#recovering from a bad workplace

[burrowkit]

hey, just a quick fun fact, tip for those who may need to hear/read/see this: sometimes, the signs of an abusive work can be the same signs that [my] school ("they") taught me about abusive [dating/romantic] relationships.

sure, it's a little different, but the concepts are the same.

an abusive workplace can/will prevent you from leaving [house/work/office/etc.], just as "they" talk about abusive partners making it hard for you to leave.

{example: they give you so much work that they pile on so you can't see your family, friends, go for interviews because you're burned out and tired and can't do or go anywhere}

an abusive workplace can/will love bomb. Yeah, maybe they aren't sending me chocolates and flowers to try and make me forget what they're doing and to appreciate them.

{I don't really have a good example, since I think this is really "I messed up, here's something to compensate", but good companies will also appreciate and give you stuff anyways}

an abusive workplace can/will make false promises. The whole "baby please, I promise I'll change" but won't.

{I'll give you the raise I kept promising you, I'll make your life easier but won't, I promise I'm not making you work every other weekend with no days off but now you need to work that weekend, etc.}

I don't remember all the signs of an abusive relationship, since at the time I wasn't super into romance (still am not), but anyways.

But seriously, some places will work you until you're broken.

Oh, and some places do have a bit of a Golden Child / Scapegoat situation going on, so be wary of that too!

Edit: TW Dark Place Mentioned in Keep Reading

Maybe this'll "out" me to people who know me... but I was at an abusive workplace. It broke me.

That proverbial wall people keep talking about when they hit their breaking point? Not so fun fact, if you're shoved to the top of it, turns out...

It's this wall built on the edge of a cliff to keep you from falling over. On the other side of the wall is just empty space. Empty space leading down to sharp rocks and shallow water. Super pretty picture. Absolutely terrifying place to be.

That's the point where I was crying multiple times a day, because I didn't want to go to bed because I didn't want to get up for work. Then I'd break down trying to get ready for work.

I couldn't take a sick day. There was no one to replace me with, and besides, I was still the contact person.

That's the point where someone [my mom at the time] had to stay up every night to ensure I made it to bed safely. Not that there was a risk of me doing anything, but I also couldn't keep working there anymore.

I jokingly (and slightly seriously) tell people that the company has a department called The Dream Department. Their role? To send people planning to leaving, are leaving, or have left, various nightmares to make them want to stay/come back.

My scary point to prove this department exists? In my dream (been out for a bit now and I still get these nightmares) one time I realized the nightmare wasn't the place I left to be happy at, but the old place, I snapped awake.

This Dream Department tried to get me to come back by saying "look, there's all these people you like. Oh, don't talk to those people (who will tell you not to come back for your own health), talk to these people! Oh, no salary discussions for the job offer we're giving you in this dream world"

I am trying to move on, I swear, I am.

It's been awhile now and I still can't go near their office without wanting to throw up. Without shaking so terribly once I get to the location nearby that it's hard to do anything.

This new job I'm now at has so many similar (non abusive) things, that I started getting flashbacks.

My throat started to close.

Doctor thinks it's stress-induced. You know, like remembering being at the bad place.

[fatphobiabusters]

People say weight loss is for sure possible...but no one agrees on how to do it.

Dieting works...but there's now an "ob*sity epidemic" despite people lining the pockets of weight loss corporations more than ever.

Weight loss products work...but weight loss corporations are making the Exact. Same. Claims. about their products that they did in 1910 with the products that were sold and then discontinued over a century ago.

Humans are all meant to be thin...but there are families of fat people who stay fat no matter how much "willpower" they muster and have fat ancestors going back generations.

It's about health and not looks...but people who are losing weight due to smoking, cancer, illness, mental disorders, and other health conditions are praised for their weight loss and told to keep going.

Fat people aren't oppressed...but fat people have no positive representation, no proper access to clothing, face a wage gap, endure deadly medical neglect and abuse, have their deaths by police brutality excused with their fatness, and countless other aspects of oppression that they deal with every single day.

Fat people are all fat because they overeat...but you can point to any fat person on the sidewalk and there's an extreme likelihood that they're on their 30th diet attempt in the past 10 years while there's thin people who eat whatever they want, however much they want, and don't exercise yet never gain a single pound.

Fat people are privileged because they gorge on unnecessary food...but fat people are overwhelmingly living in poverty, are not paid the same amount of money for the same work as their thin peers, are not chosen for promotions, are turned away from jobs that an employer wants more than a "pretty face" for, are at major risk of workplace harassment, and endure oppression even beyond just that.

Fat people aren't treated badly...but people use the word "fat" as a metaphor and synonym for "ugly," "unlovable," and "unworthy," while at the same time believing "fat," the most basic term for a specific body type, is a dirty, taboo insult you should never allow to leave your lips.

Professionals agree that fatness is inherently bad...but almost any weight-related research study that people, especially weight loss corporations, use to justify demonizing fat people has the worst methodology imaginable with validity errors and logical fallacies galore as well as conflicts of interest due to how many of these studies just happen to be funded by the corporations that make millions and billions of dollars off of the demonization these studies promote.

All health conditions a fat person has are caused by their fatness...but there is not a single health condition that only fat people obtain, many fat people developed the health condition in question when they were thin or thinner, weight gain is often a symptom of said health conditions, fat people are not given the same amount or quality of healthcare as thin people, and repeated starvation attempts (also known as "yo-yo dieting") have been shown to worsen a person's health.

Fat people can't have eating disorders...but fat people are the group encouraged to partake in disordered eating by this fatphobic world the most and then are not given any support to recover.

Thin privilege doesn't exist...but thin people who see the way fat people are treated in society do their absolute damndest and take whatever drastic measures they have to in order to prevent themselves from ever becoming one of "Them."

Fit and fat are mutually exclusive...but there are fat athletes as far up as even the Olympics, and sports are intentionally made inaccessible to fat people to the point of fat children even being turned away when trying to join a sports team.

Fat people are ugly...but all we grow up ever seeing in media are thin, conventionally attractive people painted with layers of makeup next to fat characters who were intentionally designed with an ill-fitting outfit, matted hair, and all other traits that fit the "ugly" stereotype that the character designer could manage to slap onto a single person.

Fat people are big, bad bullies...but studies show that weight is the number one excuse that children use to bully their peers, outcompeting a multitude of other oppressed identities considered.

Fat women are just men and vice versa...but sometimes they're androgynous, and sometimes they're basically nonbinary, and sometimes they're just things, and sometimes they're nothing at all depending on what labels a fatphobe decides will hurt a fat person most that day.

Fat people are subhuman...but fat people deserve the same love, respect, compassion, and support that all people are born inherently deserving.

Fatphobia isn't real, but—

-Mod Worthy

[caramilena]

Swing

Lumberjack!Logan x f!reader

Summary: Logan fucks you at his work

Rating: explicit

Warnings: 18+(Minors DNI), p in v, smut, dirty talk, fingering, reader has hair, Logan can pick up reader, established relationship, reader ogles Logan, nicknames (honey, baby, sweet girl), competency kink, no mention of Logan’s powers.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Logan had left for work in a rush that morning. Work was hectic with the new contracts he’d taken on. He was also handling a management position until the real manager- a frail, old man- had recovered from his hip replacement surgery. So, he had a lot on his plate at the moment.

That’s why, when he forgot to grab the lunch you had packed him, you decided to stop by his workplace to drop it off. He was already quite overworked so you made it paramount that he didn’t skip meals, if you could help it. It was a short drive… And maybe you’d get a chance to watch him swing an axe, shirtless. 

Once you got there, Logan wasn’t in the office. After asking around, you gathered that he went into to the woods for chores. Already tickled by that information, you didn’t waste your time to go find him immediately.

The wind caressed your cheeks and flew your hair about as you walked into the forest in search of him. He couldn’t be too far. Birds flew overhead. The tree leaves danced with the wind. You stepped over any branches or uneven ground as you cautiously traversed the wilderness. A few meters away, faint clacking sounds could be heard. At last. You picked up the pace. This was a pleasant afternoon walk practically. 

As you got closer, you could hear grunts and thuds, successively. You stilled when the source of your affections and concerns came to view. He donned his white tank top, overshirt probably discarded somewhere. He raised both arms that clasped a mighty axe over his head and brought them down with enough force to halve the wood. There was a pile of cut planks to his left. Every raise of his arms would cause the muscles in his back to ripple with life and tighten under the skin. Skin that glistened with a thin, shiny sheen of sweat. The air was relatively chill, but the physical exertion was what probably caused the faint perspiration.

Every downward motion as he hit the wood, would trigger the muscles in his tricep to tighten and contract, like your insides as you watched it all unfold, transfixed. His thick forearms were corded with years of manual labour. Of course, his biceps were your favourite pillow. Extensive physical labour was the foundation of his robust and sturdy physique. He was big and dependable. Competent, like no other man you had been with before.

He hadn’t noticed your presence yet since you stood facing his back, so you took your time ogling him as he worked. Aware of the growing wetness in your panties. Your eyes travelled down to his big, veiny hands as they gripped the handle of the axe. Mind immediately reminiscing to when they were pumping in and out of your messy hole. 

As you attempted to shift your weight from one foot to other and relieve the growing tension between your thighs, you accidentally stepped on a branch. His head snapped up and back. The deep frown between his brows relaxed slightly when he saw it was you.

“Hey,” he straightened and dropped the axe on the ground, “didn’t see you there. Were you waiting long?” 

He grunted as he walked over to a nearby tree and bent down to pick up the brown flannel shirt he had originally left the house in. Pulling it over his shoulders and beginning to button up, to your disappointment.

“Not too long,” you waved dismissively. “You forgot your lunch…” 

“Oh.” He paused. “My bad, honey. Sorry you had to come all this way,” he walked over to you, taking your hands in his and squeezing. He looked apologetic as he stared down at you.

“Are you kidding? It’s not everyday I get to watch you work in a tanktop,” I shrugged as if it’s a no-brainer that I’d miss an opportunity like that.

His mouth twitched and one corner turned up. “Yeah? You like what you see?” He stepped closer, crowding you.

You looked around before leaning in and whispering, “wouldn’t you like to know.”

His warm hands that still clasped yours, squeezed, thumb running circles on your knuckles. His eyes flitted behind you to also check for people nearby. He pulled your hands behind your thighs and held them there, walking you back until you felt your back press against a tree. His eyes darkened as he looked between your mouth and eyes. “Show me.”

It would’ve been nerve-wracking doing something like this in public, but seeing him in this virile, sweaty state, ignited a fire that couldn’t be snuffed with an entire waterfall. You took his hand and shoved it in your underwear. Right where it belonged right now. Lauding yourself internally for wearing baggy, sweatpants that made the action possible.

His nostrils flared and his lips pursed. He buried his face in your hair and groaned a low ‘fuck’. His fingers immediately began to slide through the wetness and circling the entrance. You gasped and gripped his forearm. “Did you get so soaked from just watching me, baby?” He grunted as his thumb circled around your clit.

A soft, needy sound came from the back of your throat. It was ridiculous when he put it like that. But it was true… He chuckled darkly, “dirty girl.” Before slipping two fingers in to the hilt.

You gasped and clenched around his digits immediately. He pumped furiously, curling his fingers. Swearing under his breath as the motion created wet, squelching sounds. “Oh honey, did you come here just to get fucked?” He mumbled in your ear. “I don’t fuck you enough at home?Now that you’re showin’ up to my work with this needy pussy,” the last two words were delivered with two quick slaps to your cunt.

You whimpered, you wanted to protest against those sentiments but he just shushed you with a thumb to your lips. The same thumb he was rubbing your clit with previously. You could taste your arousal on his thumb as he dragged it across your bottom lip. His brown eyes were practically swallowed up by his pupils as he gazed at you. “It’s okay,” he crooned. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want, baby.” He grinned indulgently and leaned in.

His lips pressed against yours and he hummed against the taste of your arousal on them. One of his hands travelled up your nape to tangle in your hair and angled your face up, while his other hand kept pumping into you. You moaned as his tongue licked into your mouth. Deep, rumbling growls from his chest rang in your ears. His fingers were repeatedly thrusting up into the spongy wall that made your knees weak. 

“M’close, Logan…” you mumbled against his mouth once he pulled back to look at you. He responded with fast swipes of his finger on your clit. Your back arched and a moan left your parted lips. But just before you could reach the bliss of coming around his fingers, he pulled his digits away. You frowned, “what-“

In a swift motion and a grunt, he pulled you up by the backs of your thighs to hitch around his waist. Your hands immediately went to circle around his neck for balance. “How about you help me with this little problem first, sweet girl..” he said huskily and pressed his clothed erection against the damp spot on your sweatpants.

You suppressed a whine as you pulled your sweatpants down your hips and he helped jostle them down your ankles. He quickly unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his member. Sliding it over your covered core and at the edges of your underwear with a low groan. Your toes curled as he teased you and you cried out his name in warning. His chest rumbled with a chuckle and he pulled your panties to the side. You felt his cock twitch at your entrance. “Look at her, she’s drooling for my cock… Should I give it to her?”

“Please.” You shifted your hips forward impatiently. He tutted disapprovingly at that. 

But all the same he gathered up your slick with his tip, and pushed in. In one go, he seated himself all the way to the base. You both moaned at the sensation. You were filled to the brim. Your head dropped forward to rest on his shoulder. He was sliding impossibly deep.

He picked up the pace and began to put his weight behind each thrust. You moaned in hiccuped sounds as he bounced you on his cock. There were voices all of a sudden. Distant but unmistakable. They didn’t get closer though. It just highlighted the fact that you guys were outside and anyone could happen upon you in this compromising position.

Your eyes widened in worry but you clenched around him. At that, his already thinning restraint, extinguished to nothing. His jaw clenched and the vein in his neck looked ready to pop. He snapped his hips faster. Growling in your ear as each thrust punched the air out of your lungs. “You want others to watch you take my cock like a good girl?” His hand quickly found its way to your clit again and began rubbing quick, tight circles on it.  You moaned loudly and he slapped a hand over your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back as his hard thrusts drove you up and down the side of the tree. Your hoodie was sure to be stained and possibly torn by the friction.

His hips stuttered and you knew he was close. He buried his face in the side of your neck as he thrusted a few more times. Growling when he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

Your hands squeezed his nape and he pulled his face back to kiss you deeply. Tongue in tune with his thrusts. Your entire body tensed as you came. Thighs shaking with the abrupt and powerful force of your orgasm. He ripped his mouth away to moan at the feeling of you squeezing him when he was already close. 

His teeth sank into your neck as he thrusted unsteadily a few more times before coming inside with a drawn-out grunt. He didn’t pull out until every drop was deposited in you. He panted once he was done and cupped your cheek. “You okay?” His warm, green eyes searched your face for discomfort.

You smiled and nodded, “Just peachy.” He snorted in amusement and helped you down. 

He pulled your sweatpants up and patted your mound over them, appreciatively, “don’t waste a drop. I will be checking.” 

You left that place 10 minutes later, still leaking his cum and thoroughly satisfied. 

Notes: first time writing smut, scared to post. Needed more Logan fics so I ended up writing one.. let me know if I missed any warnings!

[delta-hexagon]

Chronically Ill Hexagon asking for help

im desperate

on July 4th i returned home from a small family vacation and caught something on the plane that triggered a bad crohns disease flare. i went to the ER twice in excruciating pain and each time they sent me home telling me it was just a stomach bug

on July 17 i finally got my remicade infusion 2 weeks late, and on July 19 i had a gastroscopy. on July 24 i had a CT scan

i still havent heard about the results from either, and my specialist hasnt returned any of my calls asking for a letter so i can go on medical leave

my workplace similarly has NOT responded to my request for a Record of Employment, which keeps me from going on EI

i have not been able to work since July 4th and have had zero money coming in because i cant apply for EI without any of the paperwork ive been asking repeatedly for. after barely managing to pay rent, im solidly at -5 dollars

this entire ordeal has been awful. i feel like im being failed at every opportunity by medical professionals and my workplace and i dont know what to do. i can barely eat, drink, or walk without pain, and while im slowly recovering, i still dont know when i'll be able to return to work

so im asking here for help. for anything to help get me food i can actually keep down while i recover

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

People have been asking for a Chang timeline post! Chang not only represents a turning point in the politics of the Tintin series, he also represents a sense of chronology in the otherwise floating timeline of the canon. While Tintin almost never discusses his past, Chang is a key part of his personal story in Tintin in Tibet.

I imagine him and Tintin being around the same age, with Chang being a few months younger.

