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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

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Tech platforms' playbook inevitably produces dumpster-fires

Very rarely, I find an article that I want to share, but whose every line so so perfect that I can hardly bear to summarize it because I just want to repost the whole thing, peppered with “HELL YEAH”s. That’s how I feel about Anil Dash’s “That broken tech/content culture cycle.”

https://anildash.com/2022/02/09/the-stupid-tech-content-culture-cycle/

Dash lays out a playbook for firms that claim to be “tech companies” but rely on cultural production to grow and profit — a playbook that we’ve seen used so many times that it’s impossible to credibly call what emerges from it an “unintended consequence.”

As Ian Fleming wrote: “Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.” If you follow a playbook that has led to series of dumpster fires, you can’t credibly claim to be surprised when you end up presiding over a dumpster fire of your own.

Dash’s playbook starts off: Build a platform that relies on culture, but call it a “neutral tech platform,” except in your ads, “where the message is entirely about creativity and expression.”

Step two: Pay your employees solely based on growth. Fire anyone who demonstrates concern for culture or creators over growth.

Three: Grow, but pay no attention to the norms of the people using your platform.

Four: When you discover that your platform has a bunch of really gross stuff going on, make it the responsibility of your org’s “least resourced, most marginalized team.” Fire anyone who suggests you need structural changes.

Five: Half-ass your moderation. Build a system where bad actors thrive and push everyone else off the platform.

Six: When the marginalized creators who built up all the value for your platform leave, do not “reflect on how you could have amplified them instead of just letting them wander off, exhausted.”

Seven: Get serious about monetization. Realize that much of your platform’s content is illegal. Panic. Do some deals with big entertainment companies. Seize control over your platform’s most popular creators’ output.

Eight: “Surface great content” with an algorithm trained on the stuff that’s successful, foreclosing on the possibility of making anything different. Treat the algorithm as a sacrosanct oracle except when right-wing trolls work the ref and insist that their garbage’s obscurity is “woke bias.”

Nine: Overpay for exclusive deals with creators from your platforms and creators you poach from rivals. Forget about creating a pipeline where you nurture new talent. Become totally dependent on your exclusive superstars.

Ten: Commit the same abuses of talent that were perfected by studios and labels. Insist that it’s better this time because you’re a tech company.

Eleven: When your workers complain that their work is making society worse, ignore them. Listen to right-wing pundits and VCs who insist the problem is entitled “Millennials” (“anyone born after 1970, or who has school loans”).

Twelve: When your platform is inevitably implicated in a murder, address it with a single board meeting. Hire “a really good crisis comms team.” Have a single town-hall meeting. Cut a check to “whichever organization your board member’s spouse started to help deal with the problem.”

Thirteen: “Cut an even bigger check in order to keep the creator of the violence-inspiring content on your platform as an exclusive.”

Fourteen: Tell everyone that this is “growing pains” and that murder and fascism inevitably occur once a platform attains scale.

Fifteen: When you learn about really disturbing content on your platform, bump the Trust & Safety team’s budget by 5% and ask your executive coach for a compliment.

Sixteen: Pursue growth through “emotionally engaging content.” Under no circumstances should you reflect on whether those are positive or negative emotions.

Seventeen: When former workers call you out, feel briefly guilty, then get your board to remind you that “cancel culture” is the real problem.

Eighteen: Fund the most toxic users of your platform. Call it “free speech.” Under no circumstance should you reflect on the free speech issues raised by letting these people chase everyone else off your platform.

Nineteen: Use “free speech” as a “rhetorical bludgeon” against anyone who points out that you’re not just a platform, you’re publishing the people you pay for exclusive deals with your platform.

Twenty: These trolls now own your platform. They will get even more extreme and harmful. Respond by “entrench[ing] yourself even further in the necessity of enabling their depredations.”

Twenty-one: Start taking a bigger cut of the revenues generated by other creators on your platform. “Rig the algorithm, payment system, and advertising infrastructure in your favor.”

Twenty-two: Push dissenters out of the company. Paint external critics as extremists or part of a conspiracy funded by your competitors. Include the families of people who died because of your platform in this conspiracy accusation.

Twenty-three: Once regulation finally seems in the cards, team up with your sole surviving competitor in a duopolistic lobbying push to undermine the regulation. Team up with lawmakers who insist “the ‘real problem’ is that the algorithm isn’t giving their shitty content unfair amplification.”

Twenty-four: “Claim full victim status.” Ignore the billions you made from all this. Weep that “the vicissitudes of running a big content platform are just too exhausting, especially when people are blaming you for societal problems that have always existed.”

“Buy a yacht. Don’t consume any content on the yacht, you were never really into all that crap anyway.”

We call it…The Aristocrats!

My summary of Anil’s post doesn’t do it justice. It’s so good. Go read it.

https://anildash.com/2022/02/09/the-stupid-tech-content-culture-cycle/

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everlasting-stories · 3 years

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To Feel Again [M]

Genre: light angst, romance

Warnings[!]: smut, penetration, creampie, unprotected sex, mentions of adult toys

Pairing: Doyoung x Reader

Words: 4.4k / One-shot

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Valentine's Day: the day of roses and hearts and chocolates and romantic candlelit dinners. When people proposed marriage and professed undying love.

You sighed, staring unseeing into your bowl of cornflakes as they succumbed to their milky grave and turned to soggy goop. Funny how a date on a calendar could open the pit of despair that lived somewhere near your stomach. It had to be near your stomach. You've been reasonably hungry until you've noticed the date and the pit opened. Your hunger had fallen into it, and the memories and pain rose out of it.

There was a time when this day had been wonderful. Life had been wonderful, you didn't need Valentine's Day, but you celebrated it with reverence and, sometimes, wild abandon.

You knew what love was, what it felt like to love a man and how it felt to lose him. You remembered what he'd said that last morning, how he'd kissed you; how the sun had lit his face as he smiled, promising he'd be back. You also remembered the police, how the sun seemed to dim as they told you the phrases out of courtesy. They were sorry for your loss. They will let you know of details as soon as the investigation on the accident comes to an end.

Since that time, Valentine's Day had passed unheralded, unheeded and uncelebrated. You knew you were a joke of the office - entering thirties soon and never been fucked, that's what they said. The borning woman who had no idea what fun was, wouldn't have known what to do with a man if by some miracle you did catch the attention of one. They were wrong, of course. Not that it was any of their business; it certainly didn't affect your ability to do your job.

