#this is so frustrating and disappointing for real
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bluemantics · 3 days ago
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Lance McClain is a good kid. Really, he is! His mom always told him that he was a good person with a kind heart, and that was the end of the story.
Being expelled from six schools in six years was just
 well, a casualty of circumstances. Now, though, he was really going to try with The Galaxy Garrison Private Academy, even if they took boring field trips to look at Greek art from three millennia ago.
The halls of the museum echoed with footsteps and murmuring around Lance, light streaming in and highlighting old marble artworks. He frowned up at a carving of a furry humanoid with big ears. It looked more like a cat person than a monster, but he dutifully marked it down on his scavenger hunt paper.
Suddenly, he felt something hit the back of his head, followed by giggles from somewhere behind him. He turned around to see a little paper airplane, which made him annoyed and thankful all at once. Annoyed, because who the hell was throwing stuff at him, but thankful that it wasn’t a real airplane. Yee-owch. Lance had just heard a news broadcast that day about a freak plane accident somewhere off the coast of New York. He briefly recalled mentions of a thunderstorm.
Anyways, in typical Lance fashion, he found out that the paper plane belonged to Nancy Bobofit and proceeded to flay her (verbally of course. It’s not like he’s some sort of crazy weapon-toting sixth grader).
After five minutes of arguing over whose curls were greasier, Hunk finally found Lance and dragged him away.
“You gotta stop doing that, dude,” Hunk bemoaned. “You’re going to get expelled again. Or get both of us kicked out.” A pang went through Lance at that— he didn’t want to risk hurting his mom, Maria, and getting another expulsion would at least disappoint her. She was an angel on Earth who deserved better than another stressful phone call.
With a reluctant sigh, Lance continued their scavenger hunt with his best buddy Hunk at his side.
The rest of the day? Chaos.
Lance didn’t know what happened. One second, Nancy was picking on Hunk at lunchtime. The next, she was facedown in a water fountain, even though Lance could have sworn he didn’t touch a greasy curl on her stupid head.
His math teacher, Mr. Iverson, brought him aside to the museum rooms for a lecture before promptly turning into a fucking bat lady. He then started attacking Lance, which was irresponsible for an educator in his humble opinion. If it hadn’t been for a beautiful girl with white hair, Lance would probably have died. She appeared out of nowhere and threw him a pen as he scrambled behind columns to avoid Iverson's talons.
Lance snatched the pen out of the air with reflexes that surprised him.
"Are you crazy?" he yelled at the girl, pointing to the pen.
"Open the pen!" she yelled back.
Well, fuck it. He uncapped the pen and watched in shock as it morphed into a sword.
Lance wouldn’t have put slaying a bat lady on his bucket list for a field trip. This time, it isn't his fault when the school calls home and expels him. Guilt claws its way up his throat despite his "innocence." When he and Hunk make their way back into New York City, he loses Hunk somewhere along the route, too ashamed and frustrated with himself to share in it with his best friend.
His mother instantly envelopes Lance in a hug he doesn't deserve. Lance lets all his weight fall into her comforting arms.
"Oh, sweetie," she murmurs. "It's gonna be okay."
Maria packs their things soon after comforting him and wiping his tears. She tells him that they're going to Montauk, sneaking out before Lance's horrible stepfather gets home from work. They take his car, so he makes sure to kick his feet up from the dash and ignore his mother's clucks of disapproval.
When they get to their little beach cottage, instant relief crashes over Lance. He's always loved the ocean: the calm of the surf crashing relentlessly, the smell of salt dancing among swift winds, the feeling of sand beneath his feet. It always melts away his worries and fears, and he knows it does for his mom, too. Her eyes always soften as she stares into the distant horizon.
After they get back to their cottage, Lance finds out why. His mom seats him at the breakfast nook and grabs his hands in hers, her thumb making circles across his knuckles.
"Hijo, I have something to explain. It's important, so listen closely."
So Lance listens. He just hadn’t expected that his mom would reveal the existence of the gods. And that he was a demigod. And that his life was in danger. Oh, did he forget to mention that “best buddy Hunk” was also half-goat?
Yeah, his mom didn't tell him that. Hunk did, appearing in the beach house doorway with wild eyes and urgency and goat legs. His best friend demanded that they leave in a shaky voice, pointing to some unknown force that was after Lance.
Fuck everything, honestly. He might only be 12, but this was a situation that called for some adult language.
The remainder of the night happened so fast, it was almost like some sort of sick nightmare. Lance remembered piling into his stepdad’s car in the pouring rain, running into the fucking Minotaur, and being told by his mom to escape to some camp.
He also remembered
 the rain soaking his clothes, dragging him down as his mother stood up to protect him. Lance was forced to watch, a beat too late, as the Minotaur gripped his mother and crushed her in his fist, her silhouette disappearing into a shimmer of golden light. Is she... Anger surged through Lance, propelling him forward to grab the Minotaur’s horn in his hands and stab it in the head.
Everything in his head went silent. The pain dulled, light blacked out, and cold washed away.
And then
 he was in bed, blinking awake to see dark eyes hovering over him with a scowl on their owner.
“You drool when you sleep.”
Lance was too delirious to say anything clever.
“You have a mullet.”
The rest was history.
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goldsainz · 1 day ago
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# GB5 — CONSOLATION PRIZE !
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MASTERLIST !
REQUEST !
001. SUMMARY !
✯ after a tough dnf in melbourne, your boyfriend feels defeated, but you’re determined to lift his spirits
002. WARNINGS !
✯ none, i think.
003. NOTE !
✯ first gabriel fic and i know it’s short but i’m slowly getting back into it so bear with me😁
word count : 563
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Gabriel was quiet. Too quiet.
You watched him from across the hotel room, his back against the headboard, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as if searching for answers that weren’t there. The post-race exhaustion clung to him, but you knew it wasn’t just the physical toll. It was the DNF. The frustration. The helplessness of watching the race unfold without him in it.
With a soft sigh, you made your way to the bed, crawling onto his side and resting your chin on his shoulder.
“Hey, meu amor.” Your voice was gentle, testing the waters.
Gabriel hummed in response but didn’t turn to look at you. His fingers toyed with the hem of his hoodie, the same one he’d thrown on after his shower, his race suit long discarded.
“I know that hum,” you said, nudging him slightly. “That’s the ‘I’m stuck in my head and brooding’ hum.”
That earned you a small smile, but it disappeared just as quickly. He finally turned his head, his warm brown eyes meeting yours, and the disappointment there made your heart ache.
“It just sucks,” he admitted, voice low. “All that effort, all the preparation
 and I didn’t even get to finish. Just like that, it’s over.”
You shifted, bringing a hand up to his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “I know, Gabi. I know it hurts.”
He exhaled sharply, shutting his eyes for a moment before leaning into your touch, like he was letting himself find comfort in you.
“You were so good out there,” you murmured. “And yeah, today didn’t go the way we wanted, but you’ll have more races, more chances. This isn’t the end.”
Gabriel let out a bitter chuckle. “Tell that to the championship points.”
“They’ll be fine,” you countered. “You’ll fight back. You always do.”
He sighed again, but this time, it felt like some of the weight on his chest was lifting. You decided it was time for drastic measures, or simply put, your secret weapon.
“Okay,” you declared, sitting up straighter. “We’re going to turn this night around.”
“Oh?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”
You grinned, rolling off the bed and heading towards the minibar. “Step one: snacks. Step two: a bad movie we can make fun of. Step three: endless cuddles, whether you like it or not.”
