Hate How The New Term Already Started And Im Already Stressed

hate how the new term already started and i’m already stressed 😔

WARDROBE MALFUNCTION.

If Miguel had something to be annoyed of, it had to be you.

The ticking of the clock stroke 2:30 PM for their weekly briefing, to which Miguel stood there impatiently waiting for the rest of his crew to show up. Slowly did they trickle in, in groups of twos and threes, but as his eyes scanned the said groups, you were no where in sight… Again.

“Where are they?” He inquired, head slowly turned to Hobie who was situated beside him. Hobie let out a deep exhale, proceeding to stretch his back momentarily before speaking.

“Beats me,” and with that, Miguel let out a scoff.

“Lyla…“ He pressed a hand over his forehead, rubbing at his temples annoyedly. Surely Lyla would be able to hunt you down, the cameras were set up basically everywhere. That was Miguel’s plan of action until loud footsteps became more audible by the second.

You bursted through the doorway, stumbling over your feet as you clambered back up.

“Am I late?” You asked timidly, scratching your nape gently. Hobie tried to stifle a laugh and coughed into his fist, and rotated his reddened face away as he moved along on the wheeled chair.

Peter, who strolled into the room not too long after you appeared, looked at you while letting Mayday play with the tips of his fingers.

“Just in time,” he responded with a smile following after, and a light sarcastic tone to add. With hesitant steps and eyes circled with fatigue, you found yourself plopping at the nearest table on the verge to pass out. Peter took that as a sign to carefully approach you.

A hushed whisper came close to your ear, “everything alright, kiddo?”

You jolted and blinked your eyes rapidly to rid of the blurriness.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m good,” you said tiredly and rested your chin on your elbow, “why do you ask?”

“The ‘I-haven’t-slept-for-days’ look is getting to you. C’mon, don’t pretend we can’t see those ten-pound bags hanging under your eyes! What’s been going on?” Peter asked and looked at you quizzically, head shaking in contemplation whether or not you’ve managed to eat breakfast as well.

“Been trying to figure out a new design for my suit, can you tell it hasn’t been going so grand?” You joked, emphasizing the trial super suit part. Yes, you’ve decided to take on the task of finally putting more importance on the suit that should’ve been well-made and well-kept. If it weren’t for an unfortunate incident where your suit sliced through in a battle, then perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting there about to nod off in fatigue.

Peter placed a comforting hand on your shoulder which Mayday found exciting, and instantly crawled from his back across to your body. The babbling of the small child evoked a small smile from you and you took her into your arms, cooing and toying with her long locks.

“Hey, you could’ve asked me about the suit! You know I have a couple of my own,” he commented, noting the vast array of designs he created. You merely laughed it off, however.

“Peter, you’re like… Bigger than my own stature, don’t you think?” You replied and chuckled in between your words. The man in question was about to let out the most defensive statement, but to your luck — perhaps — Peter was interrupted by a loud cough.

“M-Miguel! So, when’s this meeting going to start?” Peter instantly perked up at the sight of the gigantic man who stood behind him. Small pellets of sweat started to form slightly over his forehead.

Miguel crossed his arms and scowled, grumbling, “the two of you were talking through it, yeah?”

You gave Miguel an apologetic smile before you turned to Mayday, still giggling within your arms. Peter rotated his body to fully face Miguel.

“Sorry about that, see we—“ He stopped and his eyes widened at the sight before him. A soft smile graced Miguel’s face as his attention was fully on you and Mayday, his eyes narrow… But softened. This was a sight that Peter didn’t think he would see, ever. Miguel slightly shook his head and cleared his throat, his expression back to how it was previously.

“We will resume,” he ordered, taking heavy steps back to the front of the room. Peter was left there dumbfounded and to be quite frank — amused. He took Mayday from your arms as she was reaching over towards him and gave you a knowing smile.

“I think I know how to help your little… Suit problem,” he added and placed Mayday back into her carrier. You cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Peter was always so helping towards you so you of course didn’t complain, however, this time something felt off.

You leaned back into your chair, curiously looking at Miguel pointing towards a hologram board with lousy penmanship and scribbles indicating what you assume are location points.

“And that would be?” You asked, head still turned towards the board in boredom. Peter only chuckled, and shifted his weight on his forearms that was placed on the table.

“I can ask ole’ Mig over there,” he spoke quietly, nodding his head in Miguel’s direction. “He’s quite the hands-on and organized guy, he would know what to help you with.”

