ll be taking my leave.”

“What! But you’re OLD!” Grub cries, earning a panicked look from you. “You don’t NEED a bedtime!”

The woman laughs, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “I just don’t have the energy that I used to, little one. Appreciate it while you have it, hmm?” Reaching the door just across from yours- 405- she glances over her shoulder and winks. “You lot know where to find me, should you need anything,” she says with a grin, earning an adorable giggle from Grub who waves energetically despite the lack of distance.

“G’night, miss Howell! See you tomorrow for tea and cocoa!” She calls, grinning brightly. As soon as the door closes, it’s like a switch flips and she’s right back to side-eyeing Thatch. You chuckle nervously.

“Sweetie, th-this is my boss at The Galley. He drove me home, and packed us some extra food to bring home. Isn’t that nice?” You prompt through grit teeth, shoulders tensed. Please, he wasn’t so pathetic as to punish you over a little kid running her mouth. That’s what they do, after all!

She glances to you, then back up at Thatch with a suspicious look. “... He’s the food guy? The good food guy?”

“Um, yeah, pretty much!” You confirm, going to rub the back of your neck but wincing at the contact. “So, say thank you, and help bring the bags in, okay?”

Oh no you don’t. Thatch would be seeing your apartment, he would not be loitering at the door with nothing but a glimpse. “Oh, I wouldn’t trouble the little lady with that,” he deflects warmly. “Let me carry the backpack at least- I won’t have you do it and it’s too big for her. Easier to just make one trip, yes?”

You sputter a little bit, brows creased in worry, but as he suspects you don’t want to make a scene out of this. He’s not unsympathetic- your nerves do twist something inside him. But he can’t help you without pushing you out of your comfort zone. “O-okay,” you nod, relenting with a shaky sigh. Grub watches the exchange with a harsh stare. He would… need to find some way to assuage the kid’s fears.

“So what even happened?” The kid asks, throwing an accusatory glance back at Thatch as he follows the two of you inside. But before either he or you can explain, you stop in your tracks. Thatch, who is so tall he had to duck to get through the doorway, can see over your head at the… organized mess that overtakes the living room.

“Grub… what is all this..?” There’s a small tv across from a threadbare couch, behind which sits a table with four mismatched chairs, as if they’d all been picked out separately. Probably for free on some street corner, he thought. There’s one wall-mounted shelf above the tv, but other than that the only wall decorations are Grub’s artwork- unless you count the plain gray curtains. But none of that is what had caught your attention. Between the couch and the tv, various cardboard packages have been stood upright, organized in neat rows. A little to the left, beneath a cracked windowsill, the same has been done with several old cans. As he walks further, following you to set things down on your table, he sees a similar cluster of jars creeping out from underneath that, too. Some old newspaper has at least been laid underneath each collection.

Grub crosses her little arms. “Boxtown, Cantown and Jartown. Miss Howell helped me make ‘em. But don’t change the subject!” The kid says. You raise both now-free hands in a placating gesture, but roll your eyes. He snorts, setting each to-go bag down at the table, before shucking the thin but sturdy plastic down to pool around the packages inside. He sets your backpack down on a chair, and busies himself with setting out the options while listening to the two of you.

“Okay, okay,” you huff. “Biked through a puddle that hid a nasty pothole. Completely wiped out,” you confess. Ah, so that was it? You were deliberately vague with him. “... Then, uh… the bike got stolen. So even if my wrist wasn’t messed up, I couldn’t have gotten home.” Ah, now you’ll admit it, he thinks, inviting himself into the kitchen to fetch silverware and dishes. And snoop, of course. You shoot him a worried glance when he moves across the cheap linoleum flooring, but it quickly settles into acceptance when he opens up a cupboard.

“The bike? Really? That thing was old and ugly, though,” Grub blurts, earning a snort in response. Thatch smiles to himself, glancing your way, but it falls slightly once he properly takes in the contents. Three ceramic plates, three glass bowls, and a number of pilfered paper and plastic dishes- both from his restaurant, and others you’d no doubt worked at. Not that he was upset with you- it was just yet another thing that hammered home how tough you had it.