He huffed out a real laugh at that, and your heart soared. “That sounds suspiciously like a trap to get me to stop thinking about today.”
“Guilty.” You threw him a pack of chocolates, which he caught with ease. “But it’s a good trap. One filled with love and sugar.”
Gabriel shook his head fondly, peeling open the chocolate. “Fine, you win. But if we’re watching a bad movie, I get to pick.”
“Deal.” You plopped back onto the bed beside him, curling up against his side as he grabbed the TV remote to browse for the worst-rated film he could find.
The race and its heartbreak faded into the background as the night went on. Gabriel still had disappointment lingering in his chest, but with you tucked into his arms, laughing at terrible dialogue and stealing pieces of his chocolate, the weight didn’t feel so unbearable.
Maybe the Melbourne Grand Prix hadn’t gone his way, but right now, he had you—and that was a victory in itself.
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writeriguess · 2 days ago
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omg are you actually serious right now????? i asked for a one-shot and you gave me whatever the hell that was??? like, did you even try or did you just slap some words together and call it a day??? i was so excited for this, like, actually looking forward to it, and now i’m sitting here SOBBING because what i got was rushed, incomplete, and just straight up disappointing. i feel betrayed. i wasted all that time being excited for nothing. like, do you even care about doing a good job??? if you’re gonna take requests, maybe actually put in effort instead of giving me something that feels like you didn’t even wanna write it. this is literally the worst day of my life, i can’t believe this. i’m actually devastated. i hope you know i’m crying REAL TEARS over this because my hopes were sky high and you just completely shattered them.
Hey there.
First of all, I want to apologize for the late reply—I was away on a work trip and didn’t have a chance to check my messages in social media. I know waiting for a response can be frustrating, and I appreciate your patience.
Now, about your message. I can tell you’re really upset, and while I understand that getting something that didn’t meet your expectations is disappointing, I have to admit I’m a little taken aback by the intensity of your reaction. Sobbing? Crying real tears? Saying this was the worst day of your life? That’s
 a lot. I hope you’re exaggerating because if a single piece of fanfiction ruined your entire day, you might want to take a step back and reassess how much emotional investment you’re putting into this.
That being said, I genuinely do my best to fulfill requests, but I’m only human. I have a long queue, meaning people often wait weeks to get their piece. I don’t rush through them, but I do have to balance writing with, you know, having a life and a job. And while I would love to tailor every single piece to perfectly match what someone envisioned in their head, I can’t read minds. So, if you felt like what I wrote didn’t meet your expectations, I would have appreciated constructive feedback instead of, well, this.
You say it felt rushed and incomplete, but since I don’t even know which request was yours, I can’t really do anything to fix it. If you wanted changes, you could’ve politely said, “Hey, this wasn’t quite what I imagined. Would you be open to tweaking a few things?” Instead, I got a message dripping with melodrama and insults about my effort level, which, frankly, doesn’t make me feel particularly inclined to help.
I write for fun. I take requests because I want to, not because I owe anyone a perfectly customized fic. If what I wrote wasn’t to your liking, I’m sorry for that, but I can’t promise every piece will be exactly what someone envisions in their head. If that’s a dealbreaker for you, you might be happier writing your ideas yourself instead of relying on requesting your fic from a writer who won't be able to read your mind.
I hope you can take a deep breath and move on from this, because at the end of the day, it’s just fanfiction. There are plenty of stories out there, and if mine wasn’t for you, then I’m sure you can find something else that is.
Best of luck.
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divinesangel · 2 days ago
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can you do a reading on how dpr ian is as a person and also in love?
— how is DPR Ian as a person + in love?
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as a person: ian is someone who carries a lot within him, even if he doesn’t always show it. there’s a deep emotional complexity to him, like a storm beneath still waters. he knows how to maintain control, especially over his emotions, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel things deeply. in fact, he feels things so intensely that he sometimes has to distance himself from them to keep functioning. he doesn’t like losing control, and he doesn’t like showing vulnerability, but that doesn’t mean he lacks it. he has layers, and the deeper you go, the more contradictions you’ll find. he can be warm, charming, and magnetic, but there’s also an edge to him, a guardedness, like he’s always prepared for things to go wrong. there’s a restless energy in him, like he’s always moving, always chasing, always looking for something. but the problem is, he’s not even sure what he’s looking for. part of him thrives on ambition, on pushing forward, on winning. he doesn’t just sit back and let things happen—he goes after what he wants. but another part of him is exhausted. like he’s been fighting for so long that he doesn’t even know why anymore. he has dreams, he has passions, but he also has doubts. i feel like he questions himself more than people realize, even if he hides it behind confidence or defiance.
he is someone who struggles between impulse and control. there are times when he acts before thinking, when his emotions or desires push him forward before his mind catches up. he might be someone who can be reckless, who gets caught up in the moment, who wants something so badly in one instant but then hesitates in the next. and that hesitation—those moments of second-guessing—frustrate him. he wants to be sure, he wants to know, but deep down, he doesn’t always have the clarity he wishes he did. there’s pain in him. old wounds, scars that haven’t fully healed. some of it is heartbreak, some of it is disappointment, some of it is self-inflicted. he has been let down before, maybe even betrayed, and while he acts like he’s moved past it, part of him never really has. he carries his past with him, sometimes as motivation, sometimes as a burden. he wants to believe he’s left it behind, but it still lingers in the corners of his mind.
he has a strong presence. people notice him. he knows how to take up space, how to command attention, how to get what he wants. he’s strategic, he understands people, and he knows how to use that knowledge. but that doesn’t mean he’s always open with others. in fact, he can be incredibly private. he lets people see what he wants them to see, but there are parts of him he keeps locked away. he’s also someone who struggles with control. not just over himself, but over his life, over his emotions, over the way things unfold. he doesn’t like feeling powerless. when things don’t go his way, when he might feel trapped or uncertain, it eats away at him. he doesn’t always handle it well. sometimes he tries to force things, sometimes he withdraws. underneath everything, he wants something real. despite his intensity, despite his complexity, despite the walls he builds, there’s a part of him that just wants something that feels right. something that doesn’t have to be fought for, something that just fits. but he’s also afraid of it. because to have something real means letting his guard down, means risking being hurt again, means trusting. and that’s not easy for him. deep down, he is someone who carries a mix of light and darkness. someone who has the capacity for deep love, deep passion, deep loyalty—but also someone who wrestles with his own demons. he is strong, but not unbreakable. he is driven, but not always sure where he’s going. he is charming, but not always honest with himself. and above all, he is human—flawed, complicated, but ultimately searching for something that makes all the struggle, all the pain, all the uncertainty feel worth it.
ian’s internal world is vast, a labyrinth of emotions, memories, desires, and fears, and it’s easy to see how sometimes he might feel overwhelmed by it all. there’s a constant tension in him, a push and pull between wanting to move forward and fearing the unknown. his mind is constantly active, constantly turning over ideas, scenarios, possibilities, but it can also be a battleground. he’s someone who struggles to quiet his thoughts, who finds it hard to relax his mind. when the world gets too loud, he might retreat into himself, into that quiet place where he can think without distraction, but even there, it’s never truly peaceful. the noise is always there, just beneath the surface. he is someone who has learned to keep his emotions in check, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel deeply. sometimes, his feelings are so intense that they threaten to spill over, and when that happens, he can be unpredictable. he might lash out, he might retreat, he might get lost in his own head. he doesn’t always know how to process his emotions in healthy ways, and that’s something he struggles with. he can be impulsive, making decisions based on fleeting feelings or gut reactions, and then regret it later when things settle down.