Child - Chang had a happy early childhood being raised by his father and grandparents. He never mentions his mother when recounting his backstory to Tintin, so my main guesses are she either passed away or his parents separated before Chang was old enough to remember her. His father and grandparents taught him how to cook from an early age, and taught him the importance of solidarity and community, lessons Chang will hold onto the rest of his life.

Early canon - Chang is orphaned. This sudden loss causes him to act out. He turns to picking pockets and causing general mischief until an orphanage takes him in. Chang learns a lot of skills just to survive - he’s stealthy, he’s street smart and pretty decent at climbing. His experiences as a street kid taught him to be wary of authority.

The orphanage provides a brief period of stability until it is swept away in a flood. Until this point, Chang has felt pretty powerless in his life so just goes with the flow, so when Tintin drags him out of a river he doesn’t think twice about going along with him to break up a drug ring in The Blue Lotus. Going on this adventure with Tintin imbues him with a sense of empowerment and purpose he never felt before.

Student - The Wangs adopt him pretty quickly after he busts the drug ring with Tintin. It’s a sudden change he struggles to adapt to, with the Wangs being wealthy academics and Chang coming from a working class background there’s a significant culture clash.

Tintin leaves just as quickly and rarely contacts Chang, even as his journalism career takes off, leaving Chang lonely and heartbroken. Chang tries to send him letters but doesn’t know that Tintin moved out of Labrador Road.

Having missed out on education for a bit Chang struggles with school. He feels unworthy of the opportunities the Wangs try to provide him with and a part of him feels they only adopted him because they were dazzled by him taking down that drug ring, an achievement he increasingly feels he will never live up to again. He struggles with mental health issues, but finds solace in photography, his portfolio getting him a place at university despite his bad grades.

Young adult - In an attempt to try and help Chang’s mental wellbeing the Wangs decide to send Chang off to visit his uncles before he starts university, only for Chang to nearly perish in a plane crash in Tibet. Ironically, it’s this near death experience that shakes him out of it. Chang has a renewed enthusiasm for life, taking to travelling, dance and photography. Didi trains him in some basic martial arts so Chang can fend for himself.

Tintin makes an effort to stay in touch after having nearly lost Chang. The two repair their friendship, and Tintin has him stay at Marlinspike when Chang studies in Belgium for his second year of university. By the time Chang comes around, he’s had a growth spurt and has been working out - Chang is pretty haunted by his skeletal state from his near death experience in Tibet, so has been making an effort to recover.

After helping Tintin with a case, Tintin gets him a job at his paper as his photographer. Being Chinese he faces challenges in the workplace, and he uses his charm to be as personable as possible. Unlike Tintin, he frequents quite a few staff parties, and ends up pretty popular!

A couple of years later, Chang tries to unionise the staff at the paper. He and Tintin are outed as a couple and the two of them are fired.

Middle aged - After fighting fascists with the Marlinspike team during WW2 Chang and Tintin settle down in Belgium, with Chang scraping out some freelance photography work and a part time job at a portraiture studio. War in China causes them to lose contact with his adopted family. 

While Tintin grows more cynical, Chang accepts the chaos of the world and mellows out a lot. He tries to be a supportive partner and makes extra effort to stay in touch with his uncles and cousins.

Elderly - Chang uses his skills in photojournalism when he gets involved in political activism. He and Tintin are finally able to reunite with Didi and his children in the 70s.

[cactus-cuddler]

Chapter 1: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

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word count: 1,1 k

plot: You work in a small bar but you don't like your job, you don't feel safe and the uniform you are forced to wear doesn't help.

One day, during one of your shifts, a mysterious man comes in asking you for the most alcoholic drink you sell. After glass after glass you decide to stop him, your heart's too big to watch a man get drunk in the sunlight.

With your kindness and your sweetness you will little by little penetrate the heart of this man who will decide to become the bodyguard of the bar where you work just to protect you from other men, no one knows like a man what they are capable of doing.

warnings: nothing for now

ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ <3

You are behind the bar at your workplace, dressed in a skirt that falls above your knees and a matching blouse, both in a pale red. Working closely with an almost entirely male clientele while dressed this way makes you feel uncomfortable. But quitting isn’t an option; finding another job now would be too difficult, and you need the income.

The bar is empty, and with no customers in sight, you sit on a chair behind the counter and open a book you brought with you for moments like this. The doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of a customer. You stand up, smile on your lips, and look towards the entrance. A tall, imposing man with a serious expression enters, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, a glove on his left hand, and dark jeans.

“Good morning! What can I get for you?” you ask cordially. He sits at the bar, and his expression remains unchanged.

“Give me the strongest alcohol you have,” he demands in a rude tone, with an anger he’s trying to suppress. You hand him the drink without comment. It’s eleven in the morning, and it seems unusual to be drinking so early, but you simply follow his orders. He asks for four more drinks, and now you are serving him the fifth. He takes the glass, downs it in one gulp, and asks for a sixth. You try to stop him, feeling that he has reached his limit, and you were never taught to stay quiet while others ruin themselves.

“Bring me another one, or I’ll go to another bar!” he exclaims angrily. The alcohol has taken its toll, and he’s no longer fully conscious. His mind is clouded, and his vision is growing blurry. You hand him a glass of water.

“I know this isn’t what you asked for, but drink some water and wait until you recover,” you tell him, smiling sweetly to gain his trust.

"The more I try to hurt myself the more I find someone with a heart trying to stop me" he tells you chuckling. He drinks the water, and you observe him closely, trying to decide if you should ask him more about himself. Isn't this the first time he's tried to hurt himself?

He doesn’t seem willing to share, so you leave it for now, though his words have left a troubling impression on you.

As rush hour arrives, more people start coming into the bar, and the man is still there, watching you work. You move back and forth, serving tables, receiving unsolicited compliments, and collecting tips. When all the tables are served, you take a short break to wipe the sweat off your face. At the end of your shift, your colleague Megan arrives to take over. She is a tall woman with brown hair who is not as kind to customers and has no qualms about serving excessive amounts of alcohol, even encouraging men to drink more. But the boy from earlier, still sitting at the bar, you don’t want anything bad to happen to him. From his words, you sense that if he gets completely drunk, he might do something reckless.

“There’s a guy on the balcony, the one with the glove on his left hand. Please stop him if he tries to drink too much; he can handle up to five glasses. I’m not sure beyond that,” you warn Megan. She looks you up and down, chewing her gum.

“I can’t promise anything,” she replies.

You exit through the back door reserved for employees, donning a light cardigan over your uniform, and head briskly towards home. Your small studio apartment is in a building with a gruff landlord who complains if you’re even a day late with the rent. You can’t help but think about the boy from the bar; his words in a moment of weakness have stuck with you, and you feel guilty for leaving him in Megan’s care. You have some instant noodles for lunch and try to distract yourself by reading a few pages of your book, but before you know it, it’s almost time for your next shift. You put your uniform back on, spritz some perfume, and head back to the bar.

“Sorry for the delay!” you tell Megan breathlessly.

“It’s fine,” she reassures you. “That guy asked about you as soon as you left. I told him your schedule. I hope you don’t mind; I thought you were interested. His name is Bucky. I heard him talking on the phone,” she says with a wink before leaving, and your shift officially begins. Knowing that he asked for you as soon as you left makes you smile unconsciously, and you start your shift in a better mood than usual, even humming the notes of your favorite song while you clean the bar and wash the dishes.

The bar is quiet, and everyone is served, so you sit down in a chair and read. After a quarter of an hour, the bar is empty, and you hear the bell announcing a new customer. It’s Bucky. As he enters, you’re filling the fridge, and upon seeing him, you greet him with a friendly smile. He doesn’t know that you’re aware he asked Megan about your schedule.

He sits in the same spot as before, with the same cold expression.

“The same alcohol as before, please,” he requests before you can ask him.

As more people enter, including groups of kids, some elderly ladies, and others who have come to socialize, you serve them all under Bucky’s watchful eye. He only asks for another drink when he sees you’re not busy. You appreciate customers like that.

By eight in the evening, the bar is empty, knowing it will start to fill up again after nine. Bucky is still there, and after the fourth drink, you tell him to take a break.

“You shouldn’t be so nice to people who don’t deserve it,” he says, sipping the glass of water you offered him.

“It’s not about kindness. If you get drunk, I’d be in danger too,” you reply, giggling and looking at him.

“I haven’t touched a woman in years. I don’t think I’d start now.”

“Better not to find out. How come such an attractive man hasn’t touched a woman in so long?” you tease him, having given up on focusing solely on your own thoughts.

“How come such a pretty girl works in a place like this?” he counters, hitting the mark. You giggle and put your hands up in surrender.

After half an hour, the mysterious man pays for his drinks and leaves a generous tip.

“Thanks for your company, pretty girl,” he says as he departs, making your heart race.

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[spacesapphi]

HES Trio Headcanons (the third)

That's right guys, another one (my brain is rotted). These three live in my head rent free

some the Shane ones are sad again, sorry

Elliott

-had a pet hermit crab as a kid, he's always been a friend of the crabs!

- prefers fancy, decorative candles to scented ones. The prettier the better!

- trying his best to make his room look like Howls from Howls Moving Castle. That clutter of beautiful trinkets is exactly what he wants for a setup

- loves wearing his hair in braids, but is terrible at doing braids on himself. He usually asks Leah

- Willy is like a father to him. His bio father was not a kind man, and Willy is everything he wished his father could be and more

- Willy taught him how to fish too, and he's actually pretty good at it!

- very into a "method acting" style of writing, as in he'll live like a character he's trying to write for a while until he feels like he can realistically interpret them in his writing

- faked a British accent for about a month in middle school because he thought it sounded very sophisticated and artsy

Harvey

- won't tell anyone, but he enjoys little Saturday morning cartoons now and then. It reminds him of the moments of joy he felt when he was little and he cherishes that

- tried to shave off his mustache once and seeing how he looked without it scared him so bad he vowed not to do it again. It looks so bad 😭💔

- wears that Ebenezer scrooge lookin nightgown and cap unironically, swears that it helps him sleep better

- lactose intolerant and has a gluten allergy. He doesn't like cheese and baked goods because of it, they make him really sick

- that being said, if u made/bought him gluten free stuff he would act like he owes his life to you

- once he was at the library at the same time Penny was tutoring the kids. It was during free reading time and Vincent told him he looked like a character in the book he was reading. It was Geronimo Stilton. Harvey has still not recovered from that

- really wanted siblings as a little kid but never had them, so he created an imaginary friend for himself and pretended to go on aviation missions with them

- has a lil gap between his front teeth, he gets a bit shy about it, but it's cute when he smiles and you can see it

Shane

- I changed my height headcanon, bro is 5'3 now

- his ENTIRE family is very short, his mom and Marnie are 5'0. Jas' parents were tall though so once she's older she's absolutely towering over Marnie and Shane

- had very long hair before taking in Jas. For many reasons, especially maintenance, he's kept it short since adopting her

- Him stealing food from Joja is a habit built from necessity, from the time before he moved back in with Marnie. He got to the point financially that he was often stealing food for him and Jas, because he was often forced to choose between groceries and paying rent.

- he's not a vegetarian, but he refuses to eat chicken specifically. Everytime he tries, he just can't bring himself to do it. He loves chickens too much

- even then, he still ate very little. Stealing was risky and he wanted to make sure Jas was given what she needed first. He always had her eat first, and would eat whatever she didn't, like crusts or veggies she didn't like. The night he moved back in with Marnie was the first time he had an actual meal in about a year

- After he starts recovery, he tries to be better friends with Penny given that she's Jas' teacher. She isn't very interested in being close with him, but he still tries to be friendly

- has an arsenal of dad jokes at the ready at any given moment, you are not prepared for how corny this man gets

- forever salty that LEWIS of all people is beating him on the junimo kart leaderboards

- He and Sam have a workplace besties kinda relationship. They still stay pretty good friends after Joja closes, Shane goes to all of his bands shows to show support

- the only festivals he really cares about are the egg festival, luau and Stardew valley fair. The rest he'll go to because it makes Jas and Marnie happy, but those three he has a passion for

[fairyysoup]

insatiable

matters of taste part two (repost)

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson

summary: Stuck between Steve and Eddie, you start to learn the things they have in common, and a few of the things they don't.

content warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI) smut, polyamorous relationship, semi-public sex, car sex, cunnilingus, nipple play, spit kink, forced orgasms, workplace sex, unprotected sex, creampie, exhibitionism, daddy kink, size kink, praise, smoking, marijuana, discussions and appreciation of scars, canon-typical violence toward the end, like one verbatim line from the show as a wink wink nudge nudge, not edited (we die like the demobat)

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

“I feel kinda bad,” you admit glumly, blinking at Eddie through the fog in the back of his van. “Steve’s not here.”

Eddie shrugs a shoulder, his eyes sparkling at you even though they’ve gone just a little bit watery and bloodshot. You both stink like weed, the cramped quarters filling up with the smoke from the joint you pass between you. The speakers from the radio in the dash are playing the local rock station, maybe a bit too loud, but Eddie’s slightly gravelly voice still goes into your ears and plants itself right between your legs. “Yeah. Why d’you feel bad about it?”

“Well… aren’t we sort of going behind his back?”

Eddie snorts, shaking his head slowly. “Only if we don’t tell him. And trust me, I plan on telling him. Harrington and I are a lot closer than you might think, sugarplum.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Your head fills with the image of him biting Steve’s ear, tugging his hair- Steve’s hand fisted in Eddie’s shirt while you go down on him. “Are you guys together?”

“Ah… sort of. We haven’t exactly had the ‘what are we’ talk, but we fool around.” Eddie offers you the burning joint in his hand, and winks as you take it. “Doesn’t mean we don’t want to include you, though. Treat you nice, take you out on dates. The both of us.”

“Is that what this is?” You splutter a kind of half-cough, half giggle, the smoke starting to make your reflexes a little fuzzy. “R’we on a date right now?”

“If you wanna be.”

You should have known that his oddly sweet offer to pick you up and drive you to work today wasn’t exactly coming from a place of wholesome intentions. For starters, he did pose the offer while letting you recover from the first time he fucked you, while Steve was busy with a customer out on the bakery floor. His hand had been stroking a little too close to your aching cunt and your head was a little too full of endorphins for you to think it through before you said okay. 

So, when he picked you up about two hours early, you were a little shocked, to say the least. You were still wearing your pajamas- an ugly pair of sweats, and a cami that absolutely did not cover everything it needed to for you to be technically decent. Your hair a complete mess, a half eaten sandwich in hand as you answered the door. 

Eddie’s eyes did a complete once-over of your body, and then laser-focused in on your pebbled nipples raised through the fabric of your cami, before he cracked a smug smile. “Get all dressed up just for me?” 

You’d asked Eddie to wait for you to put on that itchy fucking uniform dress and apron, at least, but he just waved his hand like it was beyond pointless. “Just grab it and get dressed in the car. I won’t peek at you. Scouts honor.”

Well, now the uniform dress is wadded up in a plastic shopping bag beside you, and you’re parked outside of the Radio Shack across the street and down a ways from Mimi’s Bakery. And he’s not looking at you like any fucking boy scout. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, feeling really hot and sort of uncomfortably confined in your tight cami. He’s been staring at your tits. Not trying to hide that he is in the slightest, either. And your eyes have been lingering on his tattoos. “This can be a date.”

“Good to know,” he hums, checking his watch. “But don’t you need to be getting into that little dress pretty soon?”

“You just want to look at my tits,” you grumble as you shove the joint back into his hand. 

“I do. But I won’t, if you don’t want me to.”

You gnaw on your lip. Your eyes fall to his forearm again, the cluster of bats so dark on his skin. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Eddie laughs, genuinely, his chest heaving. “Tit for tat, huh? All right, sweetheart. You asked for it.”

His hands move to the hem of his shirt. He’s not wearing his uniform either, actually- instead he’s in a weather beaten metallica shirt and dark jeans. You don’t know if he just generally waits until the last second to change into his uniform, or if he was planning on not having any clothes on by the end of this anyways. Maybe a bit of both, but you’re hesitant to ask. 

He rips his shirt over his head, wads it into a ball and throws it somewhere in the vicinity of the front seat. You’re not looking at where it lands, though. You’re looking at his scars. 

Eddie’s covered in them. Large red patches on his skin that look… sort of like they could be burn scars, but more like he got dragged under an eighteen wheeler on a paved highway and lived to tell the tale. You stare, because you have genuinely no idea what to do or say. 

“Has anyone told you, you have a really good poker face?”

You huff a laugh and rip your eyes away, although you don’t really want to. The scars don’t take away from the look of him, or from the tattoos- of which there are a lot. They even help to increase the air of danger and mystery about him that you find so alluring, and you’re more entranced by the combination of the two than anything. Your face burns furiously. “Am I that obvious?”

