#still. could not take away salary and benefits!

[clonerightsagenda]

Saw a (fake) post about someone dating their boss and I know the power dynamics are part of the appeal for many people in employer/employee ships but I have binged too much Ask a Manager to not be concerned by the HR implications. Employer/employee shipfic where the core plotline is restructuring the workplace into a co-op.

[delphi-shield]

— 「 STRICTLY BUSINESS 」 PT 1

Sylus x Reader x MC — 10k

summary: mixed signals are her first language. she strokes her hand down your forearm, laces her fingers with yours and hits you with a one-two punch: "i'm so happy you made it! this is my boyfriend."

content: threesome, piv, pussy inspection, body worship, fem reader, reader is not mc, established relationship (mc & sylus), creampie, unsafe sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism (fantasized), dry humping, miscommunication trope that kind of works out in reader's favor, alcohol consumption, mc is nameless, non-descript, and referred to with she/her. mdni. dividers by @/adornedwithlight

You were on your way out the first time she walked into your bar.

She had come in with a gaggle of other hunters - work friends, you’d learned quickly. Hunters came in all the time. It was just far enough from headquarters that their superiors wouldn’t stop by for a cocktail, just ritzy enough to justify the elevated prices, but not enough to break their budgets. The bartender was a complete madman, but he could make a hell of a signature cocktail. Something pretty enough for a Moments post, but tasty enough to order again and again, and rotated just often enough that there was something new to post when you needed it.

You’d worked there for years - longer than you had ever planned on staying. Cocktail waitressing was supposed to help you get through school. When you had graduated, you’d found yourself struggling. You'd landed a cushy gig in the archives. Zero contact with the general public, great benefits. It was perfect, almost, except for your salary. It would have been enough to live on if you hadn’t been saddled with student loans, suddenly accruing interest again after years. As much as you hadn’t wanted to pick up more work (read: cried into your drink with some friends, lamenting that you weren’t born rich), you wanted to be debt-free more.

It had been easy enough to start picking up a few shifts a week. No need to look around for some place new when your old manager had practically dropped to her knees and wept when you asked if there was any room for you in the schedule again. It was less that you were a world-class server, more that you were consistent. On time, minimal call outs, already knew the ins and outs of the club. The interview was a formality. You filled out your paperwork while she caught you up on the workplace drama. Who broke up, who got together, who finally got fired – important stuff.

The first time you had served her, she had seemed so polite.

Any other time, you would have been happy to have a regular like her. Hunters were usually a mixed bag. Tips were usually good, but they could get rowdy. She kept her more boisterous coworkers in line with an ease you hadn’t expected from her. She was sweet, almost gentle at times - but she curbed bad behavior swiftly. Sometimes through misdirection - her hand on someone’s elbow, nodding along with their joke, effortlessly steering the topic of conversation away from the hot button issue. Sometimes, though, she’d put a stop to things with force.

You still remember the time she’d hefted her friend off of a table, scruffing him by the back of his shirt like a naughty kitten before you’d had the chance to intervene. She’d managed to haul him off of the table top with one arm, muscles flexing underneath her sleeves, steadying the table with her foot.

“No one came here to see you crack your head open,” she started in, shoving him back into his seat. You left long enough to return the mop to the supply closet. When you got back, she was still tearing into him.

It had been such a thorough dressing down that you’d said the only thing you could think of at the time – “yeah, get his ass.”

That had been the first time you had heard her laugh.

Not the sweet, restrained thing you’d heard before, the kind that you had leaned closer to hear more of, but loud and raucous, a snort taking her by surprise. She took the drink you passed her, her shaking shoulders sloshing it from rim to rim, and pressed her laugh to the edge of the glass.

That was when she became your favorite.

It’s mutual, you think. You dove for her table every time she came in. When you didn’t manage to get her right when she walked through the door, she requested you by name. Niceties gave way quickly to small talk, to hushed confessions and secrets exchanged underneath the driving bass of the club’s tracklist.

'Please' and 'thank you', eye contact every time she spoke to you. She laughed at your jokes - a little too long, a little too loud. Was her sense of humor that broken, or was she just dedicated to being kind to service workers?

You live for the moments she walks in the door, for the times that she picks the lint off your black button ups. No judgement, no comment, cleaning up your frayed edges like it was the most natural thing in the world. You start pushing your sleeves up in a bunch, only because after her first drink she will demand you sit next to her. She pushes your sleeves down and rolls them up nicely, takes her time making every fold crisp and presentable. She pats your arm when she's done, smiles sweetly, and turns back to her drink.

You'll catch an earful about playing favorites later. What are they gonna do, fire you? You're on your way out, anyway.

That day is closer than you thought. One sunny weekend, you’d sat at your kitchen table, blearily squinting at your computer. The realization warmed over at the same speed as your breakfast burrito, the microwave blaring as you realize that you’re at the finish line. You click through the pages, searching for anything you missed, any hidden fees or missed payments that would put you back into the hellhole of student loan debt - but there’s nothing. This next payment, and it was really over.

Thank you, scholarships. Thank you, dollar menus. Thank you, pretty hunters who leave fat tips.

You didn’t think twice about putting your notice during your next shift. The late nights after your 9-5 had been getting to you for a while. There was no benefit they could offer, no raise substantial enough to get you to stay. All that was left was to tell the regulars and struggle through your last few shifts.

The temptation to walk out during your last week was almost irresistible. You’d said most of your important goodbyes. There was only her left, your favorite hunter - and lo and behold, she came traipsing in with her usual crew that Wednesday.

You’d intended to tell her straight away, but her friends were rowdy that night. You're sure they'd all want to know thatyour're getting out of here, but the selfish part of you wants her focus. Some drama about protocores and wanderers keeps them chattering. Not your concern. If there’s no immediate threat, most of it goes in one ear and out the other. With no Evol yourself, you left that to the people a little more gifted than you. It was their job to deal with that, and your job to get them drunk so they still showed up to work.

Opportunity presents itself when you're busy collecting their fourth round of drinks. Her friends dart away to the bathroom, stumbling down the stairs, leaning against each other. You stack their orders quickly onto your tray and try not to seem excited when you bounce up the steps to her booth.

She looks up from her phone at the sound of your footsteps. There's a delay in her reaction, smile lagging before she's able to muster it. She sways gently. Definitely drunk, you note.

“It's my last week.” You lower your tray. Her hand stills on the glass before delicately curling around the stem.

Her fingers are slim. Well kept. Short, clean, probably a clear coat of polish if anything. She cradles the martini glass as if you'd offered her a flower.

A rose. No – too much, too forward. Daffodils, maybe. Vibrant, bright - something that could bring her good luck.

“What? That's so exciting!”

She tries to clap, forgetting the glass in her hand. Her manhattan spills against her chest, stains her white shirt. You divert your eyes immediately, pull a clean cloth from your pocket and offer it to her. It takes every effort to stop yourself from dropping next to her and dabbing her chest clean yourself. Not appropriate behavior with a customer, you chide yourself.

"You're kind of a goblin, huh?"

Shit. Neither was that. The words slipped out of your mouth before you could catch them. You kept the grin pinned to your face even as your heart shriveled up in your chest. Oh my god, how could you have said that? She was still a customer. You didn't know her like that.

She blinks at you, lips parted - shock. She's too polite to say anything, but she’ll lodge a complaint with your manager. It shouldn’t matter. This is your last week. You’ve been saying out of pocket shit all week just because you can. But to her, of all people?

"Kind of?" She laughs. She drains her drink and sets it back to the table. You intercept her hand, fingers brushing against hers. She trades you for the cloth and paws at the mess like a little kitten. "It took you this long to figure it out?"

Your shoulders round, grin smoothing into a smile. The tension in your stomach unspools into warm relief.

"You put up a good front. Want another?"

She shakes her head. Her whole body sways with the movement. Hopefully she's got a ride home. Otherwise, you'd be calling her a cab. A pretty girl like her, making her way home on public transit, stumbling every other step, was a recipe for disaster even if she was some kind of ace hunter.

"Nah, I probably shouldn't," she sighs. She lays back into the plush chair, arms splayed over the back, legs kicked out wide. Her head turns to the ceiling, eyes shut. A sigh rolls through her body.

Your eyes scan down her form. Stop, you tell yourself, eyeing the space of her legs, how the width between her knees is the perfect amount of space for you to step into, to kneel down, hands braced against the tops of her thighs.

It's not that sort of club, you chide yourself, eyes sliding back up. A jolt cracks down your spine, aftershocks tingling through your fingertips. Her cheek is cushioned against the back of the seat, eyes low and half-lidded, staring at you. You shift your weight from foot to foot, pretend to be busy wiping the rim of her glass. Your fingers brush against her lipstick print. Don't think about it. Don't think it. Don't–

"When's your last day?" She asks, leaning forward, elbows dropping to her knees. You force yourself to hold her gaze, to keep your eyes averted from the clear view down the front of her stained shirt.

"Friday."

"Two more days! Are you excited?"

I was, you think. You shrug, playing at non-committal detachment.

"It's bittersweet," you finally settle on. It's not a lie. You're excited to move on, excited to leave the late nights, the rowdy patrons, the constant turnover.

But then there were your coworkers. The years of memories. The routine and policy that was ingrained in you, as easy as breathing.

There was her. Her smile, her laugh hidden behind her hand, the brush of her fingers when you passed her a drink.There were the fleeting touches that you convince yourself you imagined when you were alone in your bed, sheets tangled in your legs. You’d stare at the ceiling, pet the empty space next to you, imagine her tucked under your arm and snoozing peacefully against your chest. How long will she stay in your memory? How long til her edges bleed into something formless? Til you no longer imagine her, or someone in her shape, or anyone at all, til you’re staring up at the ceiling alone again.

She falls quiet. You imagine it, you're sure, the way that her eyes rove up and down your body, the way they flit back to your eyes. Locked on, target sighted -- one shot from those fancy hunter pistols and you're done for.

"You're my favorite," she says, voice approaching a whine. Her head tips back, delicate column of her throat bared to you.

You laugh, a little too late to be natural. You swipe your thumb – the same one that had smudged the lipstick from her glass – against your bottom lip.

“Want the scoop on the other servers so you can pick your new favorite?”

She shakes her head, her brow furrowing.

“No. I want you.”

Heaviness settles between you. Your fingers twitch towards her. You flatten your palm against your hip. The music fades as the track blends to something slower, softer, and you realize at once that the thrumming in your chest isn’t the beat, it’s your heart, hard and fast and pounding in your ears.

“Really?” You try to whip the heaviness to something lighter, offer her a dollop of levity. “You don’t want the gossip?”

Her silence stretches on. She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. A burst of movement and she fishes out a scrap of paper, struggles to find a pen.

“I know you’re not supposed to,” she says, already waving away the company line before you can draw it between you. She scratches the dry pen against the paper again and again, crumpling it until the ink flows. “But if my number just happens to wind up in your pocket, then I guess I was just a patron who had a little too much. And when you don’t work here anymore…”

She tucks her number into your pants pocket, fingers pressing flat against your thighs. Your heart is in your throat. If you try to speak, you’re certain she’ll hear it, loud, beating for her.

“You keep trying to get me fired right up until the end.”

It takes you until Monday to text her.

You have no excuse. Your weekend was unhurried. You'd barely left the house, spent your time turning her words over and over in your head in between housework and intermittent naps. Text her. Don't text her. It's wrong, it's right - do you even want to? Do you like her, or do you like being seen? You don't know her. Not really.

But isn't this part of the knowing, though? This awful in-between, hanging in limbo, getting tossed around on the wash cycle.

You type out a hundred drafts and delete every single one. She was drunk when she gave this out. You should have just texted her after that shift to check if she got home okay. That would have been what a better woman would have done, a woman that could match her step for step.

It's too late now. You're not self-sabotaging, you're just being honest with yourself. There's a difference.

Monday rolls around and you find yourself drafting out your 101st message in between synchronizing old archived files with the city’s new database. Your eyes flit from the screen, the progress bar creeping up torturously slow, to the flicker of your cursor at the end of your latest drafted message.

Fuck it. Why not.

hey. it's your favorite waitress. is this weird? lol

Regret punches into your stomach the moment that you hit send. You stare at the faint 'Delivered' status and grimace. Definitely weird. All that time and that was what you ended up with? God, you didn't even put your name in the message. She probably thinks some rando is texting her, creeping –

She read it. She's typing.

You lock your phone immediately and click around pointlessly on your computer. Open email. Close email. Refresh. Log into the old archives. Click around through the years. Nod along sagely as your eyes glaze over some old police report. Yes, of course. Evol records. Traffic reports for 8th Avenue. Mhm.

The light flickers, message preview lighting up the screen. You drop your head into your hands, more than prepared to just delete the number and forget this ever happened. You snatch your phone up, dread weighing your movements down.

I was wondering when you would text! Saving your number right now.

What are you doing?

Huh. You hadn't seen that one coming. It only takes you a handful of drafts to respond this time. You're both at work - shocking, you had commented. You thought that hunters would be too busy to play on their phones. Turns out there's more desk work involved than you imagined.

The ease you felt in person weaved quickly between your texts, even when the demands of the day pulled you both away. By the end of the day, you'd made plans to meet up with her for drinks later in the week. Some great place she knows, a real hidden gem.

The conversation tapered off naturally, and you found yourself swiping up to reread your messages. You're smiling at your phone like a teenager. Embarrassment cold clocks you. You focus up, tucking your phone into your desk drawer to try to focus.

You’re on cloud nine for the rest of the work day, humming to yourself, tapping out a rhythm against your desk while the system takes forever to process basic search requests. By the end of the day, you’re still bubbly. You bounce into the break room to collect your lunch box.

Even the sight of Inspector Devon’s scowling mug doesn’t ruin your day. He’s just clocked back in, you’re sure. A whole half shift to go, finding minor infractions to meet his quota.

"What's got you all," he waves a hand up and down the length of you, nose crinkling, "giddy?"

"Can't I be happy?"

"No. It's creepy."

You roll your eyes and brush by him, out the door. Nothing could ruin this.

You stare down at the text on your phone, brow pinched.

We’re at the bar! Excited to see you. Punctuated with a little crow emoji waving at you through the screen.

You should have just asked. You should have made sure this was a date, not just expected it to be one. Now, standing outside the club, you feel like a kid playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes.

You'd gone all out. Wore your favorite outfit, fixed your face up, the whole nine yards. Now it feels like too much. The jewelry is too heavy, makeup caked on too thick. You're acutely aware of every place your outfit fails to hide your flaws. The pinch of your heels is suddenly unbearable.

You had showed up on time - not early, not late, 9 PM on the dot. Disappointment stings the fresh edges of rejection. You did this to yourself. You know that. It's no one's fault but your own.

You force yourself to move, one step at a time. It can still be fun, you tell yourself, deleting the draft you had typed out that claimed some mysterious stomach virus had struck you down. You can stockholm yourself into having a good time. Your life is different now. You're different. You send back a perfunct ‘omw in’ and force yourself through the doors.

The place is packed. It's far larger than your old workplace. Less private booths, more tall tables and standing room, crowded dance floor and driving bass that propels your every step forward. Couches dot back end of the room, fitted neatly into recessed conversation dens. That’s going to be filthy, you think. The clientele skews older. One glance at the bar has you realizing you’re far out of your price point.

You peer past glittery dresses and designer shirts, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet for a glimpse of her. You expected her to be with her hunter friends, but she's posted up at the bar, leaning close to some man. None of her usual crew is to he found.

He's tall - silver hair, angular features, outfit that screams ‘I have money’. More importantly, he has all her attention. Through the crush of bodies, you see her hand rest against his knee.

You divert your attention immediately, ignoring the spike of jealousy. She takes a long sip of her cocktail - a Manhattan again, you might have guessed - and that's when she spots you.

Her face lights up. Your smile is gentle, dim in the shadow of her own glow. She pushes her drink into the man's hand and weaves her way over to you.

"You made it!" She cheers, her hands sliding from your elbows to your wrists. Your heart flutters. You try to sear the touch into your memory. "I'm so happy you're here. C’mon - you have to meet my boyfriend."

Her boyfriend. There goes that. You take some solace in the idea that she wants to introduce you to her boyfriend. What you’d hoped for is out of reach, but you can still find friendship here.

"This place is great," you lie.

She says something under the cover of the music that you don’t catch. You lean close, cupping a hand over your ear, and you still don’t catch it on the repeat. Sure. Smile and nod, and that's enough to get her pulling you back to the bar. The people part for her, like they know better than to stand in her path

The man – her boyfriend, you correct – turns, hands her drink back. He looks you up and down, opens his mouth, and she cuts him off.

“This is Sylus,” she says, hopping up into the seat next to the tall man again. There's something unspoken in his gaze, the way his eyes cut to hers, the sly twist to her smile when she ignores him. She introduces you quickly. You smile, wave, go through the motions of small talk. Whatever that was, you're not getting into it.