there’s also a deep longing in him, a desire for something more than just success or recognition. while he’s driven, while he’s ambitious, there’s a part of him that just wants peace, just wants to feel settled and content. he doesn’t need the world to constantly demand things from him, but he often feels like it does. he doesn’t need constant approval or attention, but there’s a sense of emptiness that lingers when it’s absent. he seeks validation, not from the world, but from within himself, from the people closest to him, from the people he cares about. but that validation is hard for him to accept when it’s offered. there’s a certain amount of restlessness that comes with ian as well. it's almost as if he’s always searching for something—whether it’s a goal, an answer, a sense of direction, or just an outlet for his restless energy. sometimes, he’s too quick to jump into things, too quick to take action without considering the consequences. but it’s not because he’s reckless; it’s because he doesn’t want to feel stuck. the fear of being stagnant, of being trapped in one place, weighs heavily on him. it’s like he’s constantly running away from his own fears, running toward something better, something more fulfilling, but he doesn’t always know what that is. deep down, there’s a fear of failure, a fear of being judged or found lacking. this fear can manifest in different ways, whether through a desire for perfection or a tendency to avoid situations that might expose his vulnerabilities. he doesn’t want to fail, not just for himself but for the people he cares about. he’s fiercely loyal, and that loyalty extends to himself as well. he holds himself to high standards, sometimes too high, and when he falls short, he can be incredibly hard on himself. he internalizes his failures and mistakes, even when they aren’t entirely his fault. however, there’s also a part of him that understands that growth comes from pain. that transformation can only happen through change, through shedding old skin, through letting go of old versions of himself that no longer serve him. this acceptance of change, even if he doesn’t always embrace it, is what allows him to keep moving forward, even when things seem impossible. he knows that nothing lasts forever, and that includes pain. he’s not afraid to face his demons because he understands that in doing so, he’ll come out stronger.
but at the same time, ian is someone who gets caught up in the illusion of control. he likes to think that he can dictate his own path, that he can shape his life exactly how he wants it. he’s a natural planner, someone who wants to be in charge, who wants to know exactly where things are going. but life doesn’t always work that way, and that’s something that he can struggle with. he doesn’t like being blindsided, doesn’t like things to feel out of his control, and when they do, he tends to react by trying to take charge again. this constant battle for control can lead to frustration, especially when he feels like things are slipping away from him. yet, at his core, ian is a person who deeply craves connection. despite the armor he puts up, despite the walls he builds around himself, there’s a longing for something real, something true. he doesn’t want superficial connections. he wants depth, wants to know that he’s seen, heard, and understood. but trust doesn’t come easily to him, and that’s where his fears lie. the fear of opening up too much, of being too vulnerable, of letting someone see the parts of him that he hides so carefully. it’s this fear that often keeps him from fully embracing those connections when they come.
ian also has a strong desire to prove himself. whether it’s proving his worth to others or to himself, he constantly feels the need to show that he is capable, that he is worthy of the attention, the success, the respect that he craves. this can sometimes make him push too hard, take on too much, or burn himself out. it’s not that he doesn’t believe in himself—he does. but he has this internal drive to prove that belief to the world. and when things go wrong, when things don’t work out the way he hoped, it can shake his confidence. but there’s also a fire in him, a determination that refuses to let him stay down for long. no matter how many setbacks he faces, no matter how many obstacles come his way, he always gets back up. he might not always show it, but he has an unwavering strength within him. and while he might not always be the most open about it, he’s incredibly resilient. underneath all of the layers, ian is still searching for balance. balance between his ambitions and his personal life, between his need for independence and his desire for connection. he knows that he can’t keep fighting forever, that at some point, he has to find peace. but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to stop moving forward. he’s always looking for ways to improve, to evolve, to grow. but it’s important for him to remember that balance doesn’t come from always pushing harder, always striving for more. sometimes, balance comes from knowing when to slow down, when to let go, and when to trust that things will unfold as they should. ian is, at his core, a work in progress. like everyone, he has his flaws, his moments of doubt, and his struggles. but he also has a depth, a richness to him that few people truly understand. and the more he learns to embrace all of his complexities, all of his contradictions, the more he will be able to find peace within himself. he’s on a journey, and while it might be a challenging one, it’s one that will ultimately lead him to a deeper understanding of himself and the world around him.
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in love: when ian is in love, deep down, he’s a mixture of intense emotions and conflicting desires. on one hand, he’s someone who wants to give fully in a relationship. there’s a side of him that is generous, wanting to invest time and effort into making things work, and sharing everything with the person he’s in love with. he would do what it takes to ensure his partner feels cared for, respected, and valued. deep down, he seeks harmony, a mutual connection where both partners are on the same page. he has a deep desire for emotional balance and fairness in love—he’s the kind of person who will want things to feel just right, without any hidden agendas or imbalances. when he feels love, he’ll dive into it headfirst with passion and excitement. there’s a youthful, almost impulsive side to him when he’s in love, as he’s driven by intense attraction and emotional desire. he’ll want to go all in, throwing himself into the connection, wanting to feel the highs of love without holding back. yet, there’s a part of him that also remains cautious and protective, afraid of getting hurt or letting his guard down too much. at the same time, he is someone who wants long-term stability, as he thinks deeply about the future. he desires a committed relationship where trust and loyalty are key, and he’s not afraid to work for it.
however, there’s also a side of him that can struggle with feeling overwhelmed by his emotions. he may push himself to keep up appearances and show confidence, but deep down, he may worry about his own vulnerabilities or the possibility of being taken advantage of. he may also find it hard to express how he truly feels at times, even though he wants to share everything with the person he loves. there can be moments of doubt, where he questions the sincerity of his feelings or his partner’s feelings, leaving him a little confused or hesitant. he tends to overthink things and might second-guess decisions or actions in the relationship, especially when he senses any form of imbalance or uncertainty. still, when ian truly loves someone, he’s committed to doing the work to make it last. he would invest his time and effort into the relationship, nurturing it and growing with his partner. he’s someone who believes in building something stable over time, taking things slow but steady. while he may have moments of doubt or vulnerability, he will be fiercely loyal and supportive once he decides to fully trust his partner. deep down, he wants nothing more than to find someone with whom he can build a lasting, meaningful connection. he wants to feel at home in love, where he can be himself and know that his partner feels the same way. his love for someone will likely bring out the best in him—he will be driven to work harder, to be a better person, and to show his partner that he’s reliable and dependable. he’s the type of person who will go above and beyond when he’s committed to someone, showing his love through actions rather than just words. however, he’s also very cautious when it comes to making sure that the love he gives is returned in equal measure. he seeks fairness and reciprocity, and if he feels like he’s giving too much without getting the same in return, he might start to pull away or feel uncertain. he’s not someone who enjoys the feeling of being drained or taken for granted, so maintaining that balance in the relationship is crucial to him.