He grunts, but it doesn’t come off as dismissive as he usually makes it. It sounds almost shy. “You’re no actress, sweetheart. But it’s okay. I know it’s bad.”

“It’s… I mean, maybe it’s alarming. Didn’t expect it,” you tell him honestly, and you sort of reach forward to touch his chest, only stopping your hand at the last second. “But it’s not bad, babe.”

Eddie makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, like he doesn’t entirely believe you, but he reaches up and grabs your hand to pull it against his chest. His skin is hot under your touch. “Don’t bullshit me- I don’t think I could handle it if you were.”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Eddie,” you whisper to him, moving to straddle his lap while your hand presses into his skin. “Why would I lie about that?”

“Well,” he starts, his eyes turning up toward the roof of the van, “you did say you thought my tattoos were ‘fucking dumb.’”

“That’s… okay, yeah. Fair enough.” Your fingers dig into his chest, dragging along the outline of a spider. He’s riddled with them- zombie heads and spiders and a puppet on a string. You’re absorbed in a fantasy of tracing every one of them with your tongue instead of your fingers. Sucking in a sharp breath through your nose, you take them in slowly and try to content yourself with just touching them instead of tasting them. “I didn’t really think they were dumb, though. They’re not. They’re really, really hot. I think about them all the time, I was just too chicken shit to admit it.” 

Eddie’s wide eyes bore into yours. “Hm. So I fuck you once and you change your tune?”

“Yeah. That’s usually the best way to get me to fess up, anyways. I mean, I also didn’t want to admit that I have a big ol’ crush on you, but… here we are.” Your face heats up, and your eyes fall to his hand on yours so that you can avoid his stare. “And these are really fucking hot. Believe me.” You drag your hand down his chest, and his follows. Your touch lingers over a bit of scar tissue on his lower ribs. His breath hitches when you ghost your fingers across it. 

“Between you and me,” he murmurs quietly, his voice just a little bit shaky as you lace your fingers between his, “you’re the only one besides Harrington who’s seen them.”

Your eyes snap up to his. You open your mouth to say something heartfelt, to thank him or tell him how much it means that he would trust you with something he’s obviously a bit shy about- as shy as Eddie Munson can be. But all that comes out is, “Do they hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“How did… how…” You struggle to ask him what happened to scar him this much. Somehow, it seems so invasive. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s not-”

“I was attacked by a swarm of bats,” Eddie says flatly. “Fuckers almost ate me alive.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not. His tone is serious, but his nose crinkles just a bit and his lips curl up just at the edges, and his eyes glint in a way that says, ‘I know something you don’t.’ So you bite your lip and scrape your nails lightly along his skin. “Between you and your bats, and Steve and his KGB agents, I’m starting to think you guys are just having fun tripping me up.”

He grins. “Oh, we are. How else are we supposed to keep you coming back for more?”

“Dunno. You have some really good weed.”

“Oof. Ouch. You’re only here for the drugs, babe?” He clicks his tongue and puffs the joint before handing it to you. “Should’a known. Pretty things like you are always so hard to get.”

You smirk, tucking the joint between your lips. One last puff and it’ll be too small to be useful anymore. “Not so hard. I think you got me pretty good last night.”

Eddie hums, and his hand pets up the curve of your arm. “Yeah, I did. I could still feel you squeezing me while I was trying to get to sleep.” 

“Christ, Eddie,” you breathe. Your fingers slip down low enough to skim over the trail of hair below his navel that disappears beneath his belt. “I’m still feeling you. You fucked me hard.”

“Mm. I know.”

You feel fucking insatiable. Maybe it’s the weed, or maybe it’s the way you can’t be in the same room with him, let alone in his lap, without wanting him to just… take advantage. Arousal tickles under your skin and between your legs like an ever-present demon. 

He plucks the little stub of a joint out of your fingers and tosses it into an ashtray by the console. “I showed you mine.”

You don’t really know what to say. You can’t come up with anything, so you just… lift your arms. Straight up in the air. Staring at him, saying nothing.

Eddie looks up at you with an unreadable expression, and his eyes dip to your lips. Just for a moment, long enough for you to think that he might lean in to finally kiss you, but then as soon as the thought is there, the moment is gone and he tugs the hem of your camisole up over your head. 

All that you can think is that Eddie’s really good with his hands. Of course he is- you’d know better than anyone, after what he did last night, but somehow it still gets the better of you when he slides his palms down your vertical arms after pulling your camisole off of them, and letting his thumbs press along the curve of your cleavage to tease over your nipples. His fingertips dig into the sides of your breasts, squeezing them almost reverently. 

“Jesus.” Eddie swallows audibly over the sound of the car radio, shaking his head slowly. His eyes droop as he pets your skin and leans forward to kiss just over the sensitive peak of your breast. “You shouldn’t have hid these from me, sweetheart. Pretty baby, with her pretty little nipples teasing me all morning.”

You hum, feeling a little lightheaded at him toying with you like this. His tongue juts out to wet his lips, and you feel so exposed, trembling on top of him. His eyes are just so big and black, shining in the broad afternoon light coming in from the window behind you. 

You’re in a fucking car. Where anyone passing by could see you, parked just down the sidewalk from your job, where you have to be in… thirty minutes? Twenty? You don’t even fucking know anymore. You think you can probably deal with Mimi Callaghan’s wrath if Eddie just keeps touching you like this-

Your breath hiccups in your chest when he lets his tongue flick gently over your nipple. You feel a wreck with just the slightest touch of his hot mouth to your skin, and you’re overcome with the need to kiss him again. To just allow yourself to taste him for hours. 

He switches over, going for the other one with pursed lips and enough suction to make your toes curl in your shoes. “Question for you,” he says, much too chipper and unaffected when he pulls away almost immediately. He leaves your nipples wet and cold in the atmosphere of the van, achingly hard for him as he drags the rough pads of his thumbs over them. 

You whine petulantly at him, your nails ripping at the wall of the car behind his head. You know Eddie hears it with how he mockingly pouts his lower lip at you, tilting his head just slightly as he draws circles around the sensitive buds. “What’s the quickest you’ve ever made yourself come?”

The question takes you aback. “What?”

“On your own. No assistance,” Eddie clarifies, as if that makes the inquiry any less odd. “Start to finish. Approximate time.”

“Um. I…” You suck a breath through your teeth when he pinches one of your nipples gently, and you blurt, “Six minutes and twenty-five seconds.”

Eddie blinks, pausing the movement of his fingers. You squirm, pushing your chest into his touch, and he unconsciously resumes. “That is… so weirdly specific. How do you know that?”

“Uh.” You press your lips together tightly and hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your face feels hot for all the wrong reasons, and he’s just squinting at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “It’s uhhh… because that’s how long it takes to get halfway through the guitar solo in Stairway to Heaven?”

His face remains blank for half a second. Then, slowly, a smile stretches across his face until he’s grinning from ear to ear. “You got off to Stairway?”

You make a weak noise in the back of your throat. “You haven’t?”

“I didn’t say that.” Eddie leans forward and presses a soft kiss between your breasts, just over your heart. His hands keep up their careful flexing, his thumbs rolling gently around your nipples until you lurch your hips forward against his for some kind of relief. He smirks. “I do think it’s cute that you knew the timestamp, though. What did you do? Go through it afterwards while looking at the clock? Count the seconds?”

“It was a stopwatch,” you snarl at him. 

Eddie makes a silent ‘O’ with his mouth, winking at you as he does. “Pardon me. A stopwatch.” He sighs dramatically and releases his hold on your breasts. Your skin feels oddly chilly without the soothing warmth of his hands there, but you swallow thickly as you watch him fiddle with the electronic watch on his wrist. Under the din of the car radio, he mutters to you, “Well, I’m no Page, but I like to think I’m a pretty good guitarist. Let’s see if I can’t break his record, hm?”

“What- Eddie!” A gasp leaves your mouth as his hand wiggles under the elastic waistband of your sweats. 

“No panties today? Naughty girl,” He tuts, letting his fingers roam through your curls and trace over the wet seam of your pussy, just barely a graze but it’s enough to set you on fire. 

“You destroyed one pair already,” you point out, biting your lip as his fingers gently drag through your folds, parting them teasingly. You don’t have the heart to tell him you do have a pair in the bag with your uniform. “Didn’t feel like losing another.”

Eddie hums in acknowledgement, but he doesn’t sound too terribly interested in your reasoning. “Six minutes and twenty-five seconds, sweetheart. Better be quick, or you’re going into work feeling really needy.” The tip of his finger dips just between your folds and finds the bead of your clit, and your heart drops into your stomach. He leans forward to whisper into your ear conspiratorially, “And I’m not working today.”

The sound that leaves you is maybe less than dignified. “You’d really do that to Steve?”

“Oh, you know that I would,” Eddie murmurs darkly. His fingers curl forward, and he buries them to the knuckle in your cunt, his palm rocking against your clit with it. “And I know he’d take really good care of you, too. But I might feel a little jealous if he gets to feel you come and I don’t.”

You feel like you’ve dug your own grave, and now you have to lie in it. Eddie’s fingers are deadly quick and more precise than you could have imagined. Stroking in down to the third knuckle and then hollowing back out to trace small circles around your clit. Teasing his two fingertips just into your entrance before pulling out to tug on your clit again.  

“So wet for me already,” Eddie coos sweetly, swirling his fingers and spreading the slick around to coat your puffy outer lips. Like he’s just having fun fucking with you, and you’re eating it up all the same. “Yeah… sweet baby. Must be doing something right if you’re this soaked.”

Your fingers ache with the grip you have on the wall. The van isn’t very decked out- you’d almost chance to say it looks like he was gutting it out for a remodeling and then stopped halfway through at some point. With nowhere to comfortably put your hands, you’re holding onto a metal support beam with one, the nails of your other hand scratching into the ridge of a windowsill just above his head. 

“Eddie, please,” you whisper, your voice breathier already than you want it to be. Your hips rock against his hand, whimpering when he pushes his middle and ring into you again. He curls them forward so slowly that you feel pulled closer toward his bare chest. “Please, I’m- shit, I want you to fuck me. Right now.”

But Eddie’s not listening. Or maybe he is, but he doesn’t make it known to you- he’s too busy humming along to the fucking song playing on the radio. An anguished cry leaves you when his fingers flex unexpectedly, and it takes you a moment to recognize that he’s following the guitar riff of the song. Scissoring his fingers inside your cunt to mimic the chords, and brushing up against your g-spot as he does.

You recognize the song. It’s on one of your best friend’s mixtapes- you listened to it some months ago in the car on the way to the drive-in. It’s not a difficult tune to follow, or particularly fast, but it’s incongruous and switches up at the oddest moments. So, just when you think there’s a rhythm to his fingers, they throw you for a loop. Your face screws up, because you can’t fucking remember the name of the song while he’s acting like you’re the neck of his goddamn guitar.

Then Eddie stops humming, and starts singing. And if you weren’t already overwhelmed with everything that’s happening, the sound of his rough voice quietly following the tune would put you on fucking cloud nine. “I’m a wild child, come and love me, I want you…”

You gasp for air, and your hand plants itself on the back of his head, fingers digging into the roots of his fluffy hair and tugging excitedly. Fucking- “W.A.S.P. Wild Child. That’s it.”

Eddie snickers, tilting head as he looks up at you with an endearing smile. His free hand lifts from your hip to grip your chin. “Were you trying to place it?”

You give him a high-pitched whimper in lieu of an answer, nodding your head furiously with your eyes screwed shut. You hear him laugh, and can only imagine the cheeky grin on his face. 

“You’re so fuckin’ cute.” Eddie squeezes your cheeks, pulling on your jaw slightly. “Open.”

You let your jaw slacken, mouth wide open for him so that he can spit into it. Moaning loudly into his face, you swallow and you realize that you… really liked that. Enough that it might give you a complex if you think about it for too long. 

You can feel how wet his skin is, because of you- because of him. The soft, slick glide of his thumb against your clit, the two deep inside you sliding in and out without resistance. Your hips grind forward onto his thrusting fingers, and you come onto his hand, making that wetness even worse. A string of moans leave your mouth, unrestrained and just barely louder than the music. 

Eddie’s nose bumps yours, and then he finally kisses you. For the first time all fucking morning, after two hours of screwing around in the back of his van, he finally kisses you while you’re riding out an orgasm on his fingers. You could smack him. But instead, you just open your mouth and let him take what you’ve wanted to give him since he knocked on your door. 

“You sound so fucking sexy when you do that,” he murmurs between kisses, and he sucks on your lower lip as he pulls away. “Like a cute little pornstar.”

You sigh quietly as he shifts, letting his fingers stroke one last time through your folds as he retracts his hand and lifts his fingers to his lips. It doesn’t surprise you when he sucks your cum from them, unabashed in his hedonism. “Is that a good thing?”

“The best.” He grins at you, then lifts his watch and presses a little button on the side. “Five minutes and fifty-two seconds. Beat that, Jimmy Page.”

“Oh, I think you’re much better than Jimmy Page,” you coo at him, tiredly wrapping your arms around his neck. You peck the tip of his nose. “But the next time you get me back here with the sole intention of fucking me, you might try kissing me first?”

Eddie blushes. “I wasn’t… ah… I didn’t know if that was, um. On the table or not.”

You frown at him. “Baby, I let you fuck me in the back room of the bakery. I kissed you last night- Why the hell wouldn’t I let you kiss me now?”

“I dunno, I’ve been with a couple girls who just… didn’t want to kiss me? You didn’t make a move, and I didn’t want to assume-”

You cut him off with a long, wet kiss that makes him grunt in surprise. You don’t know who the hell wouldn’t want to kiss Eddie, but you’ve always been a romantic at heart. You stare into his eyes, holding his face and stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You kiss me any time, any where you want, Eddie Munson. In front of whoever you want. You have carte blanche.”

“Sounds… sounds good.” Eddie’s round, dark eyes blink up at you, adoration brimming in them. “I’ll kiss you all the time, then. You’ll get sick of me.”

“I’m already sick of you,” you grumble, rubbing his shoulder. “Imagine what would happen if I got really fucking annoyed with you.”

“I can’t wait.” He presses a featherlight kiss to the corner of your mouth, and then smacks your ass so hard it makes you yelp. “C’mon, you gotta get to work.”

“Yeah, about that.” You crawl off of his lap to grab your bag of clothes. “You mean to tell me you went out of your way to drive me to work, pick me up two hours early, and you’re not even scheduled today?”

“What can I say?” Eddie shrugs. “I couldn’t go twenty-four hours without seeing you. You’ve bewitched me- OW!”

You giggle as he rubs the spot on his leg that you kicked as you were tugging your sweats off. “Oops.”

Eddie grabs your ankle and yanks you toward him so that you slip down onto your back, still giggling as he clambers on top of you and starts planting kisses across your bare chest. “Oops.”

Mimi Callaghan is a friendly woman in her mid-sixties, with bright red hair that she likes to pile on top of her head like frosting on a cupcake. It makes extreme sense that she’d surround herself with baked goods as a career move. 

She’s also sharp as a tack, which is why you turn on your heels and crush up against Eddie trying to walk back out of the door when you see that she’s in the building. 

“We gotta go, Mimi’s here,” you whisper, frantically struggling to push him back. You jam your chest up against his and wiggle your arms, grasping at the cool outside air like you can grab onto the afternoon sunlight and pull yourself out of the bakery lobby. 

Eddie’s weight solidly presses you forward. “It’s fine, sweetheart-”

“She’s gonna know we were smoking,” you retort, still pushing yourself weakly against him. You’re making a scene; you can feel your coworkers’ eyes burning into the back of your skull. 

“It’s fine, you’re fine. Je-sus, would you stop.” Eddie plants his hands on your sides and physically drags you into the bakery as you hit at his back. “Hi, Mimi!” 

“Mister Munson! What are you doing here?” Mimi’s jovial voice can be heard loud and clear all the way from the kitchen. She smacks her hands on her apron, covering the green fabric in powdered sugar. “Not that I don’t like seeing your lovely face.” 

Eddie beams at your boss, and it’s like the sunlight from outside begins and ends on his face. “Just dropping this one off.” He turns you around by the shoulders, walking you around the counter and into the kitchen. Eddie kisses the crown of your head and shoves you forward so that you stop across a decorating counter from Steve. 

Steve looks up at you from under his long lashes, a knowing smirk on his pink lips. Caramel colored hair falls over his forehead, and the contrast of the bright pink uniform shirt to his tan skin is more than tempting. 

You nearly vibrate with nerves as Steve does a slow and deliberate once-over of your entire body. “Have a good morning?”

You clear your throat, but something still grates at your voice when you say, “Something like that.”