“Yeah, that’s basically what I said too,” you say, voice heavy with exasperation. “Anyway. What’s with all this?” You ask, and he looks up even though he knows what you’ll be gesturing to. “Boxtown is looking kinda sad,” you tease, and you’re right- the cardboard is a bit more scuffed than anything else, with wrinkles and torn edges abound. Not shocking- it was the least durable of the three options. Thatch passively takes note of the brands on the cluttered containers within view- generic or knock-off brands, several of those bright, eye-catching clearance stickers.

“Um, they’re having a fine- a fininal- a f-” Grub struggles for a moment. “The economy is really bad there,” she eventually settles on as he fetches a bowl and a plate for each of you. As much as he’d like to sit down and share a meal, he wants as much of this going to your mouths as possible, rather than his own. He has no need for any of it.

You huff with a shake of your head, and he notes that you don’t give him another frightened face when he returns to the kitchen for silverware. “Okay, fair enough,” you say, before crouching down to examine the jars lined up under the table. He opens a drawer, noting the way it sticks as it slides out. The silverware is just as limited, three or four of everything supplemented with plastic utensils and paper-sleeved chopsticks. “What’s going on here, though, Grub?” You call out. “This jar still has tomato sauce left in it!”

“That’s Jartown’s famous murder house! Tourists love it!” She calls jubilantly as Thatch approaches the table once more, bounding over with a big grin. The split second her eyes meet Thatch’s again, she forces the cool, stern glare back onto her little face. He laughs softly, setting out the utensils. This isn’t gonna push him away, the kid is absolutely adorable. It warms his heart to see her so suspicious on your behalf. He’d pinch her cheeks, if he thought he could get away with it.

You stand up from where you were squatting, stretching your back. Your shirt rides up, exposing a strip of your stomach, and it’s harder than he’d like to admit to not look directly. Settling with a deep breath, you fix your sister with a sly smile. “Jartown’s famous murder house should’ve been condemned ages ago, kiddo,” you tease. “Clean it up or we’re gonna get ants again.”

The kid groans, slouching exaggeratedly and lurching forward with her arms dangling limply. “Fiiiiiiiiiiine, but only because the ants suck,” she grumbles, dropping to her knees to fetch the offending container, and scurrying past him once she’s got it.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Thatch finally speaks up again. “There’s plenty of food waiting for you when you get back, hmm? Some might think it’s a bit late to eat, but I say there’s no such thing. Want me to tell you your options, or leave it as a surprise?” The returning Grub actually stops, seeming to think on it- examining all the opaque white containers while her fingers idly fumble with the pilling on her sweater. You’ve turned your attention to her as well, no doubt waiting for her to choose.

“I think…” She pauses for a moment, holding her chin between her thumb and pointer finger. “I… I want a surprise. I wanna find out when I see it.”

“Your house, your rules, kiddo!” He exclaims, and she speeds toward the table, clambering on top of a wobbly chair. She looks at her options. One bag with three tall, plastic containers of soup, one with three sizable white boxes stacked on top of each other, and the final bag with several small boxes containing appetizers. She leans forward, palms firmly planted against the table, before picking the top box from the second bag. Ah- the roast that had you so enamored. Not a bad choice, if he thought so himself. Her little hands struggle with the cardboard clasp for a moment, before finally maneuvering the flimsy hook out of place. The box pops open- the scent of a well-marinated cut flooding the air.

Grub’s eyes go wide as saucers behind the curtain of her bangs. She looks at the tender slices of meat, and then up at Thatch in dumbfounded silence- the previous glares and exaggerated disdain completely absent. Now she looks at him like he’s just given her the cornucopia. His heart clenches at the sight. It hadn’t even taken a day to win the poor kid over, huh?

Then a mischievous little grin curls across her face, and she points up at his hair again. “Do we get that, too?”

“GRUB!” You shout, but he’s already cracking up. The rascal is a delight, and so are you.

#one piece x reader #thatch #op #yandere one piece #thatch x reader #reader insert #yandere thatch #though it's kinda light here #WHEEE FINALLY DONE!!!#fanfiction

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