his approach to love can also be somewhat idealistic, where he believes in the beauty of true love and the potential for deep emotional connections. when he’s in love, he’ll want to feel like it’s the real deal—the type of love that is life-changing and transformative. however, this idealism can sometimes clash with reality. when faced with challenges or moments of emotional discomfort, he might have difficulty confronting them head-on. there may be times when he’s tempted to escape or avoid difficult situations, preferring to keep the peace rather than deal with uncomfortable emotions. this can be a pattern that he’s still learning to navigate, as he may have a tendency to shy away from confrontation, even if deep down he knows it’s necessary for growth in the relationship. despite this, he is deeply invested and loyal. his love runs deep, and once he decides that he’s found someone worthy of his heart, he will stand by them through thick and thin. his loyalty and determination are qualities that will shine through in a relationship, even if he has moments of self-doubt or fear. when he feels emotionally safe with someone, he’s not afraid to open up and show his vulnerabilities. he might not always be the most vocal about his feelings, but he’ll express them through his actions, the small gestures of care, and the way he prioritizes his partner’s happiness.
in love, ian will also experience growth, as the relationship will push him to confront parts of himself that he may not always be comfortable with. he will learn to be more open, more transparent, and more trusting. he’ll need a partner who can help him feel secure enough to shed his armor and truly let them in. he’s someone who is always striving to improve, so being in love will challenge him to become a better person, and he will appreciate a relationship where both partners are continuously growing and evolving together. deep down, ian wants a relationship that’s not just about passion, but also about stability and long-term fulfillment. he wants a partner who can balance his desire for adventure and excitement with a solid foundation of trust and understanding. while he might not always express it in the most obvious ways, his love will be constant and steady once he’s sure of his feelings. he’s someone who would cherish a deep emotional connection, where both partners can be themselves, support each other, and build something lasting. he wants a love that’s transformative, not just in the short term, but one that lasts a lifetime, one that stands the test of time. he also feels like he wants to create a family or something similar to that, stable and grounded. that would be something that would make him feel complete in some way.
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starwarsanthropology · 8 months ago
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The tragedy of ur boyfriends not letting u bite them just a little. As a Treat.
A Tup from @trudemaethien’s excellent fic Edeemi, Baby, One More Time that I drew back in May! I didn’t have a Star Wars tumblr at the time and wasnt planning on posting it anywhere so I forgot about it until now, but I had such a fun time playing around with lighting effects and his expression!
I really love their mer universe and I’m especially fond of Tup’s POV in this fic. It’s such a good job of expressing the confusion and frustration of communication barriers and reasonable, best-intent misunderstandings between all of them, while still leaning into the positive aspects of discovering the world and representing it from slightly different perspective than people normally take 10/10 highly recommended
Closeup of the sketch for his expression under the cut because I was super happy with it
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itstokkii · 1 year ago
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I've been thinking about how someone recently called the cold war "a war of edging" and its like. why is this still a sentiment across rusame spaces on tumblr. frankly I don't care if it was a joke because it's ill-intentioned at best and blatantly disrespectful at worst.
(here's the part where I emphasize that I'm not telling you not to ship rusame. i'm saying that BEFORE you make statements like this and gloss over the warcrimes of the us and russia at the time, think about the people who suffered at their hands at the very least, and write about them responsibly.)
families weren't forced apart and jejuans weren't massacred in korea for you to call it "a war of edging."
uzbek muslims weren't tortured and arbitrarily arrested for you to call it "a war of edging."
people in vietnam weren't killed by napalm and massacred regularly by us soldiers for you to call it that.
kindly shut up. i'm exhausted from having to regularly tell this fandom, especially the rusame shippers, that the cold war was in fact a real thing that happened between Imperialist 1 and Imperialist 2 and destroyed culture, families, and whole people from the global south and not something that solely exists in your spicy fanfics.
because you're so disconnected from the global south that you simply factor them out of your head in conversations about the cold war.
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inflammatoryfandomblog · 2 years ago
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the fandom’s discourse around dark magic is pretty much just a manifestation of “people know what they’re upset with, but not the root cause/can’t verbalize a solution to what they’re upset about.”
people who are unhappy with how dark magic is treated generally understand how the narrative frames it. they are correct in saying that there is a problem, and that it somehow involves the setting and dark magic, and then say that maybe it could be fixed if the magic system were changed. but their prescribed solution doesn’t work. the deeper problem is how the narrative uses (or doesn’t use) dark magic.
(flashback reel effect here, basically entirely rewritten but the format still doesn’t work for a full-fleged post so i will keep this transition in.)
that’s what really kills dark magic in this series, right? the fantasy question, “was dark magic good to use and when should it be used, if ever?” should be a jumping off point to explore all the other ways in which people value and instrumentalize power (ie sol regem literally saying the humans are inferior because they are less powerful) instead of staying only at the shallow level of “dork magic is bad for you.” just because the elves don’t use dark magic doesn’t mean they are immune to this discussion. indeed, the very first episode of the show shows us the moon elves engaging in a ritual that can be described as blood magic--binding their limbs to the blood of their targets; is this supposed to be magic that is Pure and Good? is the base problem really just dark magic, or what it represents? and more importantly, is what it represents limited to its practioners? the early answer--especially that we see this stuff from the xadians and are informed of their implied failed genocide early on--would be “no.”
but the later answer is “yes.” this early promise of the show is undercut by the show’s babybrained morality re: xadia and the elves. it never really critiques power in general at all except if its dark magic. it’s all fine and dandy and fun and smart to dunk on the humans, but xadians? insensitive. soren is bad and stupid for making a bad tactical decision, but pyrrah is a Good Dragon Friend even when retaliating against a whole village. it’s not tragic when ezran (a dumb child king who just let this happen) napalms his own people, because they have already been de-personed by dark magic. how convenient! 
and the story that dark magic creates--even if it is inherently harmful--is a great tragic story! the xadians, obsessed with power and how power makes you who you are, are stabbed in the back when some of the dredges finally discover a way to speak their language--and this doesn’t cause basically any self-reflection on their part. instead they basically go all out genocidal and no matter how bad dark magic is, this is extremely disproportionate. but the series still goes “but they are no angels!!! but they are no angels!!!” to basically one side only. for the xadians, the show (and even the supplementary material!) basically does backflips and contortions to show how they are nuanced and how humans should respect them, but there’s basically nothing the other direction.
you can say “oh good inflammatoryfandomblog!!! you’re seeing the point!!!” except i don’t really believe that the show has any intentions of making good on this initial promise. it has given me no indication of doing so, and its asymmetric treatment of the conflict basically does the opposite of the above. this problem does not go away if you change the magic system. this problem does not go away by simply noting the thematic potential of the setup of dark magic. ideas are cheap, though this is one that perhaps costs a nickel instead of a penny. the real problem is the execution.
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melit0n · 1 year ago
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It does luckily look like the post has been deleted, but the blog name is burning-cathedrals ! They say they're leaving the Fandom but clearly they're down to throw tantrums in the main tag still anyway.
Thank you for letting me know! They're one of my followers, and I've interacted with them a couple of times, but I didn't know they were willing to have at it just because they didn't get an unmasking. I think people are fully entitled to their own opinions, personally I don't mind if they unmask if they want to, but just because they didn't get what they want have them no right to throw their toys out of the pram. Again, thank you for letting me know!
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curiousserpent · 1 year ago
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I really need to put. My thoughts about how very very bad the durge writing is into little words. So I stop annoying my poor friends with it regularly-
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blujayonthewing · 2 months ago
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[answers felix family history questions by projecting some of myself into his sister also]
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vampire-eros · 8 months ago
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FINALLY SOMEONE GETS ME!!!!
to me, Science is just difficult to understand magic.
i mean this in the sense that, comparitively, magic in fantasy settings is typically understood down to a minute level without any sort of precision equipment to measure or quantify it, outside of vague "this orb tells us how much magic there is". the mechanics of it are left at least somewhat ambiguous, and the implication is that the laws of the universe, through some means, was consciously revealed to inhabitants of the world.
in our world-- the real world-- magic does not want to explain itself to us. it's just out there, in all its exotic majesty. and we've only been able to really crack into it in ways that are truly magical in the past two centuries.