Steve simply nods, clearly trying to swallow down his smile, and then holds up a flat disc of bread. “What is this?”

“That’s our spinach and feta focaccia,” you say, watching as he roughly shakes open a bag and drops the bread into it. The bread tears through the bottom of the bag and plops loudly onto the ground. You and Steve both stare at the fallen focaccia in silent grief. 

“Wellp. Ashes to ashes,” Eddie quips, brushing a hand through your hair. His mouth touches your ear like he means to kiss you again, but he whispers, “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m gonna kick you again.” Your eyes follow the line of Steve’s body as he bends to pick up the focaccia and toss it into a nearby bin. Saliva pools on your tongue, and you try to swallow the rogue feeling of desire as quickly as it manifests. 

Insatiable. 

Eddie follows your gaze. “Looking good today, Harrington,” he says suggestively, squeezing the back of your neck as he does. “Got some new chapstick or something?”

Steve scoffs good-naturedly, picking up another focaccia and gingerly tucking it into its bag this time. He shoots Eddie a side eye. “Yeah, actually. Wanna try it?”

“You know what, I sure do-”

Steve’s hand whips into the pocket of his apron, and a tube of cherry flavored chapstick hits Eddie right between the eyes. Eddie fumbles to catch it and glares at Steve. “I was fuckin’ kidding.”

“I wasn’t.” Steve goes back to packaging bread, while Eddie grumbles under his breath and pops open the tube to apply some.

You watch him run the chapstick over his plush lips, and he catches you staring out of the corner of his eye. “Want some?”

“Yeah, sure.” You hold out your hand for him to give you the tube. 

Eddie grabs you by the chin and tilts your head up to crash his lips against yours. Saccharine cherry flavored balm bleeds into your mouth, and you falter, your hand coming up to grip the neckline of his Metallica shirt. Your face heats up, both surprised and sort of pleased that he took what you told him in the car to heart. When he pulls back, his mouth is smudged with a translucent pink shine. 

“Hm. So you guys had a really good morning,” Steve observes as you reach up to wipe the mess from around Eddie’s mouth with your thumbs. 

“Only the best for our girl,” Eddie purrs, winking at Steve once you finally let him go and very pointedly tucking Steve’s chapstick into his back pocket. “Take good care of her today?”

Steve grins, first at Eddie, and then at you. “Oh, I will.”

Eddie pats your back and turns to leave, waving at Mimi as he does. He makes it halfway out of the kitchen before her cheery voice stops him. “Before you go, Eddie, there’s free food in the back room.”

You see the baker, Andy, poke his head out of the back room, his mouth full of food. “We got hot dogs!”

“Really?” Eddie turns on his heels and makes his way toward the back room. You jump to follow closely behind, your stomach feeling suddenly hollow. You hear Steve drop what he’s doing, trailing on your heels. 

The setup in the back room isn’t what you thought it would be; some lukewarm franks under a little heat lamp, one bag of buns, miniscule toppings of pickled relish, ketchup, and mustard. Despite the miserable presentation, you’re surprised to find that almost every employee you know at the bakery is crammed in the small back room. Joey and Miranda from the morning team, obviously already clocked out, the cake decorators Clara and Bridgit, and Andy off in the corner. You and Eddie both muscle your way past Joey and go for the food with more fervor than necessary. Steve hangs back, leaning against the towers of backstock icing.

Mimi appears at the doorway with an unsettlingly bright smile on her face. “Good. Now that you’re all here, I want to have a little team meeting-”

Eddie grunts in surprise, his mouth half stuffed with food. His hot dog is already falling apart around his fingers, heaps of relish plopping messily onto a styrofoam plate. He fixes Mimi with a wide-eyed stare, and then looks at Steve with an equally helpless expression. Steve shrugs at him as if to say, ‘What do you want me to do?’

“I thought it would be nice to have a little free lunch for everybody,” Mimi says kindly. “Since we’ve also recently gotten a few new members on the team, I’m sure you’d all like to get to know each other.” She gestures at Steve and Eddie, and then looks pointedly at you beside them. “It’s… lovely to see that our closing team is already getting along so well.”

Eddie coughs, nearly choking on his food and turning away from the room with a bright crimson blush on his cheeks. 

“Eddie and I are both really happy to be here. We’re lucky to have such an… understanding trainer. We know we can be a lot to handle,” Steve says with the phoniest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eddie sort of side-stepping, cramming himself between Steve and the frosting buckets to get to the door. “Hey Eddie, where ya goin’?”

Eddie freezes. “I have… uh… a thing across town.”

“A thing?” Steve says incredulously.

“Really important thing,” Eddie supplements. “Have to pick up my… cat from the… vet?”

“Stay just a moment, Eddie,” Mimi says, still blocking the door to prevent him from leaving. “It’s important that I touch on a few things before you go.”

Eddie shuffles back over beside you, elbowing Steve in the side on the way. Steve whacks him on the back of the head. 

“We have a health inspection coming up, so I want everyone doing their level best to clean as much as possible,” Mimi begins. Still engrossed in your food, you take a look around the group and can tell that everyone is only really half-listening. “If the morning team can focus on cleaning their stations- Andy, the baker’s table needs to be scoured- and the evening team can focus on machinery and displays, that would be ideal. That means you as well, Steve.”

Steve holds up his hands with a confused expression. “I clean!”

“Knocking all the crumbs off of the front counter and onto the floor doesn’t count,” Mimi says flatly. “I want to see your hands looking as chapped as mine by the end of the week.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve nods, dropping his eyes to the floor. 

“And if you closers can do something about the pastry display,” Mimi adds, looking out of the door toward the offending display case at the front of the shop. “There’s a sort of… black grease that’s built up on the back of it. Not sure how, but I need one of you to get in there and scrub that down as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Mimi,” you say around a mouthful of hot dog bun. “We’ll get on that tonight.”

“Excellent.” Mimi sighs, “Well, that’s really all. Everyone, enjoy the rest of your days. Eddie, you’re free to… pick up your cat.”

“Thank go- you, Mimi.” Eddie bats his eyelashes as he approaches the door, chucking his styrofoam plate into a bin. “You’re an absolute goddess.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Mimi chides, but steps away from the door to let him pass. As always, sharp as a tack, she adds passively, “You sure you don’t want to kiss your girl again?”

“Hm?” Eddie pauses at the door, turning to glance at you over his shoulder, like he forgot that he planted one on you right where your boss had a front row seat to see it happen. He considers it for a moment, and then cracks a smirk that makes your heart rate kick up a notch, knowing what’s about to come. “Nah. Harrington’s got her. Don’t ya, big boy?”

He’s… listen.

Listen. 

Steve is so fucking distracting, okay? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck up all your packaging, or… or put the wrong frosting on the macarons. It’s not your fault that Eddie stole your extra pair of panties before you could put them on this afternoon, so you have to feel how sticky the skin is between your thighs, and it’s fucking obnoxious. It’s not your fault that every time Steve gets close enough, he’s brushing his hand across your arm or grabbing your hips to scoot past you. Getting into your personal space, making it a goddamn nightmare to concentrate on anything.

Crouched down beside you, his shoulder nudges your leg as he digs around for a plastic top for a cake box. You know that it’s in the next cabinet over, but you don’t have the heart to tell him. You press your thighs together, trying hard to still your shaking hands as you carefully ice a macaron with the correct frosting this time. 

Steve sighs and pulls back. His hand brushes your knee as he does, and it nearly buckles out from under you. You whimper slightly in the back of your throat, clutching onto the counter for support. 

Jesus Christ. Get a fucking grip.  

“You okay?” Steve asks lightly, peering up at you from his place by your hips. He’s kind of oblivious, but also kind of not. You don’t think he’s aware of how badly his closeness is affecting you, but he is doing it in the hopes of drawing a response from you. Good plan, poor ability to assess the actual damage.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It sounds unconvincing, high and tight in your throat, but you pick up the bright pink frosting bag again and get back to work. “The lids are in the other cabinet.”

“Oh.” 

He’s such an idiot. You want to jump his bones.

You can’t stop thinking about Steve’s dick in your mouth, and how unfortunate it is that it isn’t there right now. It’s 7:30, getting dark out, and there’s just you, and him, and your fucking monstrous libido alone in the bakery. You should have known it would be like this- it seemed like Eddie was almost certain that it would be, even though he’d given you plenty of attention already.

“So,” Steve starts, his voice lilting as he leans over to grab the lids from the correct cabinet. “You and Eddie?”

He doesn’t have to go into detail for you to know what he’s asking about. The shaking in your hand subsides, for now. “Yeah. You and Eddie?” 

“Mhm, yeah, for a while now.” A pause. A breath of air, suspended over a precipice. “You and me?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Okay.” You look down at him, and he’s smiling to himself. “Okay. Good. So, we’re all on the same page?”

“Eddie laid it out for me pretty well this morning, yeah. You already talked about it?” You grin when he nods, blinking up at you through his lashes. You reach down and stroke his cheek with the knuckle of your finger. “Guess we’re both pretty crazy about you.”

Steve blushes. It’s pretty on him, you think. The pink tinge on his cheeks, his cute little eye roll as he shifts on his heels. “Eddie’s, uh… yeah, when he likes you, he goes all in. He can be pretty handsy, huh?”

“Yeah, it sort of surprised me.” You find yourself smiling too, as you look down at your work. “I like it, though. I like handsy guys.”

Steve is quiet for so long that you wonder if you’ve scared him; but then you feel the warmth of his hand wrap around your ankle. His palm slowly starts to slide up your leg, until his arm nudges your skirt out of the way. 

Your hand slips, painting your thumbnail in violent bright magenta frosting. “Steve…”

“Relax,” Steve murmurs, and his voice grounds you in your place so that you don’t have a way to run from it. His hand turns, fingers brushing up the soft skin of your inner thigh, and you fight not to spread your legs automatically. “I just want to check something.”

“Check what?” you ask, as if it isn’t painfully obvious when his hand stops, fingertips finding the sticky, wet mess at the tops of your thighs. Steve’s breath audibly hitches, and you freeze, your eyes snapping forward to the front of the bakery. 

You should really lock the door.

Steve presses his hand further upwards, and you don’t think he’s expecting to find you without any underwear- his finger dips quite suddenly between your wet folds and you both startle, you fumbling your frosting bag with a quiet gasp and him dropping his forehead to rest against your hip. 

You grind down onto his fingers without thinking, making his fingertip slip just slightly into your hot entrance. Steve groans and digs a white knuckled grip with his free hand into the edge of the counter beside you. 

“We’re gonna take a break,” Steve blurts loudly, without warning, his voice sounding hoarse and strained. 

“Uh-huh, yeah,” you agree shakily, dropping everything in your hands immediately. “We’re closing early tonight.”

“We are?”

You mean to stroke Steve’s hair when he pulls his hand away from you, but in your rush you sort of just bonk him on the head with the flat of your palm and then fucking bolt. You sprint to the front door, turn the latch on the handle and flip the cardboard sign to ‘closed.’

As you turn to make your way back to the kitchen, you glimpse the pastry case and it’s enough to almost make you pause. That’s… okay, that looks like shit. Black grease shining all over the wall behind the shelves, like someone unloaded the oil cache from the donut fryer down the back of it. Your eyes drift back to the kitchen, and find Steve leisurely untying his apron as he walks toward the back room. 

Yeah, no. Dick first. Pastry case later.

Your hands hover over the tie of your apron as you blaze through the kitchen after him. To undress, or not to undress? You’re not totally sure what the vibe is yet, but you can always-

Broad hands grab you as soon as you step through the door into the back room. You yelp as you’re pulled suddenly into a warm embrace, Steve’s arms wrapping around you and his body pressing you up against the book keeper’s desk. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” Steve whispers, his breath touching your neck before his lips do. He grabs your thighs and hoists you up onto the desk, crowding between your knees before you can think to close them. 

His hands are everywhere. Untying your apron, answering your question for you. In your hair, tugging your head back so he can mouth at your neck without obstructions. Undoing the front of your dress so that he can grope at your bare chest. 

Handsy guys. You fucking love handsy guys. And now you have two of them. 

“Mind if I ask,” Steve mutters softly, palms sliding under your skirt, “no underwear…?”

“Eddie stole them.”

“Of fucking course.” He huffs a laugh in your ear; you can hear his eye roll with it. “Can’t say I blame him, though. I kept the ones from last night.”

You whimper high in your throat as he latches onto your lower lip, sucking it between his teeth. There’s a moment when you consider how different he is compared to Eddie; Eddie’s a little rough around the edges in just about every way, and that includes how he handles you. Not that you don’t like it, but Steve is just… gentle. Almost soft, in a way. 

Your breath hitches as his fingers coax your skirt up your legs and your wet cunt hits the cool air. Hips squirming toward him impatiently, trying to meet him in the middle, and Steve’s too busy tasting you to care. “Little needy, are we?”

“Cut the crap, Harrington, I want to fuck you so bad-” You gasp when he bites down on your lip a little bit harder.

“Such a romantic.” Steve doesn’t sound as miffed as he tries to appear, as he reaches to undo his belt. “Wanted to warm you up first, make sure it wouldn’t hurt. Guess not.”

“It won’t.” 

Steve lifts his eyes, staring levelly at you with an amused expression. The twinkling sound of his belt buckle fills the quiet air. “If you say so.”

He’s quick about it, to your relief. Which isn’t to say that he isn’t still infernally gentle, even though you wish he’d just grab you by the throat and slam into you at this point. That’s just not Steve Harrington’s style, apparently. No, his hands grab your hips and rub soothing little circles into the skin as his cock splits you open, and your nails scratch over his collar and up into his hair. 

“Fuck, Steve.” It does hurt, just a bit. That raw aching when he fills you, because you weren’t ready for it and he’s so fucking big that parts of you have to be moved out of the way to accommodate him. Your toes curl, and your mary janes pop off and scitter to the floor behind him when you wrap your legs around his waist. 

His voice low and quiet, right up against your ear, Steve gives you a small groan that tells you more about how desperate he is than his words do. “Told you. You’re so tight- think it’s too much for this little pussy.”

“N-no, it’s no-OT-” You writhe against him when he hollows out just slightly and pushes back in, getting half an inch deeper. Your hands tear at his clothes and his hair, looking for something to hold onto.  “Shitshitshit- Steve, Jesus Christ.”

Steve shushes you, cradling your body against him like he’s trying to console you while he keeps rocking himself into you. “You’re working yourself up, honey, you gotta just relax. Take a deep breath for me, baby. Deep breath, c’mon now-” 

You take a gasping breath that sort of stalls in your lungs because he’s still moving, and it hurts but it also feels so fucking good and cathartic that you’d kill him if he stopped. Steve’s arm is around your back to hold you by the neck, and his other hand has one of yours trapped in a crushing grip between your chests. He squeezes it softly with every slow push and pull he makes inside you. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck.” You’re hissing through your teeth, clawing at his back to urge him deeper and at the same time ground yourself. Each breath leaves you with a shallow, anguished moan attached, which would be embarrassing, except you’re not thinking clearly enough to sort through the muck of your emotions right now. “Don’t- don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop,” Steve assures you, inching forward just enough to sink his cock a little further into you before drawing slowly out, giving it to you in small doses. You whine as he pushes in, and he coos with a bit of gravel in his voice, “I know, it’s a lot. You’re taking it so well.”

“Love your cock,” you mutter weakly, surprising both Steve and yourself. Where the fuck did that come from?

“I hope so,” Steve chuckles. He squeezes your hand in his comfortingly. “I’m gonna make you take all of it, I promise.”

That sounds… kind of threatening, when he puts it like that. Like a backhanded slap and then a swift kiss to the cheek. 

You like it so much. 

“Hear that?” he murmurs lightly, way too soft for the way his hand tightens on your neck. In the back of your mind you register what he’s talking about- the obnoxiously slick sound of him driving in and out of you, your cunt absolutely drowning him in your need. “You’re getting my cock all wet, babygirl. Being so good for da- me.”

Steve finally slams into you just then, and you loudly cry out his name at the feeling of him reaching the end of you. It disrupts your train of thought so thoroughly that you almost miss his little slip-up. Almost. 

As you recover you manage to reach up and take his chin in your hand. “Daddy?” 

His eyes are so dark, but he looks a little shy as you stare into his face. He blinks rapidly, cheeks flushing a deep pink. Gotcha. 

“Fuck,” Steve groans, his forehead falling to rest against yours. “Shit, don’t- you don’t have to call me that-”

“Maybe I want to,” you breathe, gasping when his hips lurch forward into yours. “I wanna be good for you, daddy.”

He growls under his breath, blunt nails scraping down your thighs. “Sounds so sweet when you say it.”

“Mm. Harder.”