She leans over the bar, flags down the bartender to get you a drink. It goes on his tab. Sylus keeps watching you from the corner of his eye. He probably knows you’re into his girl, can smell it on you. She's plucked herself in between the two of you, and every time you find yourself staring at her, Sylus’ cold gaze cautions you to cast your own out to the dance floor.

Their back and forth is easy. Your heart aches, but you laugh along with jokes that you lack context for, pretend you don't see the easy touches he presses to her waist. He's not being cold, you know that. You're hyper-aware, analyzing every tiny movement, looking for a reason to call it quits. Your little rabbit heart wasn't built for this.

When she flutters away to the bathroom, she trails her hand along your back so gently that you want to believe it was intentional. Your heart plummets into your stomach. It's a miracle it doesn't just fall out your ass.

Silence stretches between you as far as it can in a nightclub. You flash Sylus a smile. It goes unreciprocated. You drain your drink instead, set it back to the bar.

How do you make a swift exit? How do you get out of this and preserve your friendship with her? You map out escape routes in your mind. You’re mentally half-way out the fire exit when the bartender drops another drink off in front of you.

"You didn't have to do that," you say, cradling your drink close, both hands clasped around the lowball glass.

"That's a funny way to say ‘thank you’.”

Real charmer, this guy. You swallow a mouthful with a swing of our head, let the whiskey burn down your throat. You were just going to assume that was his attempt at teasing. Good will goes a long way.

“Are you a hunter, too, or–”

“No.”

You nod. “Cool. Me either.”

“What is it that you do?”

“I work for the city.” You wave your hand nebulously in the air. Another long drink. “Back in the archives. I’m a ‘Data Steward’. Basically just means I handle information requests and deal with the record management.”

Sylus appraises you for a moment, carmine eyes tracing your expression, stalling on your lips. Whatever he finds, he seems to accept. He smirks - the first sign of warmth you’ve seen from him aside from the drinks you keep draining.

He leans forward, the gap where she had been diminishing. The timbre of his voice undercuts the music, reaches your ears in a way that makes you shudder. “You must have quite the security clearance.”

You laugh, push your empty glass back. Sylus raises a hand. It's removed swiftly.

“Background checks are a cakewalk. I’m super boring.”

A look flickers across Sylus’ face. Amusement, you think. You'd seen the same look when she had made a joke, thought it was disdain at first.

“And what does someone who's ‘super boring’ do for fun?” He casts his gaze around the club. Your eyes linger on the slope of his nose. “Not this, clearly.”

Wherever that line of questioning was going, you never find out. Warmth and weight presses against your back. Her perfume envelops you - sweet up front, just short of cloying, cut with a spice underneath those layers. Your hunter is back, her arms draping around your neck. You twist to see her. It takes everything in you to keep your hands on the bar in front of you.

"Dance with me," she demands, her hand finding its way to yours. She tugs you up and off your stool before you can compose a denial.

Your eyes flit to Sylus, wide and worried. He only sips at his drink, gaze focused on you. You don't know if he nodded to the dance floor or if you invented the movement in your memory to assuage the guilt.

The guilt doesn't last long. She has an incredible ability to wipe your mind the moment it’s the two of you. She twirls out of your reach, leaves you stumbling after her, and laughter comes easy afterward. You've never heard any of these songs in your life, but she dances as if every one of them is her favorite. Her joy is just as infectious as her laugh, her smile. If you make a fool of yourself, she doesn't let you feel it.

Affection worms its way between your ribs, wraps around your heart and squeezes. She grabs your hand on the up tempo, raises it high - you get the memo and keep it held there, let her do a pretty little spin that sends her reeling into your chest. You giggle, stumble back onto your heel. You brace her with hands poised on her hips, and she meets your eyes, so close, so warm.

The club dances on around you, bass a driving heartbeat that the patrons pulse to, but you're suspended with her. It happens in an instant. She moves to kiss you and you surge forward to meet her.

The first pass is clumsy. Your enthusiasm crashes your noses together awkwardly. Her lips are soft against yours. She laughs into your kiss, effortlessly shifting to align with you. She raises your hand again, demanding another spin. You give it to her - of course you do - but you're chasing after her kiss, leaning after her.

She’s at the end of your reach, clinging to your fingertips, when reality slams back into motion. Your muscles seize. The graceful, flowing way you had reeled her in turns stiff, elbow locked tugging her back. Your breath barely squeaks past the lump that’s wedged into your throat.

She's still laughing, radiant and shining under the pulsing club lights. Your hands brace on her shoulder. Confusion pushes the happiness in her eyes to the side. She tries to curl against your chest again, and you take a step back, this time without her.

"I'm sorry," you say in a rush. “I didn’t mean to – I shouldn’t have.”

Her boyfriend is going to kill you. You don’t know how he’s going to do it, but you know that it’s going to hurt. They’re going to bring your family in to ID your body and they’re going to shrug and say ‘this could be anyone. I’m not convinced you’re not just showing me a pile of ground beef.’

“No, I liked it,” she insists. “You can do it again.”

“I can’t.”

“Please?”

Your mouth works around syllables that stay inside your mind. What the fuck kind of world did you wake up in? Is this a protofield? Are you in a coma? You thumb towards Sylus over your shoulder, only managing to produce a singular, confused noise.

Her foot wedges between your legs, body pressing against yours. “It’s okay.”

That does not help. Your hands hover over her hips, fingers flexing in the air, so close to touching her, restraint held by a thread. If your hands land on her again, you don’t know if you’ll push her away or pull her close. What the fuck is going on?

A big palm settles at your hip. You jolt, reeling back into a broad chest. Sylus peers down his nose at you, hand tightening to keep you upright. This is the end, you think, while he sets you steady.

“You're staring,” he drawls. You haven't figured that expression out yet. Right now, they all mean death. “What? Do you want to spin, too?”

 His hand slides slowly, purposefully, along the small of your back. He steadies you there, thumb arching across the cheap material of your dress. You’re wedged firmly between them, snared between a snake that winds and writhes against you and one that keeps you still, binds your movements with a single touch.

The pieces click into place, an audible snap accented by your head whipping between both of them.

“This is, like, a thing?” You blurt out, index finger drawing a line between the three of you, wagging back and forth until she snares your finger in her hand.

She nods, confusion in her expression smoothing. Sylus smirks, his brows raised. He guides you from the dance floor with the mere suggestion of a touch, a barely there pressure at your side.

“You didn’t tell her?” He drawls, amusement dripping from every syllable.

“I thought she knew!”

You can imagine the way she might have stomped her foot if not for her heels. The world is spinning. Did you just get unicorn hunted? How the fuck did you get yourself into this situation.

“Why would I know that?”

She flounders for an answer. “I talked about my boyfriend all the time.”

“You said ‘partner’.”

“Same thing.”

“Not when you’re a hunter.”

“Are you upset?”

Yes. Of course you are. You’re completely blindsided. She could have at least given you a heads up, dropped some hints. You probably still would have said yes.

Your jaw works, grinding your sharp, pointed words down to dull, harmless things.

“No. I’m just confused."

Her hands circle your wrists. Sylus’ heat disappears from your back. He slips away, barely tracked in your peripheral. The squeeze of her hands brings you back, calluses dragging against your soft skin.

“I should have said something.”

Yes, you think, you should have. But she’s giving you those puppy eyes, big and round, the same kind that she would flash whenever she spilled a drink, when she knew you would have to clean the mess. You bite your tongue. You can’t fall for this forever.

“Yeah, you should have.” There you go. Your spine grew three sizes today. “I still had fun.”

Forget it. Your spine is collapsible. You can hear your own vertebrae collapsing into themselves, hollow thunk-thunk-thunk every time she bats her eyes.

Sylus manifests from the depths of the club, your coat slung over his shoulder. He stretches his arm out to her, welcomes her back with that simple unspoken invitation. She fits against him snugly, like she was molded for him. He reaches up, brushes her hair back from her face gingerly - the sort of care that you hadn't expected from him, that had been absent in his evaluating gaze earlier.

"Ready to go, kitten?"

There’s the escape route. She hesitates, her eyes drifting back to you. It's her pout that does you in, perfect glossy lips pursed, her lipstick only faintly smudged. (Is it pressed to the corner of your mouth, you hope.)

"Do you want to come back to my place?" She asks, voice somewhere between hopeful and hesitant. Sylus' hand squeezes her hip. She clarifies, rolling her eyes. "With both of us."

You can think of a hundred reasons to say no. This isn't good for your heart. You know it isn't. It will hurt, and you will be just as alone as you started.

"Yeah," you say. Sylus swings your coat off of his shoulder, offering it out to you. You shrug it on, noting that he has both of your purses tucked under his arm. You fumble with your coat, hand getting caught in the sleeve. You flap it aggressively until your hand pops free. Sylus snorts, but she laughs. "Sounds fun."

Her place is everything that you expected. Clean, comfortable, modern. She wobbles out of her heels the moment the door shuts. Sylus is faster than you, catches her elbow to steady her before your hand can slide to her back. You avoid his eyes, feign interest in the decor instead.

She tugs you down onto her couch the moment your coat is off. Her eyes are bright, smile wide, laugh loud. You crash down onto the seat next to her. An old classic – flop carelessly, end up closer than normal. Your shoulder brushes against hers. She doesn't even bother to play coy. She leans against your side, kicks her legs over the arm of her couch.

Sylus strides through her apartment, clearly comfortable. Glasses clink faintly in the kitchen, background noise to the idle conversation that falls so naturally from her. He passes her a water first, then inclines his head to you, wiggling the glass in his other hand back and forth faintly. You take it from him. It’s nearly impossible to avoid brushing his hand when it nearly wraps all the way around.

He makes his way around her apartment like he lives here. Does he? You look around as subtly as you can.

Not that it matters. She's chatting happily to you about the evening - the music was great, wasn't it? Yeah, it was great. Could that shoe rack fit Sylus' shoes? No way. If it would, if he was accustomed to that kind of domesticity, he would have put them there instead of lining them up neatly by the door. You had kicked yours off haphazardly, stumbled into the room after her. Decorum was a second thought when you were with her. Was the sharp scent of leather polish swept in by Sylus, or had it been soaked into her apartment, tucked away neatly in a drawer next to her things?

“Yes, oh my god, that guy was so wasted.” You parrot his drunken babble back to her in your best impression of the man from the club, and she cackles. Her hand slaps over her mouth. You're grinning toothily, eyes pressed to crescents. How do you get her to laugh like that again? You could spend the rest of your life trying to pull that sound from her lips.

Sylus drops next to you, thigh brushing against yours. The same move you'd just used on his girlfriend. His arm stretches along the back of the couch, curls behind both of you. He nurses a whiskey in his other hand - the first drink you’ve seen him have all night, you realize.

You don’t remember when conversation was exchanged for kisses. You don’t even remember who touched you first. She pulled you into her by the front of your dress, sucked your bottom lip into her mouth, and who were you to relent? You kissed your way down her body, hands bunching her dress up to her hips. Sylus had positioned your legs in his lap, hand stroking your ankle while he finished his drink.

You’re mouthing at her through her panties when his grip shifts. The only warning he gave was the clink of his glass settling against the side table. His hands slide to your hips, rucking your dress up along the way, and he flips you in one smooth motion. Static fizzes through your spine - excitement, arousal, shock. Probably all three. Your back is pressed to her stomach, head pillowed between her breasts.

Sylus leans forward. You lift your chin, angle to receive his kiss, and it never comes. She leans forward to receive him instead. The press of them, so close, so intimate, and still so far away, is maddening. Your breath quickens. You’d never expected Sylus to moan like that, but he’s unabashed in his pleasure.

He rolls your dress up further, and you lift your arms obediently once their kiss breaks. Don’t even have to be told - aren’t you good?

She thinks so. She tells you so when she presses a kiss behind your ear, when her hands push at your shoulders and guide you to lay back against her.

Your cheek presses against the plush of her thighs. You nuzzle against her skin, stretch like a pampered cat and press your nose to the point of her hip, breathing deep. Your face could be buried in her syrupy cunt if the hands bracing your cheeks and pinning your hips didn't keep you from turning over. Mean, you think. It's the last thought you plan to have for a while.

There's some murmur happening above you - a conversation about logistics, about the height of your hips, whether your breasts should be bare or restrained by your bra.

“It doesn’t matter to me, kitten.” Words like honey, drizzling lazily down to your ears. “This is your show.”

You preen. You're the pretty little bauble, all dressed down for her amusement. She strokes the back of her fingers against your tummy and huffs. It's not fair; even her grumbling is pretty. Her bottom lip juts out and you can imagine running your tongue along it, suckling gently. How soft her skin, how sweet her taste. Her hands travel down your skin, skating over the planes of your ribs, curling upwards to press your breasts together. She hums. Her brow furrows. You arch your back, mold yourself into the shape of desire.

A hand slides up the valley of your breasts, backs of her fingers dragging. She catches your chin with her knuckle, urges you to tilt your head up to her.

You can't imagine what you must look like, so you picture the roles reversed instead. She'd look just as good lying in your lap as she does looking down her nose at you. Your nipples peak, press against the cups of your bra and fuck, you must be hot if you can feel that, if every breath has you tingling for more.

"Off," she says with a determined nod. She smiles down at you, turns her hand to cup your chin. You lower your head to her touch instantly, all but purring.

If Sylus cares one way or the other, he gives no indication. He presses the small of your back, urges you to keep arching. His warmth surprises you. You’d expected him to run cold, expected his long fingers to dot your skin with goosebumps. There’s no caress to his touch (not like when he touches her, fingers drifting down her skin, stroking, circling, ever present. You could watch him pet her for hours. In your mind, she bends into his hands. You bend the same way, wonder if it will turn his touch gentle, but it’s–) just efficiency. 

His eyes trail a cold path down the curve of your body, knuckles trailing along your spine until they catch the clasp of your bra. He strokes along the band, assessing the way it sits, counts the hook and eye closures with a swipe of his thumb, and then it’s undone. 

Her hands slide down your shoulders, tidal in their movements. Down, up, down, so steadily you barely realize that she's slipping the straps from your shoulders. She presses open-mouthed kisses down your neck. She paws at your chest, revealing your breasts as if they were works of art, a statue unveiled for the very first time.

Her kisses stop. She hooks her chin over your shoulder, cheek resting against your own. She sighs, her chest pressing against your back, and you find yourself mimicking the movement. Breath flows out of her and into you. She gazes down at your body from the same angle that you do every day.

You squirm as the thought truly cements. You know what she sees. Every angle, every curve and roll, all of the parts that you have fixated on and pinched at, pleaded for to smooth away, to become a firm plane of muscle not unlike the ones that lay behind her clothes.

But she runs her hands down the soft angle of your ribs, the curve of your waist, finally settling at your hips. She noses into the crook of your neck and squeezes.

"You're so soft," she says, words pressed into your skin -- flowers for the artist. You shift in her grip, trying to squirm from her grasp. It's too much attention, too vulnerable, but she grumbles. "So pretty. Look–"

She runs the backs of her fingers from your hips up to your waist. She kneads another palmful of your flesh reverently. Her breath is warm against your neck when she moans, but it sends a chill across your skin, a frigid anticipation. Your head knocks back against her shoulder.

Your eyes close. The comfort of her presence and praise lulls you to a space you’d never felt before, your body melting against her frame. Sylus’ weight is a welcome surprise. He grips your ankle tenderly, position your legs wider, and lays himself in that space, and–

What the fuck. You nearly choke.

You wish his dick wasn't big. Not because it doesn't make your mouth water, not because you can feel yourself clenching at the feel of it against your clothed cunt, but because you don't want his ego to be justified. He chuckles at your little noise, at the restrained pulse of your hips against his. He presses against you fully when he leans up to kiss her and you feel it against your core, hard in his pants. You can imagine the tip, glistening, dripping, wetting the front of his boxers, can imagine it slapping against his stomach when you dip your fingers into the waist of his pants and tug them down.

Your throat tightens, heart hammering against your ribs. His hips shift against yours and you whine like a bitch in heat. You’re torn between the need to press your hips up to meet his and the paralyzing instinct to remain still, to savor every movement. This is meant for her, you know it is, but if you lay still then you can pretend. Your body can be her proxy. He can rut against you until he spills himself on your stomach. She can admire his cum against you skin, swipe it onto a finger, lick it clean and then press her finger into your mouth, let you swirl your tongue amidst the remnants of her spit and his spend, swallow down only the traces of them.

A big hand curls around your rib cage, fingers flexing into the gaps, thumb tucked under the swell of your breast. He could squeeze, cave your chest in, and it might feel like relief. Any touch is relief, even if you want his hand to slide around to your front, his big palms rolling and squeezing your breasts together. You want his tongue running over them, teeth nipping, lips sucking, marking.

Instead, he pulls you up, makes you roll into the movement you’ve tried so desperately to restrain. Your resolve is broken easily. You rock into him again and again, whimpering, desperate for anything they will give you. Her hands slide between your bodies, squeezing your tits hard. Your clit throbs. Desperate and whining, you grind yourself into him, savor every controlled roll of his hips.