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jackass-jones · 8 months ago
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Had a very bad day Gotta eat gravel
#had to work a shift with only one other coworker and we were in this same position last weekend too and so like last time#he had this Moment where like as we locked up he was yelling very frustratedly about an annoying customer#which is fair but lol we dont know each other well enough for him to yell and rant like that to me like i get it but#god i hate yelling and just felt like shit and wanted to die#then tonight i was legitimately kinda scared cuz uh liiike. he had a lot more little Moments#i think like some kid dropped something and it broke and he had to clean it up and he got frustrated#and like. went in the back where the custom framing shit is and there was loud banging with a hammer and glass shattering#and he went back and did this multiple times and customers heard it too and were like uhhh 😰#i was already in a bad mood coming in and this really didnt help its honestly a miracle i didnt start having a meltdown#i guess ive just had to deal with so many man babies at home that all i can do is look at them like a disappointed parent and ask if they#would like me to take them to daycare#so yeah that was fun i uh dont like this guy hes always wearing very cutesy clothes and all i can think of is the bit where its like#‘there is nothing little about your things’#also i got money problems and keep getting fast food cuz i got eating problems and theres not much here i can eat and obviously#buying food so much wastes money so i was gonna try to make a sandwich today and like we dont have half the shit needed#and the bread was moldy obviously and theres so many bugs in the house cuz ive been too busy to clean and my sister was here#and the cat is here and my mom does everything wrong and then i spilled water everywhere and everything just went wrong#im also in a horrible place mentally doing so so bad so unbelievably stressed rn#just like. im repressing very bad and literally procrastinating having feelings like everything is going so wrong but i cant feel bad#because i dont have time for that so ill feel bad later when i escape which surely will happen someday ahahaha fuuuck#dont know whats real anymore maybe ive made everything up maybe the abuse is just me being dramatic maybe im the worst child in the world
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partiallysame · 1 month ago
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Price's lil wife and how Poly!141 began
Price knew the conversation was going to happen the second he saw the way his men looked at you and the blush it caused on your cheeks. Insatiable was always a word he’d use to describe his sweet wife, so you asking for his men to join in the bedroom was truly no surprise. John Price trusted the 141 with his life and it wasn’t a big jump to also trust them with his wife. The only thing that made him nervous was you getting too attached. They had a dangerous job and more often than not, soldiers don’t come back home. The thought of your face when he’d have to deliver the news to you that one of them was gone, terrified him. But what shook him to his core was him not returning to you. He printed out his letter of resignation everytime the thought crossed his mind but he’s yet to turn it in. However the idea of you having his men, a support system, people to love you the way he did if he were to ever not return to you was all the convincing he needed.
You and Price discussed how to talk to the 141 about what you wanted. You thought Price should bring it up with them and he thought it needed to come from you. Weeks of you trying to hint that you wanted them to fuck you failed. Lingering touches, bedroom eyes, innuendos, anything you could think of to get them to touch you without just coming out to say it and you were getting frustrated. Begging your husband to talk to his team. Safe to say he was reluctant. They are a team, yes, but they don’t talk about feelings and shit like that. What's he even supposed to say?  So it came out awkward and harsh and accusatory. The 141 sitting in Price’s truck on their way to their weekly dinner at your house and he just blurts out
“Do you wanna fuck my wife?” The chorus of “No captain” was immediate, the men panicking, clutching their pearls thinking Price was going to drive them off a cliff because, yes they did. It was all they thought about. You underneath each of them, moaning their names like they’ve heard you moan Price’s. 
“Oh.” Price let out a small sigh. “The Missus is going to be real disappointed then.” Wait what? No one knew how to respond. Thoughts racing about the last few months of you practically throwing yourself at them. They could have acted on that????? Why didn’t you tell them? 
“You wanna elaborate on that Cap’n?” Ghost broke the silence. 
“Nope. Gonna make the Missus do that” 
The second they entered your home, you knew they knew. Three sets of predatory eyes on you, but somehow also looking genuinely surprised. Price walked up to give you a small kiss on your lips before stepping behind you, hands on your waist. “Go ‘head tell ‘em what you want.” 
There you were picture of fucking perfection, sweetest look on your face as you tell them that you don’t like when they leave and how you want them to stay. How you want them to touch you. How you want to make them feel good, feel loved, both in and out of the bedroom. Each of their eyes darting from you to Price. This has to be a cruel fucking joke right. There’s no way he’d share his wife. But their captain is looking at you like you’re his whole world (because you are) and agreeing with everything you’re saying. You finished your speech, half scared the men would run from you, never to be seen again. They all just stood silent until Price added
“Want her taken care of when I’m not here.” To you that meant when he was away but they knew exactly what he meant. This was real. Price let go of you to push you towards the men standing in your living room.  “Our lil Missus eh? Like the sound of that”
Price's lil wife Masterlist
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all-purpose-dish-soap · 8 months ago
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if the military wanted you to have a wife, they'd issue you one. Soap's heard that saying once or twice.
and here you are. claiming to be his... issuance.
you tilt your head. "you don't remember signing up for the program?"
no. no, he doesn't. his eyes dart down to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes. he'd remember that. more to the point, he'd remember whatever he did to deserve this. he looks you up and down again, disbelief and desire flashing across his face, and not in equal measure.
you’re like if someone wrung the starry slurry of thoughts constituting what makes a perfect woman directly from his brain matter, let it ferment and clarify like honey wine, put marriage papers in her hand, and dressed her in a
 in a fucking
 are those stockings stretching up under your skirt?
hell’s bells. you’re one part girl next door, one part muse—the one his hand can never quite shape on the page to match what’s in his head—and several shades of his favorite porn star. an old-fashioned pin-up doll in the flesh.
"you're not John MacTavish, then," you say, peering down at the papers in your hand with a small frown. "so sorry to bother you—"
“no, hold on.” he takes a step closer. “i’m him, aye. but the program...” the application questionnaire. filling it out was nothing more than a drunken bet with Gaz, but yes, he dimly remembers it. doesn't recall turning it in, but maybe he was drunker than he thought. “it's real?"
“completely real. i was selected for you based on the preferences you specified,” you tell him. you shift the clipboard into your other arm, pleasant smile turning into a frown. "but i couldn't possibly ask you to sign a marriage certificate sponsored by a program you don't even remember applying for."
oh, that is rich. you don’t seem to see the humor here. it’s absurd. have you not seen yourself? he'd be daft to pass on someone as bonnie as you.
not to mention you seem more than a little disappointed at the idea of being turned down. that fuels his ego even more.