If you chose to act and dress your age and spend your evenings quietly, rather than as mutton dressed as lamb in some gaudy nightclub, surely that was your right?

You sighed again, getting up from the table, taking your cereal bowl and dumping the gloop down the sink. A bleak day of petty jibes and pitying looks lay ahead. At least you knew what to expect this year.

Last year had been your first Valentine's Day with this particular company and, therefore, your first with this particular bunch of malicious people - your fellow employees. As front counter receptionist, you were the company's first "public face" and some of your co-workers had decided it didn't look good if that face wasn't surrounded by gifts from admirers on this day.

When the first bunch of anonymous flowers had arrived, you've been flustered, flattered and flabbergasted that anyone would send you flowers. You had hurriedly cleared a space on the counter for them, proudly displaying them, fussing with them to show them off at their best and make them visible from the greatest distance. You kept touching them, moving them slightly, reaffirming they were really there. Your heart sang; someone had noticed you. Maybe he was too shy to reveal himself; maybe he was married and couldn't: your mind was alive with questions, trying to solve the mystery of their origin. You were all in all happy.

Then a large box of chocolates arrived, closely followed by more flowers. By lunchtime, these had been joined by a little plush cherub, two red plush love hearts, a pair of earrings, three more bunches of flowers, four assorted boxes of chocolates and a large jar of candy hearts. They all carried the same anonymous message. And you knew then and there what is the catch behind this.

By the end of the day there were nine flower arrangements, ten boxes of chocolates, three cherubs, the two red love hearts, three teddy bears, two jars of candy, the earrings and a gift box containing four pairs of edible undies. Just before the close of business the final humiliation came - a fantastically wrapped see through box containing an inflatable male doll with vibrating tongue, a massive purple vibrating dildo and a copy of the Sex for The Beginners book.

You had to stay at your post until the last visitor or client left. But the rest of the staff was already heading out of the building. Some boggled at your desk, some snickered, a couple made loud crass comments and a very few had appeared horrified at the pile of stuff surrounding yourself. The building had almost emptied before that last visitor departed. You were sure that, too, was a set-up, particularly when you saw it was the client that had been visiting quite frequently lately.

Myungsoo ushered the man to the street and turned back to you as you gathered your coat and handbag, ready to escape.

"Gee, you're a popular girl. Who would have thought?" He reached your counter and began collecting up the flowers, grinning madly. "Let me help you with all that."

Before you could say a word, he bundled all the flowers, chocolates and assorted other items into your arms. You could barely see where you were going. Myungsoo put his arm around your back and shepherded you out the door, peeking at the vibrator in its transparent box. "There you go, sweetheart. Looks like you're definitely gonna get some action tonight." He turned smartly away, laughing as he rapidly put distance between the two of you.

You obviously had thrown the whole lot in the nearest dumpster and hurried to the relative sanctuary of your car before breaking down and sobbing, burying your head in your hands to hide from prying eyes of curious passer-bys.

Standing at your kitchen sink, you wondered what they'd pull this year. It couldn't be worse, could it? You sighed again and then abruptly shook your head, standing straighter. To hell with it - you were not going to let them get to you today.

It had already begun when you arrived. A bouquet of irises sat at the front of the counter. You were tempted to throw them straight in the garbage, but decided they were too pretty, too unusual. So they stayed. Curiosity got the better of you as you looked at the card, expecting it to say something sappy and insincere, as last year's cards had.

"You are worth far more than they will ever realise. Hear the flowers."

You pondered the card. Hear the flowers?

What on earth did that mean? You raised an eyebrow as you settled into your post: at least it seemed this year would be more intriguing than last. During quiet moments throughout the morning, you'd pick up the card, reread the cryptic message and study the beautiful bouquet, but its secret was never revealed.

No gifts arrived for you, no more flowers. You were relieved, but it only served to deepen the mystery of the flowers. As your lunch hour approached, other staff began filtering out of their offices to take a break. They all noticed the irises. Several of the women stopped and commented on their beauty. No one laughed.

As always, you left the building for lunch. You would usually grab a sandwich somewhere and do a bit of window shopping. Anything to get away for an hour - if you stayed in the office, someone always "needed" you for something.

When you returned, a neatly typed page was on your desk: "The meaning of flowers". One line was highlighted in blue: "Iris: Have Faith. Don't Give Up On Hope." A single purple violet was pinned to the page. You scanned the page to find "Violet (Purple): You occupy my thoughts". You put the page to one side, but still in view, unsure whether to laugh at it and throw it along with the flowers away before the punch line or wait it out. This was definitely a far more sophisticated assault than last year.

Throughout the afternoon a steady procession of couriers arrived, carrying flowers and gifts. You nervously watched each one approach your counter, only to breathe a sigh of relief as the teddy bears and hearts, the chocolates and flowers were all destined for other souls.

At 4:30PM a man approached your station: nothing unusual in that; everyone that came to see someone had to check in with you. What was unusual was that he actually saw you as a fellow human, not a robot programmed to take names and give directions. He smiled at you, a real smile that reached his eyes and warmed your heart. Something familiar in his eyes...

"Good afternoon. My name is Kim Doyoung. I have an appointment to speak to Choi Myungsoo. Would you mind letting him know I am here, please?"

Quickly, you dialled Myungsoo's extension, giving him the information. Myungsoo, as usual was brusque to the point of rude, telling you to "entertain the idiot 'till I'm ready for him - he's not supposed to be here for another 15 minutes".

You were tempted to tell the polite gentleman exactly what Myungsoo had said, but instead used your tact and diplomacy (that was why you were hired after all) to tell him that "Mr. Choi is a little delayed. He will be available in a few minutes."

With that being said, you offered him a seat.

Again he smiled. "Those are beautiful flowers," he said, nodding towards the iris bouquet. "A discerning choice for a lovely lady."

You lowered your eyes, feeling the heat rise in your face, knowing you were blushing.

His voice softened and became much quieter. "You don't remember me, do you?" Your eyes flew to his face, confused. Were you supposed to know this charming man?

"I had an appointment here at the same time, on this day last year. I was waiting outside for a taxi when you left. That was uncalled for, the whole situation that happened - mean and heartless and exactly what I would expect of Myungsoo and his friends. I deal with them only because I must. They offer a service unparalleled in this town."

He leaned across the counter, his voice so low only you could hear. "How they manage it, I cannot tell. They are pig swill and don't know a pearl when confronted with one." Doyoung paused, seeming to weigh up his next statement, then leaned closer to you. "Did you hear the flowers?"