He pulls back from her and his hands slide down your body. Long fingers hook into your panties, dropping them down to your knees.

Sylus doesn't move until her hands press at his shoulders. You exchange a look with him, and the unspoken is agreed upon. It's not your pleasure - it's hers.

You thought you were ready. You thought he'd reach down, undo his belt (one hand, you imagine, practiced) and get to work.

Instead, he slips down your body, hands braced on your hips. His thumbs press the point of your hips, and a spark of pleasure ignites the kindling piled in your stomach, sends you squirming. He braces himself on his elbows, lowers his face to your cunt. His breath fans against you, thumbs massaging your skin.

"Wait–" you blurt out. You could kick yourself. You free your hand from her grasp and push weakly at Sylus’ shoulder.

His eyes cut up to you immediately. The sight is enough to make your insides squirm, breath evaporating from your lungs. What kind of idiot were you to stop this?  His hands loosen. For the first time the entire night, he's truly looking at you as if she isn't there. Sylus waits for you to continue. When you don’t, he draws himself up to his elbows.

"No?" He arches a brow. His hands slip from your skin, palms laying flat by your side instead.

Your mouth runs dry. Embarrassment heats your face. You hold his gaze.

"It's too..."

Too intimate. Too much. I don't know you like that.

Sylus seems to get the message. He shuffles back, sits on his heels. His hands come back to your skin, splayed against your thighs this time. There’s no pressure in his touch. When you knock your knees together, suddenly struck by the awareness of how bare you are, spread out in front of him, he lets you.

“We can still – other stuff,” you stammer out.

“Be more clear,” Sylus instructs.

Your breath comes out in a whistle, and the words that follow are a ten car pileup.

"You can fuck me. Like, with your dick. Or something."

The irony isn't lost on you. You won't let him put his mouth on you, but his cock will do. You're fairly certain that the quick exhale from behind you was her attempt to stifle a laugh. You turn your head away from his gaze. Too intense. Too much.

"Is that what you want?"

Your tongue is heavy and thick in your mouth, words failing you.

"I don't not want that."

He clicks his tongue. Admonishment, a quick flash of shame shooting up the column of your spine.

"Not good enough."

His hands withdraw from your skin, touch dragged away. You force your eyes back to him.

"Wait, no - I want it," you say quickly, stumbling over yourself to claw him back to you. "Please. I really want it."

The corner of his lip quirks. His eyes raise back to her, and suddenly you can breathe again. You knock your head back against her chest, rolling to settle against her tits. In your relief, you miss their silent exchange.

It doesn't take you long to piece together what's going on. She leans away, slides a drawer open, and passes Sylus a bottle of lube over your body.

“Is that necessary?”

Sylus snorts. "If you're not going to let me prepare you my way, then yes. It is."

Truly, you wish you could call his bluff, but you'd felt him against you mere minutes earlier.

He shakes the bottle in one hand, the other sliding to press against the inside of your knee. It's a suggestion for the moment, but you feel the strength behind his touch. You part your legs again after a moment's hesitation. Nerves flutter back into your chest.

He huffs. You think that might be the closest he gets to laughing.

"You'll need to be wider than that," he points out.

Her hands shift from their hold on your waist, sliding down your body and smoothing over the softness of your inner thighs. She presses you wider for him gradually.  Her mouth catches your earlobe, teeth scraping gently.

"You're going to feel so good," she promises. She could tell you anything in that voice and you would believe her, but this time it takes effort. "Can he use his fingers?"

You nod. Her teeth snag against your skin, and you inhale ragged.

"Can you tell him?" She says. If she asks it of you, then why not?

"You can- you can touch," you manage. She kisses beneath your ear, whispers for you to be more clear, to tell him how. "You can finger me."

The heat in your face is nothing compared to the pulse of your cunt. You twist to bury your face in her shoulder, embarrassed and certain that he can feel the heat fanning from you in waves.

His touch is slow, searing. His fingers stroke down your thigh. His touch hovers, and then he's palming your pussy. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit. You press back into her arms, head rolling. You mouth needily at her neck, desperate to keep your noises at bay.

Sylus drags his fingers through the mess of your cunt, slow, testing strokes. One long finger teases your entrance, lazy circles drawn against your sensitive skin.

His press is gentle. First knuckle, second knuckle – fuck, his fingers are thick. You'd admired his hands all night, spent time chasing away thoughts of sucking them, but now they're pressed inside you,

"Don't hold your breath," she instructs. Your exhale comes out in a needy, pitiful whine. She's grinning, you're sure of it, but Sylus withdraws his finger to add a second and that thought is quickly discarded for the thrill of this new stretch.

Slow and easy breaks to hard and driving the moment he pulls a shattered moan from you. You writhe as he hits the same spot again and again, callused fingers brushing and hooking against the perfect spot. Heat pools in your limbs, toes curling with every press of his fingers.

And then it’s gone. The heat dissipates, embers still burning in your veins. You clench around nothing, body struggling with the absence. Your chest heaves. You force your eyes open and you’re transfixed by the sight of Sylus stroking himself. It’s lube, you tell yourself, but god you wish that slick on his cock was you instead.

He drags his glistening tip through your folds, nudging your clit. You shift to meet him, struggling to find your timing in the haze of lost pleasure. Your knee presses against the back of the couch, desperate to welcome him back to you.

Sylus presses himself to your soaked entrance. He plants a hand by your hip, reaches past you with the other. Her hand tangles with his, their fingers intertwining against your stomach.

His fingers were nothing compared to his cock. The first thrust leaves you gasping against her shoulder, hand clawing at his back. The stretch fades to pleasure when his hips draw back and press deeper, his pace driving you back into her body.

Every time you think he’s bottomed out, he stretches you deeper. Those careful, slow thrusts with his fingers weren’t courtesy, they were reconnaissance. You choke on your moans. Her hand grips your jaw, directs you to kiss her, to pour your sounds into her while he pounds into your cunt. Her perfume mixes with his cologne, some heady concoction that will have you wet at the very trace of it in the future.

There’s no time to figure out how much of him you’ve taken, how much is left, how much could possibly fit. Their hands press against your stomach. You clench around him. Pleasure floods through you, pries free a cry that sharpens to a sob when she wedges her hand between you, two fingers rubbing your clit. He kisses you hard, teeth clacking against yours, his hips snapping. You can’t close your mouth and that’s perfect for him, his tongue delving past your lips, brushing pants yours. All you can do is moan into him.

Her fingers keep circling, circling, harder and harder, your clit throbbing, pleasure needling through your limbs. Your hands flex, toes curling - and then your knees snap closed, press hard against him, the dam breaking, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Your vision tears. Pleasure and sheer sensation sweep you away, leave you babbling and writhing.You’re pulsing around him, hands roving between her and him, unsure of who to cling to, who to claw at, who can catch you while you tumble. Sylus’ arm wraps firmly around your waist, drags up flush to his hips and keeps you pinned there. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, throaty groan rumbling from his chest. His thrusts are quick and deep, prolonging your pleasure until it verges on painful sensitivity.

His cock jerks. He presses himself deeply into you, fully seated when he cums. She surges forward to kiss him, to swallow all those pretty moans he had been panting into your skin, folding you to a new angle that makes you gasp and shudder.

Your body is a heartbeat. You’re boneless in their grip, at their mercy. Your eyes flutter shut when Sylus finally stills inside you, when his hips stop fucking his cum deeper. Her hand draws away from your over-sensitive clit, petting your sides gently. They talk, a quiet murmur over your body that you can’t be bothered to parse.

It’s not for you. Even with your brains liquefied, you have enough sense to know that.

Sylus draws himself from you, and it feels like a loss. You curl into her chest instead, movements heavy and sluggish. She strokes your hair back from your face, neatly arranges the mess they’ve made of you as she lays you back against the cushions.

Sleep would have taken you immediately if it weren’t for her probing touch.

Her fingers drift across your sensitive folds, two fingers parting your labia. Heat sears your skin, embarrassment a flash fire sparked from the dull embers of your orgasm. You’re too sensitive for her curiosity. The pad of her thumb drags against the sore hood of your clit and you turn your head the side, wounded noise locked obediently behind your teeth.

Sylus snares her wrist in a loose hold. His thumb traces her pulse point.

“Give her a rest, sweetie,” he says with all the admonishment of a parent telling his daughter to put away her toys.

Her gaze is stuck on you, watching his cum drip out of you. How can you feel equal parts adored and objectified? 

She sighs dreamily and rises to her knees. You give in, your eyes too heavy to keep open any longer. She leans over you, kisses your forehead and says, “did you have fun?”

You wake to the sound of a shower. You blink yourself to consciousness and find yourself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. The lights are warm. The blanket over you is soft, the scent pressed into the weave familiar but not your own. It takes a moment for the recognition to set in, and when it does so does the ache in your muscles.

One deep breath expands your ribs, highlights the muscles in your back you'd pulled, the fingerprints against your ribs, the soreness in your breasts. Your lips are swollen and raw, kissed to the point of pain, and your mouth has run dry. Your hand slips from your stomach, fumbles around aimlessly for your phone. It's habit, not logic. Of course it isn't there. This isn't your home, and you didn't leave it on the table. It's probably still tucked away in your purse, dead or dying.

Trying to sit up is a mistake. You feel it in you core, in your hips. Were you out of shape, or had it just been a while?

Who were you kidding. Probably both.

You squint around the room, waiting for the bleariness in your eyes to clear. Your knees wobble when you trust your weight to them. You hunch over the plush couch, take a moment to right yourself.

"I thought you'd sleep much longer than that," Sylus says, sipping at a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

You jump, grumble a quiet 'shit' under your breath. He'd been there the whole time, surely. His hair is damp, water dripping off the ends and onto a soft towel wrapped around his shoulders.

You stall in the entryway, twisting this way and that, arms stretched high over your head, then down to your toes. You regret every movement, muscles screaming at you to give it a rest.

"I don't sleep well in new places," you admit.

"Neither do I," he notes. You believe it. He seems the paranoid sort.

You'd seen his type before, the kind that scanned every corner for threats. Usually, it was a show - jumpy men scared of shadows, masking their fear with proactive aggression. You weren't so sure about him. Same song, different key.

He doesn't look up from his reading. You assume he's done with you for the moment. Not the first time someone's treated you coldly after having their dick in you, but this time it stings. You pin it on the aches and pains again, brush it off, and fish your phone out of your pocket.

4:47 AM. 6% battery.

“Shit,” you murmur. You turn it off and press a knuckle between your eyes, massaging the tension out. You would ask her if you could borrow her charger once she was out of the shower. You could call a cab, or at least map out the walk home. You'd been so blinded by her the entire drive that you weren't even sure what part of the city you were in.

"Did you need a ride home?"

It's like he's a mind-reader. That's the generous interpretation of that statement, at least. The reality is he probably just wants you out of his girlfriend's apartment.

You smile tightly and shuffle your purse onto your shoulder.

"You don't have to do that. I can walk, or I'll get a ride."

He looks up, eyes dark under the ridge of his brow.

"I'll give you a ride."

That didn't sound like there was room for argument. You stuff it down, fidgeting from side to side.

"Okay. Sure."

Her shower is still running. You hesitate only for a moment. Sylus is paused at the door, keys in hand. Not the kind of man you keep waiting. You would call her tomorrow. Maybe then you could figure out what all of this was - if it was anything at all.

The ride home is nearly silent. You’re not sure what you expected. You’re not sure why you expected anything at all. You don’t take it to heart. It’s not your first awkward car ride home after getting your brains fucked out.

Sylus has the decency to wait for you to wobble to your door, unlock it, and get inside before he drives away. That’s nice, at least. You leave a trail of your belongings back to your bedroom, too tired to do much of anything other than flop down face first on your bed. The stickiness between your thighs demands attention, however, and you treat yourself to a five minute shower.

The night replays in your mind as you wash it off. Their hands on you, their mouths - their eyes looking past you, towards each other.

You shut the water off. No more of that. You’ve tortured yourself enough tonight. You stumble through the halls of your apartment. The beginnings of the sunrise glow through the dark of night. You draw your curtains closed.

When you lay back in your bed, body aching, blood pulsing through the marks they had left on your skin, you realize that you are still alone.

[seramilla]

So human AU it's been a while since Sera and Emily has moved in with Carmilla permanently and things are going well and stable. Sera one day gets told that due to the change in living arrangements Emily is no longer eligible for the scholarships and other financial aid. Sera of course is silently panicking while Carmilla pays her pretty well and she doesn't have many expensives due to living with Carmilla the private school the girls go to isn't cheap and Sera isn't sure she can handle it all. Carmilla notices Sera quietly panicking and goes over to see what happened she finds the letter and reads it and is both unsurprised and unconcerned she can easily afford to pay and feels it's fair someone else can benefit now that Emily doesn't need it. then she notices Sera's worry and realizes her girlfriend hasn't considered asking Carmilla for help and is currently trying to figure out how to pay the tuition and other costs. Carmilla takes the letter from Sera and tells her not to worry about things like this and that they are a team now and she can handle it. Surprisingly Sera doesn't fight this as she is slowly getting to a point where she can rely on others or at least Carmilla.

Sera opens and reads the letter with a look of abject horror on her face.

Initially, she doesn't realize what it's for. She hasn't received official mail from the girls' private academy for months, so when the letterhead of the school is displayed prominently at the top of the paper, she's a little confused. The prose is overly formal and verbose, as usual, but one paragraph in particular stands out:

We regret to inform you that your recent housing status change, as well as the updates to your reported salary, disqualify your student from financial aid at our school. If you feel this decision has been reached in error, or you would like to discuss your student's future at our esteemed institute, please contact...

Sera doesn't finish reading, and the rest of the text trails off into the mental ether. The neurons important for thinking start misfiring mindlessly in her head. She feels weak and light-headed. The room spins...or maybe that's just her own body. She leans her upper arms against the countertop to keep herself from falling over.

Emily...? No longer eligible to be a student where she's been attending for the last year or more? This has got to be some kind of sick, twisted joke. Why didn't she foresee this? This consequence of moving in with Carmilla...it had seemed so wonderful, so perfect at the time. She wouldn't change her new life for anything. But right now, thinking she might be the sole reason Emily loses that scholarship...that this chance at a quality education could be gone, and that it's all her fault...

The thought makes her want to puke.

Carmilla notices the change in her right away. It doesn't help that at one moment, Sera is fine, and the next, she's holding on to the counter for dear life, to keep herself from collapsing on the floor. Sera's hand hovers over her mouth, and she is so very still, just staring at the wall in silence. Her eyes are also crinkled up, as if she's trying to stave off tears.

"¿Estás bien?" Carmilla asks, coming up behind Sera and placing a hand on her shoulder gently. "Everything all right?"

Sera jumps, squeaking a little in surprise at Carmilla's sudden appearance, before she starts to crinkle up the paper in her hand. Obviously trying to keep Carmilla from seeing it. She shakes her head silently, but Carmilla knows better. They've been down this road before. Sera is terrible at keeping things from her.

Carmilla holds Sera's hand in hers, carefully working the paper out from between Sera's trembling fingers in a patient, understanding gesture. Sera lets go, and Carmilla takes it from her. Carmilla uncrinkles it, pushing the paper out as smooth as she can on the counter before reading the contents.

A few moments of silence pass by as Carmilla is reading, and in that break, the full weight of what she's done hits Sera like a battering ram, and she does start crying.

"What do I do?" Sera asks, voice cracking, full of confusion and worry. "Why does this keep happening? I try, and try, and every time I think I have things under control, or something good happens, I fuck it up. Why can't I get this right? Why can't life just slow down and let me catch up for once?"

Carmilla sighs. Of course, Sera blames herself. There is no way in hell she is letting Sera beat herself up over this, when Carmilla is also partially responsible. Carmilla, of all people, should have seen this coming. Sera never should have gotten that letter at all.

She comes up behind Sera, and hugs her around the neck with one arm. Sera is taller than her, so the motion pulls Sera's head down a little closer, so the sides of their faces are touching.

"You probably already know what I'm going to say..." Carmilla starts.

"Please don't," Sera says. She's not crying anymore, but her voice is still latent with frustration. "You want to pay for Emily's tuition. You can't keep bailing us...me out like this. I can't ask you to do that again."

"You're not asking, I'm offering." Carmilla gives her a quick peck on the cheek. Sera blushes, before leaning back into the comforting presence of Carmilla's body. Carmilla is like a stone column, or a wall -- a solid presence who never complains about holding up her weight.

"I don't suppose there's any way to talk you out of this?" Sera asks.

Carmilla laughs. She re-crumples up the letter again, into an even tighter ball than Sera had. Then without even looking, she tosses the paper into the garbage bin in the corner. Slam dunk! Carmilla's still got it.