A sarcastic scoff left your mouth at his words, stating, “you really think he would help me out?”

“One hundred percent.”

You smiled at his honesty and bold comment. Miguel wasn’t the type to just help out on a whim, hell, he isn’t the type to even have a conversation normally. You let out a huff and rolled your eyes, turning your attention once again to Peter.

“Can’t wait to be rejected, I guess,” you muttered, and continued to listen to the rest of the meeting.

Though it wasn’t immediately, Peter came up to you a couple hours later, stating that Miguel agreed to help you out. Well, it just took a couple hours of agonizing pestering from the man to finally make Miguel cave in.

“C’mon! What is a superhero without their suit, eh?” Peter’s voice boomed throughout the empty lab he was situated in, along with Miguel and Lyra, who was chuckling away at his seventh time of convincing.

Miguel let out a sigh, irritation threaded between his eyebrows and his patience on the verge of breaking. “For the last time, no.”

The latter crossed his arms and scowled at the six-foot-nine man. “Fine, fine… Hobie can help them out, ooh perhaps Miles… Maybe Jen,” Peter trailed off, curiosity in his eyes as he peered over to Miguel. Lyra let out a deep exhale, obviously tired of seeing her partner in crime in denial.

“Just do it,” Lyra groaned, rolling her eyes widely, “You’re really a stubborn guy, I think we both know what is really going on with you.”

Peter nodded his head gleefully and seemed proud that he wasn’t the only one noticing his… Strange behaviour towards you.

“What do ya say, tough guy?” He smirked and exchanged glances with Lyra, who also was puffing her chest out in pride.

Silence filled the room as the two awaited for Miguel’s response, and his answer left them internally rejoicing of accomplishment.

“Fine.”

----

“— And he happily agreed!” Peter finished his sentence off and you— on the other hand— stood there with a hand on your hip and one eyebrow raised in the air. The both of you were standing in the hallway when Peter stopped you suddenly, him resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Funny story,” you replied sarcastically, still not believing that the Miguel O’Hara happily agreed to assist you.

He slumped his shoulders at your response and scowled. “Hey, I went through that work! Can I get some sort of ‘Hey, thanks Peter! You’re the best!’ or something along those lines.”

You chuckled at his grumbling and clasped your hands behind your back, finally relieved about getting the weight off your back.

“Okay, okay… Thanks Peter! You really are the best!” You beamed, giggling away in delight.

Peter gave you a genuine smile and you notice his smile turned into a smirk as his eyes glanced over your head. He placed a hand on your shoulder and chuckled.

“Well, gotta get going… Mayday needs some grub in her system, adios!” He hinted and turned on his heel, quickly scampering away. You watched as his figure left the area until a low voice startled you.

“Hey.”

You turned around to see Miguel standing closely behind you, piercing eyes looking down at your figure.

“Oh, hi,” you wavered and looked up, the size difference clearly obvious.

He rubbed a hand at his nape and exclaimed, “Peter told me you were in need of help for your suit, what is the issue?”

You nodded. “Well, I’ve been trying to get the mechanics right. Everytime I try to shoot a web out, it ends up being caught in my suit or my lenses end up failing on me.”

Miguel hummed in acknowledgment, shifting his weight to one foot. “I am free in around four hours if you would like… I can assist you fully then,” he added.

A wide smile appeared on your face, and you chirped. “I would love that, thank you.”

He simply nodded his head, eyes flickered between you and the slightly torn suit you had on. It was a nasty gash, one that reached from one side of your back to the other, with tinier ones littered around it.

"Seemed like one hell of a battle," he exclaimed and pointed out the open areas around your body. You reached a hand over to the one on your arm, covering it in embarrassment.

"Duty called," you stated and rubbed your arm. "I didn't think it would be this bad though."

Miguel let out a laugh in response, a low and vibrating chuckle emitted from his chest.

“l also blame Lyla," he said awkwardly and the tips of his ears flushed a light pink. You flashed him another smile and crossed your arms.

"Well, I take that your apology is you helping me with my suit," you teased, finding his tensed-up behaviour quite amusing. Miguel looked at you endearingly.

"I do hope that it'll suffice," he added while gazing down at you. "I think the new suit will fit nicely too."