Your eyes again flew to his face, your mouth falling open a little. "You sent them?"

"I did. And the violet. I had hoped to counter whatever crass display they had planned this year. Would you possibly consider spending the evening with me?" His face was eager, hopeful. "A nice dinner?"

You were stunned, flattered, amazed - but also wary. This was Myungsoo's client. He could easily have been put up to this. You studied his face closely, seeking any hint of a lurking cad. His face fell. "But, of course, you have other plans. I apologise for embarrassing you." He moved away and sat, abashed, on one of the hideous lounge chairs to await his appointment.

You studied this man. He didn't seem to fit the mould of Myungsoo's usual cohorts. For one thing he was unerringly polite. He was also good looking, very, very good looking, without being outstanding or flashy. He was also much closer to your age than Myungsoo's and had an air of quiet confidence, like he had nothing to prove to anyone and nothing to fear from them either. You looked at the flowers. Could Myungsoo have possibly thought of something this elegant? You didn't think so. You took a deep breath: to hell with it.

"Mr. Kim?" He looked up. "What time would you like to pick me up?"

In your bedroom, staring at the clothes hanging limply in your closet, the cool bravado that had claimed you as you agreed to the date vanished. In its place indecision, doubt and outright terror took hold. It seemed painfully obvious to you now, away from the office and that lovely man, that it was all another twisted joke, something for the office beautiful people to laugh at during tomorrow's coffee breaks. Why did you say yes? Your wardrobe was woefully inadequate. It was years since you'd been out with a man; you were bound to make a fool of yourself, even if it wasn't a set-up.

At that thought your heart jumped and lurched. The possibility that Mr. Kim - no, Doyoung; this was a date not a business appointment - was sincere in his wish to take you out only heightened your confusion and indecision.

Finally, in desperation and the realisation that if you didn't decide soon, you'd still be in your underwear when he arrived; you chose a chanel-knee length cremé skirt and baby pink cashmere sweater, topped off with knee length boots. The heels were quite high, but you remembered him being tall, so that wouldn't be an issue, as long as you didn't fall over in them.

You were saved from an overcritical examination in the mirror. You had just completed applying your makeup when Doyoung arrived. You grabbed your coat and quickly walked out the door, before you had time to rethink and back out.

"You look lovely," Doyoung said, smiling down at you. Feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks; you weren't used to receiving compliments, particularly from someone like him. You mumbled a shy thanks as he helped you put on your coat and led you to his car.

Sitting in the car as he drove, you were able to study the mysterious man that is Kim Doyoung. He was extremely handsome, not in the classical sense, but he certainly was far from a plain looking man - a man at peace with himself. He knew who he was and was content with that; he knew what he wanted and how to get it; and what was beyond his capabilities and lost no sleep over it. He obviously managed quite well; his car was expensive but not too flashy.

The restaurant he took you too was a quiet small place, away from the standard eat-and-entertain strip. It was intimate without claustrophobia; the decor was elegant without being overbearing; the lighting low but not dim; the service attentive without being intrusive. The food you could not describe - later, you barely remembered what you had eaten beyond it being "nice" - your attention was totally taken by Doyoung.

He was gallant and charming; helping you with your coat and holding your chair for you at the intimate table for two tucked away in a corner. Doyoung quietly suggested items on the menu he thought you might like. It was obvious he'd been here before, was a regular, but usually without company. His choice of wine was perfect to go with the excellent food as you enjoyed each other's company.

And you talked.

You learned a lot about him. Doyoung was 34, older than you had thought; he had been engaged, but his fiancé decided to break off the engagement for simply falling out of love. He had had a series of short term relationships that had petered out and, for the past several years, had lived a solitary life, rarely going out with women. He didn't work as such; his livelihood came from investments, which explained him being a client of the company you worked in. Myungsoo may be a jerk, but he was the one of the best investment brokers around.

He had been attracted to you the first time he met you, a year ago, but had been intimidated by the evidence of all your admirers. When he realised it was all a cruel joke played by his adviser and the other brokers, he was mortified. He had seriously considered changing brokers, going to another organisation but that would have meant he had no chance of meeting you again. So he stayed. He had been in your office on three occasions since then, and each time had seen your quiet, unflappable charm and how your talent and lovely nature were either ignored or taken for granted by those around you. He was determined to gain your attention, but without the office cricus freaks being able to use it against you, hence the mystery flower delivery this morning.

You found yourself opening up to Doyoung. He seemed sincerely interested in hearing what you had to say, hanging on your every word. It was a liberating and wonderfully powerful feeling. You weren't used to being the centre of anyone's attention. You told him of your pride at the independence since the loss of your lover, all those years ago. You were happy in your little home, content with your work, rarely coming to the attention of the office jokers.

It was over coffee that you admitted to Doyoung something you haven't admitted to yourself: your life was lonely and you missed the affection of another person. You missed the companionship of sharing your life with someone.

Immediately after the words had left your lips you regretted them. You have given away too much of yourself, been too forward. You lowered your eyes, not wanting to see the closed expression you knew would be on his face, so you didn't see the fleeting look of pain, quickly followed by understanding and hope.

However, you did feel his hand close over yours and squeeze lightly. You looked up into a face of gentle eyes and soft smile. "Would you like to take a walk with me," he said quietly. "I think it's time we leave - they want to close the restaurant anyway."

You looked around yourself noticing that you two were the only people other than staff left in the restaurant, and many of the lights were dimmed. You gasped in wonder - you had no idea you've been there so long. "Yes, a walk would be lovely."

Doyoung ushered you along the street and across a small, neat park to a promenade along the riverbank. It was enough lit to feel safe and you walked along arm in arm. You felt his arm snake around your waist hugging you closer to him, and you snuggled against him, your arm around his back. The moon was up, the stars were out and the night was peaceful and clear.

Your heart was singing and your eyes sparkled. You've been right to take this gamble. He was sincere, and it was wonderful. But the night was late, and it was rather cold.

You shivered. Doyoung felt it immediately and turned off the promenade proposing to head back toward the street where he had left the car. "I'd better take you home. It wouldn't be much of a date if you ended up ill."

At your door, Doyoung formally thanked you for a lovely evening and asked if he could see you again. You smiled and surprised yourself only a little by reaching up and kissing him lightly on the lips before saying: "Would you like to come in for a nightcap?"

Doyoung blinked, looking mildly bemused for a moment before studying your face. "Are you sure?"