Gripping Sera's face in both hands, she forces the other woman to look at her. Sera is reluctant to, at first, but eventually their eyes meet. Sera could absolutely get lost in those eyes, if she tries hard enough. Suddenly, under the intense perusal of Carmilla studying her face, Sera's problems all begin to melt away again.

"You and Emily mean everything to me," Carmilla says softly, stroking where a tear has dried on Sera's freckled cheek. "You are my partner, in every sense. And Emily isn't my daughter, but...sometimes it's nice to pretend she's mine."

Sera is speechless. She reaches up to grip onto Carmilla's wrists, where she's holding her face steady, refusing to let Sera look away.

"I'm not sure what the future holds," Carmilla continues. "But as long as I can do this, I want to. Maybe it's selfish, mi amor, but I'm a selfish person. I want to keep you both. Treat you, and her, like you're mine. So...can I?"

Normally, Sera might have become overwhelmed at that request. She's notorious for crying and getting upset at the drop of a hat, especially where her perceived failings regarding Emily are concerned. But if she's learned one thing about being with Carmilla...it's that it's not a weakness to ask for help. It's not wrong to indulge in a good thing.

Carmilla is right. The future is uncertain. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. But today, at least, she can accept that she's worth taking care of. That she and Emily both deserve a comfortable life.

She leans in to kiss Carmilla. It's small, and chaste, and Carmilla returns it in kind.

"I love you," Sera says when they pull away, softly, barely audible. It still feels strange to say. Not bad, just...foreign on her lips.

"I love you, too," Carmilla says, smiling wide, before leaning in for Round 2. "So very much."

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 411: Double Trouble, p1

Fred sat at the bar nursing his third - no, wait, fourth? - beer. It had been a long day, and he knew sooner or later this little respite would have to come to an end. Eventually he would have to go home on this Thursday night and face the music. Things had been bad for him lately. He couldn’t seem to do anything right anymore. His new boss at the company had just demoted him and put him back to part time. That meant no more salary and no more benefits. When he complained, earlier today, after having finally summoned the courage to step into her office? She fired him.

What was he going to tell Alicia?

He took another swig of beer and glanced around the nearly empty bar. A few regulars were still around standing by the pool table for their weekly game, but otherwise the place looked deserted.

Man, this bar used to be packed, every night. He would come here with his buddies all the time to sit and watch a game, shoot darts or just shoot the shit and have a good time. What happened? Less than a year ago some new  megacorp had  come in and bought up almost the whole city block. This place was one of the few remaining holdouts, which honestly meant trouble for their business. These days they could barely even pull in the drunkards off the street, let alone anyone with actual money.

Not that I’m doing much better than them, now, he privately scoffed, spending what little money he had left on drinks just so he could avoid going home to her.

Alicia had been particularly hard on him lately and it was really starting to gnaw at him. She seemed to be enjoying pushing all her recent successes in his face, and she loved to point out all his failures - comparing what was going on in his life to what she was doing with hers. It was like a game to her, showing him how her recent successes pulled him more and more into her ever-growing shadow. At first he was happy for her wins at work, he really was. For one thing, she owned her own business now. She was a personal trainer that spent time at Big Body Fitness and a couple other women’s gyms downtown. She was pulling in a huge amount of clients, had just hired four other trainers to help with the workload, and had plans to make her business massive. And, honestly, she was starting to get pretty massive herself. She - like so many women these days - had wanted to bulk up; Alicia had started doing that in spades. Lots of food, lots of training, lots of weight. And the bigger she got, the more successful her business became, the more she seemed to like making him feel small. And, if he was honest with himself, he did feel small. Small, weak and pathetic, but he refused to let it show, he refused to give up like that.

They’d had a massive argument last night. Alicia had said she was sick of his ‘games’, his avoiding the truth. She wanted him to admit it to her, to everyone, that he just wasn’t enough anymore. That really pissed him off. Well fuck her right? I’ll show her! he thought, taking another gulp of beer, I’ll show her by…by…

By getting fired from my fucking job. Dammit…

Fred slouched down and laid his head on the bar. He felt pathetic. She had completely ignored him at breakfast. Nothing he ever did seemed good enough for her and it was starting to get him down.

<ring-a-ling!>

The little bell at the bar's front door had tinkled, signaling a new entry.

“Whoah, this place is like a dump?”

“I know right?”

Fred lifted his gaze, turned a bit in his seat to see who it was...

Two tall, young, dark-haired beauties had just walked in. One of them was on the phone with someone. Their entry was loud, their voices ringing over the bar’s typical, wan hush, but Fred was too distracted by their looks and a bit far away to really hear what they were saying. Both girls were wearing low cut scoop neck sweaters, each showing healthy amounts of boob flesh, along with short skirts and knee high boots. Their outfits left little to the imagination; these two were built. Plus, they looked similar to one another, like they could be sisters…or maybe even twins? From his perch at the bar Fred swallowed hard, unable to avert his gaze when suddenly one of the girls looked up directly at him.

“Yeah…is that the guy? The dork at the bar?” said the one girl, into her phone.

The one not on a call took a picture of him.

“Alright…you know you like so totally owe us right?” said the phone girl.

“Yeah we need to get in shape like, yesterday?” the other said.

“We do this for you and…? Good. We’ll bring him back when we’re done with him?” The one on the phone hung up and focused on Fred.  He was, in his four-beer stupor, blankly staring back at them. “Okay, Bee, you ready to show him a good time?”

“Yeah like that guy in the club last week? Do you think he remembers his name yet?”

“I don't know Bee, but do you think he remembers us?”

“Not if we did our job right?”

“Haha right?? Ready to do it again?”

“Blehh..I mean I guess?” replied the other, “Why couldn’t it be him instead? I want to try it on, like, him?”

“We can pretend?”

The two had just gotten off work. He hadn’t been in today and they hadn’t liked that.

“Yeah I guess? But I guess I am kinda excited to do it again, even on this guy, aren’t you?”

“See what we can really do? Yeah I guess?”

Fred had finally got a hold of himself, blushing as he turned back in his seat to look away. He tried his best to play it cool, but he couldn’t help but sneak another glance over his shoulder to look at them. Jesus those tits I-

They’d both fixed him with a piercing gaze, which spooked him and caused him to immediately turn back to his beer. His face flushed. He took another drink, tried to settle himself but he could feel their eyes burning into his back. He glanced over his shoulder again and they each curled a long manicured finger in his direction beckoning him over.

What the fuck?

He couldn’t believe it. At first he turned this way and that, looking around foolishly and figuring that they were perhaps indicating someone else, someone in this otherwise empty bar. But, no. They were, in fact, looking at him, and he felt his face redden even further. They both frowned with identical expressions and repeated the gesture, calling him over to them with curled fingers. It didn’t really feel like a request.

Grabbing his bottle, he rapidly downed the last dregs of beer for a final bit of liquid courage before getting, shakily, to his feet. He could feel their eyes on him, and he became suddenly aware of how quickly his heart was beating.

This is like a dream! He couldn’t help but marvel, Two beautiful girls - twins even?- and they want to talk to me. Maybe it’s a good thing I got fired after all, found myself here on a Thursday night haha…

Before he knew what he was doing, Fred found his legs carrying him across the bar and towards the two buxom strangers. He realized he was shaking like a nervous schoolboy.

“Hello sweetie,” one of them said, boldly reaching out to cup his chin in her hand, “aren’t you just..?”

“…the cutest little guy?” finished the other.

“I’m Brittni,” spoke the first, “and this is Bobbi. What’s your name?”

“I’m .. I’m Fred,” he answered, trying his best not to glance down at the two sets of huge, firm breasts that seemed to be put on prominent display for him.

“Hiiiiii Fred ♡♡” they both sang out in perfect unison.

“H-h-hi,” he stammered.

“Why don’t you join us Fred?” began Brittni, “Aren’t you-”

“Lonely?” finished Bobbi, both of their faces pouting in mock sadness.

“Yeah c’mon, we’re, like, the prettiest girls here, right?”

“We’re, like, the only girls here?”

The two of them giggled.

Fred was a deer caught in the headlights as they led him by the chin over to a booth. Bobbi sat first, scooching all the way down along the seat and making sure there was room for both him and her friend on her right. She patted the seat as Brittni guided him down to sit, finally letting go of his chin and scooching him in too. She gave him a dimpled, heartwarming smile.

God she’s stunning, he thought, They both are.

Brittni then sat down on the same bench and he immediately found himself sandwiched, his hips between two thick pairs of thighs pressing up against him. Wow these girls are built, he thought, feeling the casual strength in their legs as they rubbed and squeezed up against him from both sides. He could already feel their warmth through his jeans. Their strong perfume filled his senses, making him feel heady, almost overwhelming him.

“There isn’t that better?” asked Brittni, smiling brightly at him on his right.

“Y-yes but-“

“But what?” Bobbi cut in from his left, “Wouldn’t you like to get to know each other?”

“Wh-what .. what do you want to know?” asked Fred, his speech patterns falling into their rhythm - they asked a lot of questions - as he turned to one girl and then the other..

“Well, for starters-” began Brittni.

“What’s a cute little guy like you doing out all alone on a Thursday night ?” finished Brittni, as they both twirled locks of  hair between long, slim fingers.

Fred looked down at the table. ‘Little guy’? He wasn’t that short, just shorter than them. They must be each - what?   - five-nine? Five-ten? So, like, an inch or two? Taller by quite a bit more, certainly, in their heels, and sitting higher than him here in the booth. So, yeah, okay, he felt smaller than them. Little.

He was unsure of what to say, how to answer. Why am I here? He’d never been good at lying and something about these girls, their confidence and stunning good looks, their physical presence, made him want to be truthful.

“I .. I had an argument ..” he began, eyes still cast downwards, “a big one .. with my girlfriend.”

“Awww you poor thing,” Brittni immediately cooed, “Girls can be so demanding nowadays can’t they?” As she’d spoke, she pushed her breasts into his right side and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yes they can, can’t they? Those nasty big, mean girls?” Bobbi continued, mirroring her friend’s movements on his left. They both now had their heads on his slumped shoulders, both with a knowing smile across their lips.

Fred found himself nodding in solemn agreement. Something about being around these girls just made him so passive…so comfortable. He continued. “Nothing I do lately seems to be good enough for her. She blows up at the slightest thing. I don’t know what to do, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells all the time.”

“Awwwww…” they both cooed.

Bobbi ran her fingernail lightly up his arm, causing him to shiver. “Are you a good listener, Fred?” she asked.

“You seem like a good listener?” Brittni added.

“I…I think so?” he replied, suddenly doubting himself. Was he really listening, when Alicia and he talked? Or was he just being stubborn like Alicia always said? Was he what girls wanted these days, or was he really behind the times? Maybe he was a loser.

“Because don’t girls really want a boy who listens to them?” Brittni said.

“Yeah I think they do, Bee?” Bobbi replied, both she and her friend’s attention laser focused on the smaller man between them, “Can you be that boy, Fred?”

Being called a ‘boy’? That made him shiver, the girls noticed. Okay this was getting fun, they both thought in unison. They felt a little tingle, almost electric, between them.

“Can you be the good, attentive boy who really listens to what a girl is saying?” said the girl on his right. Brittni, correct? “Because…when you think about it, Freddie-”

“-don’t girls know best?” the other one finished, “...Freddie?”

“I … I … guess so? I don’t know?” he said, questioning in this moment, if it was Alicia that was really the problem. Maybe it was him? He was having trouble thinking straight, probably from all the beer, but it kinda made sense? After all he was the one who was having all the problems - job, money, everything - and Alicia…she just seemed to have everything figured out. He should really be appreciative of these girls. Despite their obvious youth they really seemed remarkably perceptive.

“So - are you two…sisters?” he asked.

“Um, kinda?” said the one on his right

“No not really?” followed the one on his left.

“Yes for sure…sorta?”

Uh, okay. “Do you…have boyfriends?” he asked, which he saw made them pause.

They both blinked.

Visions of Dr J.

YES.

YES.

“No not really?” they both said, at the same time.

“But we wish we did, right Bee?” said Bobbi.

“Absolutely?” answered Britt.

“And Freddie’s cute, right?” one girl asked the other.

“Oh for sure, huh?” came the answer.

“If you were our boyfriend, we’d have to keep you on a pretty tight leash, wouldn’t we?” Bobbi said, her minty fresh breath washing over him.

“Omigod Bobbi?!” Brittni giggled, but then leaned in closer with her own waft of breath, “A leash haha?? But yeah who knows when another girl might try to snatch you away?”

Fred felt the two pairs of firm heavy breasts suddenly weighing him down, from either side. They were trapping him, pinning his arms to his sides as their strong perfume came flooding into his nostrils.

“Does your girlfriend keep you on a leash, hm Freddie?” asked one, causing the other to giggle.

“Ahh!…What?” he blurted. What did she just ask?

Now they both giggled.

This was getting heavy, quick, and he knew it was not a conversation he should be in, if he was going to stay true to Alicia…but he found himself answering them.  “She…she does like to know what I’m doing…” he stammered, feeling their breasts squashing against him. “And..so...what should I do???” Fred asked in a sudden panic, genuinely seeking answers. “Alicia will be so mad if she finds out I’m at a bar…about my job…I’ve had a few drinks too,” he said ashamedly, looking to the girls for guidance. I hope they tell me I shouldn’t worry…

The girls giggled again, squashed into him tighter.

“How about…?” Brittni began.

“You come home with us?” Bobbi finished, linking her right arm through his left one as Brittni did the same on his other side.

“We can let you relax?” Brittni offered, “At our place?”

“Yeah aren’t things always better when you sleep with them?”  Bobbi asked.

"Oh, Bobbi,” Brittini corrected, “don’t you mean sleep ‘on’ them?”

“If that’s how he likes it, yeah?”

Both girls giggled.

“What ? No…no I couldn’t .. she would know .. she always knows,” he whined. Suddenly, he was struck with the reality of this situation; it had just gone past any innocent flirting. Fueled by his drive to stay true to the woman he loved, he had a sudden burst of willpower. “I’ve…I’ve got to go”, he said, trying to stand up but the girls - with a giggle -  held him down and pressed into him more firmly, easily keeping him in place. His slight frame remained wedged snugly between their thick thighs and heavy breasts.

“Where are you trying to go?”

“Yeah shhh, Freddie, shhh…try to breathe?”

After a pathetic whine and another brief and equally futile struggle, Fred seemed to settle down. He wasn’t going anywhere unless they let him, and he did calm down as he accepted that, and the more he took nice deep breaths. The girls’ perfume, now stronger and sweeter than before, had filled the space of their booth and fully seeped into him. It began to make him feel more drunk than the beers he’d had.

Fred’s skull lolled until he found himself staring at the ceiling, his mouth agape as Brittni and Bobbi casually continued to chat among themselves. They, found, though, as they sat there with this guy between them, that their connection grew stronger and stronger by the moment, that they needed fewer and fewer words to say what they meant. Getting him excited, turning him on together, was giving them a collective focus, syncing them up, increasing their abilities. It made them both giggle, and it became a little bit of a game, as they began to push the boundaries of what they could do.

Cool, huh?

Very cool.

They continued on as if he wasn’t there, wedged tightly between their firm, strong bodies. They ordered drinks, finished them at a leisurely pace as they talked over Fred’s head. Finally, though, they were-

“Ready?” Brittni asked.

“Ready,” replied Bobbi. They both stood, arms again linked with the smaller man, pushing their seat bench backwards and lifting him effortlessly out of his seat and up, up, up into the air. With them in their high heeled boots, Fred’s feet dangled a good half-foot off the ground.

“Let’s go then?” Brittni said, as they walked arm-in-arm out of the bar with Fred held securely suspended between them.

“Where .. w-where are you taking me?” Fred asked woozily. He hadn’t had that much to drink tonight, had he?

“Back to our place?”

“Didn’t we tell you? You're ours for tonight?”

“Or for however long it takes you to sleep off all those silly little thoughts in your head?”

“Or..?”

“Or maybe we’ll have to keep you?”

==========================================

big thanks to Frag592 for this one, and allowing RiF and myself our heavy-handed edits. Part 2 still in the works, coming soon.

[rustingcat]

Vigilante

Kara was late.

She hated being late, but the amount of paperwork she had to sign was much larger than she anticipated, and the lack of signal in the classified room in the DEO meant that she couldn't alert Lena on time.

Kara made it to the lab an hour later, more exhausted than she realised.

"Kara! Is everything okay?" Lena asked the moment Kara put her bag down.

"Yes, I'm so sorry for the delay. I had to sign a LOT of papers for the DEO." Lena seemed so engulfed in the work, their work. The last thing she wanted was for Lena to feel like she's forced to take on the load.

"The DEO? Did something happen?" The worry in her voice was clear. Kara put a reassuring smile on her face to take some of it away.

"Yes, yes. I just signed an employment contract, I'm officially no longer a vigilante!" Kara said with a small chuckle.