Steve’s enthusiasm gives you a sort of perverse satisfaction. He hikes your knee up to his waist and buries himself inside you, his skin impacting yours and the desk thudding against the wall behind you. You whimper when he starts up a pace that has him panting against your ear. 

Your head rolls back on your shoulders, and Steve wastes no time tracing the line of it with his tongue. Half aware of what you’re doing, your hand shoots down and around his hip to grab a fistful of his ass, urging him on. He nearly snarls against your throat, hot air bursting across your skin as the arm holding you to him leaves your back and his hand slams loudly against the wall behind you. 

Steve really is a sight to behold when he loses his composure. He’s always gorgeous, of course- infuriatingly so, at times. But now your gaze is clouded with lust and your mind is stumbling while you blink your eyes open at him, and he’s so close to you with his hair falling across his brow and his lips parted as he stares directly into your face. His deep brown eyes are blown wide and black, heavy lidded, and you feel like you might burst.

“I’m gonna come,” you blurt suddenly, hands frantically scrambling up to his shoulders and clutching onto him tightly and trying to lock yourself down at the feeling. It bubbles up out of nowhere, like Steve managed to conjure it up just by looking at you.

You see a smirk break across his face just before your eyes fall shut. “So soon?”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “S’too good. You feel so good, daddy.”

“Oh my god,” he groans, but there’s a little bit of a snicker there in it. His hand skims your thigh and then you feel his thumb touch your clit, and everything whites out of existence. “You’re too perfect. Come for me.”

You don’t answer him. You just do, and it sweeps through you before you’re able to brace yourself for it. Fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders, you cry out, louder than you mean to be but beyond the point of caring. Your legs shake, tense and release with each wave because Steve just keeps going- not speeding up or slowing down, but just remaining the steady constant in the ebb and flow. 

Steve curses lowly, his lips dragging gently over yours but not quite going all the way in for a kiss. “Just like that- get my cock nice and creamy, baby.”

Your face burns. The rest of your skin feels hot and clammy, sticking to him wherever you touch his body. There’s a whirlwind of sound going on in your head; from Steve’s deep grunts, your moans, the desk banging against the wall and his skin impacting yours, you don’t know what’s what anymore. 

You almost don’t even notice it when the phone on the wall above your head starts ringing. 

“Fuck.” Steve rears back, pissed off and rutting his hips into yours so hard that you cry out. He glances at the clock on the far wall and scoffs, “Who the hell calls this late?” before snatching the phone off the hook. 

His free hand finds your throat, pinning you back against the wall. You whimper, defenseless as Steve presses the phone to his ear. “Thank you for calling Mimi’s Bakery, this is Steve.”

For fuck’s sake.  

You feel like you’re going to combust. You’re still too sensitive from your orgasm and Steve’s hand on your throat locks you in place to hold you still while he starts fucking into you harder. Skin on skin on skin, bent backwards over the desk as his hips slam into yours and the messy patch of hair at the base of his cock grinds up against your clit. You whine loudly, and Steve’s hand just tightens that much more to silence you. 

He’s not even looking at you. Steve’s eyes have drifted off to the side, focused on whatever the person on the phone is saying. He tilts his head, gnawing on his lip and humming low in his throat while he considers whatever the question is. 

“Mmm… dunno, let me check on that for you.” Steve finally looks you directly in the eye. “Do we have cream pies tonight?”

Your brain short circuits. What the… what? He… he fucking put the selection of cream pies out himself earlier? Why would he ask you?

Then he nods downward, his eyes flickering to where he pulls back and drives his cock into you. Steve looks back up at you questioningly. 

Oh. Oh fuck.  

You nod your head quickly, your nails biting into the skin of his forearm. You don’t even second guess it. You’re so close to your second orgasm that you can taste it on the back of your tongue, and you don’t think you could handle it if he pulled out now. 

Steve grins, and you think it’s probably the prettiest thing you’ve seen all night. “Yes sir, we do. However the bakery is closed tonight, so those will be available tomorrow. Would you like me to set those aside for you? Mhm, how many?”

He goes on like that for another minute, but you’re barely listening anymore. Your cunt pulses, so wet that you can hear every slow drag of his cock before he reaches the end of you again. All your muscles lock down, your head digs back against the wall, and you come again. Hard.  

“Thank you for calling sir have a good night bye,” Steve chokes out in one long breath, and then his hand slams the phone down onto the receiver. He buckles forward over you and gasps loudly. “Holy shit, oh my god. Good girl, good fucking girl-”

And his mouth is on yours, sucking at your bottom lip as his thrusts turn sloppy. His hand leaves your throat to skim around your waist and pull your chest flush to his. He cradles you close and plants his hips against yours, stealing your breath with kisses and moaning sweetly as he comes. 

Afterwards, the room is way too fucking still and quiet. Your skin tingles, your cunt still pulsing with aftershocks as it milks his cock, but the silence makes your ears ring. You card your fingers through his hair, letting Steve sweep his tongue against yours as many times as he wants as long as it means he’ll stay this close to you for a little while. 

“That wasn’t how I thought it would be.”

He grunts, his teeth grazing your lip. “What did you have in mind?”

“Dunno.” You pause as he presses a chaste kiss to your closed lips, your eyes fluttering. “Maybe we could do it in a bed next time?”

Steve laughs at that. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers to you, his voice touched with something so genuine that it rattles you, nearly making tears prick at your eyes. You just cling to him, squeezing your eyes shut and trying not to sniffle about it. 

“Thank you,” you mumble wetly into his neck. 

Steve sighs when he pulls back. His hand comes up to softly smooth your hair back as he takes in your face. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “Nothing. You’re just… you’re so sweet.”

He hums softly, catching a stray tear on his thumb as it falls down your cheek. To your relief, he doesn’t mock you or seem disturbed by it, he just takes it in stride. “Do you want me to… not be?”

“No, it’s- it’s a good thing, I swear-” You lean your cheek into his hand, letting him hold your face as you reel yourself in. “I’m just getting used to it, that's all.”

“Good. ‘Cuz it’s only gonna get worse from here,” Steve whispers with a gentle smile. He pets your thigh. “Feel better now?”

You grumble in the back of your throat. “The fuck’s that s’posed to mean?”

He shrugs. “You’ve been looking like you wanted to rip my clothes off since you got here.” Steve chuckles a bit when you whack him on the arm, “Only an observation, you’re not good at hiding it.”

Serves you right for thinking he was oblivious. “You guys have me fucking figured out and I’ve been with you for, like, a day.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He hisses when he takes your hip in his hand and slowly pulls out of you, leaving you whining from the emptiness. “I know, honey. Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you mutter, biting your lip when he adjusts the front of your dress and buttons it back up for you carefully. “No, you’re really wonderful. Daddy.”

Steve tilts his head and purses his lips, trying to hide the smile on his cheeks. “Wasn’t expecting you to pick up on that.”

“You’re not good at hiding it.”

Steve snickers, pulling you close to rest his forehead against yours again. He presses a few slow kisses to your lips, lingering over them like he’s trying to decide whether he really wants to go back to work or not. You’re not about to tell him to stop. 

CRASH!

You both instantly freeze, listening to the ungodly loud clatter of a million pastry boxes hitting the ground. Steve’s brows dig into a deep frown very quickly, while you put the front of his pants to rights and push yourself forward off the desk. 

“The fuck was that?”

“Why are you asking me, hot shot?” You smack him on the back, making him lurch toward the door. “If we’re being burgled, I’m the only one here not wearing pants.”

Still, you grip onto his belt and creep behind him through the door to the kitchen, peering cautiously over his shoulder. You don’t immediately see anything amiss in the bakery, except that half a display of muffins and cinnamon rolls has been knocked halfway to hell. Things are eerily quiet for a few more seconds, before something leaps up off the ground and starts flapping around the bakery lobby, snarling and snapping. 

You scream, clutching onto Steve’s middle and nearly hauling him back into the back room again. It looks like a giant flying… stingray? No, stingrays don’t have teeth. It’s like a weird, disgustingly large bat with no actual head. Like a leech with long teeth and wings. 

You vaguely hear Steve saying something, but you’re too busy trying to battle the bat in a game of who-can-screech-the-loudest. It’s only when Steve finally turns, grabbing you by the shoulders so that you can look at him, that you stop to consider what he’s saying. 

“-fire, get me something with fire, okay?”

“Fire?” You try to maintain a steady balance, keeping an eye on the thing in the bakery lobby and his face. 

“Yes, babe, fire. That hot shit that burns stuff, remember? Get me some of that.”

You nod mutely, starting to shake from adrenaline. You watch Steve pick up a giant metal rolling pin off the baker’s table, twirling the pin in his hand in a way that should not be as attractive as it is. 

You try to think of something in the bakery that creates fire- something handheld, you assume, because the only thing coming to mind is the little stove in the corner used primarily to melt chocolate and different icings. For a kitchen, not too many things in it conjure up flames at a moment's notice. 

But then you remember, on Saturdays the morning team makes crème brûlée for the brunch crowd. 

You dive for the decorators table, but you honestly have no idea where they keep the blow torches. It’s a long shot in the dark, but you just start hauling shit out of the cupboards like your life depends on it. 

It might, you think wearily. 

Over the counter, you can hear Steve scuffling with the screeching bat, and you pause long enough to glance up at what’s going on in the lobby. You manage to catch him at the exact moment that he cracks the bat with the rolling pin, knocking it across the bakery like a baseball and making it slam into the wall beside the pastry case. 

You blink down at the half empty cupboard in front of you and see the emerald green can of a blow torch, shining up at you like the light at the end of the tunnel. Your shaking hands fumble with it as you yank it out. “STEVE!” 

He turns just in time to see you hurl the blowtorch across the front counter at him. Which is probably not great in the grand scheme of safety measures, but y’know. 

He snatches the blowtorch out of the air right as the fucking bat starts writhing around again. Steve flicks it on and lights the damn thing up without a second thought, creating a blazing inferno on the bakery floor. 

It takes a second for the fire to die down, and in that time you kind of army crawl around the counter to sit and stare at the bat with wide, unblinking eyes. 

Steve says your name. You don’t respond. 

He takes a couple steps toward you, but then stops short. When you snap your eyes to him, he’s running his hand frustratedly through his hair, staring at the pastry case. 

You hesitantly inch forward on your knees and look around the side of it at what he’s fussing over. The case itself is intact, a few of the pastries themselves gone askew when, you presume, the giant ass demon bat flew out of it. But the back of it… that’s a whole other story. 

Where before there was what appeared to be just a giant, slick grease stain, now there’s a gaping hole with a glowing membrane across it. You don’t know what it is, but Steve seems to as he swears like a sailor and drops to sit on the ground next to you. 

“Bats,” you blurt out, catching Steve's attention. He turns to gaze at you, holding his head in his hands. You look at him apprehensively. “Eddie said he was attacked by bats.”

Steve is quiet for way too long, blinking at you like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Then, he nods slowly. “We need to call Eddie.”

[cumaeansibyl]

okay this is my biggest conspiracy theory except it's not really a Conspiracy Theory because I am not actually positing a shadowy prime mover who planned the whole thing from the start. that always ends up in wildly antisemitic places where I do not go, and also I don't think anyone in history has had their shit together enough to mastermind Schemes of this type. my theories are always more like "this happened serendipitously and at some point maybe someone noticed and took advantage but there's certainly no central figure in charge."

so we start with the normalization of overwork in our society, since roughly forever. in modern times this led to abuse of medical and recreational stimulants -- everyone was on speed in the 50s and coke in the 80s -- but we all kind of figured out that was a bad idea, for the most part. what we still had after the white powder settled, though, was caffeine. totally legal, totally normalized.

but people were still overworked, and they also still wanted to have energy after work, to do fun things with the little free time left to them.

enter energy drinks.

unlike coffee, which still has the feeling of a daytime beverage and also to some extent a workplace beverage, energy drinks are an anytime food! you can even get them in mixed drinks for a night out. they're for work AND play. they come in a wide range of dose strengths, including a shooter for when you're in really dire straits. after all, taking caffeine pills feels like "pill-popping," but having a little beverage is fine, right?

at the same time, there is increasing interest in remedies for a variety of unspecific ailments caused by "toxins," the new buzzword in a very old industry of patent nostrums and dubious cure-alls. the theory is that some sort of unspecified substance has entered your body, and in order to feel well again you need to detox and cleanse -- which in practice involves a lot of induced defecation. And this is supposed to be good for feelings of fatigue, muscle soreness, anxiety, stomach upset, and difficulty sleeping.

See where I'm going with this?

The "toxins" that make you feel terrible all the time are caffeine. Not heavy metals, or refined sugar, or vaccines, or yeast. It's just fucking caffeine.

Well, caffeine and chronic overwork/sleep deprivation, which is not entirely a direct result of the caffeine but is certainly enabled/exacerbated by it. Everyone is working too much and taking stimulants to get through the day and in fact experiencing mild overdose symptoms on a fairly regular basis (irritable? jittery? that's caffeine toxicity) and it's no wonder we all feel like shit.

And then! When you come home from your day of pushing your mind and body too hard! It is ALSO normalized to take downers to level out! Alcohol is also a toxin, and it takes a lot less of it to start doing systemic damage than most people realize. When you wake up in the morning feeling foggy and achy, it may not be enough to register as a proper hangover, but it's almost certainly the combined effect of alcohol and caffeine withdrawal. Both mild! Both nearly harmless and easily recovered from! If you're not doing it on a regular basis and if you're getting enough rest, which you're not, as we previously established.

It's the chronicity that's the issue, the neverending grind of it all. You can't recover from chronic sleep deprivation or overwork with an extra few hours of rest on the weekends. You can't recover from long-term chemical dependence with a 24-hour tolerance break. If you're a wage earner in late-stage capitalism your options for reversing the damage are pretty limited and they all look like deprivation: prioritizing an unbroken 8-9 hours of sleep per night may well mean giving up most if not all of your social life and leisure activities. Fuck that.

And to be clear, I don't consider choosing to stay out late with a vodka Red Bull to be a personal failure of any kind, just like I don't think poor people should never buy themselves anything nice. If work keeps trying to take more and more of your time, you gotta carve out time for yourself somewhere. But... y'all know me. I want people to know the risks.

I think a lot of people don't realize that their bodies are under this much strain. They don't know that we are better suited for a 4-6 hour work day, that 6-7 hours of sleep is genuinely not enough for most people, that as little as 2 cups of coffee might be enough to put them over the recommended maximum caffeine intake. They don't know that they're drinking enough alcohol to cause health problems.

If you know and you decide to do it anyway that's fine, it's your right. I do inadvisable shit all the time. But people don't know, they're not being told, because they can't be allowed to question the material conditions they're being forced to endure -- and then they're being sold a bunch of useless or even harmful bullshit to "cure" the inevitable consequences of those conditions.

[catharusustulatus]

Unbelievably uncoordinated (besides playing soccer and running for her life) Robin was actually great at skipping rocks. Even better at finding the best ones to skip. She knew just how to spot and hold the good stones, where to place them in her palm. How to flick her wrist, how to be fast.

She started inviting Steve to her favorite side of the lake after they’d settled they were more than workplace/survived-torture-and-monsters-together friends, late August heat plastering her bangs and painting Steve pink. He always seemed to glow in the sun, the same sparkle she knew drew everyone to him in school.

Steve was still recovering from Starcourt - they both were - and his chest would tighten up after bending down, still bruised and sore, so he would mostly drive them there and soak it all in; her chatter as she searched for the right rock, jokes about Mrs. Click and Tammy, her nightmares about the guards and the laser beam and the dripping flesh beast they’d barely escaped. He chimed in from time to time, adding how Tammy’s cousin Maryanne was a bad kisser, told her about the time Mrs. Davis wouldn’t let him into class when he was late, late because Tommy and Carol had had a fight and almost burned his house down the night before. But he mostly listened, striped shirt riding up his mole-covered belly, and smiled at her as she skipped stones hour after hour.

Arm tired, they’d get milkshakes and he’d drop her off. Waving goodbye to Steve, she always thought the same things: that she was lucky to be alive. That it felt good to ripple some surface of this godforsaken place, especially with a friend. That she really did know how to pick ‘em.

[b3ach-bunn7]

CHOCOLATE BARS AND SLIDES pt 2

It’s late after you and Sero finish work, so you invite him back to your place

No quirk au, Workplace au, friends to lovers

a few people requested a part two and for some reason I struggled so bad to write it… idk if this is god but plz enjoy!

—————————————————————————

You wake up in a car that’s definitely not yours.

You guess you’ve been kidnapped. If having to stay up all night at your office wasn’t annoying enough, now this? There’s a cat shaped air freshener and dice tied to the rear view mirror, and the car itself is much too fancy for anything you’d drive. There’s takeout boxes on the seat in the back and a bag you recognise as your own by your feet.