Oh, most definitely, you were sure. You have thought of nothing else since you two have left the river. He looked right, he felt right, and he smelt right. You wanted him but was sure he'd never make a move. He was too much of a gentleman to ever force the issue.

You took his hand and led him into your home, kicking the door closed with your foot, shutting out the rest of the world with its mean people and ugly attitudes. You reached up to kiss him again. This time he lowered his head to yours, cradling your face in his hands as he returned the kiss. The lips met and parted, allowing the tongues to join and caress each other. His hands moved down from your face to caress your body, yours moving up from his hips. Both of you parted, searching each other's faces for confirmation of your desires.

"I think we're on the same page," you said. "Why don't you leave your coat on the couch? Do you want the nightcap now, or after the tour?"

"I'll put a hold on the nightcap," Doyoung answered, reading the desire in your eyes and knowing it was mirrored in his while stripping off the coat.

"Right."

You took his hand again. "This is the lounge. There," you pointed to the right, "is the kitchen and dining room. This way," pulling him down the hall, "is the second bedroom, the bathroom and," dragging him through a doorway, "here is the main bedroom."

"Very nice," he said, looking around, trying not to focus on the bed.

Suddenly shy, you both looked at anything but each other, awkward in a lack of intimate knowledge of each other. Doyoung tentatively reached out a hand to you, aiming to caress your breast, veering off at the last moment to your shoulder, but still lightly brushing your breast with his fingertips. Your gasped breath emboldened him and he reached his other hand, caressing your other breast lightly as you shivered under his touch and sighed.

Your own hands went to his chest, running down the front of his shirt and back up, then beginning to undo the buttons, pulling the shirt from his trousers and teasing his bare skin with your fingers.

Doyoung pulled his shirt off and then raised the sweater over your head and off the arms, moving in to kiss you as his hands went around your back to undo the clasps of a bra and returned to cup your breasts. The sensation on your breasts as he caressed and pinched the nipples sent a sharp message straight between your legs. You could feel yourself becoming moist and shuddered under his touch; breath becoming uneven.

Pushing him away you removed the skirt, letting it pool at your feet while looking into his eyes. Doyoung took the hint and began unbuckling his belt, then grinned foolishly and sat beside you to take off his socks, sneaking kisses of your neck and shoulders as he did so. You both stood again, slightly apart. He dropped his trousers and you could see his briefs pushed out of shape by his erection, the fabric straining.

Doyoung stepped up, taking you in his arms, kissing down your neck and across the collarbone, his hands lowering to your hips, sliding under the elastic and beginning to tug your panties down. Your own hands flew to the top of his briefs. Together, you pulled down the underwear, stepping out of them and standing naked before each other. Again Doyoung moved first, holding you and gently pushing backwards onto the bed, following after you onto it.

He ran one hand down the body of yours, teasing and tickling the beginning of your womanhood and beyond, teasing you with his fingers, tickling across your mound and easing around your damp centre. You moaned as he explored, your hips twisting and twitching. It had been so long since another man had touched you there. It felt amazing, wonderful, but achingly short of what you needed. You could feel his hardness against your thigh. Reaching down, you took his cock into your hand. It was hot, hard and pulsed under your touch. Doyoung groaned and his hips jerked convulsively. You kissed him hard and whispered fiercely, "Please, it's been too long. I need you, now."

"For me too, far too long," Doyoung gasped back, rolling you onto your back and positioning himself before gently splitting your lips and sliding steadily but firmly into you. Your moans were prominent in the air as he stretched and filled you right, not stopping his steady thrust until he was wholly inside you, your warm walls gripping him tightly. Your eyes met and locked as you lay still, immersed in the feeling of each other's body.

Being warm, wet and a safe haven, you were engulfing his cock. Doyoung was filling you with his hard heat, owning your body completely. You fit each other perfectly; you could see it in each other's eyes. You belonged together.

As great as this feeling was, you needed more. Doyoung slowly withdrew, till only the very tip split you. Both groaning as he pushed back in, again slowly feeling each other with delectable inch. Slowly in and out, in and out, revelling in the feeling of each other's bodies, gradually building up speed as your need increased.

You could feel the fire building, the tension increasing as sensation on sensation smashed into you with each thrust, your body twitching, your hips writhing. Still it built; higher, tighter, fiercer. Your entire being was wrapped around Doyoung's cock as it pumped in and out of you. You could hear him grunting with each thrust, feel his body trembling as he got closer to his climax. His speed increased and you breath got caught in your throat, your back arched, legs went stiff as you began to twitch when the white light exploded through you, spreading warmth and scattering your senses.

You felt, from far away but deep within you, Doyoung losing his rhythm before coming, pumping wildly into you, grunting and thrusting hard one last time as he shot deep inside you feeling spent but overly fulfilled.

Your hand was making lazy circles on Doyoung's chest as you lay, curled against his side with a head on his shoulder. You weren't sure how you've come to be in this position, but it felt so right and he smelled so good.

You were at peace while drifting off to sleep.

Waking up without feeling body by your side, you immediately felt the loss. Doyoung wasn't there. Your heart dropped, the pit near your stomach threatened to open and engulf it. Sensing the tears coming up, you accidentally feel something on your side with a hand.

He wasn't there. But there was a note.

"I am so sorry. I hate to leave you, knowing you will wake alone. There is something I must do."

You had just finished reading when the phone rang, disturbing your thoughts. Grudgingly, you moved to answer it. "Hello."

"Wish I was still beside you."

Your heart flipped again. The pit dissolved so you could breathe again before whispering, "Doyoung."

"Y/N. Tell me, what are you planning for breakfast?"

"Uhm. Coffee? Maybe some toast. Why?"

"Don't move. I'm on my way. With breakfast. And it's better than toast."

You lay back in bed, listening to the dial tone after he hung up. Surprised, you smile softly. You must remember to thank Myungsoo for introducing them.

If this is how you will feel loved and feel free to love again, you have no complaints.

Your new chapter is about to begin and hopefully, it will last for a very long time with a man named Kim Doyoung.

#one shot #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct fanfiction #doyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung scenarios #doyoung fanfic #doyoung smut #romance #nct romance #nct angst #nct 127 #nct u #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fanfic

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laffy-taffy-creations · 2 years

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hehehe. I am here, I have broken in. God, you guys should know better by now then to ask for asks. I am always lurking. Anywayyyyyys, hero x villain. Hero is relatively poor and has to dumpster dive for all their stuff, Villain is in the same boat. One day, while Hero is searching for the last piece to their project through a dumpster, they encounter Villain who found the last one. Cue hero trying to get villain to give it up and them just flirting. :DDD

I did not proofread this. Hope you enjoy.