"Oh, why the change? I remember you weren't a fan of working for the government before, especially with everything that went down with Colonel Hailey." Lena walked closer to her, a concern not completely gone.

"Well, now that my identity is public knowledge, Alex was very adamant in reminding me how open I am for lawsuits. Both private ones and from the government, like they could potentially sue me for stuff they ask me to do! How crazy is that?"

"Did you sign it already? I could go over it to make sure they don't put any peculiar articles or subsections."

"It's ok, Alex is still in touch with Lucy Lane. They went over the contract together several times before presenting it to me. Lucy is really good with this stuff." She reassured her.

"So you're a government official?"

"Yeah, free from any Supergirl related lawsuits, and with some pretty sweet tax benefits. Plus all of the salary they wanted to give me is going to go to different kinds of selected charities of my choosing, so that's awesome."

"I'm glad it all worked out."

"Me too." Kara breathed in relief.

"I have some news, too." Lena said as an excited smile spread on her face.

"Do tell," Kara said, biting her lip as a smile matching Lena started spreading.

"Okay, while you were off signing what was no doubt a mountain of paperwork," Kara nodded, "I found and fixed the problem with the distributor." Lena proclaimed proudly.

"What was the problem?" Kara asked, matching her excitement.

"We switched the materials connecting it to the compressor, but not the ones connected to the bio-terminal!" She explained quickly, her hands moving around in excited blur to match.

"Oh Rao! So it means–"

"We can start testing!"

"Ahh- Lena that's amazing!" Kara crushed into her best friend, giving her the big tight hug she deserves. She absolutely loved hugging Lena, really she took any opportunity she got. Feeling her warp around her tightly as if not wanting to let go, her smell that somehow always smelled amazing and feeling her heartbeat so close to hers. Hugging Lena was amazing, and she really deserved the most amazing hug after that discovery.

"Wait, we don't have their DNA to test it with." Kara noted once they pulled away.

"It's just a test to see if it can even process something like that, It doesn't have to be theirs. We already have exactly what we need." Lena explained.

"What do you mean?" Kara was confused, they didn't collect any DNA ahead of time.

"Samples of two specimens of the same biological sex, not to mention a combination of human and non-human DNA." Lena smiled at her.

"Oh." The room suddenly felt hotter. "Yeah, no… yes I see. Yeah that- that would definitely work." They would be combining their DNA. She and Lena. Their biological data would be combined. Kara felt very normal about this.

"Will you be able to extract some of your blood? If not, we can try saliva." Lena asked and she started to look around for the tubes.

"I think I can," Kara answered, looking at her fingers in an attempt to decide which one would be easier to cut. It's not like she would have to worry about the long term effect of the wound as it would heal once she stepped out into the sun.

Lena was already grabbing a syringe by the time Kara decided to go with her thumb, hoping to make the surface of the wound big enough to extract more blood.

She checked with her tongue to see which of her teeth is the sharpest –her upper left fang, and attempted her first try. It was painful, yet unsuccessful. She braced herself for the unavailable pain and tried again. The metallic taste in her mouth paired with the pounding pain in her finger told her she was successful. She took out her thumb and tried to lift it in a way that no blood would spill out. She held it above the tube Lena handed to her, letting the small drops fill it as much as she could, squeezing a bit despite the pain, until she was satisfied with the amount.

A quick walk to the window, letting the reflected rays of the sunshine upon her finger, fixed the little cut she created. She only wished Lena had similar powers. The syringe made her cut relatively small, but a cut was still a cut in Kara’s book. Lena was pressing a small piece of cotton to her arm, holding it tightly as she worked.

Kara walked closer to her. She was healed at this point and just as familiar with the machine as Lena, it was her turn to put on some work. She took Lenas wounded arm and gave it a small kiss to make it better. Lena's cheeks were immediately coloured with a light share of pink.

"All better now." Kara smiled at her. "Do you mind if I take it from here? You can keep pressing on the arm."

Lena simply nodded.

Inserting their blood samples carefully, Kara directed the machine to start the process. It was odd, she thought to herself, seeing all of the biological specification options for the combined data of her and Lena's DNA. Afraid to make a mistake, she slowly pressed on each button, choosing to unspecify everything before starting the process.

Kara looked at Lena with an exciting smile, biting down both her upper and bottom lips in the anticipation.

"And now we wait." Lena smiled back.

They watched in silence as the machine processed their data, searching for any errors or possible problems. They went through the math and the coding multiple times, they were at the very least confident in their work. The test was not to see a baby going through a full term, that process would take a few months even in their very advanced machine. Not to mention that due to the possibility of success, they knew that their first test subject should be for people who would be willing parents. So the test itself was only to see if the machine can prepare their given data to what could later become an embryo and then a healthy fetus should they choose to continue.

The process bar got closer to the end. No errors yet.

Lena was still pressing on her wound as she followed the process bar closely with her eyes. Kara wasn't sure if it was worry, tension or excitement on her face. Probably a combination of the three. She couldn't say she was faring any better, chewing in her bottom lip with similar emotions.

The bar got closer to the end. 97%, 98%, 99%, 100%.

Kara instinctively inhaled quickly. Holding her breath until the bar disappeared completely, replaced by a 'process complete' message on the screen.

"Oh my god!" She heard Lena exhale in relief.

"It worked!" Kara turned to face her, mouth wide open in shock and excitement.

"It did!" Lena confirmed in amazement.

They were hugging again before Kara fully realised she was doing it. Jumping in excitement in Lena’s arms as the latter laughed in response. When she settled down she noticed how close their faces were to each other, she could feel the heat radiating off of Lena's face warm her own. Suddenly their excited hearts became louder to her ears as she watched Lena wet her own lips. Kara instinctively mimicked the movement. They stayed like that for a moment, before Lena suddenly pulled away. Kara felt a pang of disappointment she could not name.

"I should check on this one project before I leave for today. Could you finish everything here?" Lena hurried to find her back, refusing to meet Kara's eyes.

"Sure," she had no problem wrapping everything herself. "What do you want to do with the PF?" It was the name they decided on for a successful processed DNA combination, a shorthand for Potential Fetus.

"It's not important, you can dispose of it." Lena finished collecting her stuff and exited before Kara could respond.

"Right." She muttered to the empty room. The project she went to check on must've been important.

Kara turned her attention back to the machine. She was familiar with the options, she designed the UI herself after all, yet they gave her pause. The button to proceed to the next stage had somehow become the most fascinating thing in the world. Flash images of small hands, a wild patch of dark hair and big striking green eyes passed through her mind in quick succession. She only noticed she clicked the button once a warning message asking her if she was sure she'd like to proceed popped up on the screen. Small panic went through her body as she realised what she almost did, Rao she almost greenlighted the creation of a baby for her and Lena.

She quickly pressed no, and moved on to check the other options. She had no need to restart the process to respect the bio-data for the PF, nor make changes to the DNA. She stared at the button to terminate the PF and all data related to it, but couldn't bring herself to do it. The images flashed her mind again. She wasn't sure what it was but she couldn't bring herself to do it, she couldn't press the button.

A message from Lena asking if she wanted a ride home made her notice the time. She sent her a quick message saying she would be right there, and turned back to the machine. Kara made a quick decision to store the data for later use, just in case they wanted to reexamine it, of course. Plus it was their first success, it could also be a reminder of their progress.

Kara finished turning off whatever unnecessary parts to keep the power consumption at a minimum, went over everything twice and spared a moment to stare at the container, before she left.

The images followed her to her dream that night, along with a familiar dimpled smile by her side.

Read in order in AO3

[stevesjockstrap]

Crash & Burn

Rated M • modern era, no UD • read on ao3

Friends with benefits, pining, idiots to lovers feels

Eddie’s phone buzzed, and buzzed again. He looked down at it. 1:39am. Two messages from Steve.

Groaning, he flipped his phone over and peeled himself off his couch to pace back and forth across the room, hands raking through his hair. Why couldn’t he just block his number? It’d been weeks (maybe months?) since he’d heard from him.

He only reached out after some girl broke his heart. Again.

Eddie couldn’t keep-

His phone started buzzing more urgently, repeatedly. Picking it up, he saw Steve’s name and had to answer it.

When you feel all alone and the world has turned its back on you

Give me a moment please to tame your wild, wild heart

“Hey.”

“Hi Eds…”

Just two words made everything come flying back front and center into Eddie’s mind. The amazing sex, sure, but mostly the soft touches, staying up all night talking, the way Steve looked at him like-

He shook his head, clearing whatever that was from his thoughts.

“What’s up neighbor? Need a cup of sugar?” He winced as the words left his mouth. For once his double entendre not being intentional. Oh. That was the other thing. They lived in the same row of townhouses, Eddie getting to see whichever current conquest Steve was wooing come and go, or Steve himself walking hand in hand with the supermodel of the week.

Thankfully Steve snickered back at his dumb joke. “I don’t need any sugar, actually. But I wanted to see if you were as bored as I am. Wanna come have a beer?”

This was his play, usually. Get Eddie over for a casual hang out, watch a movie, drink a beer, maybe smoke a joint. Once they were both a lot looser, things ended up happening.

Eddie would have to hear about whichever girl it was who Steve was sure was ‘The One,’ who was clearly using him for his name and money and when they’d find out Steve Harrington actually had no contact with his rich parents and only a upper middle class salary, they usually didn’t last long.

But Eddie was also a sucker. “Sure, man. Give me a few.”

I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you

It’s hard to find relief and people can be so cold

When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can’t take anymore

Let me be the one you call

After a few beers each and politely listening to the play by play of the breakup (Dana this time), Eddie eyed Steve as he crept slowly closer to him on the couch.

Maybe it would be fine this time. They could just blow off some steam. It’s not like he had any better offers.

He pretended to be very interested suddenly in whatever dumb sitcom Steve had thrown on for background noise, and a hand slid up his thigh. He bit into the side of his cheek and stayed still. The butterflies he got every time he was in this position came back full force.

“Steve, I-“ he shook his head, but then caught the look on his face, like a rejection right now would send him crumbling.

If you need to crash then crash and burn

You’re not alone

“C’mere,” he breathed instead.

They met in a slow kiss, less heated and desperate than usual. Eddie cupped his jaw tenderly, trying in equal measures to hold back and show him some of the emotion he’d bottled up for so long.

Steve gasped an “Ed-“ into his mouth and shoved closer to him. They wrapped their arms around each other and he forgot he wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

When hopes and dreams are far away

And you feel like you can’t face the day

Let me be the one you call

The first slow thrust into Steve’s body was heart stopping. He didn’t think it had ever been like this, slow and gentle, instead of the frenzy he usually felt.

But that wasn’t altogether the truth, as he sucked in a breath, he realized while they usually came together in a rush, he’d usually find himself slowing it down. Making it more tender and caring.

Steve pulled him down for a soft kiss and he sunk into it with a small sound. Oh no. He pulled back. They could do slow passionate sex or they could have soft tender kisses but he couldn’t do both. He couldn’t take it. Especially not the eventual ghosting once Steve found a new girl to fall for.

But Steve was looking up at him now. Panting, cheeks flushed. Staring wide eyed up at him almost reverently. Eddie got stuck in his deep brown eyes for a long moment, transfixed until they both gasped on a particularly good thrust and Eddie realized what was happening.

He loved him. Was soul crushingly in love with a guy who only used him after he was broken up with.

Unable to meet his gaze, he mouthed along his neck and shoulder instead, allowing himself to hide his face, committing the little sighs and punched out sounds to memory.

This would have to be the last time.

When you feel all alone and a loyal friend is hard to find

You’re caught in a one-way street with the monsters in your head

When hope and dreams are far away

And you feel like you can’t face the day

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he jumped. Peering at it, he ignored the new text and looked back at Gareth.

“Why are you so jumpy, bro?”

Shaking his head, he tried to return the conversation back to the gigs they had lined up, but Gareth could always see right through him.

“Uh uh, whose texts are you avoiding? That’s not like you. Spill.”

“Gare, I promise, it’s nothing,” he raked his hands through his hair and Gareth raised an eyebrow at him. Well fuck, now he’d done his tell, hadn’t he? Sighing, he decided on, “It’s just something that needs to fizzle out on its own. A mistake that I keep making. I should block him.”

“Ahh,” Gareth nodded. “Hot neighbor guy.”

His jaw dropped. “Wha- how? I mean, shit.” He leaned down and thunked his forehead on the table. “How do you know he’s hot?”

Giggling, Gareth patted his shoulder. “The mistakes that we can’t block- they’re always hot. So what happened? Usually you’re off to the races when he texts.”

Sitting back up, he sighed. “I can’t keep doing this. I lo- I care too much about him and he only wants to hook up after some girl fucks him over. It’s killing me.”

Gareth hummed at him, nodding. “Caught feelings for the booty call. That’s a lot, dude. Did you tell him?”

“Are you kidding? No way! Zero chance that he’d actually stop his womanizing ways to have something real with me. He just likes getting fu-“

Gareth held up a hand. “I don’t need the details, man.”

Laughing, Eddie shook his head again. “Maybe if I just don’t answer, he’ll find some girl who wants to peg him and go run off with her.”

“There’s always a chance.”

‘Cause there has always been heartache and pain

And when it’s over you’ll breathe again

You’ll breathe again

Groaning, Eddie read through the last text Steve had sent again.

Hi. I know you’re avoiding me and I just wanted to know why. Did I do something wrong? I’m home all night if you want to talk.

He knew he was being an asshole by ignoring him. He knew exactly how shitty it felt to be ghosted after their encounters and now he was doing the same thing.

Knocking on his door felt like approaching the executioner. Would he get punched in the face? Kicked in the balls? Would he need to move? He really liked his place.

“Oh hey, he is alive after all,” Steve said sardonically as he pulled the door open.

“It appears so. Can I come in?”

Steve seemed weary, but nodded and turned to walk into the kitchen, propping himself at a stool at the bar. Eddie stood on the other side of the counter from him.

“I’m sorry,” he huffed. It didn’t seem like enough, but he made himself relax his shoulders and continue. He looked down at the swirls in the countertop as he talked. “I can’t do this anymore. I- um, I really like you, Steve. And this only calling me when you get your heart broken is … it’s too much for me.”

After a beat, he chanced a look up at Steve’s face and winced. He looked like he’d gotten ice water thrown in his lap.

“I know I should’ve told you sooner, but I just worked it out myself very recently. I thought I could do the casual hookups but my heart can’t take it anymore. Because I know you don’t feel the same and-“

“Of course I don’t feel the same,” Steve growled out, his face now completely closed off and hard.

Eddie clenched his jaw and gave a stiff nod.

“I’m not- I don’t swing that way, man.”

Instead of arguing, he just nodded again and walked towards the door. Somehow that’d been worse than he’d expected. He almost wished he would’ve received an actual punch instead.

When you feel all alone and the world has turned its back on you

Give me a moment please to tame your wild wild heart

A few days later he pointedly turned away when he saw Steve walking hand in hand with another blonde woman. Good for him. Maybe he’d settle down and find a different neighbor to fuck him through his denial.

He finally blocked his number and his Instagram. Gareth took him out for depressed drinks and darts. He started parking around the side of his townhouse and coming in the back door when he couldn’t stop himself from checking for strange cars on the other end of the lot.

Maybe he would need to move.

If you need to fall apart (you’re not alone) I can mend a broken heart

And if you need to crash then crash and burn (you’re never alone)

You’re not alone

A pounding woke him and he pushed away from the warm body next to him to look at the time. 2:11am. What the fuck?

Throwing pants on, he went downstairs and flicked a light on.

Someone was standing on his porch.

Throwing the door open, he immediately realized it was pouring down rain, Steve was at his door, and he should’ve put a shirt on.

“Hi.” Steve started. His eyes widened as he took in Eddie’s appearance, rumpled hair and hickeys going down his neck and chest.

He’d taken home the pretty boy in the bomber jacket from the bar. Sue him. And-

“Who is it, babe?”

Steve’s eyes widened further and his face paled. Mouth opening and closing before his face closed off again and he turned away. “Never mind.”

Without thinking, he followed him, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Steve! Wait!”

Stupidly, he reached out for him and grabbed his arm to pull him around.

Steve yanked his arm back with a huff. “Save it. I see you’ve moved on quickly.”

“Me?” He sputtered, throwing his hands up. “I’ve moved on quickly? How many girls have you fucked this month? This week?”

Starting to turn away again, he grumbled, “Just go back to your-“

Eddie was suddenly so deeply tired and he couldn’t fight anymore. “You came over here in the rain to knock on my door at two AM, man. Talk to me. Please.”

That knocked the fight out of Steve, and he looked like himself again. He sighed, pushing his wet floppy hair out of his face. It made him look even more pitiful, like a little wet puppy.

“I know. I’ve been a dick.” Steve swiped across his face and Eddie’s heart clenched. “It dawned on me. Tonight. That our… arrangement before…”

Thunder boomed and they both jumped. Eddie tried to hide his satisfaction as Steve edged closer to him.