You stared at Miguel in awe. Not for the fact of him helping you out or him being nice, but because he truly wasn't like what everyone was saying. Sure, he acted in a despicable way, but he had intentions for what he knew was to be right. It was a realistic approach— If he truly wanted to help out, he absolutely would with no hesitation. And here he was, giggling next to you. Miguel seemed to notice you staring and he broke off your little daydream.

"Something on my face... Or?" He inquired.

"Nothing," you said calmly, another smile laced on your face. "Nothing at all."

WHIM & WONDER.

As you walk into the olden, antique bookstore, the librarian at front greets you with a warm smile.

“Come,” she said, her name tag reading Syeren. “Relax a bit.”

______________________

SECTION 1 — LOVE.

For those who want to indulge in a romantic, heart-felt journey.

SECTION 2 — SORROW.

For those who want to feel their heart crack into two.

SECTION 3 — COMFORT.

For those who want added sweetness in their life.

SECTION 4 — SHORT STORIES.

For those who want a quick pick-me-up of any kind.

SECTION 5 — LUST.

For those who want to fall into the nature of intimacy and feeling.

NEW YEAR, NEW ME.

summary — after the both of you decided to break off your relationship, geto lays alone in his apartment, reminiscing over, over, and over about you.

tags — angst

His finger shakily tapped along his knee as he braced himself for the nth time. A call. A stupid. Fucking. Call. Geto gulped down a lump in his throat as he heard a voice on the other end.

“… Hello?”

“Is this… I mean— I’ve been trying to reach you, haven’t you received my calls?”

“Oh, no sorry. I think you have the wrong number.”

“I… See, yeah… Yeah, I should’ve judged by the voice.”

“No worries! I think I’ve seen your number floating around frequently during the past week, I didn’t pick up though. Genuinely, I thought it was another spam call—“

“Ah, I’m sorry for troubling you. I’ll end the call now, have a nice day.”

“You too—“

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A clammy hand dragged down his dehydrated skin, his long lashes poking out through the gaps left open by lazy fingers. A deep rumble from a sigh vibrated in his throat, then echoed around his humid studio apartment… Drenched in nauseating vanilla musk cologne, and thick smoke billowed from a half-lit cigarette. In the corner of his apartment was a Vinyl player, playing Chet Baker softly as he thought.

“… Fuckin’ hell.”

He slowly got up from his hunched position against the wall, pushing some weight off of the surface to compensate the weakened muscles he had left. He had no courage or stamina to even reach the front door if anyone wanted to check up on him, perhaps he had been too optimistic about that mere thought.

He stumbled in his apartment, toppling over heaps of garbage and empty liquor bottles, a loud statement of his pain. As he neared his unkept bed, he plopped onto his flat, tear-stained mattress. The quiet rumble of traffic outside his apartment window was his alarm clock, while the occasional chatter from his next-door neighbours were his source of entertainment. Amongst those were the occasional pops of fireworks going off in the distance, ahh yes, the welcoming of the new year.

Another year, he thought, to wake up and go through his schedule on autopilot. It was rinse and repeat, at this point. His body clock already stopped working after countless nights of insomnia, and he spent that time thinking… Again. Another day, another year.

The record continued to play, aiding the descent into his brain once more. It had been a long time since he last seen you, heard your voice, felt you in his arms— Hell, the fact he couldn’t reach you anymore was already driving him insane. What drove you away? Perhaps it was his lack of understanding towards you, maybe it was the fact he stuck his nose into his own stuff and never had the light of day just to talk— Properly, that time. However, it may be the certain situation that he was burying himself into, the over-thinking. Did you get tired of it? Were you too exhausted to put up with it?

He wanted to understand. Those countless nights he spent just pondering over his own pessimism and confusion, it was enough for him already. He turned his dreary body around, planting his face against the pillow and shutting his eyes. He nestled into the illusion of comfort, but the true beauty of peace is long gone.

The intoxicating vanilla and musk clung to his bedsheets, doused in the saltiness of tears and a hint of fresh pine. He hadn’t taken a shower yet, a proper bath didn’t even pop into one of his hundreds of thoughts running in his brain until now; thus, he opted to submerge himself in his racks of cologne and perfume for the meantime. His eyes darted sideways, tilting his head to the darkness the night sky blanketed him with. Another sigh left his lips.

“… Did I not love them enough?” his voice broke through like a scratchy record, hoarse and unpleasant. A broken record of anxiety and negativity. “Did I love them too much?”