I am also not that good at writing flirty scenes, so have a laugh if it's bad, I wouldn't care, I dont have much experience with them, so it's understandable

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Broadway. It had to be one of the most useless ways to spend billions of dollars. Of course, it was fun to watch if you had the money to afford it, and they could do some amazing things, but ultimately there were thousands more ways that money could be spent to benefit society. However, Hero was glad some of their shows cost so much. It meant that you were more likely to find expensive techy equipment or things like props and costumes you could sell for hundreds of dollars, which really helped.

But as far as they were aware, there was one small technical component somewhere in the garbage that they couldn't find anywhere else, so how much a thing was worth didn't matter to them. They needed something specific. One of the really advanced voice fluxuators they put into some of the costumes to be quite specific.

Obviously, it wasn't likely they'd find it. It wasn't often a ditched costume had one because they'd try to reuse it. However, once one went bad, the companies Broadway worked with and were made up of figured it would be cheaper and easier just to get a new one and throw the old one out with its costume.

Hero could fix them though. They'd been doing it for years. Whenever their mask got damaged they could usually fix the vocal modules they'd borrowed from the Broadway dumpsters, but there were a few instances like now when the whole thing had broken and needed a replacement.

Searching through the trash, not disgusted in the slightest with any of it, they heard something else rustling. They peered over their shoulder, and saw nothing. Leaning back and looking into the other areas of garbage they had yet to sift through, they saw a figure. Holding something.

Something they tossed aside. A vocal module. Glancing between the figure and the device, they got down low, sure the person couldn't see them, and literally crawled like a cat closer to the unknown person to get a better look. They were silent, just like a cat too. They were about to reach for the module, but right before they did, the figure turned around.

Thank the gods they hadn't tried to pick it up, they would've been spotted. With a mask that's malfunctioning, they'd rather not be seen. But they knew this person. They could feel it. Just not quite tell who it was.

"Ugghhh, there's nothing here," the figure groaned, picking up the module and inspecting it. It was Villain. Hero moved away a bit some, trying to gain some distance. But, Villain had what they needed. Maybe, just maybe…

Hero got up from the darkness once they were sure they were a safe distance away, then walked over. "Oh, hello," they said, trying to act surprised as their eyes scanned the trash Villain had just been rifling through. Villain jumped a bit, startled by the greeting. "Hero?" They asked, looking them up and down, squinting like they weren't seeing right.

"Ummm…hello Villain…what're you doing here?" They said. "I could ask you the same thing," Villain responded. After a bit of silence and looking at each other, Hero spoke. "I think we're both in a similar situation by the looks of it."

Villain laughed. "You're telling me that you're also dumpster diving, trying to find something you can pawn so you can afford rent or food or some other shit like that?"

Hero acted surprised and nodded. "Yeah… I heard that if you get an old costume with a working voice fluxuator you can get a lot," they said. Villain looked at the thing in their hands. "Is that what this is?" They asked, glancing over.

Hero moved their wrist from side to side in a 'more or less' gesture for Villain to see. "It's a voice fluxuator, yes, but they only throw out the ones that don't work," Hero said.

"Sooo then how do you get it to work?" Villain asked. "I usually fix them myself…" Hero admitted. Villain nodded. "Noted. I'll make sure to keep these away from you when possible," they said, flashing a grin in Hero's direction.

Hero grumbled. Of course. "Listen, I need the module for something other than pawning. Plus, If you find me another, I can fix it up for you and you can put it back into one of these costumes. It'll really up the value, and you can sell it," they said calmly.

Villain toyed with the device in their hands, fidgeting with the module in their hands like a fidget cube, and was clearly aware of the type of power they currently held as they eyed Hero up and down. "I don't know, it sounds pretty good, but I think I can do just fine without," they said. Hero was starting to get impatient, and anxious. They needed that module, they couldn't go in public as anything but a civilian without it.

"Could I maybe bargain with you for it? Because I'd rather have one right now…" Hero trailed off. They remained still while Villain studied them, calculating. But the question was what. What were they calculating? What ideas were they forming in their head?

"And just what might you have that you think could be an acceptable bargain for this?" Villain said, tossing and catching the fluxuator in the air, taunting. "I'm not sure. I could show you how to fix one so you could do it yourself, but you'd need to get me a spare," Hero offered.

"Are you trying to get me to go on a date?" Villain asked. "Maybe. Would that get me the device?" Hero laughed nervously. Villain simply hummed in amusement.

"Perhaps. I'd like to see how you put your hands to good use," they said, a bit suggestively. Hero fought to keep their cool, but they could tell they were slowly losing the battle. "Well, maybe I could show you, if you'll accept my offer of course," they replied.

Villain chuckled. This whole situation had seemed to make them laugh, but Hero didn't blame them. They could only imagine what they looked like in the dim moonlight. They probably would've laughed too.

"It's a date," they said, tossing and catching the module one last time before moving towards Hero and gently placing it in their hands. "I'll be waiting~," Villain said with a kiss on the cheek, before disappearing without a trace.

#GIVE THE ASKS #writeblr #writers #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing #writing prompts #hero x villain #hero #villain

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redebin · 3 years

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#Dumpster Rental Langford #Garbage Dumpster Companies #rental companies in Langford

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thejunkboys1 · 3 years

Text

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the-atlas-sister · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two

You lowered yourself into the bath Five had drawn for you. He said you needed to clean off all the blood and you couldn't help but agree.

You let out a satisfied sigh as your cold skin touched the warm water. You rested your head against the tub, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax. You thought about all that had happened the night before. The masked attackers. Five kissing you and claiming to know you. And the strange teleporting thing he did.

You leaned down, feeling the warm water go over your mouth as you watched your own eye's reflection in the water. You then resurfaced, closing your eyes once more.

***

When you opened your eyes, you weren't in the bath. You were in a strange world, surrounded by ash, fire, and destroyed buildings. You looked to your side, to see a very old man. You noticed his fimilar bright green eyes.

"Five," you spoke softly, your voice more mature and smooth.

"Y/N," he said, his eyes filling with tears.

That's when you felt the sharp pain in your chest. You gasped, placing a hand over it. You felt a warm and sticky substance against your hand.

You looked down, seeing dark blood seeping from your chest.

"Five," you said, weakly. You looked up to see the older Five rushing to you. That was all you saw before everything went dark.