“Just, I realized I looked forward to seeing you, sometimes a lot more than the girl I was telling you about. I was stupid. I’m so sorry, Eds. These last few weeks I’ve been a mess. I think I fell in love with you a long time ago, too. And-“

Eddie cupped his face and stepped in closer, staring into his eyes. “Say it again?”

Giving him the tiniest smile, he repeated, “I’m in love with you, Eddie. I’m so sorry I said those things that day.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, Steve closed the small distance between them. Eddie kept him there with a handful of soaking wet tshirt.

This kiss was nothing like their kisses before. Eddie could pour all of his love and affection into it now, not having to hold anything back. Even from himself.

“Wow,” Steve breathed, lips still moving against his.

Eddie pressed a few more kisses against his lip before pulling back.

“Do you wanna hear a secret?” Eddie asked, suddenly serious.

Steve nodded, confused.

“I didn’t move on. I picked that guy up at the bar last night because he reminded me of you.”

A wide grin spread across Steve’s face. “Oh really?”

Let me be the one you call

If you jump, I’ll break your fall

Lift you up and fly away with you into the night

Ali @eddiethehunted made me have a Savage Garden nostalgic moment (months ago, sorry) and ofc I had steddie feels 🖤

[roses-r-rosie3]

miguel x Alchemax reader

reader used miguel and ended up giving him drugs to destabilize him because they were loyal to Alchemax. in the society after a long time dating they finally admit they used him

it goes into miguel’s pov focus on lyrics

Hate to give the satisfaction asking how you're doing now

How's the castle built off people you pretend to care about?

Just what you wanted

Look at you, cool guy, you got it

I see the parties and the diamonds sometimes when I close my eyes

Six months of torture you sold as some forbidden paradise

I loved you truly

You gotta laugh at the stupidity

[Chorus]

'Cause I've made some real big mistakes

But you make the worst one look fine

I should've known it was strange

You only come out at night

I used to think I was smart

But you made me look so naive

The way you sold me for parts

sorry if i it’s to much

Vampire

Miguel O’Hara x M!Reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, drugging, divorce

Quote: “NO! It never would have benefited both of us! It would have only benefited YOU! Not US! YOU!”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You and Miguel were dating back when he was still working for Alchemex. You two would always flirt with each other while you were there, and all the flirting eventually lead up to the two of you dating. But the whole thing with a subject dying and stone drugging him, Miguel quit Alchemex.

You however, you were about to quit too after you heard about what happened. But stone was aware of this and he had a plan that could benefit him. He knew about your relationship with Miguel so he called you to his office and offered you a raise if you continued to drug Miguel. You were reluctant at first, but the more you thought about it, the more you started to think about the benefits, and you accepted it. So You lied and told Miguel that you quit Alchemex.

The first time you had to drug Miguel was while he was asleep, after doing it, you immediately felt bad, but you decided to make it up to him by taking him to the mall and buying him whatever he wanted.

“Y/n where did you get all this money from? Didn’t you just quit?” Miguel jokingly asked.

“I found a job that had a high salary, now are you gonna be nosy or are you gonna continue shopping” you fake laughed.

Miguel was a bit suspicious but quickly forgot about it after the two of you were done shopping. The time came and you had to drug Miguel again, and you once again did it while he was asleep. And little did you know 2 times turned into 3 and three turned into a 10 whole years.

You and Miguel’s relationship still remained untouched though, you two still had the same love for each other as when you first met. Miguel even proposed to you, to which you happily accepted, and the two of you got married. However, Miguel was getting noticeably more weak, and you were getting more and more guilty about doing this to him.

You finally had enough. You couldn’t just keep hurting Miguel and act like nothing is wrong. You knew Miguel probably wouldn’t want to be with you, but he deserved to know the truth.

“Hey Miguel can we talk?” You asked.

“Of course baby” Miguel said as he scooted over for you to lay next to him in your shared bed.

You sat on the edge of the bed with your back facing towards him.

“Okay what’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” Miguel asked in concern.

You just broke down in tears, letting out all the guilt that has been building up for the past 10 years.

“Hey, hey, baby just tell me what’s wrong” Miguel said as he hugged you.

“No Miguel, I don’t deserve you” you sobbed.

“Of course you do-”

“No Miguel, I don’t! I’m still working for Alchemex! Stone offered me a raise if I drugged you! And I’ve been doing it for the past 10 years while you were asleep! I can’t do it anymore!” You cried.

“You- you what?” Miguel said, his voice got darker.

“I’m so sorry Miguel, it would have benefited both of us” you tried to plead.

Miguel backed away from you and got off of the bed.

“NO! It never would have benefited both of us! It would have only benefited YOU! Not US! YOU!” Miguel yelled.

“Miguel please-”

“So what?!? You think a simple little apology is going to fix the 10 years of damage you’ve done to me!” Miguel screamed at you.

“I never meant for any of this to happen Miguel, I’m sorry” you croaked.

“So you didn’t mean to take the money?! You didn’t mean drug me?! You didn’t mean to use me?! You used me as a pawn in your little game! You’re pathetic y/n!” Miguel roared.

“I really did love you Miguel, I really wanted to build a family with you” you said weakly.

“Well guess what y/n?! You ruined that family! You ruined our relationship! So what if we did end up adopting a kid?! Would you have still drug me while both me and our kid were asleep?!” Miguel yelled.

“I really thought I could trust you y/n! I really thought you and me would be forever!” Miguel yelled.

“I’m sorry Miguel” you said.

“Stop saying sorry y/n! You weren’t ever sorry for the past 10 years!” Miguel screamed.

It went radio silent for a good 3 minutes after Miguel said that.

“I’m leaving” Miguel said before storming out of your shared house.

You were left there with the consequences of your own actions. You cried yourself to sleep that day. When you woke up, you reached over to Miguel's side of the bed, hoping to feel Miguel's warm body next to you, but instead, you got the feeling of cold sheets.

Before you knew it one day of Miguel being gone turned into one week. At that point, you were feeling hopeless. Until you heard your door bell ring. You rushed to the door to see who it was. When you opened the door, you saw Miguel, but he was holding a paper in his hands.

Miguel shoved the paper into your hands and you looked at it. When you looked at it, and you read through it. It felt like you were hit by a train when you finally realized it was divorce papers, and Miguel already signed his name. You looked up at Miguel with tears starting build up in your eyes once again.

"You really want this?" You trembled.

"Yes y/n, we're over" Miguel said calmly.

It hurt you that Miguel was so calm about it, after all the memories you two built together. But it was only fair because of what you did to him, so you signed the papers and handed it back to Miguel.

"Goodbye Miguel" you sighed as Miguel walked away from your once beloved house of memories.

[baeklination]

Rural

Date: 231110

Warnings: SMUT 🔞, general fucking, fingering

Pairing: Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 4k

NOTE: Story 3 of Theme BAMBI. This is a soft one.

Masterlist

¤¤

Some days blue, some days grey, the mountains roll in the distance. Even when you get as far as farm country they lie farther still. Silent and never changing - a mystery that lends solace. 

Between them and here lies all you’ve seen in the world, but from the home where you grew up surrounded by golden fields and wind rushing through corn stalks to where you now live, on a very quiet edge of a very small town, it doesn’t seem so bad. In fact, with a little more than a modest salary you could save some each month and visit one of those big cities the ladies at the cafe are always talking about with so much shock and fascination…but it’ll keep.

If anything, what you would consider these days is a tour based on temperature; anywhere where it’s not scorching before the clock has struck eleven.

Scorching.

Scorching… 

“Rats..!”

Sticking the pin in the paper haphazardly you run down from upstairs to the kitchen, knowing you’ll be met by smoke billowing out from the oven - but you’re not. Saying a prayer of please, please, please, you grab a mitten, open the oven and pull out the cobbler. 

“Thank god..!”, you sigh, relieved to see you haven’t ruined the afternoon goodies you’ve promised Ms. Ethel to bring round before work.

Peering into the oven you see the culprit, a classic: edibles from a previous use turning into charcoal. 

“All in a day’s work”, you mumble to yourself, scraping the burnt piece away.

°

“Oh, you hadn’t forgotten about me”, Ms. Ethel chirps as soon as she opens the door.

“It’s not that late, is it?”

“Not for an old hen like me, but you ought to be on your way already. Or are you taking the day off?”

“The week’s just started, Ms. Ethel, I don’t need to rest just yet”, you smile at her on your way to the kitchen. “I’ll be on time. Either way, Ida has a key as well and I don’t suspect they’ll be breaking down the door on a Tuesday. Now, what do you think? Presentable?"

“I think the ladies will be fighting over it. I’m fighting myself right now”, she laughs, smacking her lips.

“Go on, have a bite. It’s best fresh outta the oven.”

“And serve a cobbler with a gaping hole in it? Oh, the jokes would never end, sweet girl.”

“Come now, Ms. Ethel. You don’t serve it whole. Cut it into pieces before they come and they’ll never know the difference.” 

“M-hm… Well, the cook knows best… I still have some coffee in the pot, it’ll go fine with a bit of sweet.”

“Go sit down, I’ll bring it.”

Having survived her husband of fifty-three years, Ms. Ethel is going on her seventh year alone. She says she isn’t lonely, and you reckon she mostly isn’t because she keeps herself busy with a visit here, a trip there all throughout her weeks, but nonetheless spending every morning with someone for fifty years is a habit you don’t wean off easily and that’s why you try to stop at hers a few days a week, to make sure. Suppose it is also for your own benefit. With your folks out on the countryside she’s become like a relative of sorts and being around her, doing little chores to alleviate her burden, is comforting.

Sometimes - like right now - seeing her sitting by the window, half smiling with curlers in her hair, she’s so cute it breaks your heart. You don’t know why exactly. It just does. But coffee and cake won’t wait for no one, so you snap out of it and join her in the living room.

“Here you go. Give me your most- second most honest opinion.”

“You never disappoint. If these hands of mine were still working proper I’d tell the ladies I was the baker.”

Lifting her spoon in cheers, she winks before eating it, and since it’s rude to wait for an evaluation you look out the window. Her view is almost the exact same as from your own, barring the houses farther down the street being visible here. You could tell the day was heating up fast on your way over, and the cat resting under the neighbour's tree tells the same story. A car breaks first the silence then your view; your heart skips. Shielded by the angle and speed, the frame is gone in the blink of an eye, but that's all you need - the tan arm, checkered shirt rolled up, holding the steering wheel of that red truck, is his.

“Mm!”, Ms. Ethel exclaims, bringing you back. “Sweet and deep just like I like it!”

¤ 

You’re a capable woman. A business owner - albeit small - making and mending clothes, paying rent on time, handling salary and meetings with your accountant by yourself. Even got your own house and home. But one hint of him and you turn silly. Knowing Baekhyun’s in town rattles your brain and instead of solely focusing on the job at hand you’re preoccupied with thoughts of how to see him. Should you head over to Joe’s pretending to need some electrical advice and hope Baekhyun’s stopped in to buy some new tools? Or the grocery store? The diner? You don’t want to be too obvious and get the folks talking - so maybe it’s best to stay put? Look as if you’re only minding your own and hope he’ll stop by and say hello. But what if he doesn’t? If you occupy yourself with something in the front part of the store, say fixing the mannequins or do a bit of sweeping you might see him across the road. Of course, one waves in such a situation - and of course, he’d be encouraged to come over…

This ridiculous merry-go-round occurs every time he's in town. Only a few times have you missed each other, be it because you were tending to a customer while he was loading up his truck or you stepping out just before he came in looking to buy a set of assorted buttons you know he didn't need.

Oh, but why is he such a fool? There have been times you know he’s on the verge of taking a step towards confessing, but being interrupted or simply not quite finding the courage he’d held his tongue. He’d smile and chuckle, squeeze the fedora in his hands before saying goodbye with a hint of sadness.

And while neither of you said anything it could be weeks before you saw each other again and sometimes you'd imagine that next time he wouldn't be alone. How uncomfortably the pit in your stomach sits when you think he might’ve been set up with a “nice girl” from there and you’ll find out about it on a regular day like this. Like the day the little bell over the door chimed, announcing his entry - accompanied by a woman you didn't recognise. He must have seen it then. How your stomach churned, making you too sick to even greet her with a smile. You knew it was all over, too late, on account of your own cowardice. And he must have seen how vigour was breathed back in your body when he explained how the woman had merely asked for directions; a visitor driving through town finding herself in need of a seamstress due to an unfortunate rip of her trouser leg.

Sometimes you acknowledge that driving the matter forward can't fall solely on him. After all, everything you've gained since you were seventeen has been by your own efforts and decisions. You've lived precisely as you've wanted to - with courage. So why is this so difficult..? If it were to end up a fiasco you'd barely see him anyway, right? 

Right!

But if it did end up a fiasco you'd still be wretchedly in love with him. Not giving him a chance to say yes also means he can't say no.

°

You saw him way across the street but of course put on a smaller act of coming out to give your little café set in front a wipe with a cloth - just in case.

"Hiya, Byun..! How's that crop 'o yours surviving..!", Humphrey, owner of a small shop for tinkers to the far left of you, jovially shouts.

"They're hanging in there, Mr. Thomas..!", Baekhyun calls back to him. When his head is turned a thin veil of sweat on the back of his neck glistens in the sun, carrying down the way under his shirt collar. Sympathizing with his situation of doing manual labour in this heat, you think how uncomfortably warm it must be under both flannel and undershirt. Before you're aware, the thought that he must have that film of sweat over his shoulders and chest comes into your mind. If his skin was touching yours…

"I'm sure your fabrics are doing fine as ever in spite of the sun?"

"Oh… yes. I guess I picked a good product", you smile, certain a flush is branding your cheeks, that he knows what you were thinking just now. 

"You have a long drive home, let me get you something to drink. Sit."

Going to the back of the store to fetch a bottle you take a quick look in the mirror and can determine your facial colour hasn't undergone any dramatic change. Thank you.

On your way back you stop for a second, mesmerized by the way Baekhyun wafts his hat in hope of some alleviation. The awning has gotten him away from direct sunlight but the heat is so pressing it's only a marginal change. He looks up from his seat when he hears the click and fizzle, and humbly accepts the bottle of Nehi soda. Gulping half of it down in one go he exhales loudly, the way all of us do after drinking carbonated drinks and tips the bottle in your direction.

“You're a lifesaver.”

“It's just a soda on a hot summer's day… So, are they? Your crop hanging in there alright?”

When it comes to Baekhyun, you're terrible at smalltalk, but luckily he doesn't seem to notice or leastways not mind. 

“I’m not in any peril just yet. I upgraded my irrigation system last season. Cost me a penny, but it's been worth it. You know how-” Stopping, he chuckles and knits his brows. “I'm sure this isn't the least interesting for you.”

“No… But it's all French to me…”

“Well, then, how's your folks doing? I think it's been a while since I saw their car passing out there. They move?”

“They're still out there. But my father took a tumble, so they've been staying in. On account of his leg.”

“Oh, that doesn't sound too good. Has he been to the doctor's?”

“Mm. It's broken. I'm going over on Friday to stay the weekend, do some work around there. If the buses start going again, that is…”

“I can give you a lift.”

And just like that, an opportunity like no other opened up.

“I’m sure you’re busy, I wouldn’t like to put you–”

“I always have time for you.”

°

To say your mind has been preoccupied elsewhere this Friday is an understatement. At times it seemed like time wasn't moving quickly enough. Other times it was moving too fast, no doubt a result of nerves. It was a tiny, white lie you told Ida about having tons to do before you depart and therefore would be locking up early, but she didn't mind either way - an extra few hours of weekend is nothing to complain about. 

The tons you had to do was to give in to vanity; change into a fresh dress, dab some powder on your face. The lipstick stayed in the drawer - you don't want to be too obvious. And not fully admitting it even to yourself, if Baekhyun sees you put some effort into it he might not wish to smud- anyway, your folks would wonder about the pageantry. 

You can’t help wondering if he really was planning on coming up here or if he made it up. Of course he didn’t make it up; driving all that way just for you? Maybe he would. He said he always has time for you. 

“I always have time for you…" 

Such butterflies go through your body when you think back on how he said it, so matter-of-factly, and you promise yourself that, if he doesn’t take the first step today, as the sun is your witness, you will.

You were ready forty minutes ahead of time and after sitting on the hallway chair for ten minutes you got so restless that you decided to step over to Ms. Ethel's. It was actually a good thing since she'd just done the laundry and hanging it to dry gave you something to do as well as it unburdened her.

You've learned to recognise the sound of his engine after all this time so he doesn't have to come into view for you to know.

"That will be your lift then?", Ms. Ethel asks when she sees your reaction.

"Seems it is. You're alright, nothing else you need? Trash to take out?"

"Go on, I'll make due. Say why isn't Mr. Byun married yet? A fine gentleman like him ought to have a wife, don't you think?" She's not blind. Her eyes twinkle when she opens the door and continues "Mm. And a fine woman like you should have a husband…"

You want to confirm what she already knows, share your secret, but now is not the time so you simply swat your hand smile.