He laid there on top of his bed, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. Sleep sounds good, real good. To simply release those relaxing chemicals into your brain, signalling it to shut down. He wished he could that to his thoughts all day but, he holds on to something he can’t achieve— The notion to meet you once more. As the time passed, he felt his body sinking deeper into his mattress and—

Ring. Ring. Ring.

A groan bursted out as he lazily reached over to his bedside table, grabbing his phone and putting it to his ear. He knew that he would get another mouthful of false-positive comments from his buds, and he sucked in a breath once pressing ‘answer.’

“Satoru, I already—”

“Geto?”

The familiar chime sound, it was the type of bell that twinkles and flutters; much like a Furin in a soft Summer breeze. It wasn’t anything like the Church bell noise that Satoru’s voice gave off, resounding, rich, yet clanging to his ears. His eyes shot open as he clambered to sit up in his bed, crossing his legs as he tried to gather his scatterplot of thoughts.

“Hey,” he managed to croak out, albeit with a loud voice crack. “I didn’t… Expect you to call me.”

“Satoru told me I should check in with you, so that’s why,” your voice sounded like you were smiling through your words. He swore he could picture you smiling. “This is my new number, you can save it if you would like.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t want to disturb you, however.”

“No, no! You wouldn’t. Well, I just wanted to check in.”

“Okay, okay… No promises on being convinced,” he added, chuckling awkwardly as he cleared his throat into his fist.

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna hang up now, okay? Stay safe, Geto.”

“Mhm, you too. Thanks— For checking in, I mean.”

“No worries, bye!”

“Goodbye.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He immediately threw his phone down to his side as cold sweat profusely beaded around his temples. Black, messy locks draped over his eyes, and his gaze shot down at the mattress beneath him. Slowly, he leaned back against the wall once more, staring at the phone that connected you and him together. Even if it were brief.

All the times he called you, wanted to talk to you, hear that voice… Yet he wussed out, only managing to blurt out a quick ‘thanks for checking in.’ He wanted to profess his adoration, his emotions he held deep within his heart but once he finally got the chance to tell you, it didn’t meet to his expectations. Strings of profanities left his lips, muttering out into the silence of his own home.

Just as the clock renewed itself on that plastic display, he too, decided for that change. The unfamiliarity of the numbers twinkled in his eyes, and surely this would be a sign of hope. To pick himself up and just start anew— Well, once he figures out how to fix up his living quarters, that is.

The distant popping and cheers echoed from his complex and outside, and once Geto looked over at the clock, it was 12:00 AM sharp. A painful chuckle left his lips as his head craned back to rest against the surface. A new year, huh? It was ironic, how cheerful and abundant the atmosphere was throughout the building and the city, yet here he was wallowing in nothing but the repetitive Chet Baker record he had on. He reached in his pocket, grabbing the same pack of Camel he had and popping a cigarette up. Pressing the stick between his lips and lighting the butt, he inhaled deeply and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. The Turkish blend scattered through the air, filling the room with hazy puffs.

Another day, another year. Maybe this one will treat him better.

_______________

an; happy new year! :3 LOL i didn’t think i would make an angst for the new year, but i’ll infuse all my good energy into this post so it won’t affect ur upcoming blessings <3 creds to saltinesaltine1

yall thank u for taking interest in the blade fic i really appreciate it 🥹 im in a current chokehold with gepard so get ready for that!

WORKAHOLIC.

Gepard didn’t realize how much of an impact you made on him.

Being the Silvermane Captain, he had a reputation to keep up and a demeanor to maintain. However, that all changed when he spotted you in his peripheral vision.

You, the leading officer of Belobog’s Judiciary department and first person to ever achieve such a high role next to the Supreme Guardian — in such a short period of time — encaptured the attention of the entire nation. After the fall of the former Supreme Guardian, Cocolia, Bronya took the lead and appointed you to be part of the nation’s main officers. Unfortunately for Gepard, he could only stay in the shadow of your fame, washed out as he continued his daily duties. He was satisfied with his achievements, and he was pleased to be in the role he worked for; he had worked that hard for it anyway. Though, a pang of jealousy reeked within him. Gepard was a slight perfectionist and an obvious hard worker, and the notion of a formidable coworker that rose up the ranks faster than he ever did plagued his mind feverishly. Was he doing something wrong? Surely not. But, his overthinking did more than just be lingering, negative, and obsessive thoughts — you enchanted him. And he surely didn’t expect his legs to be moving on their own toward your figure.