***

You shot out of the water with a gasp. You looked at your bare chest, seeing no blood, no puncture, no proof of any injury.

You blinked, breathing heavily before looking around. You were back in the bathroom.

You gasped, feeling air filling your lungs.

What was that?

***

You let out a gentle sigh as you walked into Five's room, at least what you assumed was Five's room.

You noticed him with his shirt off and he was... stitching his own arm.

"Wait," you said softly. Five looked at you, stopping immediately. "Sit down," you ordered. Five did as he was told, still holding the needle and thread in his hand. You sat next to him and plucked the needle from his hands. You then began to thread the needle through his skin, apologizing whenever he let out a pained grunt.

"Thank you," he said as soon as you snipped the thread.

"Well, you did get this saving me," you chuckled gently. "It's the least I could do." You kissed his shoulder gently, watching as you calmed down.

Five smiled at you. "Why'd you do that?" Five asked.

"I dunno," you admitted. "My gut told me too." You stared at his wound.

"Ya know, that's what you would always do whenever you tended to my wounds," Five stated. He placed a finger under your chin, making you look at him. "I think someone wiped me from your mind," he said softly.

"I'm sorry, but you're wrong," you stated.

Five just smiled. "No," he said before getting up and walking to his wardrobe. He opened it and pulled out a button-up and vest.

"Ok," you scoffed. "I'll bite. How did we meet?"

"During the apocalypse," Five said in a 'duh' tone.

***Flashback***

Five grabbed random things and put them in his wagon. He looked at the top half of a manikin and shrugged before going to grab it. He noticed a pair of arms around the manikin. He grabbed it anyway, assuming the arms belonged to another body.

Suddenly, the person attached to the arms jumped up, her h/c hair matted and her face dirty, but her e/c eyes shown through the dirt and grime, staring at Five intensely.

Five gasped, dropping the manikin. (DELORES NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO)

"How are you..." both teenagers asked.

"I thought everyone was dead," the girl said.

"So did I," Five stated. "How did you survive?"

"I don't know," the girl admitted. "I just woke up one day... to this."

"I'm Five," Five said after a moment of silence.

"I'm Y/N," you said.

***End Of Flashback***

"How did I survive the apocalypse?" you asked.

"Neither of us ever found out," Five stated. He then jumped out of the fire escape. "Come on," he said, motioning for you to follow.

You bit your lip before following, climbing behind him. You looked down, hearing a rustling noise, only to see a man in a garbage can.

"I'd ask what you're doing Klaus," Five began, reaching the last steps. "But then it occurred to me, I don't care."

"Hey!" Klaus exclaimed. Five helped you down the last few steps. "Ya know there are easier ways out of the house, right buddy?" You grinned. You liked this man.

"This one required the least amount of talking," Five said, standing in front of the dumpster. "Or so I thought."

"Hello," Klaus said looking at you. "I'm Klaus. Who might this lovely lady be?"

"Y/N," you answered with a bright smile.

"What are you doing with me brother?"

"He saved me and claims I've been his girlfriend for a while," you stated, making Five roll his eyes.

Klaus nodded before turning to Five. "Hey, hey, hey, so... You need any more company today?" Klaus reminded you of a bouncy kid. "I could, uh... clear my schedule."

"Looks like you've got your hands full," Five said, gripping your hand softly.

"Oh, this? No, no. I can do this whenever," Klaus said, shrugging. "I'm just..." Klaus looked through the dumpster. "I just misplaced something. That's all. Oh!" You looked up, eager to see what he found. "Found it! Thank God!" Klaus pulled out half a donut, making you giggle. "Delicious."

You felt Five tug you toward a van. "I'm done funding your drug habit," Five grumbled.

"Come on! You don't..." Klaus trailed off. "Maybe I just wanna hang out with my brother. Not you." You turned back to see Klaus looking at thin air, making your brows thread together. "¡Mi hermano!" Klaus exclaimed as Five opened the van. You grinned at him. "I love you! Even if you can't love yourself!"

You laughed as you got in the van with Five.

"He's funny," you said, smiling at Five. He looked at you, wrinkling his nose.

"He's a drug addict," he stated, starting the van.

"You're a drunk," you stated, pointing at the duffle bag behind you. "At 13."

"I'm 58," Five grumbled. "Stuck in some stupid 13-year-old body."

"That just means, you have a chance to be young again," you stated, staring out the window absently. "Also, why am I going with you? Where ever the heck we're going?"

"I need you with me at all times," Five stated. "To keep you safe."

"Fun," you mumbled.

Find the rest of the chapters here: https://mooskey.tumblr.com/post/662542471939735552/remember-me-five-hargreeves-x-reader

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cooliogirl101 · 3 years

Text

Anyway yeah the idea of Hisana-in-KHR wasn’t leaving me alone so here you go:

The story starts with Nana, formerly Christina, deciding that she really didn’t get to see enough of the world in her past life. She still wants to be a doctor though, so she decides why not combine those two goals-- basically she puts the names of a bunch of countries into a hat and picks one at random, which brings her to Italy.

And hey, she’s cool with that. Italian food’s awesome and she’s always wanted to learn the language. She gets a job at a nearby cafe and eventually gets really good at making espressos. Life is good.

(She does discover that Italian medical schools are...weirdly intense. Or at least the one she’s attending is. Granted, it’s been a while since she’s been a medical student but she definitely doesn’t remember learning how to treat serious burn injuries and gunshot wounds in her first year. She’s not complaining though, she’d much rather learn from real life experience than from a book.

This is also where she ends up coming across the most annoying guy she’s ever met in either lifetime. Dude hit on more women in a day than she made espressos in a week. Even more irritatingly, Annoying Guy is something of a genius, which really just makes her even more determined to beat him.

He also has the dumbest name she’s ever heard-- seriously, what kind of name is Trident, anyway?)

The first time she meets Iemitsu goes something like this: as she’s taking the trash out behind her apartment, she witnesses a blond man run past her and dive straight into the dumpster. Less than a minute later, three men holding guns run up to her, demanding to know where blond man went. She points them in the wrong direction even as she helps conceal blond man further by very considerately throwing her garbage on top of him. She then brushes her hands off and heads back into her apartment without a second glance back. Blond man shows up at her work the next day with a box of her favorite cake, earnestly thanking her for her assistance in a way that feels sweet but also more than a little stalkerish. Blond guy discovers the cafe serves really good tiramisu in the process. Blond guy keeps coming back for said tiramisu (and the company, but he’s claiming it’s the tiramisu). Somewhere down the line, blond guy becomes Iemitsu and eventually, something approaching a friend.