 "you're sayin' you're a part of that military partnership program, aye? and you were handpicked as my spouse based on a few questions?"
you helpfully produce a copy of his responses in pink triplicate. sure enough, he recognizes his own drunken scrawl.
none of the questions have anything to do his preferences looks-wise. career aspirations, communication preferences, hobbies, his ideal saturday night. his sleeping habits. this is a psychological profile. CIA shite, as Gaz would say.
he doubts his drunken self read more than a few lines of this paperwork while he was constructing his dream girl in the survey blanks.
as he studies the page a little too closely, your small frown turns into a frustrated scowl. "john? um, i mean."
it instantly pulls his eyes back to your lips.
you twirl a strand of hair around your finger. "it’s nice to meet you,” you say in a tone that makes it clear what you’re really saying is ‘hey, stud, i'm looking forward to the honeymoon.’
that’s your attempt, at least. but Soap sees more than you mean to show. the way you play that card--the way you twirl your damn hair--is the clumsiest, most blatant attempt to flirt. somehow, that's what catches him off-guard the most. It makes his heart squeeze. god, are you nervous? you?
he runs over the back of his teeth in the split second before his signature lazy smirk slides back across his face. "happy you got paired up with a bloke like me?"
he hands the paperwork back to you. you take it back with great relief and nestle it securely into the crook of your elbow. you’re certain he didn’t sign every single blank he was supposed to, but he won’t remember that. you’ll check the signature lines later and forge his handwriting to finish it.
you smile prettily at him. then you make it a little more coy. you should be bashful--he's handsome. "i'm lucky. you're special forces. i’m a nobody, really. if you want, you could try filing for a spouse upgrade. if you want a really good fiancĂ©e..."
“fiancĂ©e." Soap rolls the word around his tongue. "is that what i should call you?”
"well. you saw my name on the paperwork," you point out. you know very well he didn't.
before he can ask any more questions, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek and pull away, walking down the hall with documents in tow. his gaze is heavy on your back.
the documents in your arm are real enough. Soap really did complete that questionnaire, just like how he remembers. getting the application turned in is what required a little creative effort.
but as long as nobody looks too closely at the military ID photocopied in the application file, they won't notice that the mostly-obscured face of the soldier who turned the application in doesn't look much like Soap at all.
...
more Soap / masterlist
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kaiser1ns · 3 months ago
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#. URGENT NONSENSE HOTLINE
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featuring 𝗯đ—č𝘂đ—Č đ—čđ—Œđ—°đ—ž 𝘅 𝗳đ—Čđ—ș!𝗿đ—Čđ—źđ—±đ—Č𝗿 ıllı. itoshi sae, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei
fluff + slight suggestive. calling your cop boyfriend while he's in the middle of work, and he thinks it's super important, only for you to ask him the most ridiculous and random questions.
characters aged up to 21 and above. rin and shidou are fathers.
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ITOSHI SAE
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The police radio crackled in the background as Sae was sitting in his squad car, a rare moment of calm during his patrol. His phone buzzed, and the screen lit up with your name. It was unusual for you to call during his shift, so naturally, his heart skipped a beat hoping nothing happened to you.
He immediately answered, his tone calm. Your boyfriend was concerned more than anything, and if something was wrong, God forbid what was going to happen to the person who dared to hurt you. “What is it? Are you okay?”  
You, completely oblivious to his worries, immediately started talking cheerfully and giggling “Sae! Do you think dinosaurs should still exist? Wouldn’t it be awesome if they came back? Imagine us walking a T-Rex like a dog!”  
Sae blinked, deadpan. There was a long, heavy silence on the other end. You could almost hear the gears grinding in his head as he tried to process what you just said.  
“...Are you serious?” he finally asked, his voice dangerously calm. Oh, no. You're obsessed with dinosaurs again, and that wasn't good
at all.
“Of course I’m serious! Think about how cool it would be—like, riding a Triceratops to work or flying with a Pterodactyl!” you babbled on, completely oblivious to his growing annoyance.  
You couldn't see but your boyfriend rolled his eyes as he rubbed his temple, leaning back in his seat. His sharp tongue couldn’t be contained any longer.  
“You know they made Jurassic Park for that reason, right? And spoiler alert: it didn’t end well.”  
“But that’s just a movie!” you argued. “We could make it work this time! Think of all the science we have now!”  
“You called me—while I’m working—to ask about dinosaurs,” Sae interrupted, his tone flat. “Dinosaurs. You’re aware I have actual, real-life problems to deal with
 Like thefts and, you know, crime?”  
“...So is that a no on the dinosaur pets?” you teased, voice now full of sadness and disappointment.
He sighed, muttering under his breath in frustration but unable to help the small, begrudging smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky I love you. Now hang up before I block your number.”  
As the call ended, he shook his head, muttering to himself, “Dinosaurs. Unbelievable.” Still, the thought of you having fun with what you will call your "pet" lingered in his mind for the rest of his shift—and he hated how it made him go to the nearest store to buy you a dinosaur plushie.
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MICHAEL KAISER
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Kaiser was in the middle of gearing up for an undercover mission, his shirt tossed over the back of a chair as he adjusted the strap of his tactical vest. When his phone buzzed with your name on the screen, he hesitated for just a moment before answering. Worry flickered in his eyes—it wasn’t often you called during his work hours unless it was important.
"Mein Schatz, what’s wrong?" he asked immediately, his voice laced with concern. 
You, however, had other plans. “My love, if I hypothetically steal something, would you be the one to handcuff me?”
There was a silence as an answer when he blinked, momentarily thrown off by the absurdity of the question. A smirk began to spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair, half-naked and amused. “Engel, you’ve already stolen something very valuable.”
Your eyes widened on the other end of the line. You stopped twirling your hair, your voice suddenly tinged with worry as though you'd accidentally committed grand theft without realizing it. “I
 I did? What did I steal?” 
Kaiser chuckled, the kind of low, teasing laugh that made your cheeks heat up even through the phone. “Yeah, you already stole my heart.”
Your indignant sputtering was music to his ears. He leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table and grinning like the cocky devil he was. “And didn’t we test those handcuffs enough already?" he added, his smirk growing. "Remember last night? You were so curious if they were strong enough to hold you—"
“Goodbye, baby! Good luck with your work!” you interrupted, your voice high-pitched and flustered. 
Kaiser laughed out loud as you hung up, shaking his head in pure delight. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he muttered to himself, “You’re too cute, mein Liebling. Too cute.” With that, he pulled on his shirt, ready to finish work and show you what happens to those who steal and don't admit it.
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OLIVER AIKU
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Oliver Aiku, a tall, well-built figure with a teasing smirk and hundreds of charms, was leaning against the desk in the bustling precinct. Talking with his partner Sendou, they were deep in conversation about the latest case—nothing too serious, just the usual for the two of them.
The Captain’s voice echoed across the room, pulling him from the moment. "Aiku! You've got a call!"
Oliver rolled his eyes, not exactly thrilled to be disturbed right now in the middle of his break, but he stood up anyway, still chuckling at whatever Sendou had just said about the girl he was trying to woo over. He knew exactly who was calling. A sly smile crept across his face as he picked up the phone.
"Hey, babe. Everything okay?" he said in his usual teasing tone, his eyes never leaving Sendou’s curious gaze.
"Oliver! There's a giant spider on the wall!" Your voice came through the phone and you were more than afraid and before he could even process the words, there was a loud screech from your side of the line. "AH!"
He couldn’t help but smirk. "Girl problems, you know..." he muttered under his breath, shrugging it off, but Sendou was already looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "What? What’s going on?" his partner asked, clearly intrigued by the other’s business like always.
The tall man leaned back against the desk, casually placing the phone on his shoulder. "It’s my girlfriend, you know? She’s having a bit of a crisis over a spider or something. It's all good, no need to panic."
He could hear you, being out of breath, obviously running away from the spider. "Oliver! It’s huge! What do I do?!" He couldn't help but laugh. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—he did, but come on, it was just a spider, you have seen bigger things.