"I'll see you Monday, Ms. Ethel.”

°

If smalltalk is one of your weaker points, then smalltalk around a subject is weaker still. All throughout the hour-long drive you spoke about this and that. Mostly memories from when you were growing up, the difficulties of Baekhyun having a different background than most, why you left, why he stayed and so on, but in the back of your head you tried to find an “in”, as they say. Some way to get talking about the two of you, but whichever line you had seemed contrived,  and plainly put: you were too scared. But when he offered to lend your parents a book about irrigation and new gadgets, you jumped at the chance, deciding that following him in under the guise of wanting to have a look at the old place, would create the perfect moment to tell him. Away from the road and him having to concentrate on driving was best anyway.

You take a few steps before realizing it's raining. Calling it rain is almost an overstatement. It's what you refer to as god's flower mister; rain so fine it feels like someone is using a giant sprayer from up above.

Baekhyun leaves the door open so you walk in, curious to see if it's stayed the same. It mostly has. Maybe a new kitchen table or sofa, you don't remember that well. It's only a minute until he's back with the book and it's too soon. You can't even find anything unnecessary to say, some remark about the place. 

“Do you want to have a look around?” He's awkward and fidgety. He's thinking the same thing as you are. “It's all the same, but…”

You're on the verge of doing it. Right there, with a lump in your throat. He must know what you're thinking. 

“Oh, okay. Well, then I think I know it already.”

You turn around and grab the doorknob, your lungs tight and pulling. Say it. Say it, say it, tell him! You know you can't do it. A coward.

It's over…

"Wait."

Baekhyun's hand goes to the door. Tentativeness like never before is painted on his face. You dare not move and ruin the delicate momentum. Sliding from the door to the knob, he takes your hand, holding it with the utmost tenderness…then bends forward and presses his mouth onto yours. A whirr goes round your head. His lips are so soft. Moving back he considers your expression then leans forward again, sighing out his relief just before your lips touch. Parting yours, you let your tongue slide onto, under his, feeling his hands gently close around your waist. This elation might not be emotional - if you were to look down you might see your feet hovering an inch off the floor, so wholly does the weight off your shoulders and happiness in your heart feel. 

During a moment's breath, Baekhyun glances at the stairs - a Freudian slip of the eye or a question? Either way you do the same then allow him to take your hand and lead you upstairs. 

It's just a short walk but nervousness, giddiness, impatience all fit in there.

The room doesn't look like you remember it from growing up, when it belonged to his folks, but neither does it seem like he's taken an earnest interest in the decor, not minding a frill on the curtains or flower pattern on the bedlinen. 

It's really happening. 

Amidst the softness of his lips you can't help noticing the fumbling of his hands against your neckline.

"I'm a klutz", he laughs shyly, leaving the dress buttons to you.

All of a sudden you become vulnerable. While getting undressed in the course of kissing follows a natural flow, taking your own clothes off with eyes wide open leaves you exposed and becomes somewhat of a revealing of your body. But you gather Baekhyun feels the same way, slightly turning as he does, to put his own garments on a chair. When the undershirt pulls up along his back you can't help pausing; his lean muscles are a testament to years of physical labour and carry on over his shoulders, arms and his torso. In front of you he's turned from the sweet man to infinitely alluring.

Oh…

You're glad that he's the one to remove your bra. After he's pushed the straps from your shoulders you let it fall to the rug beneath and his fingers whisper over your back; biding his time, perhaps waiting for courage. 

Then, you feel the touch of his palm as he puts it to your breast, as lightly as if you were made of glass, but daring to put some pressure on it once your lips meet again. Taking a few steps forward he carefully steers you to the bed where he pulls the covers aside for you to get in.

The hairs on his legs against yours with none, the press of his stomach on yours. Him. Stroking hair from your brow, he studies your face with warmth then smiles.

"I guess you've known for some time that I love you."

You take a deep breath, trembling because finally, it's been said. You nod, pull his head closer.

Under your fingers you feel the muscles on his back contract and relax with his small movements. By his fingers the hem of your underwear slips down to be taken off completely when you raise your hips. When he latches his thumbs under his own you're shy to look, as if being attracted to that part of him is shameful, but you are. He's hard, swaying, when he lies back down. Further opening your legs, he guides himself to your entrance amidst showering you with his lush lips; a hint of salt and imagined earth. 

On your slick coating he slides the head in with ease, distributing buzzes and whirls as moves.

"Uh……." His soft sigh over your face is a treasure. Pushing further in each time until completely lodged he whispers "Tell me if I'm going too fast."

His elbows frame you in and props him up, leaving only his stomach against yours as he softly claps with his groin.

Allowing you to sneak through with your arms you put your hands on the small of his back, feeling the billowing from below.

Pushing your leg up, he thrusts faster, resting his head on your shoulder so that his hair tickles your cheek. The gentle hums and moans are replaced by heavy exhales and short groans while he's coming closer to climaxing. Your insides swirl and twinkle. The evening hour doesn't matter - in this heat, sweat accumulates between your rocking bodies and mixes with the damp smell of a weathered house.

Panting hard, the quiver in his voice giving it all away, the clapping eventually turns irregular and unbridled, ending with his orgasm. 

His heartbeat is on fire - yours is too - and the heat feels strong enough to burn your chest, but even with the desperation for oxygen, his weight on top of you is a rapture unmatched.

Looking at his hands intertwined with yours you're struck by how well he's managed to keep them decently gentlemanlike in spite of his work. He's been perfectly still for some time now. Since he managed the mammoth task of moving his body to lay behind you. Just as you start listening for sounds of snoozing his nose feathers across your back, then he kisses the same place and unclasps his hands. Propping himself on the elbow, he puts his head against your arm and moves his hand over your stomach. 

"Do you think you'd like it if I…"

You feel silly not understanding what he means, especially if he's embarrassed to say the words, but you can't do anything other than wait for him. He huffs, bites his bottom lip and rolls you onto your back.

"If I…touched you…" Seeing the perplexion in your face he quickly wants to reassure you "We don't have to, it's okay. If you don't like-"

"No, it's not…" Truth is, in your limited experience with men, none of them ever did or asked to do something like it, so you don't know what it would be like if someone else did it. But you feel like you want him to. "I, um…"

The words wedge in your throat, but he understands you perfectly by the touch on his arm. Placing a dollop of saliva on two fingers, he lets them disappear under the sheet.

"Ah-h…"

You can't help catching your breath when you feel his fingertips run softly over your clit. Slowly lowering his face, he envelops your lips with his, pushing them in sync with his delicate movements. Up and down he caresses, then gathers some more liquid from below and rubs his fingers quickly from side to side.

Turning into the pillow, Baekhyun's face hovers over your side with anticipation so strong it's felt in his breath against your cheek. The whirr intensifies, coming up to the surface, your backside and thighs go tense, you press your hand on mattress, open your mouth…and just then the dam bursts, spilling over electric magic between your legs, inside you, while you shake and try to smother your whines. 

Baekhyun groans mutedly and repeatedly places kisses on the side of your face as he draws big circles with the new fluids.

You find him sitting on the patio, watching the sun between clouds in pinks and lilacs. There's not a sound except the grasshoppers so you almost don't want to go out for fear of disturbing this picture. The patio flooring is damp under your feet and only a tiny squeak here and there is heard, save from the swish of the blanket you've wrapped yourself in. Looking your way, he takes a deep breath and opens his arms for you.

“Hi there.”

“Can I ask you…”, you say, playing with his hair. “Why did you look so sad right before you kissed me? Surely you already knew?”

“But I didn't know. I thought. Suspected. So I thought, if I'm wrong and you turn me away, this might be the last time I see you.”

“But you're happy now. Right?”

“Mm. All I want is you and me.”

Looking at the sun you can tell what time it is, so you sigh.

“I think we have to get going…”

Finding his way under the blanket, his hands gently caress your waist, breast. Cupping your face, he presses his lips onto yours. 

“Once more before I take you..?”

●

[tarotmundomonde]

Your current karma in love reading

pick a number 1-5 OR pick a colour: 1-yellow 2-blue 3-orange 4-red 5-purple Hope you enjoy! (ps. this reading is for practice, fun and entertainment as always)

PS. This Tarot event is still on-going, you can check it out here

1.Welcome to pile number 1. As for your current karma in romance, a big theme is pride. Your pride and their pride. There seems to be a huge focus on looks and all the superficial, like education, job title and salary, brands, etc. There seems to be a strong lack of flexibility, both you and them insisting on having their way and getting what they want to have looks and status wise. You seem to be dealing with lots of distractions and temptations and manipulation and competition. And that takes us to the next big theme, which is intentionality and intentions, yours and theirs. Looking at the cards you are clearly drawn to and attracting men, who are seeking benefits, using you, maybe simply through friends with benefits. You could even still be attached to an ex for superficial reasons. It looks like you are experiencing a lot of ghosting as well, people just walking away. So you are called to re-look at your intentions. There is a very heavy need for you to detoxify your love life. The big question is what needs to be released, what is the needed transformation. You are called to do some self-reflection. Maybe you could ask yourself why you stay in situations, where it's obvious the connection will never lead to more. Or could it be you actually just want the superficial? Have courage and have the courage to be honest with yourself. What "success" means to you in love? Is it just to get attention or to have experience or truly find beautiful love? So in addition to detoxification, what's also a big part of your current karma in romance is patience and self-acceptance and compassion. To know your worth. Also, one more thing coming through for you is that you could currently be more into reading a lot about love and relationships or watching some clips or movies or dramas or reading love books. Since a big part of your current karma in love is to detoxify, maybe that's one of the areas as well, where you should practice using more your intuition. And as always, don't forget to leave some feedback, if it resonates with you.

2.Welcome to pile number 2. What comes to your current karma in romance, the biggest theme seems to be about you being stuck in a loop. Like a situation, a pattern is on repeat, again and again. For things to change, patience will be needed but it's not enough, you also need to understand the purpose of that situation, what is the lesson there for you and a change of perception. So it seems you are at the bridge phase right now. And this whole process seems to be divided into two different main themes. One is other people, how the community is influencing your love life. Not just from your side, but also from their side. Especially females as a third-party. This could be your female friends or theirs or exes and so on, but generally speaking it looks like there's been third-party situations. So you are asked to learn to pay attention to signs and a part of it is about the social life. It's about learning to identify people, to see the energy they carry and what is their role. And look at your role, what is the energy you carry, what are you co-creating. You seem to seek justice and yet, you are stuck in power struggles. And that's what takes us to the second main theme, which is all about you. Your current karma in romance now is emotional healing and leaving the past behind. As of now, you seem to suffer of despondency, but you need to work on your self-esteem and self-confidence, to be in a place of feeling poised. The world is filled with possibilities, but first you need to heal, you need to step into your power. In the end, justice is not really something you can seek in romance, it's more a matter of perception. To understand the one for you will always choose you. So you need to start to see yourself from a different light, you have your own crown and nobody has the same one as you. As you work on your healing, you'll really see it pay off. You'll feel much more stable and stronger. And poised. So start to focus on what you want to create and co-create. Again, much abundance and blessings on the sight, it's a matter of perception. There is a new start coming, are you ready for something better? And as always, don't forget to leave some feedback, if it resonates with you.

3.Welcome to pile number 3. What comes to your current karma in romance, you seem to be dealing with heavier and more intense energy at this time. Let's break it down a little bit. A part of your current karma in romance is related to commitments. The type of commitment, the meaning, how you perceive it and what it means to you, how they perceive it and what it means to them, are you capable of being committed to someone and a relationship, etc. So questions related to commitment. Then we have the theme of manifestation and magic in this pile. It seems you could be into doing some manifestation rituals regarding love matters. And with that comes communication, to watch your words. The choice of words and tone, also when communicating with people and the words they choose, when communicating with you, as words can reveal a lot of things, if you just pay attention to them. Then you have the theme of feeling all tied up, whether it's you or them or both. This could be commitment issues or maybe even other things in life, because you did get the theme of financial health, as something influencing your love life at this time. So maybe you or the people you deal with in romance are more committed to work and finances than to relationships. Maybe you or they prioritize money matters. Or maybe you could feel like your love life is dependent on money somehow. Maybe you or them or both are more materialistic in nature, like liking to show off your career and financial success by buying stuff, by buying and wearing expensive items. You do have a theme of gift giving in this pile. Anyhow, you are learning lessons about restrictions and feeling tied up, etc and also, to learn letting go. For example letting go of bad habits, letting go of control issues. To learn to just rest and chill. To relax and to take it easy, to not stress about love matters. You are also called to do a whole lot of reflecting and self-reflection. To reconcile with the true you, to recover and to know and use your true power in love. It is hard work but it will greatly pay off as well! It's a time of deep healing and transformation. And that leads to great blossoming in your love life. It's about the little things, your own beauty and the beauty of love and things to be grateful for. The gifts of love, you are learning lessons about the gifts of love. A whole lot of magic and dreaming and magical moments in love. Romance. You are currently going through many phases. That's what your current karma in romance looks like for you at this time. And as always, don't forget to leave some feedback, if it resonates with you.

4.Welcome to pile number 4. What comes to your current karma in romance, there is so much going on with this pile. For some you could be dealing with online dating, but otherwise there is a theme of masks. Like what are someone's true colours and true nature, true intentions and true feelings and yours, too. Are you pretending or are you being true and them the same. How comfortable do you feel in your connection. Then there is communication. Pay attention to the little details. But one of your biggest main theme is new beginnings in love. Even pregnancy is a possibility. If you are completely single, you do seem to be dealing with new beginnings, like meeting new people or maybe you'll start dating someone, everything is possible with this pile. It could also be a level-up in a commitment, for example from seeing each other to officially dating. And so naturally, whatever is going on, a big part of it will be lessons of making adjustments. Like when you are dating, how do you bring other elements of life together, like home and career. Because at this time there is a focus on adjustments and your career and home as a part of your love life. For example, maybe you are thinking about moving in together with your partner, maybe it's relocation. And if there is a relocation, that could affect yours or their career. So there is definitely a huge lesson about surrendering for you. Like you can't be in control of everything and not everything will go your way. For example continueing from the same previous example, you can't claim your career to be more important than your partner's. You have to both understand that you both have the same equal right to live somewhere you like and to have a workplace you like. And so naturally a theme going on for you is about worth. That you both know your worth and understand you are both equally important and worthy. If you are single, it's still the same. You are learning lessons about worthiness and knowing your worth and what it is you want from your love life, what do you want to create. What for you is happiness in a romantic connection. But at the same time you are taught about surrendering, there is only so much you can do and everything depends on so many things. So a lot of wisdom to gain. So indeed, themes of intentions and quests and ambitions, what you are aiming at and what they are aiming at, what is your focus, what are theirs. A lot about abundance and options, about happiness. Some of you will simply experience lots of sweet moments in love. And then feelings, what is inner strength and sensitivity. Also, what makes a connection stronger. And then another theme for you currently in love is sexual wisdom. And also, one big theme as your current karma in romance is observing. To know, how to stop doing and just being still and staying calm, while just observing. And this theme is related to surrendering. Like said before, you cannot control evertyhing in your love life, not all is up to you. And there is a sense that there could be people watching, spying on you, because they want to know what's up with your love life. And so in that case there is a lesson to not take part in that drama. And as always, don't forget to leave some feedback, if it resonates with you.

5.Welcome to pile number 5. Your current karma in romance seems to be all about the spiritual at this time. The focus is on you and on you going through transformation. This pile actually has one a bit more unique message to deliver. So let's go with that first. It's about what people choose to create in their love lives. The universe wants you to be you, because though you don't know it, now that you are gone from their lives, they seem to realize what they've lost. There is something about you being gone and people then realizing what they missed out on. The cards are talking about, how when you've been present, they've let gossip and other people's opinion influence them and that they've had an intellectual approach to love, they were into strategy, whereas you've been about love. And for whatever reason, some kind of timing thing, many years later they realize they wish they had known you better, because they know with you they would have experienced something more magical in love. It's something having to do with you being different from others, something about prejudice and misunderstandings. But the message for you is that it went that way for a reason, believe it or not, it's also about divine protection and so just accept the outcome of those past connections and understand they didn't go anywhere, didn't work out, didn't even start, because they are not your person. To be honest, the cards are showing that YOU were never meant for them. So there is a sense that your current karma in love at this time is a lot about acceptance. To just accept, how it was and leave it in the past. Okay, so moving on, indeed currently the focus is on you and on you going through transformation. There is very strong wisdom and intuition present in your spread. There is also need for heart chakra healing, as it seems you might be currently too much influenced by gossips, other people's stories, etc. So it's like the outside noise creates some heart chakra blocks for you at this time. So work on healing your heart chakra and know that whatever is being said around you, true love is a whole different story. And there is a strong focus on intuitive wisdom coming through for you. About combining intellectual vision and understanding with intuition. When it comes to love, there are healthy types of strategies in love as well. Those, where by asking the right questions, you can tell already a lot about the person and how into you they actually are. There is also a focus on crown chakra healing and activation. Your current karma in romance really has so much to do with spirituality and also the divine feminine healing. You are going through transformation and healing, which leads to creativity and inspiration in love and in you attracting love towards you. There is definitely a new cycle, some kind of level-up going on for you at this time. There is also a message about mindset here. To know that there is always enough, for everyone there is their own right partner. So just know there is always enough. Other themes for you in love at this time are healthy boundaries and protection and divine protection. And then of alchemy. There is a focus on you stepping back into your power and in the power of natural love attraction. There is massive sun and sunny energy coming through for you. A lot of clarity, improvement, healing and joyful energy making its way into your love life. You literally got the soulmate card. It seems there is someone ready for you, once you are ready for love. This is a connection much deeper than you've ever experienced so far in love, especially when it comes to intimacy, this one will go deeper. For example depending on your situation you could be about to meet someone you'll have your first kiss with or it could be first time there is a real emotional or spiritual connection between you and them. But there is like a new deeper level to your next love connection. And as always, don't forget to leave some feedback, if it resonates with you.