With a stack of files in your right hand, you discussed the further construction of transportation between the Overworld and Underworld with Bronya. The subtle change within the air blew through Qlipoth as Gepard made his way towards you in striding steps. Heavy armour clanked against the cool tiles of the office as he closed the gap between the two of you. A gulp made its way to your throat.

“Excuse me, may I have a word?” he inquired, a twitch in his eyebrow motioned towards the hallway. It was a bit skeptical that a Silvermane Guard spoke to you, and you immediately thought if anything went wrong on the front lines. You gave Bronya a soft smile and a nod, then placed your attention on the male in front.

“I can spare some time, lead the way officer.”

The hallway was dead compared to the bustle of the main street. You peered at the Everwinter Monument that stood tall in the middle of the busy area, glistening in the light.

You cleared your throat. “Well, if you could state the meaning of my appearance here, that would be lovely,” you questioned and matched your eyes with the light blue ones ahead of you. Gepard played with his fingertips before speaking.

“Ahh yes. Well, I was just thinking if the Supreme Guardian has any means of… Letting my rank falter. It seems that my usual capabilities to serve her aren’t the same as they used to be rather— too easy? Might I add,” Gepard replied, tone drifting off in thought. You pondered the fact if Bronya truly felt the need to let him go. Before you got placed in the high-ranking position, Gepard handled the job in a concise and efficient manner. Needless to say, he should’ve been the one in your shoes and you felt a wave of anxiety rush through your body.

You’ve admired his work ethic; his perseverance to keep going forth and setting his goals straight. It’s no wonder as to why he gained such a fanbase and large amount of support — and not to mention, him being your role model towards this job in the first place. Dampness secreted from your palms as you hastily wiped it down onto your sleeves, you crossed your arms together and eyed Gepard.

“I believe not, Mr. Landau,” you continued, “the Supreme Guardian wouldn’t let her most reputable and reliable guard to be put to waste.”

His eyebrows subtly moved upwards at your words, seemingly soothed the worries from his mind.

“I am honoured to hear that,” he replied, relief gracing his tongue.

“And no need for formalities, I am younger than you by a year. Plus, position hierarchy doesn’t apply much to me when it comes to you.”

A joyous chuckle left his lips. “Well then, care to explain?”

“I envy you, Mr. Landau, you should be the one in my position at this point,” you teased and a smile appeared on your face. Gepard noticed and coughed slightly into the side of his wrist, a hue of a faint pink dusted his cheekbones.

“I may have a proposal to solve both of our issues—” you sauntered and fiddled with the ends of your garments, “—if you are up to it, that is.”

A curious gaze befell on his face as he matched the stature of your body.

“Go on.”

An affirmative hum left your lips. “It is not that I dislike my job, I thoroughly enjoy my work. However, the chances of gaining a favourable vacation are out of my reach currently… One that I should have been granted beforehand. The workload I have been assigned isn’t fit for just one person— and I could easily finish it, but I need some time to regain my mental stability back.”

Right. With newcomers sweeping Qlipoth from the Underworld to seek higher-ranked careers, the remaining individuals received a lessened workload compared to the rest. It was a plausible explanation as to why the guards hasn't done their duties as often as before. Gepard dazed into the comforting afternoon sun that draped down Belobog, the bluebells dancing within the air caught his attention.

His stare lingered onto the flowers as he spoke, “so all you are requesting is for settled time off? And to grant that, you must finish the remaining workload you currently have now? Do correct me if I am wrong.”

“Yes, that is correct,” you replied, following his gaze to the flower shop just below the window.

“I’ll grant you that request.”

You whiplashed your head to face him straight on.

“That quickly? I do not mind waiting for a proper answer—“ Gepard stopped you and let out a breathy chuckle.

“That proposal does indeed solve both of our issues... You need time off while I need some more time on," he agreed with a small smile gracing his face. "May I ask one more request on my side?"

You nodded your head curtly and watched him angle towards you, the orange hue from the setting sun basked Gepard in a warm, heavenly aura compared to the iciness of the horrific snowstorms in the distance. Never once had a man bestowed such an ethereal appearance on you, but looking at Gepard in such a quiet and intimate state caused a thump in your heart.

"Allow me to take you on a date once you have been granted some free time, think of it as a 'please' and a 'thank you.'"