The smell of fresh espresso caused Iemitsu to look up.

“Bad day?” A familiar voice asked.

“That obvious, huh?” He replied, taking the offered espresso gratefully.

“The fact that you’re currently on your third tiramisu clued me in, yes,” Nana said dryly. “What’s wrong?”

“My family wants to meet my girlfriend,” Iemitsu said gloomily.

“...and?” Nana asked after a pause, when it became clear he wasn’t going to elaborate. Sure, she understood that the initial taking-girlfriend-to-meet-family meeting could be a bit awkward and nerve-wracking, but it wasn’t three tiramisus level of nerve-wracking.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Ah.” Nana paused, then very carefully kept her voice neutral. “That...is a problem, yes.”

“I got so tired of them hounding me to ‘pick a nice girl and settle down’ that I just made one up,” Iemitsu wailed, covering his face with his hands. “And now they want to meet her and obviously I can’t introduce them to an imaginary girlfriend and--”

“Can’t you just tell them you broke up?” Nana pointed out reasonably. “People break up all the time, it happens. And if you pretend to be heartbroken about it, you can probably buy yourself some time before your family starts pushing you to date again.”

“....right, there’s just one problem with that. I kind of got carried away with the whole thing and, well, when I said ‘fictional girlfriend’, I really meant ‘fictional wife’.” Iemitsu sighed dreamily. “We fell madly in love six months ago and eloped last month. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, you know? Very romantic. She’s the love of my life, the sweetest, kindest civilian girl, and she laughs at all my jokes, and she thinks of me as her hero, and--”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Nana interrupted. “On a completely unrelated note, have you ever considered therapy? I’m saying this as a friend, Iemitsu. A very concerned friend.”

“That’s right, we are friends, aren’t we?” Iemitsu asked, suddenly perking up. He reached out to grasp her hands, looking at her with shining, hopeful eyes. “And friends help each other out.”

“...did I say we were friends? I take it back,” Nana muttered, looking at him warily. He ignored her.

“If you pretended to be my wife, it would solve all my issues! Or at least, buy me time to figure things out. And I can arrange all the paperwork and stuff, hell I can make up an entire separate identity for you, I just need you to play along for one night to prove that I actually have a wife and I wasn’t just making things up.”

“Which you were.”

“No one has to know that,” Iemitsu waved her off. “Please Nana, you’re the only civilian girl I know, it has to be you! And like I said, it’s just for one night. After this, I can tell everyone I don’t want you involved in Family business, and you’ll never have to do it again.”

“You can’t just hire an actress or something?” She asked.

“No, I already tried that. Twice. They scared too easily, didn’t even make it to the mansion,” Iemitsu dismissed casually, like that was normal.

Nana swallowed. She wasn’t stupid, she knew Iemitsu was involved in some shady shit, even if she didn’t know the exact nature of his work.

“If you pretended to be my wife, I would have an excuse to pay off your student loans,” Iemitsu added.

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it, she couldn’t believe she was even considering this.

“...fine,” she said grudgingly. “One night. And I get to help in making up my own fake identity.” She was definitely going with the fake identity option. There was no way in hell she was having her actual name tied to Iemitsu’s.

~Many years later~

“You are Sawada Tsunayoshi, yes?” Reborn asked through gritted teeth after finally tracking down his target, three wild goose chases later and in a completely separate country than the one he should’ve been in, according to the report he was given.

Tsuna blinked.

“Yes?” He asked hesitantly.

“Son of Sawada Iemitsu and Sawada Noriko?” He confirmed.

“Uh, no,” Tsunayoshi said, looking at him oddly. “My mom’s name is Nana. And her last name isn’t Sawada, it’s Fujiwara.”

He pointed across the farmer’s market at a petite brunette woman who was currently engaging in a tug-of-war with a man nearly twice her size, over what appeared to be the last daikon radish.

Reborn looked at her for a long moment. Then he looked back down at the file he was given on Iemitsu’s wife.

Sawada Noriko

Age: 36

Hair color: Neon pink

Eye color: Black

- nearsighted, wears purple glasses

Country: United States

Occupation: Aspiring actress

Description:

- kindhearted but naive, mild-mannered, avoids confrontation

- has no knowledge of Vongola or the mafia

- The delicate flower of my heart, the love of my life, the sweet nectar that quenches my thirst-- Sawada Iemitsu

Reborn considered the information that was in front of him for a long moment. Then, slowly, deliberately, he ripped the report in half.

“I,” he stated calmly, “am going to kill Iemitsu.”

(So like I said, I couldn’t really imagine Hisana/Christina/Nana getting together with Iemitsu for real. A fake marriage AU, on the other hand….)

#as for how tsuna was born #iemitsu and nana briefly tried dating for real #it took them less than a month to realize it was a horrible horrible mistake #and to go back to being friends instead #but it did result in nana getting pregnant #iemitsu slipped up about tsuna's existence which is how the vongola know about him #their knowledge of tsuna is much more complete than their knowledge of nana #in that they at least have his name and appearance right #wtl!au #solar flame au

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vtoriacore · 3 years

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How would the yandere nordics react to an country s/o that always over work themselves with their work, to the point were they just end up sleeping at their work desk most nights. Thx in advance!

✧ more self-care, love!

tw: yandere, mentions of death

note: this turned out eh but i think i tried at least ehe

synopsis: in which the nordic boys comfort you after seeing you tire yourself out from all the work, in their own little ways of course.

tino

understands that you value work and that you’re a high achieving person but it doesn’t mean he tolerates it

his heart breaks at the sight of you looking so tired whenever you finally decide to wake up and get all confused when you’re at your desk

the straw finally snaps when he overhears your coworkers/boss belittle you despite your hard work

will hide his fury when you see him come in right after despite the murderous rage he’s feeling

like hell he will let those filthy bastards treat you this way ever again

will coax the truth out of you with sweet words of comfort and countless affection until you give in

makes you promise to never work this late again

most likely forces you to relax with him in various ways whether it’s giving you a massage, making you hot chocolate or reading you one of your favourite novels near the crackling fireplace as the rain patters on the window with you cuddled up right next to him

the next day you’ll be quite surprised to find out that the business you worked for has gone bankrupt or that your boss or coworkers have suddenly vanished without a trace, only to be found a week later abandoned in a ditch or the garbage disposal

helps you find a better job where you won’t have to overwork yourself to the brink of actual death

is very elated because he can now spend more time with you which is a huge win for him because he cannot say he wasn’t wishing for you to be more affectionate with him before this ordeal (was even angry at your computer for a while because of how much attention you gave it)

but all’s well that ends well, right?