"Doll," he said in a smooth, teasing voice, his grin widening. "Calm down. It's just a tiny lil' spider. I’m sure it’s probably scared of you."
He heard you scream again in the background, and he could already picture you manically pacing around, maybe already booking a plane ticket. “Just grab a slipper or something, take it down like the badass I know you are."
"I’M NOT GOING NEAR IT!" you shouted back, your voice full of distress. Oliver snickered, turning to Sendou, who was still waiting for an answer. "Listen to that. She’s on a whole new level of dramatic. Gotta love her."
He leaned into the phone, his tone turning low and flirtatious. "But, don’t worry, baby, when I get home, I’ll take care of that spider... and you, too."
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ITOSHI RIN
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It was supposed to be a quiet, ordinary day for one of the top detectives in the department. His desk was a mess of paperwork, and he was deep in the grind—cross-referencing statements, signing reports, and filling out forms. He hated the tedious parts of the job, but he was used to it. Nothing could disturb his focus; nothing but—
Vibration.
He glanced at his phone. Your name flashed on the screen. His first instinct was to ignore it, but a nagging thought held him back. You never called during work unless something was wrong. Still, with a sigh, he answered.
“Is it normal for Mommy to have blood on her stomach? Is my little brother a monster?”
Rin froze. His first reaction was to feel a pang of panic. Blood? His mind raced as he pictured the worst possible scenarios. He knew that voice—your child was watching too many horror movies again, getting himself all worked up.
“Calm down, okay? Where’s your mother?” Rin asked, trying not to sound too angry or demanding with asking questions, he knew how the suspects got away.
“She was in the kitchen and now she has red all over her stomach
” the child explained, sounding more frantic with each passing second.
Rin’s heart skipped a beat as he stood up from his desk, knocking papers to the floor. This can’t be happening, you were in danger and your child sounded more than scared. He needed to be back home immediately. “Stay where you are, do not move,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. Turned to his boss, not waiting for a response. “I need to leave. Now.”
Without waiting for permission, he bolted out the door.
His pulse was racing as he sped home, each second dragging on longer than the last. His thoughts were consumed with worry for you and the baby, a fear deeper than any threat he faced in his career. When he burst through the door and rushed to the kitchen, his breath hitched. He saw you—sleeping on the counter, exhausted, a slight stain of red near your stomach. His eyes widened. Was she hurt?
But there was no blood. No danger. Just the remnants of a cake you had been baking, and the food coloring had created the illusion of blood. You’d passed out from exhaustion, nothing more. Your husband sighed in relief, but he heard a small voice behind him.
“Is Mommy alive?”
Rin turned to find your child, wide-eyed and still nervous. The detective gently shook you awake, his hand soft and careful to avoid disturbing the baby to pop out any minute. You blinked groggily, confusion was written all over your face, but then— “The cake!” you exclaimed, ignoring the love of your life entirely. Of course, your priorities had always been
 unique.
"Yeah, the cake," he muttered under his breath, trying to keep a straight face as he helped you sit up, ready to take the blame for your child's next internet ban with the horror media.
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SHIDOU RYUSEI
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Blasting music in the police car, sirens wailing, Shidou Ryusei chased down some random robbers, caught them, and hauled them to the station. He was a man of contradictions—a protector of the law who lived for thrills. Sure, he’d had a rough past and even served time as a teen, but hey, life’s full of surprises. One thing was certain, though: not everyone could claim you as their wife, his beautiful partner who was currently calling him for the sixth time.
“Pick up the damn phon—” Your annoyed voice hit his ears as he answered. Meanwhile, he was busy munching on candy he’d swiped from the twins earlier. “What’s up, babe?”
“Shidou Ryusei, are you out of your mind?” Uh-oh, here it came. Normally, your calls were filled with anecdotes about your day, theories about the universe, or updates about the twins’ shenanigans. This, however, sounded serious.
“Hello, my beautiful, amazing, angelic wife~” he drawled, mouth still full. He could practically see your angry, adorable expression through the phone.
“I’ll show you what IS amazing... Are you crazy?!”
“Always. Why even ask?” he teased.
“Why did you took the kids from kindergarten, witht he police car while blasting Gangnam style?” Oh, that. Well, you asked him to pick them up since you were running late, “What’s the problem? Elaborate, doll,”
“The problem?” you huffed through the line, voice rising as he heard someone laughing in the background, probably your kids enjoying your reactions as much as your husband did—some genes are pretty strong. “You traumatized every kid at the kindergarten! The teacher called me, Ryusei! The teacher! She said she’s never seen a police escort used so... recklessly!”
He was still chewing the candy he so kindly borrowed, only half-listening. “Reckless? Nah, that’s called style, babe. They’ll remember it forever. They should thank me for making their day cool.”
“Style?!” you screeched, and he almost felt bad. “Blasting Gangnam Style, sirens wailing, and you had the audacity to throw candy out the window like some... cop Santa?!”
Now he did laugh, the sound loud enough to echo around the block. Some of the people nearby on the street gave him curious looks, but he waved them off. “What? It’s called multitasking. Besides, the twins loved it. They told me I’m their hero. How can I say no to my kids, huh? Their words, not mine, by the way.”
You groaned and for a second, he thought you might hang up. “You’re insufferable. Absolutely insufferable. And stop eating the kids’ candy!”
Caught mid-chew, Shidou smirked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I swear, Ryusei, if you don—”
“Love you, babe!” he interrupted, his tone cheerful. “And the kids love me too. Don’t forget that part. Now, I gotta go, official police business calls. You know, saving the world, keeping our streets cool.”
“Ryusei—!”
Click.
He hung up, a chuckle escaping as he leaned forward, unwrapping another candy. Moments like these reminded him how much he adored you, his firecracker of a wife, and the twins' choice for sweet treats.
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©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work
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finelinefae · 5 months ago
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safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]
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synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.
word count: 5.4k
contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey
a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333
this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here
. . .
Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonight—the date she’d been looking forward to all week.
This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simple—strolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.
Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didn’t matter—she’d have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.
She opened Harry’s contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.
Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.
Suddenly, the call connected, and Harry’s voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. “Bambi? Was jus’ about to pick y’ up. You missin’ me already?”
Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. “Harry
” Her voice cracked.
“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.
“I-I can’t go on our date tonight,” she confessed, her voice shaky.
“What d’you mean? Don’t be silly, is something wrong?” His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.
“No, it’s not like that. It’s just
 my mom came home late, and she’s, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. I’m really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if you’re mad or—if you never want to see me again—”
“Woah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickin’. I don’t hate you, not at all. It’s closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”
ïżœïżœOkay,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “Y’promise?”
“Five pinkie swears, baby,” he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. “It’s alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have y’eaten today?”
His kindness made her heart swell. “N-No, but we’ve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?”
“Bambi, I’m already on my way to your house.”
Her breath hitched. “What? But, Harry, I can’t—”
“You think I’d let a little change of plans stop me from seein’ you? Been needin’ to see m’Bambi all day. How ‘bout this: you help your mum, and I’ll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?
“Harry, you don’t have to—”
“I want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and I’ll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice lighter now. “That sounds perfect.”
“Alright, I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”
Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that she’d normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe. 
. . . 
Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harry’s voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother. 
“I know jujitsu, you know,” Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.
“You take classes?” Harry asked, bemused.
“No, I learned it on Roblox,” Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before. You’ll have to show me sometime,” Harry said with a grin.
Archie snorted. “You could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.”
Y/N’s face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harry’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Y/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,” Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.