So you were kidnapped and robbed? Oh, it was not your day.

Or night, you realise, as you look out the window and see that it’s pitch black. The streets of your town are pretty empty, the streetlights not even on and you glance at the dashboard and see that it’s two in the morning. You think about screaming, but you need to see what you’re dealing with. Then you turn to your left and your kidnapper is Sero, of all people. One hand hangs out the open window and the other is on the steering wheel, finger tapping along to whatever random song is playing on the radio. You think this might be the most attractive you’ve ever seen him, wind rustling strands of his hair across his face. You can only imagine how awful you look. You’re sure you wiped drool off the side of your mouth a second ago. Sero must sense the movement because he glances at you, a small smile gracing his lips. You’re too sleepy to have any shame so you keep staring and don’t notice the reddening of the tips of his ears.

“Good morning. Or good night, I guess.” He laughs.

“I thought we were working, what happened?” You speak through a yawn.

Sero bites his lip. He debates something in his head before he relents.

“Look, I’m really sorry, but you wouldn’t wake up and we’d finished working and I knew we had to leave so I had to carry you out the place, and even then you didn’t wake up and so I thought you were like, dead or something. But you were just asleep. And I was going to wake you up when we got to yours but you sorta woke up alone, right now. Which is weird, because I literally carried you down a flight of stairs and you were knocked out.” The words come out rambled and all at once with Sero’s eyes trained on the road.

You grin at the panic on his face. “It’s okay, Sero. Don’t need to look so horrified. I don’t mind.”

He rolls his eyes as you laugh at him. You’re not mad he carried you out. If anything you’re more annoyed you weren’t awake to enjoy it.

“Well I can do it again if you’d like.”

Oh, you did not mean to say that out loud. You laugh nervously and sit up straighter.

“Never mind that. Wait, so where are you headed?”

“Your place, no?” Sero says, “I was going to drop you off, remember?”

You nod. “Oh, right. But. It’s really late, and you live a bit far so. You can sleep over if you want. At mine.”

The car is silent apart from the radio singing old 80s hits. You swallow roughly. It seems the lack of sleep has caused your filter to disappear and you consider the cons of jumping out the car to avoid the embarrassment of your suggestion..

“I mean, you don’t have to-“

“Sure. I’ll sleep over. If you’re sure you don’t mind.” He cuts you off.

“Of course! I mean it’s the least I can do, after you ditched all your friends to help me cause I deleted all my slides.”

He snorts. “I still can’t believe you did that.”

You shake your head, leaning back on the car seat. The car smells like Sero. “Don’t even. I’m still recovering. I’m never using Google slides again.”

Sero laughs and it makes you smile. He’s so cute. And that hoodie looks really good on him. And you should really stop staring at him because you’re slightly delirious and apparently that means you have loose lips, and you’re sure you’ll say something stupid again.

Sero pulls into your parking lot soon enough. He rests his arm on the back of your chair as he reverses into a parking spot and you think you could die happy right there.

You make him wait outside your door as you run around your apartment and clean up. It’s still sort of a mess but it’s clean enough for you to let him in. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before, but still. You need to keep some semblance of dignity after he saw you drooling in your sleep.

“Okay, so you can take my bed, and I’ll take the couch.” You say.

Sero shakes his head. “No, it’s your bed, babe, I’ll take the couch, I don’t mind.”

“No, you’re my guest. I can’t let you sleep on the couch.”

“Well I can’t let you sleep on the couch.”

“We can sleep together.”

You curse yourself the minute the words leave your mouth. Sero grins as your cheeks flush red, raising one eyebrow.

“Can we really?”

“Shut up.” You turn away so he can’t see your face burning up as you walk into your kitchen.

“Aw, don’t be shy. Is that why you invited me over?” He drawls, voice dropping as he teases you.

“Sero, I’ll make you sleep on the floor!” You splutter, busying yourself with getting two glasses of water.

“Don’t worry, I’m only joking.” Sero sits down on the couch, yawning loudly.

“I can’t believe we have to be back at work in like, four hours.”

You groan at his words, walking out the kitchen with the glasses. You pass one to him and he nods his thanks. “I know. And I have to present those slides too.”

“You’ll be fine, babe, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m too tired to worry right now.” You mumble.

Sero huffs a laugh. He drinks from the glass, and you watch as a drop of water slides down his chin, down his neck to the surprisingly defined lines of his collarbones. You wonder if you would’ve felt them when he picked you up before.

“I look that good drinking water?”

Your eyes snap up to his where they are trained on you. “Mhm. I can’t get enough.”

It’s meant to be a joke. But the two of you sort of just stare at each other for a moment, his fingers collecting condensation from the glass, and it doesn’t feel very funny.

“Well. I’ll go get you something to sleep in. Something comfier.” You shoot up out your seat and rush into your room.

You don’t know what’s the matter with you. Of course, a part of you thinks Sero might like you back. You’re sure he’s been flirting with you for the past few weeks. But you’re too scared to ever bring it up, because the chance that he rejects you is too scary for you to even try. You guys were such good friends that you know you’ll never risk losing that.

You dig around in your drawers for some clothes. You find the bag of old boyfriend stuff you keep in the depths of your closet and pull out a pair of sweats and a shirt. You walk back into the living room and Sero is deep in thought on the couch, eyes trained on the floor.

“You alright there?” You ask, tilting your head.

He looks up at you. There’s a weird sort of look on his face, one of determination. He gets up and shoots you a smile.

“All good. Thanks for the clothes.”

In one swift motion he pulls off his hoodie and grabs the shirt out of your hands. Your mouth gapes. Your fantasising was right, because Sero is ripped. Lean muscles and what you think is a six pack. God have mercy.

“I gotta put this shirt on but you can take a picture if you wanna stare any longer.” Sero teases.

“Shut up.” You shove the sweats in his arms.

You quickly wash up in the toilet and go get in bed. While Sero gets ready with the spare toothbrush in your sink, you quickly send a message to your friends telling them what’s happening. They know about you ever-growing crush on him and even though you know they’re all asleep, you shoot them a message with way too many emojis and way too much excitement. Sero walks in soon after and pauses at the light switch.

“You want me to turn it off?”

“Yes, but-“ You’re cut off as he suddenly turns it off.

You curse, scrambling around your bed in the dark for your phone. You turn your flashlight on and point it at his face.

“I was going to say wait until my light is on!”

Sero laughs. “Are you serious?”

“Yes I am serious. It’s too dark in here.” You reach across your bedside table and turn on your lamp. It’s small and inoffensive enough that you can sleep with it on. You tell Sero as much and he laughs at you again.

“Aw, are you scared of the dark?” He pouts and you throw a pillow at him.

“Leave me alone. I watched the conjuring yesterday and I’m freaked out.” .

Sero is still sort of just standing in your doorway. He almost looks too frightened to make direct eye contact with your bed and you grin.

“It’s okay. I don’t bite.” You pat the side of the bed you’ve left for him.

“Shame.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut it and come sleep. I’m tired.”

You shuffle under your duvet, and sigh happily. Sero gingerly climbs in next to you and you huff, dragging him onto it properly. “Come on, this is fun! Like a sleepover!”

“What do girls even do at sleepovers?”

“We kiss all night and talk about boys.” You fan a hand in front of your face and he snorts.

The two of you are now laying down and the room delves into silence. You can just about make out his face with the little light from your lamp, and it bathes him in a warm glow you think makes him look so soft. He’s looking straight up at your ceiling and you reach out and brush a strand of hair off his forehead. His eyes meet yours, and you smile slightly.

“Sorry. It was in your eyes.” The hair has definitely moved out of his vision but you wrap it around your finger.

“I love your hair, you know. When you tie it up in a little bun.”

“Thanks.” His voice comes out slightly hoarse, and you let the strand fall from your grasp.

You dig under the covers and grab your phone. “You mind if I’m on my phone for a bit? I need my phone time before I sleep.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Originally, you’re laying on your back, phone resting on your chest, Sero still looking up at your ceiling. But then Sero mumbles that he can’t sleep either, and he turns to face you, eyes also trained on your phone. And somehow, in the minutes that pass with you scrolling through your Tik Tok, your head is resting on Sero’s shoulder and your hand holds your phone up on his chest. His head rests on top of yours as the two of you lull yourself to sleep with the random things that come up on your page.

But then your phone vibrates, and a notification pops up at the top of the screen. It’s weird enough that anyone is up this late, but then you read who it’s from and what it says and then you feel bile rise up your throat.

Because it’s your friend Miriko, who would of course be up at three in the morning, who also has the most inappropriate tongue out of anyone you’ve ever met. The first notification is tame enough.

“FUCKING FINALLY”

You’re sure Sero reads it but he doesn’t say anything. You guess there isn’t that much he can say, it’s inconspicuous enough.

“HAS ANYTHING HAPPENED DID HE ASK U OUT FINALLYYYYY???”

That one’s more suspicious. But again, it’s notifications from a group chat, so you hope your lack of reaction is making it seem like she’s not replying to you. You slide the notification away.

“You don’t wanna answer?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Nah, she can wait till morning. It’s too late to socialise.”

And then, the last message comes through.

“Are you not answering because manbun is dicking you down rn…”

You sit up suddenly, pulling your phone out of his line of sight. You curse under your breath quickly clicking on do not disturb. You turn to Sero to try play it off but he’s sat himself up too, and he’s looking at you with a weird look of anticipation. The two of you are a hair away from being too close, and your eyes flit around his face, soft from sleep but so focused on you.

“Manbun? Is that supposed to be me?”

Your eyes dart from the bun he’d tied into his hair literally minutes ago in front of your eyes.

“No.” You try to lie half-heartedly but he’s not stupid.

“Yes. It is, isn’t it?” Your silence is answer enough for him.

“So. When your friend said finally and if I asked you out, you- You want me to ask you out?” He breathes, and he says it like more of a statement then a question.

“I- You weren’t meant to see those messages.”

Sero looks down. You curse Miriko a thousand times in your head. You rub your eyes, brain scrambling to find a way out of this. His silence is answer enough for you, and you guess all those times you thought he might like you was just Sero being Sero.

“Look, I don’t-“

Sero’s hand on your face distracts you, and if that wasn’t enough, the firm press of his lips on yours is enough to shut you up. Your eyes flutter shut and you lean in closer, hand reaching up to clutch at the shirt of an ex you couldn’t name if your life depended on it. You think this might be a dream, but then Sero’s hand curls around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and you make a noise in the back of your throat. It seems to wake Sero up because he pulls back suddenly.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. Before I kissed you, I just- ” He breathes heavily. “I thought. I’ve been waiting-“

“It’s okay. It’s fine. You are manbun. I like you too.” You nod frantically, hands still on him.

“Okay. That’s good.” He nods too.

The two of you sit for a minute.

Sero breaks the silence. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Please.”

He descends onto you quickly, pushing you back onto your bed. His arm rests next to your head as he kisses you, tongue delving into your mouth. You whine and he swallows the sound, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. He kisses your chin, down your neck, licking at your pulse. You moan as he sucks a mark into your neck and he sighs.

“Sound so beautiful, baby.” He mumbles, hands travelling up under your shirt and skimming the soft skin of your stomach.

You let your own hands explore him, fingers dancing over the lean muscle you’ve been itching to properly look at since you knew they existed. Sero sighs as you trail them up his stomach, across his chest. You reach up and place another kiss on his lips, but he pulls back slightly.

“Wait, wait.” He whispers between the kisses you pepper on his lips between each word.

“What could you possibly need to talk about right now?” You grumble, falling back down on the bed.

He sits up, practically straddling your waist. His lips are swollen and kissed, his hair dishevelled where you’ve no doubt ran your hands through it. It’s taking every ounce of self control not to pull him back down on top of you.

“I just- I feel like I should do this properly. Take you out. Wine and dine you, you know?” The little worry that furrows his brows makes something in your heart ache.

You pat his arm and he takes the hint to slide off your lap. He crosses his legs, running a hand through his hair to get it out his face. His shirt is lopsided and showing half his right shoulder and you fix it for him, hands lingering on him slightly.

“If you wanna do this properly we can. Though I’m perfectly happy to fuck you right now.”

Sero swallows heavily, shutting his eyes. “Fuck me, you’re not making this easy.”

“Well, I am offering.” He rolls his eyes as you giggle.

“Okay then. Tomorrow. After your presentation and after work we’ll go out to dinner. I’ll take you out, that sound good?”

You nod happily. “Sounds perfect.”

“Perfect.”

Sero leans over and presses one more kiss to your lips. Before he pulls away you drag him back, just for a second more.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Please not before our date.”

“No, I’d never. Got to show you what would’ve happened tonight if we didn’t stop so soon.”

[daydream-cement]

At Your Service (NSFW)

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Service top Miranda is ready for when you have a tough day.

Authors Note: This is written as a fic swap for @alexusonfire <33 ily bae

You had just gotten home from work when Miranda had emerged from the bedroom donning only a strap-on. All day you had been texting Miranda about your frustrations with your workplace. Now, the constable was ready to take matters into her own hands to make sure the end of your day was as pleasurable as possible. 

The constable guided you to lay back on the couch and soon her hand was down your pants. A half hour later, you were grinding against the palm of the constable’s hand as your tongues intertwined in an intense kiss. Miranda parted your kiss, tucked a few of your stray hairs behind your ear and spoke in a low register, “If you want it so bad, you are gonna have to strip for me.” 

She pulled her hand from your underwear and tugged down on the waistband of your pants, signaling you to help her pull them down. You lifted your hips and pushed down on the waistband of the right side of your pants while Miranda dragged down the left side. 

Once your pants were around your knees, Miranda shifted from her place half on top of you to the floor. Her hands guided your pants the rest of the way down your legs, tossing them aside to focus more on your dripping sex. 

Miranda sucked in a breath as she slowly parted your legs, her eyes glued to your glistening cunt, “Look how pretty you are…” 

The constable couldn’t help herself any longer. She needed a taste of you.

She lowered her tongue to your core, immediately focusing her attention on your sensitive bud. From Miranda’s earlier teasing, you were feeling incredibly worked up. At the first touch of her tongue, your hands shot down and gripped the edges of the couch. 

The familiar coolness of Miranda’s tongue working its magic in your cunt had your hips grinding into her mouth. You were desperate for your orgasm on the horizon.

The intensity of the growing orgasm was almost too much to bear causing you to involuntarily squeeze your eyes shut. You were unable to control your moans at the feeling of her tongue against your clit.

There was a pause in Miranda’s tongue stroking over your clit and you opened your eyes, searching the constable’s face. Miranda was gazing up at you, her chin glistening from your wetness, “You wanna cum for me, baby?”

“Mhmm…” You hum, circling your hips down against the couch cushion in hopes Miranda will bring her tongue down against your clit again. 

“That’s a good girl.” Miranda murmured before going back to work, her tongue working in an overzealous manner. She was desperate to make you cum all over her face.

With her tongue against your clit once more, you move your hands from the couch cushions into the constable’s hair. You then utilized the new leverage to grind your cunt against your mouth. Between the tight grip Miranda had on your hips and your rutting, the entire situation was beginning to feel very desperate and animalistic.

Your desperation was working as you could feel your orgasm approaching swiftly. With a final roll of your hips, your hands released the constable’s hair to return to grip the couch - steadying yourself as your orgasm shakes you to your very core.

You hadn’t even had a chance to recover from your first orgasm when Miranda lifted herself from the floor. The strap was in your line of sight now and you knew what was to come.

Miranda pointed the tip of the strap into your entrance,

inserting the dildo with an agonizingly slow speed. As each inch disappeared into your cunt, Miranda positioned herself in a way to make fucking you even easier. “My pretty baby… Yes. Take it all, sweetness…”

Once it was all in, Miranda only gave a few seconds for you to adjust to the size. Her hands took your hips in a bruising grip, pulling you in with each thrust before pushing you away as she pulled out, repeating the process until you turned into a moaning mess beneath her.

Miranda couldn’t keep herself from whining out a moan or two - the sounds of slapping skin, your soaked cunt, and your moans making it impossible for her not to derive pleasure from the situation.

From Miranda’s rhythmic pounding, you could only loll your head back and forth as you groaned in pleasure. The constable watched you beneath her with hungry eyes, entranced by the way your breasts moved from her thrusts. 

The fucking Miranda gave was mind numbingly good - your only response being a string of curses accompanied by the shaking of your legs. The constable must have noticed your growing comfort with the position as you soon found Miranda manhandling you onto your stomach so she could fuck you from behind. 