“thank you for the drink tino, love you :)”

“haha, no problem rakkaani. if you need anything else i’m here!”

“oh by the way, you’re not tired are you?”

“hmm? not really, i actually had a full eight hours of sleep!”

“that’s great news! i’m proud of you :)”

berwald

extremely silent rage and hatred

that’s the only thing he thinks of when he thinks about your boss and coworkers because surely they must be the reason you’re this tired all the time (and the way you just fall asleep at your desk- outrageous!)

will not let this go on any longer and subtly threatens the company you work for (anonymous notes with promises of very unethical things count as subtle right?)

if they dismiss the warnings, then he’ll just have to use dirtier tactics

you notice that he’s become unusually deep in thought anytime he sees you working at your desk with that concentrated yet obviously exasperated face

if you ask what’s wrong, he’ll most likely shake his head and say it’s ‘nothing’ with this ominous monotone voice that slightly concerns you

not to worry though, he will become much more affectionate after the whole fiasco is over and once he’s dealt with those infested roaches

you swear you even saw him smiling at some point when he was embracing you

if you ask what the occasion is, he most likely will tell you that you no longer have to overwork yourself because you’re about to get a different work schedule (one that allows you to take actually take care of your basic needs!)

what you don’t need to know however, is how he stuffed the bodies of those nuisances into some unusable ikea crates shortly before dumping them somewhere near a dumpster

now that you have all this time (and a better employer), he will definitely make you bake with him totally not because he is a sucker for domestic couple activities, not at all and it’s not like he already calls you his wife/husband

can and will legally use up all of your free time now and even begins to smile more frequently (like four times a month which is a huge improvement!)

“hey ber, i’m on my break wanna cook?”

“ju, älskling“

“great thank you hubby~!”

“ :| . . . :) ”

mathias

hates when you overwork yourself and he swears if he finds you at your desk one more time-

yeah, no that’s it

isn’t going to tolerate it and will definitely say something like “nu-uh! you’re spending time with me now!”, something akin to a five year old child

if you continue trying to secretly work he will ‘accidentally’ break your computer so that he can figure out a way to stop you working this much permanently

and boy does he find a way, with the corporation you work for . . .

might one day show up there and just outright dispose of those time sucking pests once and for all, or he might leave not so subtle death threats and other harassing notes until the workload you get is diminished

his methods all depend on the mood he is in

after he gets back, he will start drinking and probably even cry because of how much time you spend without him

good luck trying to get him to stop because he will definitely say things like “babe i missed you so much!” or “please pay more attention to me!” etc.

now you have to deal with a clingy mathias who drank just around seven full glasses of beer which is nothing good

after he sobers up and finally remembers what happened, he’ll definitely be apologetic and announce that tomorrow he will . . . buy you a lego set that you two will most likely spend 6+ hours building!

(i wouldn’t complain if i were you because who doesn’t love building a 4000+ piece lego pirate ship??)

“can you pass me the instructions mattie?”

“okay skat! just don’t mess this up >:)”

“say this again and this piece is going down your throat”

“hehe don’t mes- djsdhs”

“thought so, love”

lukas

silently watches what you’re dong for like a week straight (without you knowing) and is not pleased at all

scratch the ‘not pleased’ bit, his thoughts on this are much stronger

he desperately wants to show you some new magic he learned, or read some new fantasy novel that came out and share it with you, or take you on a little cafe date where you two can just finally talk and relax together like an actual couple or-

but he can’t and it irritates every single bit of patience he once held out of him

once he decides that enough is enough, you should either expect: 1) a letter describing why you’re being resigned, 2) to see that the place you were working at is officially closing down, 3) your boss going missing and never being found again

maybe even all three on a very bad day (which will only amplify his rage if he sees your tired eyes in the morning again)

on a more positive note, you’ll be pleased to see that lukas is much more relaxed than previously and is definitely in a better mood

it only gets better when he sees you actually sleep in your bed and not at your desk like you previously did

once you get your sleep schedule in check, he’ll start making you breakfast in bed (with your favourite coffee, like cappuccino, americano, latte etc.)

if it’s a very rainy day, you two will get to read some of your favourite books together or scout the internet for some weird theories you thought of because now you don’t have to spend every single hour of your day working

all in all, 10/10 happiness for the both of you

“sleep well kjære?”

“mhm thanks lukas- is that pancakes i smell?”

“ . . . maybe”

“awe~ thank you honey :)”

“ :) “

emil

envious of the amount of attention you give to your computer . . .

he will not wait around and will no questions asked eliminate the problem with ease (and with the help of his brother lukas who just really wants to see emil happy and hear him call him big brother in exchange)

oh? what is this? an article of your workplace being in a scandal? it’s best if you stop working for them!

or is it that some of your (horrible) coworkers have gone missing? well better resign now to make sure you stay safe!

will use anything and everything against the company to just make you find a better job that will not have you passing out from exhaustion at your desk

you’ll most likely never find out as to what has happened because emil will not show any signs of involvement and as far as you know, his behaviour around you just never changed

and he prefers it stay that way

all you will ever know is that he was worried about you after the news broke and the way he softly held you whispering things like “i’m glad nothing happened to you” or “you’re definitely never going back”

worry aside, now that you have all this time in the world (with a normal workday) he is bound to take you out to relax and ease your built up fatigue over the weeks working like that

by that i mean taking you to the best spas he can find just so he can see how satisfied and happy you are (his heart practically skips a beat anytime you so much as smile) and the way you sigh in much needed relief when taking a mud bath-

he himself might even give you massages at home if he sees you’re particularly stressed, followed by making you some hot tea and staying with you in bed to just appreciate each other

“are you tired yet, elskan?”

“hm a little, but you’re definitely making it better :)”

“ (>////////<) w-well that’s good to hear i guess . . .”

“i should get tired more often if it means you’ll get this worried each time~!”

“absolutely not, you’re getting rest whether you like it or not”

#hetalia x reader #aph x reader #finland x reader #sweden x reader #denmark x reader #norway x reader #iceland x reader #tino x reader #berwald x reader #mathias x reader #lukas x reader #emil x reader #nordics x reader #aph nordics #hetalia #aph

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