“Archie,” Y/N gasped, “this is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.”
Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archie’s face. “Who’s Harry?”
Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to her little brother. “He’s... my special friend.”
Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/N’s shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.
“H-Harry, I’m really sorry—” she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.
“Bambi,” he murmured with a soft sigh, “I missed you.”
She smiled against his chest. “You just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.”
Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. “Kiss?”
Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm. 
“Have you eaten yet?” he murmured against her lips. “I brought pizza.”
“You didn’t have to,” Y/N sighed softly. “I was just going to throw something in the oven.”
“Hey, Bambi.” She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. “I wanted to. I’m here to help, okay? Now, why don’t we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and I’ll set the table.”
“O-Oh, okay.” She nodded, a bit flustered. “Just so you know, my brothers can be
 intense.”
Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. “It’s okay, I’ve got a niece. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.
“Who are you?” a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.
“That’s Y/N’s special friend,” Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.
“Weren’t you the guy making out with my sister the other night?” The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.
Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”
“Sammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.” Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said. 
“Jack, can you grab an extra chair?” Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sister’s instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chest—part of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didn’t know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him they’d had to adapt quickly.
They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.
“Calm down,” he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. “Y’ so stiff, Bambi.”
Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I just get so—”
“So?” Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. “So what, baby?”
“So nervous,” Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.
A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the couple’s banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.
“How old are you?” Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.
Y/N choked on her drink. “Sammy! You can’t just ask people that—it’s rude!”
Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. “No, it’s alright,” he said, amused. “I’m thirty.”
“Whoa, you’re old!” Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.
“Archie!” Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.
“I guess it is kind of old,” Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.
“Are you rich?” Sammy pressed, undeterred.
Y/N’s face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
“I do well,” Harry replied, keeping his tone light. “I own a fashion company.”
“That means he’s rich,” Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. “Do you have a sports car?”
Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I own three.”
Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. “No wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!”
“If you think that’s cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,” Harry teased.
“Candy?” Archie’s eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.
“Better.”
“Ice cream?”
Harry nodded. “Ice cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.”
Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner weren’t a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.
Harry’s smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. “What do you want from my sister?” Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.
Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before she’d even taken a bite.
Harry’s hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.
“It’s still early,” Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammy’s without faltering. “But I really, really like your sister.”
Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. “You’re not allowed to like her as much as we do.”
Y/N’s heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.
Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
. . .
"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes they’d made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.
"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"
Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game they’d been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.
Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark you’re taking us to," Archie said eagerly.
Harry’s eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard there’s a certain someone’s birthday coming up soon."
Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebration—movies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/N’s smile faded slightly.
Harry noticed the shift immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"
"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Archie's birthday isn’t for another month."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"
Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just don’t want to make promises, you know, in case
 I mean, what if
" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldn’t help worrying about the future—the uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.
"Bambi," Harry’s voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Where’d you go?"
She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Y’ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else ‘cause you're thinkin’ too much."
"I do that?" she asked, surprised.
"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."
"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.
"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothers—they’re a credit to you."
Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my mom—"
"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."
Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.
She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.
That is, until Sammy’s voice rang out from the hallway. "I’m coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"
Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, we’re behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.
Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in her mind—words that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.
. . .
Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm she’d set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harry’s employment. She was excited, of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.
She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.
Harry: Morning, Bambi 🌞 There’s a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? I’ll be waiting for you at the office. You’re gonna be amazing x
A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harry’s words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldn’t help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.
She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.
Y/N: Thank you. I’m a little nervous but I’ll do my best. See you soon 💕
Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said “professional but approachable,” taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the time—6:45 a.m.—the car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.
She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only person awake in the world.
Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.
“That’s me,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.
You can do this. You’re ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.
Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.
Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x
Bambi: Isn’t that my job today? x
Harry: It’s my job to take care of you everyday
Y/N didn’t realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage. 
Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide away—but then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.
She’d seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeable—until he looked her way, and his whole form softened.
“You’re here,” His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.
She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, “Good morning, Mr Styles.”
The corner of Harry’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. “Ready for today?”
“Y-yes,” She said but it wasn’t all that convincing.
Harry grabbed her hand, “You’ll be just fine Bambi.” He murmured the nickname just for her to hear. 
The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/N’s nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.
As they stepped into the elevator, Harry’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since she’d last seen him.
When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.
Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/N’s hand as he greeted her.
“Lindsey, this is Y/N,” he said, glancing between them. “She’s starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.”
Lindsey extended her hand warmly. “Oh is this-”
Harry’s gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.
“Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. “I have to admit, I’m a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistant—he can be a real pain most days.” She shot him a playful look. “But don’t worry, just don’t enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.” 
Y/N giggled and Harry’s eyes brightened at the sound, ““Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, “you’re in very good hands.” He turned to Lindsey. “Make sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but don’t overwhelm her.”
Lindsey chuckled. “I’ll keep it light for today, boss. We’d be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.”
Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, “I’ll see you later, then.” His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasn’t the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good. 
“Alright, let’s get started,” Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harry’s office. “First things first—coffee? I’ll show you the best spot, and then we’ll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.” 
. . .
Y/N liked Lindsey a lot. 
She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistake—like earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and white—Lindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasn’t used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.
Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, she’d explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.
Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.
“Okay, Harry’s in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,” Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.
She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. “He’s particular about the temperature—hot but not scalding,” Lindsey explained with a wink. “Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of things.”
Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.
“You’ll be fine,” Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. “Just go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. You’ll be a natural at this in no time.”
“I’m going in alone?” Y/N’s eyes widened.
“It’s good practice,” Lindsey grins, “Good luck!”
Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harry’s eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.
As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.
In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.
““Watch where you’re going!” he barked, rising from his seat. “Do you even know how to serve properly?”
Y/N’s heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.
“Do you think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.
“She stained my shirt! She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it,” the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew he’d crossed a line.
Harry’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. “Y/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?”
Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.
Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harry’s signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. “Your final check—enough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.”
“Final?” Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.
“Correct,” Harry replied nonchalantly.
Mr. Smith’s face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. “Meeting adjourned,” Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.
Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.
Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.
She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. “I feel like I can’t do anything right,” she admitted, her voice muffled.
Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. “You did nothing wrong.”
“You can’t fire people because of me, Harry.”
“Don’t worry about him. We’ve wanted to get rid of him for ages—just a sexist prick. Turns out you’re a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,” he chuckled lightly.
Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. “These eyes,” he whispered.
A smile broke through her sadness. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting.”
“Don’t care, Bambi.” He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. “You actually made it better.”
“I did?” she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.
“Mhm,” he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harry’s lips brushed against hers. 
“Okay, what the hell happened?” Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.
“Wow, Lindsey,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. “Try knocking next time, yeah?”
“Since when have I ever needed to knock?” Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.
“Since now,” Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, “If you’ll excuse me
” He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.
A laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time she’d witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “So, are you two like
?”
“No,” Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.
Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. “Might want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,” she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.
. . .
Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. “Bambi,” He slurred against her lips.”
“Hm?” She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer. 
“I was thinking,” He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, “Maybe this weekend y’ could come to my place and stay the night.”
“The night?” She’d never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house. 
“Yeah
 Would you be okay with that?” 
“Y-Yeah, I think so.”
“Y’ think so?” Harry grinned, “Are y’ sure?”
She smiled, “I’d like that.”
“Well, alright then,” he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Bambi.”
“Goodnight, Harry.” Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.
Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.
Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing
Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!
Harry: Can’t help it Bambi 
Harry: I’m obsessed with you
. . .
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