Her tone was as innocent and sweet as always, giving your ass a light swat as she spoke, “Lift that ass for me, honey…”

You followed her orders, repositioning yourself so your hips were within reach of Miranda while also allowing you to grip back of the couch. One of her knees pressed into the couch next to you, and you felt her hand drawing you close while her other swiftly positioned the strap at your entrance. In one fluid motion, Miranda pushed the cock back into your core, beginning a new relentless assault on your cunt.

“Just relax, beautiful. I’m gonna fuck you so good, you won’t even be able to think about work.” 

Miranda’s words made you hold your breath - never had she been so dominant like this. Once the constable began fucking you again, all you could do was bury your face in the back of the couch,

muffling your cries of pleasure. Her hands had your hips in a vice like grip. Only if you could have seen the concentration on Miranda’s face as she tried to bring you all the pleasure she thought you deserved and more.

She was unrelenting in how she fucked you, so much so you knew you would be walking funny the next day. 

Eventually you thought you would be able to relax into her deep, hard strokes, but when one of Miranda’s hands released your hip and slipped to your front to tease your clit, you knew you were in store for a final orgasm. She fucked you at a lighter pace, but the intensity of both stimuli made your breathing quicken. 

With the last of Miranda’s stamina, she released your hip and placed her hand around your throat, pulling you back against her body. Her fucking became so frantic and you were so wet there were a couple moments the dildo nearly slid out of you. The constable’s large hand manipulated you so you turned your head to the side, allowing her to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. 

“Oh god, I love you so much… Fuck, you look so pretty when you are about to cum all over the strap…” Her words came out through gritted teeth, fully overcome by the dominant energy she had been showing all evening. Miranda’s words, hand around your neck and fingers circling your clit drew you to orgasm much quicker than you anticipated.

Your whole body shook when you came and all you could do was lean back into Miranda’s embrace and hope she would support your diminished form. The constable pulled the strap from your cunt, making you gasp at the sudden nothingness. She relinquished any harsh or possessive grip, her touch turning back into its trademark softness that typically came from Miranda.

“I love you too…” You hum back to the constable, wanting to make sure you returned the sentiment. 

Miranda pressed a kiss to your forehead and gave you a gentle push so you would sit back on the couch. You did as she asked and the constable was kneeling before you again, but this time she was more interested in conversation than cunnilingus. “Are you okay? Was it too hard? Was I too harsh?” 

“It was… perfect, Andy. Thank you. I- Yeah…” You could hardly think straight as you responded to Miranda. This was possibly some of the best orgasms the constable had yet to give you.

“I have everything ready for you to take a bath… While you are relaxing, I can make dinner too…” 

It was moments such as this that you felt so incredibly lucky for Miranda’s deeply caring nature. She was always ready to offer you love and comfort after you had a tough day at work. 

“Dinner can wait… Will you take a bath with me?” You gingerly reach out and tuck some of the constable’s hair behind her ear. She turned her gaze to the floor, feeling bashful at your loving gesture. 

“Of course… I would love to.”

You then spent the rest of the evening completely lost in one another. Between gentle caressing, sweet kisses, and silly inside jokes, the terrible day at work was all a distant memory.

[soaringthoughts]

:: A MISFORTUNE'S VESSEL. (chapter 2)

[ lowercase intended. ] a misfortune's vessel : chapter 2/? chapter - 1 PAIRINGS: aqua hoshino x reader

A/N: I actually didn’t expect for people to see and read my work, but here we go! School just finished for me and I just graduated so I've been very busy for the past month and wasn't able to update.

I procrastinated too much on this.. But now I finally finished it. ╰(❁´◡`❁)╯

word count: 3492 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

it felt as though time had flown. you're glad that your body is finally capable of self care.

what relieves you the most is that you finally reached the age where people wouldn't suspect you for walking and talking.

it didn't take long before you can finally stand up on your own two feet, you've always sworn to never leave your crib at all rather than do all the crawling.

everything changed, however, when the news regarding Ai reached you.

you didn't get to hear an ounce of it from Miyako. but due to Ai's popularity, the news spread like wildfire all across the internet.

you were devastated. Ai passing away was the least thing you'd expect to receive after not hearing from her for years.

it made you wonder, what about Aqua and Ruby?

you can't gather the wits to ask Miyako about it. perhaps letting her recover from it would be the wiser decision.

over the past years since the incident, you barely got any attention from your parents.

Saito deserted his responsibilities. he spiraled into depression and disappeared from the company grounds. perhaps it was because of what happened to Ai.

it was all so sudden that Miyako was forced to be bombarded with these responsibilities, which only occupied more of her time so you barely got a chance to see her.

you are often alone at home, well at least that's how you felt. Saito stayed with you, but he would often lock himself up in his room and only come out to eat or use the bathroom.

hell, he even wastes his time on drinking alcohol and only gives you money just so you could take care of yourself.

Miyako, however, thought that this was bad parenting and so she decided to leave you with a babysitter.

you were upset as to why her, your own mother, is out there taking care of other children instead of her own daughter.

but you were considerate enough to understand that she's still working for strawberry productions which concludes of being present at her workplace most of the time.

but despite all that, you still managed to graduate from primary school and live your life as it is.

you are currently a highschooler. and for this next school year, you are struck by the decision of whether to take general or entertainment program for your new school.

you've always wanted to be an iconic idol like Ai but after hearing Miyako's opinion regarding this matter, you've decided to just pursue being an average student.

she didn't sound too supportive of it, especially after what happened to Ai.

being an idol really does have its ups and downs.

“I'm going.” not sounding too optimistic, Miyako was concerned by your well-being.

“I'll give you a ride.” Miyako snatched her car keys from the kitchenette's counter, accompanying you outside the house to head for the car.

normally, the atmosphere between you two is awkward. perhaps it's due to the relationship you both have and from the times that you two barely spend time together.

but today seemed different. unlike before, Miyako seemed to be more talkative around you after the disagreement you had regarding being an idol.

“I'm sorry, [Name].” Miyako tried to clear the atmosphere. but the rest of the ride was in silence, almost deafening at that.

you didn't have any response to this. you had already given up from the start, or so you thought.

taking things slow, that's your current objective.

“I believe in you, good luck.” as soon as you arrived at the destination, you stepped out of the car.

brushing a hair strand to tuck it behind your ears, Miyako's lips lifted into a bittersweet smile. perhaps it was due to her stress. but despite that, you took her smile all whole-heartedly.

“Thank you, mom.” with the return of a heartwarming smile, Miyako gave you a gentle squeeze of a hug before you head inside.

the school didn't look all too fancy, it didn't look all too good-for-nothing either. just an average school to be precise.

the clanks of your shoes reverberated through the school halls as you made your way inside.

the campus looked almost empty, but you were still passing by a few students throughout the way. perhaps they were also here for the enrollment.

you fixated your gaze over the plates of each classroom you are passing by to look for the general program you'll enroll in. it didn't take long, you eventually stumbled upon the said room as you lined yourself up with the students who also seemed to be here for this strand.

there was nothing special about the area. the building was simply structured and barely furnished. the atmosphere was dull. but perhaps it's because it's a new opened school.

as you got done signing the papers and passing the qualifications and requirements for your enrollment, which took a toll of time, you returned outside the halls and started heading back into the direction from where you came from to head back home.

it was quick, the long line was what kept you in.

unlike earlier, the sun seemed to shine brighter now. the rays of it reflected through the hall windows and over your figure. it was almost blinding.

you were able to see the hallways more properly. now that it's lit up, it actually doesn't look that bad.

you made your way throughout the area, standing out in your proper school attire and your bag slinged in your back.

your mind was stirred with your current emotions of what you feel about your upcoming school year. your mood swinging from both anticipation and nervousness at the same time. even though it's just the same strand you chose in your past life.

almost drowning in your thoughts, you didn't notice the group of people you bumped on. specifically a girl that's facing the opposite direction.

they seemed to be arguing about something, or maybe that's what you thought.

“Oh?- are you alright?” the girl was startled and swiftly turned around to check you out. luckily, it was just a small bump so you managed to stay on your ground.

you were in daze by the familiarity of her voice. you blinked a couple of times to clear your sight, before taking in the figure of the girl, along with two other people with her.

the two that were right in front of you were lookalikes despite the opposite genders they are, they must be identical twins.

as for the other girl on their back, she was immediately silenced by the sight. she had scarlet orbs and hair locks unlike the two.

you felt the guy's gaze dart at you, as if examining your features. “..[Name]?” as well as the girl, the guy's voice also seemed all too familiar.

you were surprised by how he knew your name. and that's when it finally rang a bell, it was Aqua and Ruby.

“You guys..” was all you managed to mutter. you were still in shock by the sudden encounter. you didn't expect that you'd reunite with them here, out of all places.

considering the school attire they are also in, it was obvious that they are also enrolled for this school.

you can say that nothing much changed. they were still the twins that you knew.

Aqua is still as stoic as ever. his phlegmatic tone remains the same. Ruby, still a bundle of joy, much to your surprise.

Unlike Aqua, Ruby is still as talkative as ever when comparing the two, “Aw, is that all you have to say? it has been years!” to your surprise, the two seemed to still get along with you despite not seeing each other for years.

you indulged in a small conversation, mostly about updating yourselves about what happened over the years of being separated.

“So, what program did you take?” just as Aqua had decided to chime in, the atmosphere immediately shifted from someone clearing their throat. done on purpose.

that's when you remembered that the two were also with someone else.

“I'm still here, you know.” said the 'unknown' girl to ease the atmosphere, almost feeling bad for leaving her in the dark from the reunion of you three.

she had red locks with a length that extends to the central of her neck. as well as cerise doe eyes that somehow resembles Ruby's, which complements to the color scheme of her hair.

she had a navy blue beret on, unlike you, Ruby, and the rest of the females in the school. making her stand out.

“Well.. this is kind of a personal matter, [Name] is a friend that we haven't seen for years.”

you didn't expect for Aqua to respond, but you were glad that he is finally somehow being more open than letting Ruby do all the talking.

this earned a scoff from the girl, a name that is still unknown. “Maybe let me chime in at least.. maybe we can get along.”

although you appreciated the fact that this girl was willing to talk with you, you can't help but wonder if she only said that so she wouldn't feel left out.

setting your thoughts aside, you decided to conversate anyway.

“I'm [name].” there was no need for formalities, and so you decided to just simply introduce yourself by letting her know your name. you're awkward at starting conversations after all.

“I'm Kana!”

and without a word, the girl, who is named Kana now that you knew, slipped in between the twins to close the distance between the two of you.

she abruptly dragged you by the arm with a gentle grip, turning you two away from the twins as she whispered in your ear, “So.. are you and Aqua dating?”

this question caught you off guard, especially from someone you've barely met for an hour. not even for 15 minutes.

“huh? no, we're not.” you whispered back in a sheepish manner. you didn't even know why this girl, who is practically still a stranger, would ask this.

the situation was overly awkward. you felt the eyes of the twins watching both of you from behind.

“Really?” Kana exclaimed with a hint of enthusiasm in her tone, her voice now more audible that it was probably heard by the other two. shortly after the realization sinks in, she immediately clears her throat to brush the awkward atmosphere off.

“I- I mean, really?” she followed with her voice now less excited than before to cover her excitement up.

the two of you then turned back around after clearing Kana's question up, now facing the twins once more.

the twins glanced at each other's faces as if communicating by thoughts, confusion evident in their expressions. “What was that about?” asked Ruby, staring at the two of you intently.

“Nothing!~” said Kana, with the brightest smile on her face. “Don't tell them I asked you that, okay?” she whispered once more, in which you gave a nod of approval. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“For how long are you two going to keep on following me?” Aqua remarked in his usual tone.

― “Until you answer all my questions!” said Kana.

― “I'm not. I'm headed in the same direction.”

he simply hummed at the difference of your responses, spiced with a hint of displease from Kana's perseverance.

the two went on in their way with a small conversation, although it was mostly Kana just bombarding Aqua with questions.

you were headed for the same path as Aqua, it just happened that your destination was the same route as his.

throughout the entire conversation of the two, you were quiet. but you couldn't help but pique curiosity from their topic, especially from how persistent Kana is to suggest Aqua to continue acting.

so he used to be an actor? a child one at that. or so you thought.

“I'm headed that way, see you two.” you pointed in the opposite direction of two paths you three came across. this time, your route is now different from what they are taking. so you decided to inform them of your route before parting your ways.

“Wait! Why don't you come with us, [Name]? Aqua and I were just planning for a hangout so you might as well come,”

you abruptly stopped on your tracks from hearing Kana. you then turned around to face them again, an inviting expression on Kana's face in contrast to Aqua's impassive ones.

“No we're not.” Aqua remarked,

“Come on, Aqua! you haven't seen us both for a very long time!”

“My destination is not somewhere that will keep you two entertained.”

“As long as the three of us can hold a conversation..”

“Fine.”

it took a chunk of Kana's convincing before finally persuading Aqua into it. it made you wonder as to how she can even handle his unexpressive attitude.

she waved her hand at you to call you back. and so you decided to come along since you were free after all.

“Oh, Kana Arima. I haven't seen you in so long― and..? Aqua's girlfriend?”

almost choking from your own saliva, you cleared your throat awkwardly and as well as Aqua. do old people just often ask the most off-putting questions and embarrassing things?

“No, we're not. I'm a friend. That happened to end up here for a hangout.” you emphasized the word 'hangout', as if not expecting for it to occur in some strange old man's room. you didn't even know the guy.

with a chuckle, the man twisted his chair to face you three. “I see, I see. I was kidding.”

“That wasn't very funny..” said Kana who was patting your back to ease you from the coughing, the situation almost dramatic.

the room was then eventually beaming with a light atmosphere as you all conversed with general topics regarding your lives. such as school, relationships, and.. acting, which you cannot relate to.

but despite that, you all got along despite you just meeting the other two this day.

a while after for what seemed like an hour, you four were invited to dinner by an elderly woman that barged into the room, in which you all complied.

the dining table was in silence as you all fixated your attention on the food. but the silence was also broken from time to time with short paced conversations.

“So you still live off your parents, Director.” Kana remarked in the most casual tone.

'that wasn't his wife?..' you thought to yourself. it was bizarre to think about now that Kana mentioned it.

the dinner went on with them talking about the careers they used to have with acting. it seems that Kana was still in it, unlike Aqua who apparently already quit a long time ago.

of course, they made sure to include you in as well, asking you about your route in life and as well as your interest in acting.

and so you just found out that the man used to be a director.

hell, Kana even suggested you to be an actress with her.

she really is a persistent person. she even offered to give you a training after excusing yourself that you're not fond of acting. she seemed really desperate to have a friend with her.

if only they knew how talentless you were in your past life.

but that was in the past.. right?

even so, that fact deteriorated your self-esteem despite living in a new body that is probably way better than your previous one.

it didn't take long before the sun went down. only then you realized that you spent too much time in the hangout.

Miyako must be worried by now..

as you three dismissed yourself from the director's house, Kana parted her way. her dorm was in the opposite direction unlike you who's headed for the same destination with Aqua, which is the bus station.

the walk was quiet, considering the two of you are not fond of idle chit-chatting. but of course, the tension was less awkward with a few chats.

shortly after reaching the bus station, the both of you sat on the bench.

the next bus was the last, so it's only good that you two made it in time.

the surroundings were dark. the moonlight barely lit the ground, the only light source being the flickering street lamp that was beside the bench.

“I didn't know you did acting.” you suddenly commented to put a halt to the silence.

“Not for long. It's not my course.” Aqua simply remarked. he was still a tad replier up until now.

you were slightly taken in by surprise. throughout the hangout with Kana complimenting his skills, you didn't expect him to actually dislike acting.

“So you didn't take entertainment program?”

“I took general program. I wasn't even fit to act in the first place.”

“Shame.. I would've liked to see you perform.”

“Enough about me. You took the general program too, right?”

your face shifted into one of intrigue at Aqua's response. it was nice to finally have a talk with him after hours of just awkward greetings. much to your surprise, now that you two were alone.

“I did. It would be a good coincidence if we end up in the same batch!” this earned a hum from Aqua, not showing any signs of displease of having you as a classmate.

“Hm, you're right. But it seems less likely to happen considering the amount of those that applied.”

just as you two were finally conversing once again, the moment was interrupted when the bus had finally arrived.

you two rose up from your seats to quickly head inside, not wasting any matter of second in order to not miss the bus.

the vehicle immediately drove off as you two got in despite not even getting a seat. this caused you to almost stumble, in which you managed to stay on ground by holding onto a pole and with Aqua's hands firmly grasped in your arms from behind.

“Thank you―” you sheepishly remarked, returning with a simple nod from Aqua.

you two got further inside the bus, only realizing that all the seats were full.

that must be why the driver immediately drove off, because there were no seats left available.

just then, the driver abruptly stomped the brake, causing the both of you to stumble once again.

good thing the both of you were strong enough to stay on your grounds.

as the bus stopped, one passenger left his seat as he left the bus for his stop. the bus drove off again shortly after.

you two eyed the seat.

“You sit.” said Aqua, gently shoving you closer to the available seat. of course you couldn't refuse due to how exhausted you are from the day.

as you sat, Aqua stood beside you as he held onto the bus hanger for support.

the ride was surprisingly long. and the silence was frequently broken with small talks.

you shared stories, emotions, and laughter― well, something Aqua didn't reciprocate to say the least.

he was still as stoic as ever. but that's what makes him recognizable from all the people you know. and somehow, with that distinctive demeanor of his, it reminds you of someone. 'what was his name again?..' you couldn't quite remember his name, but his face was still as clear as skies in your mind. all that you know is that it was someone in your past life.

it didn't take long before you reached your stop. you were first to get off the bus before Aqua.

“See you, Aqua.” you waved your goodbye and rose up from your seat, stealing one last glance on him.

“See you, [Name].” he returned. as you eyed your gaze on him, you noticed the faint smile that lifted up on his lips. one you've never seen from him before.

maybe you only stereotyped him of not having emotions at all, that he's unexpressive.

now you found out that he actually is, well, except for his friends.

but with all those thoughts aside, you can't help but notice how good he looked with a smile. almost charismatic.

“You should smile more often. You'd get a lot of girls.” you playfully remarked with the smuggest look you had.

his face immediately shifted back into his neutral one, as if masking his smile. in which you found kind of funny.

“Is anyone going or not?” the driver eventually spoke, impatiently tapping his foot on the bus floor as if a sign to skip the stop if no one's going down.

not wasting anymore time, you quickly got off the bus. and with a few studs of walk, you finally arrived back at home. mind at ease from having to reunite with your friend. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @lumiriai, @miyakoa, @dododododooosworld, @kimiko-the-angel, @fukumiai, @kat-kaps, @karma-gisa

[softshrimpy]

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Chapter 2: Step 2: Don't Panic

Summary: Working at the weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-worked. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came it Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

the silly bitch is back this time with teenage shenanigans. 🦐

Chapter 1

Cross Posted to AO3 Here

HTWAHP Masterlist

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“You can do this, it’s just a building. A very beautiful goth as fuck building that happens to be housing the woman you’re head over heels for. The very woman whose coffee you’re holding…” you mumble to yourself, staring up at the impressive building of Nevermore Academy.

It really was a beautiful building, in a goth macabre sort of way. When you were younger you probably would’ve killed to go to a school that looked like this. You could’ve been dark and edgy on epic balconies, every depressed teen’s dream.  However, you’re currently more concerned with arguing with yourself about the stupidity of your offer. You can’t help but think maybe Larissa was simply being polite and didn’t want you to show up at her workplace. Maybe she actually can’t stand you and your painfully obvious crush on her and didn’t have the heart to tell you to buzz off. Maybe this-

Your spiralling is abruptly cut off but a monotone voice, “Are you just going to stand there or are you actually going to come in?”

“JESUS FUCK-“ you yell, jumping at the voice, nearly dropping your precious cargo. You look away from the window you had been staring out to see a dark-haired girl standing in the doorway, glaring up at you. She’s obviously a student, judging by the uniform she’s wearing despite it completely lacking its usual colour.

“How long have you been standing there?” you ask, trying to recover from your near heart attack.

“Long enough to question your intentions here.” She replies.

“Wednesday! There you are!” a bright voice exclaims from behind your interrogator.

You look behind the girl, Wednesday, to see a sweet-looking blonde girl skipping over to you two. She stops next to Wednesday with a bright smile. She looks like the embodiment of sunshine honestly. The two standing next to each other is quite the juxtaposition.

“Oh! Hi, I’m Enid.” She introduces herself, sticking her hand out for you to shake.

You tell her your name and she smiles before turning to Wednesday.

“We have botany soon, I was just coming to get you but you weren’t in our room. Thing told me you were trying to escape again.” She grins.

“Thing will pay for his treachery soon enough.” Wednesday mumbles. “And as you can see, I’m still here.”

“Escape?” You mumble, glancing back at Wednesday “I thought this was a school, not a prison.”

“May as well be one.” Wednesday huffs, followed by Enid smacking her arm lightly.

“It’s not that bad! You’re just dramatic. Anyway, we’re going to be late, so let’s go.” She says, all but dragging a scowling Wednesday behind her.

“Oh uh, wait! Could you tell me how to get to Laris- I mean Principal Weems’s office? I have something for her.” You ask.

You swear you have never seen someone move faster in your life. One moment Enid was dragging her grumpy goth friend away and the next she was right in front of you, staring up at you with gleaming eyes.

“You’re here to see Principal Weems?? Are you two friends? Are you more than friends? What did you bring her?” She gushes.

“Don’t uh…don’t you have to get to botany?” You ask, taking a step back.

You’re not all that sure what you and Larissa are really. Or why she said yes ti you bringing her coffee every morning. For all intents and purposes, you’re just a very dedicated barista to her. Which makes your heart ache in a very pathetic way. But you’re fairly certain she wouldn’t want whatever relationship you have going on to be known by any of her students. She strikes you as the type to value her privacy.

“It’s fine. We’ll take you to Principal Weems’s office. We won’t get in any trouble. And we’d be happy to help, right Wednesday?”

“I’d rather willingly poison myself with Miss Thornhill’s plants thanks.” She grumbles.

“See! It’s settled. Let’s go!” Enid exclaims, setting off further into the school.

“Is she always like this?” You ask Wednesday.

“Every hour of every day so far.”

“Wow”

The two of you catch up to Enid who then continues to try and grill you for information on what you’re delivering to her principal and what your relationship to her is. You answer relatively honestly, telling her you’re just there to deliver coffee and you’ll probably be back, but it’s nothing more than that. She seems to not believe you, which is doubled when Wednesday makes a comment about a trip to Nevermore to deliver coffee not being typical service from the Weathervane.

“You’re totally in love with her!” Enid squealed, practically bouncing on the spot.

“I-that’s. First of all, that’s none of your business, and second you’re jumping to conclusions! I just- laris- I mean Principal Weems is a wonderful busy woman who needs coffee. There’s nothing weird about me bringing one to her in the morning! And- and it doesn’t even have to mean anything! Can’t it just be me being nice?”

“You know, they say those who become defensive when confronted are usually guilty.” Wednesday chirps with a smirk.

Dear god having two teenagers gang up on you about your crush on their principal was not what you imagined your morning to include.

“Do you two enjoy bullying a kind-hearted adult?”

“Yes.” Wednesday deadpans eliciting a snort from you.

“And we’re here!!” Enid exclaims, stopping in front of a pair of double doors.

You stare at the golden plaque on the door. The nerves from outside have returned tenfold now. And you can’t help but wonder if you should just turn and leave. You have a habit of taking things a step too far, you’re worried this is one of those times. What if she’s busy and doesn’t want you bothering her? What if-

“Well, we should get going!” Enid smiles, and then -to your horror- knocks on the door before quickly dragging Wednesday away.

“Come in” you hear an angelic voice answer from the other side.

Well you can’t just turn around now, and you did come all this way. So with that thought you take a deep breath and open the door.

And Jesus fucking Christ it should be illegal how lovely Larissa Weems looks seated at her desk, glasses perched on her nose, light beaming in from the window behind her. She looks like an angel, truly. She looks breathtaking you genuinely nearly forget to breathe.

And when she glances up from her laptop screen to look at you? If you were meltable you’d be nothing but a puddle right this second. Christ on a stick it’s a good day to love women, especially the very gorgeous woman in front of you.

“Darling? What are you doing here?” She asks, standing up and rounding her desk.

Your heart drops a little bit, thinking the worst.

Obviously, she didn’t want you to come. How could you be so stupid?

“I uhm. I brought you coffee! I’m sorry it’s- god I- this is silly I shouldn’t have come, you were obviously joking and I’m disturbing you I should- I’ll just go,“ you ramble, looking at anything but her.

You jump when you feel her hand wrap around your wrist. When the fuck had she gotten close? Was she a ninja? Your eyes dart to her face to see her…wait is she blushing?

You blink up at her, trying to figure out why she’s standing there, holding your wrist with a bashful smile on her face and a blush on her cheeks.

“Larissa? Are.. is everything okay?”

“You really are too sweet to me darling” she murmurs, squeezing your wrist. “I had thought you were just joking yesterday. I’m not used to people going out of their way for me like this.”

“Well, people are fucking stupid then.” You retort, “People should go to the ends of the earth just to talk to you. I know I would.”

“If you keep talking like that you’ll never get rid of me.” She mumbles, looking away.

“The day I want to be rid of you is the day I’ve been body snatched and replaced by an evil alien.”

She snorts at that, her nose scrunching in the most adorable way. And wow she really is close. You can see the slight crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, the laugh lines around her mouth. Christ her mouth looks far too kissable right now. You look back at her eyes and, oh gods she is not allowed to look at you like that you really might just kiss her. Would she kiss you back? The way she’s looking at you has you thinking maybe she would. All it would take is for you to lean in just-

A loud thud breaks you both from your reverie. You turn to face where the noise came from and just manage to catch a glimpse of blonde hair darting around the corner. You really should’ve suspected your kind escorts were going to eavesdrop. While you feel a little mortified you can’t find it in yourself to be mad at them.

“I don’t suppose you found my office on your own?” Larissa asks.

“I was very kindly escorted by two of your students, they found me panicking at the front door.”

“I don’t suppose they were a moody goth and a bright bubbly girl?” She hums.

“Yep. That was them.”

She sighs, bringing a hand up to rub her temples while muttering something about walking trouble. You giggle, much to your utter mortification, before lifting up the bag you brought.

“Coffee?” You ask.

“God yes.” She sighs.

You reach into the bag and bring out the thermos you’d brought handing it to her with the dorkiest grin on your face. She thanks you before taking a sip and borderline moaning at the taste (yeah your face could give a furnace a run for its money right now).

“Anyway I uh,” you clear your throat. “I best be off. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.”

“Do you need to head back to the cafe?”

“Oh no I’m not working today, I just thought-“

“It seems a waste coming all this way to leave so soon no?” She asks. “Let me give you a tour.”

“Oh no it’s okay! I’m sure you have more important things to do-“

“Well, I think it’s rather important you let me show you around. Please?” She asks.

And goddamn you couldn’t say no to her if you were being held at gunpoint. And the idea of her wanting to spend time with you is making you swoon. So you agree, ducking your head in a nod so she won’t see how flustered you are by her simple gesture.

She presses her laptop shut and grabs the takeaway bag from your hand, placing it down on her desk, before gesturing to the door.

“After you sweetheart.”

[paracosmicparadox]

So I finished FFXV ages ago, but I've been thinking about it lately bc you know, I elaborated the chocobros' story far further than it was meant to go and got way more attached to them than I should have. So here're some things that the game did really well and some of the things it didn't. (you don't have to agree w anything here; I'm not trying to corrupt y'all w my opinions; I just feel like talking)

Let's start with the bad to get it out of the way:

CINDY. I swear to everything holy her character had the potential to be So Cool if she hadn't been so overtly over-sexualized. Like, I'm a woman-liker too and I get it, lady mechanics are hot af, but you know what else is attractive? Safety in the workplace. Cindy's outfit was not something any mechanic would be caught dead wearing. Yeah, it was designed to be sexy, but do you know how many burns she would've accumulated from the hot oil and metal she works with? There's a reason mechanics typically wear clothing zipped up when they're actually working on something. If anything, Cindy's character design just made me uncomfortable. Her character itself? Great. No qualms there. Her design? Please acquire more than two square feet of fabric I'm begging you. I just feel like Cindy deserved to be so much more than fan service.

Luna's brief time on-screen. Yet another potentially incredible and deep female protagonist who got short change from this game. People joke a lot that Luna wasn't at all an important character because the game never really treated her like one. She was MEANT to be important, clearly, but it felt like she existed just for her tearjerking death scene? Like there was SO MUCH overlooked potential to bring her into the storyline as more than Tragic Love Interest In White, and yet?? Idk it frustrated me.

The emotional aspect of the game felt rushed. There were a lot of emotional scenes covered throughout the plotline ranging from King Regis's death to the deal with Prompto at Zegnautus Keep. I feel like the game TRIED to cover them realistically and show the characters' grief, but it didn't quite get there. It was just sort of an "Oh, how sad. I'm so upset and angry. Hm, what's that? My friends believe in me without truly understanding and I can kill someone to ease my pain? Oh okay I'm better now." I get that realistic healing cycles are kinda hard to portray within a set timeframe, but having some lingering effects of the blatant trauma inflicted would've been nice. You don't recover from shit like that in a week's time.

Character personalities tended to be one-sided. Noctis was edgy, Prompto was happy-go-lucky, Gladio was tough-guy, and Ignis was... nevermind, Iggy was great--- HE had some on-screen depth. Personally, I've developed these characters myself far more than what the game gave us, but I wish we'd gotten more canon depth beyond their surface-level traits. I love them with my whole heart and they deserve genuine complexity.

Now the things I actually really enjoyed:

The graphics were on-point. The amount of detail put into character design and into monsters was insane. You could zoom in and see individual textures on skin and hair and feathers, bringing a level of realism to the game that I personally enjoyed.

All of the Latin and Norse mythological references!! As a Latin nerd, I found little gems everywhere in this game. Esp in the names--- (Noctis Lucis Caelum = Of-the-night Sky-of-light (the genitives in there make the literal translation kinda a mouthful ik) Gladiolus Amicitia = Sword-flower Friendship (the gladiolus is an actual flower that gets its name from the Latin word gladius, meaning sword, for its sword-like shape) Ignis Scientia = Fire Knowledge; Prompto Argentum = Ready Silver (the word prompto is actually in the dative (possibly ablative), making the literal translation nonsense, but if they'd made his name Promptus, it would've sounded awkward, so I can see why they picked the dative/ablative form of the adjective for stylistic reasons and I put the rough translation instead)) WOW THAT WAS A LOT OF PARENTHETICAL INFO WHOOPS

Ardyn's character. I'm not saying this bc I'm one of the fans who fawn over him---Ardyn is DEFINITELY NOT MY PREFERRED FLAVOR OF MAN, but character-wise, he made an excellent antagonist. He was witty, slick, and classy in an I'm-gonna-outstep-you-like-it's-hopscotch sorta way. He was a poetic villain done well, which made him an antagonist you could both sympathize for and absolutely detest given the situation. He was both the master manipulator and the pawn one space away from the edge of the board. He can sway a crowd, but you know deep in your gut just by the cunning greed in his eyes that You Cannot Trust The Man. He was definitely Not a good person (tragic backstory isn't an excuse), but he was a good villain.

I loved the bond between the chocobros?? This is probably bc I'm a sucker for the found family trope, but their interactions were so amazing to me?? Like, not even the cutscene stuff. Just their little sidebar conversations during fights or while you're walking around or driving the Regalia. They're Roadtrip Buddies™ and I think that's excellent.

THE FOOD. By god, the food in this game looked absolutely scrumptious and I would like to partake. The Daggerquill Soup? Give it to me I'll pay you. The Creamy Crustacean Omelet? Stop it right now I'll eat that so fast it'll be a criminal offense. Like I know I touched on the graphics earlier, but broski I was not kidding. I guess I know why the game took so long to make it to the market bc the detail that went into these recipes is absolutely mouthwatering.

[chaifootsteps]

I don't really believe Vivzie was a benefit to indie animation at all. She didn't really 'prove it could be done' so much as prove it can be done only through suffering and pain and workplace abuse. Which is a bad precedent and not at all true. Indie animation can be made but it needs to be made ethically. If Hazbin could've only been made under those conditions it would've been better if it was never made at all. It also created a world where every indie project is unfairly compared to Hazbin instead of Hazbin (and Helluva) being treated as outliers instead of the expected. That level of success is not common and treating everything with those standards has damaged more than a few indie projects. The bar is now stupidly high.

Yeah, that's what I mean. She didn't "prove it could be done" so much as sell people the idea that anyone can do what she did, that it's just a matter of having some wacky OCs and getting some people together, when in reality she came from a wealthy enough background to get her started and then made up the rest of the difference by exploiting her workers.

In the long run she did more harm than good because now you've got Lackadaisy and Far-Fetched stressing that no, making an indie cartoon is mad expensive if you're going to do it ethically, and people getting angry at them for it.

Vivzie fed people the easy answers they wanted to hear and the indie animation world will probably take years to recover from that.