[beardedmrbean]

Some Gen Zers have grown critical of capitalism in recent years.

Rather than dismiss the whole system, many are embracing an idea one researcher calls "safety capitalism."

Gen Zers are less likely to take certain risks, which could be one reason they want more of a social safety net. 

When someone loses their job or can't work for health reasons, how much government support should they receive? If you ask many Gen Zers that question, they'll say the current social safety net is insufficient.

Christina Elson, executive director of the Center for the Study of Capitalism at Wake Forest University, told Business Insider that many young people have embraced an idea she calls "safety capitalism."

The theory behind safety capitalism is that a successful capitalist system can and should provide sufficient protection — or safety — for those who need support following circumstances like a job loss or illness. One of the key questions facing any economic system is, "What should failure look like," Elson asked.

While many Americans receive support from a variety of social programs such as unemployment, food stamps, or disability, some of these have been scaled back since the height of the pandemic. As things stand, many Gen Zers think the US's social safety net is inadequate.

Sixty-five percent of Gen Zers think the government should provide a job to anyone who wants one, according to a Wake Forest survey of 2,000 Gen Zers and millennials conducted with YouGov in 2022. Forty-five percent said they had a positive impression of universal basic income policies. In a 2023 survey conducted by the same group, 65% percent of Gen Zers said unemployment payments should match one's salary.

Most Gen Zers still support capitalist ideas like private home ownership and entrepreneurship, Elson said. But many are frustrated with how the high costs of things like healthcare, housing, and education have taken a financial toll on Americans — and think these systems could benefit from more government intervention.

"You hear about 'billionaires should be outlawed' — that really isn't the issue," Elson previously told BI regarding Gen Zer's concerns. "The issue is the bottom. What is the appropriate bottom living standard for an American citizen, and what role should the government have in ensuring that people don't fall below that?"

Some are even turning away from capitalism altogether. In a Business Insider survey conducted last July of over 1,800 Americans, 28% of Gen Z respondents said they somewhat or strongly preferred the economic system of socialism over capitalism, the most of any generation. Twenty-nine percent of Gen Zers preferred capitalism — the rest didn't have a preference or weren't sure.

Why Gen Z wants an expanded safety net

Compared to past generations, young people today are less likely to drive, drink, have sex, and more likely to live at home, per some surveys. Elson said these examples point to a level of risk aversion that may be unique to Gen Zers.

"Gen Z are 'younger for longer,' — they go out into the world slower," she said, adding, "What is it that this generation needs in order to feel that they're able to go out there and take risks?"

Elson said many Gen Zers seek a "redesign of social safety" to enhance what some feel is an outdated system. For example, unemployment insurance and Social Security were introduced nearly 90 years ago during the Great Depression.

The financial challenges currently facing the Social Security system — due in part to the US's aging population — are arguably further evidence of a system that's in need of reform.

"All of this network has been designed for another time and place," Elson said.

Exactly what, if any, changes the US should make to its social safety net is up for debate. Some young people may look to Europe, where countries generally have a larger social safety net than the US.

In Germany, eligible unemployed individuals receive between 60% and 67% of their previous salary for up to a year. Policies like universal health insurance and guaranteed sick leave are also more common in Europe. Before temporary changes were enacted during the pandemic, most US states offered six months of unemployment benefits, with Americans collecting an average of $372 a week, per PBS.

Regardless, Elson said it's important that the US's entrepreneurial culture — which can reward risk-taking and drive economic progress — remains intact.

Most businesses fail, but as prominent investor Charlie Munger once said — and Elson referenced in a recent post — a level of failure may be necessary to have a thriving economy.

"Capitalism without failure is like religion without hell," Munger said.

[amanitaphalloides]

Please give me all your unemployment, job hunting, interviewing, etc tips!

hi unemployed community member <3

I am so sorry in advance for the length of this. I’m coming at this as someone who got laid off from a corporate job and is basically looking for the same job again, so ymmv with how relevant this is, but here’s a random array of tips I have found helpful.

MY GUIDE TO BEING UNEMPLOYED!

Getting your shit together after losing a job

Things you may need/want to do quickly if you have just lost a job (ie my week 1 unemployment to do list):

apply for unemployment benefits

review, negotiate, and sign your separation agreement

make an unemployment budget

take advantage of your final weeks of employer-sponsored insurance by having last-minute doctors appointments and getting your prescriptions refilled

look for new health insurance

contact student loan servicer to request a deferment/update your payment plan

More about this:

Unemployment benefits

If you’re eligible for unemployment benefits, apply to them right away. Different states are different, but you may need to have an in-person meeting at the unemployment office before you get any money. Scheduling this can take weeks. The world will look so much brighter if you have a little income. So if you qualify, do this first!

You will typically qualify for benefits if you got laid off or fired, but you also made qualify if your contract ended. Also you can usually freelance and still get benefits depending on how much you make.

Budgeting

Making a budget was really important to me so that I could concretely see whether I needed to panic about money and so I could give myself permission to relax. My goal was to stretch my severance and unemployment as far as possible while also doing stuff I enjoy.

Here's my budget template just in case our brains work the same way. This template is based on an old budget of mine - there are items on here that I set to $0 once I got laid off. I literally did budget in movie tickets because that has a massive impact on my joy in life.

Severance

If you are getting severance, it is possible to negotiate how much you get! I was able to get a few extra weeks basically by saying “this is bad timing and my income also supports my family."

Negotiating severance is like negotiating salary in that your former employer will probably give you less than you ask for. It's unlike negotiating salary in that you usually have zero leverage so honestly you might as well do an emotional appeal. IMO

Putting together an unemployed life

Stuff I consider absolutely non-negotiable aka things I MUST do not to spiral:

Make plans with friends. Write all your social plans down in your calendar and treat them as seriously as work.

Do something other than job hunting. Pick up a hobby. Give yourself a really specific reading or movie watching challenge. Volunteer. This will allow you to feel like you have a life which is absolutely critical to your self esteem, your ability to socialize, and your ability to function. You are going to have days when you NEED to feel cool. That will be way easier if you volunteered a few days ago than if you haven't done anything joyful for weeks.

Try to take care of your physical health. Move your body, eat full meals, go to bed at a regular time. I have really realized that sometimes the difference between me feeling good and despondent is truly just like, have I slept well and eaten and exercised recently.

Do things you like doing. I think it is very common to become unemployed and feel like you have to strip away everything in your life that's not focused on the job hunt. But you cannot stop doing everything that brings you happiness and expect to be okay. You will love your life if you fill it with things you love and you will hate it if you don't.

More tips....

Make a list of free or cheap things you can do for fun and then do them! Being unemployed is a great time to go to free days at museums if there’s anything like that near you. It’s also a good time to try a new recipe, check out a new walking path, FaceTime with a friend, write your grandma a letter, make diary comics, listen to new albums, watch movies you always meant to watch... for me though getting out of the house is especially important. I am constantly googling "free things to do in chicago this weekend" lol it pays off especially in a city!

I literally make Google calendar events for myself that are like "free museum day." I need to protect that time and treat it like an appointment to make myself actually do things.

If you have friends who wfh, go hang out with them and job hunt while they're working!

Applying for jobs

Tell everyone that you are job hunting. Post it far and wide. A lot of people get referral bonuses so they'll be trying to help you!

Job boards I use most heavily: Idealist, Otta, Built In, LinkedIn

This is so obvious but a lesson I really learned recently: only apply to places if you would take the job. If you're like "realistically I would not do that for that salary range" do not apply. you are gonna get yourself in Situations @ me two months ago

If you have a 1st or 2nd LinkedIn connection at a job you’re looking at dm them and say you'd love to hear what they think of the company!

I have also had success messaging random people on LinkedIn. Basically following this format: "Hi [name]! I came across this job at your company - I'm really interested and I'd love to hear more about what it's like working with the team. I'm sure you're busy, but is there any chance you have 15 minute this week or next to chat with me about the company before I apply? Thanks either way!"

Not everyone will want to talk but sometimes people still give you good insight into the hiring process.

It is really important to me to have boundaries around my job search. This has varied a bit depending on my schedule but the best thing I've found is telling myself I apply to jobs 9am-12pm. At noon I am DONE.

Interviewing

My interview prep: practice my elevator pitch with a focus on why it lead me to this company, pick out a few anecdotes from my past jobs I can share (a time I messed up, something I worked on that had a good result, something that didn’t go as expected, a time I had to deal with conflict), read the job's website and any news items I can find about them, and do a little quick review of the industry.

Most commonly repeated questions I've encountered recently: what's a time you made a mistake, what kind of management style do you like, why should we hire you.

This is the first time in my life I've ever genuinely practiced an elevator pitch and I hate to say it but it's really helped

After an interview (especially a panel interview) immediately take a few notes on what people said so you can write personalized thank yous.

I hope something in that was helpful and if not I'm sorry for the wall of text LOL but hugs and kisses it is all gonna be ok!!!

[literaticat]

What led you to ABLA instead of another agency or setting up your own or (not sure how it works)? Just wondering how some agents end up at certain agencies or setting up their own agency (with others or just by themselves).

I was an intern at a different agency, but they didn't want to make me an agent because I still had a job as a bookseller and they said it was a "conflict of interest" -- which is actually crazy, since I lived in San Francisco and paid rent in San Francisco, and the agency wasn't paying me. . . . so like, hello???? Yes of course I had to keep my actual job that had a salary and benefits! Oy!

But then my friend introduced me to Andrea and ABLA, and they offered to let me join them, and that was a better fit anyway since a) they were based in Northern California and so was I, and b) they had a specialty in Children's books. (The other agency was mostly adult -- I am pretty sure I had more experience in kids books than any of them, and I wasn't even an agent yet!). So, yeah. I shadowed them and learned the ropes of the agency for a while, and then became an Associate Agent in 2008, and I have never worked for any other agency.

I couldn't have possibly set up my own agency at that time, because... I wasn't an agent yet. Like, as an intern, I went through queries and did editorial letters and stuff like that -- I literally had no idea how to do anything to do with the job, let alone how to RUN A COMPANY.

Agenting is an apprenticeship-type business. There's no degree program for it, you can't learn it in school -- The way you learn to do it is by watching established agents, and doing it under their supervision. A person who comes in as an assistant without any publishing experience will take a while to learn the ropes enough to be an agent, and really needs to be at a strong agency that will provide support and mentorship!

(A person with a long history in some other part of publishing, such as Editorial or Rights, could for sure pick it up quite quickly -- but even they, most of the time, join another agency rather than just starting their own!)

Any person who starts their own agency with zero experience in publishing or as an established agent? RUN AWAY. That is not somebody I would trust. They might have the best of intentions, but they are going to run into problems, and you don't want to be involved when that happens.

[inspired-lesson-plans]

Tournament of Plans

Week 08

Salmon

Olympians

Queer Jekyll and Hyde

Tariff Formula

Kobold Evolution

Mark Sherz's Redbubble

April Fools Day and The Planet Photographs are not included this time.

発表

Atención

This will be the final preliminary round for the Tournament of Plans (bracket 1).

Today through Wednesday will be fluff posts ineligible for the Tournament.

Starting Friday, every day's post will simply be a 1v1 of two randomly selected winners from the preliminary rounds, with links and a 1 day voting window.

I will keep track of the results on this Google Sheet and on a pinned post updated weekly.

Further information is below the cut.

I guess that means it's time to explain what's going on. So, I've been unemployed since September. This blog has been what I call productive procrastination. It keeps me busy and stops me from just playing videogrames or just falling into depression, but it also takes time away from looking for work. But looking for work wasn't working, whereas engaging with people on this blog gave me something to look forward to every day. I actually posted this on my LinkedIn, because it could possibly help me stand out.

Anyway, the story. So the New Jersey Department of Labor doesn't just give out unemployment money, they also offer hookups to industries and businesses that are hiring. I turned down being a prison guard, even though I am very interested in criminal justice reform (it's one of the few places where my moderate politics goes strongly liberal), but they make you work 10 hours shifts plus overtime that's basically mandatory, and it sounds like a really toxic work environment. Given that I was the teacher all the kids liked, the parents were wary of, and the administrators hated, it did feel like a $70k salary (after overtime) and top-tier health insurance weren't worth it.

By the end of February I was running out of unemployment funds and still didn't have anything. In the worst case, I could pick up gig work as a substitute teacher, which would buy me time until mid-June. That's when the NJDOL came in clutch* by offering free CDL training with an 8 week course, extending my unemployment benefits until the end of the course. So yeah. I asked friends and family for advice, whether to do subbing or go for my CDL (class B plus Hazmat endorsement), and they all said I should take the classes. I can always do substitute teaching afterwards if I want, but this way I'll always have a way to get a job.

So that's what I've been doing. It's been a really interesting experience, tbh. But I just haven't had enough time to feed my queue, and that's why you're reading this message. What little time I've had to write these up, I've been using to draft my longer lessons like the Time Zones lesson, doing the weekly Revised and Revisited or Appraised and Approved, and maintaining correspondence. But I really do have to be careful or else I will absolutely spend far too much of my time here.

Okay, now to the point of this post.

I need to do a lot of job applications. If I get a job as a hazmat trucker or bus driver, then maybe I can get in good with the higher-ups and work my way up to a logistics job. That means I need to cool it on drafting new lesson plans. I've been a perfectionist lately. Last week's Olympians lesson took nearly an hour. Time Zones to me at least 6 hours.

At the same time, I've been wondering what to do about the ToP. Ironically, I entered the project without a plan. I have noticed that 1v1 rounds get more responses than the weekly votes with 5-7 entries. Sounds like decision paralysis. This is probably a version of why the American electoral system is broken; only the hardcore voters care about voting in the primaries, so a minority of strong opinions decide who advances to the general election, where everyone feels qualified to pick one because all the nuance has been removed.

Anyway, this is about fun.

Tournament of Plans, Round 2

Begins Friday

*pun intended, because this is how I finally learned how to drive manual

[batsplat]

i don't know if you've answered this before but how do you think 2013 would've gone as a season if casey and marc had been teammates?

I HAVE talked a couple times by now about marc and casey as teammates - here and here - though I guess this prompt is a little different in that it's asking me about the 2013 season specifically. I'm kinda traditionally resistant to giving actual predictions of... results, because to me it gets into kind of boring territory about who's 'better' or (even more irritating) who's 'more talented' and I just. do not care. BUT, sure, I can do a thought experiment localised to 2013 specifically. so this post will focus more on the actual state of competition than it will on interpersonal vibes, how casey and marc deal with the rivalry on a psychological level, or how long the teammate relationship actually lasts - for that stuff, you can check out the other two posts. just take it as read that I think all these riders are very good and very talented, this is just a thought experiment, I don't feel super strongly about this, obviously this could've gone a thousand ways

also we're going to assume for our purposes here that casey and marc are actually teammates in this and dani is.................................. uh, idk man, he's with ducati, he's not having fun. which is far from guaranteed... one of honda's attempts to convince casey to stay was by offering him a pretty unusual one year deal that would've almost doubled his salary. the rookie rule preventing rookies from joining factory seats was still in place at that point... so it's quite obvious honda's preferred approach here would to keep casey at least one more year while marc gets his rookie season out of his system at a satellite team. but let's just say they're teammates fighting for the title, whatever

do think the obvious answer here is to say casey wins the title and call it a day. it's certainly a likely outcome. it's not detracting anything whatsoever from either marc's ability or 2013 season specifically to say that he needed a fair bit of luck to win the title as a rookie. luck is part of sports and you've still got to put yourself in the position to benefit from luck. and in a way it's also part of like... marc's career-long reservoir of luck... generational talents do sometimes have a bit of that blessing about them where the fates seem to be on their side... so in a way it's establishing a pattern that remains relevant for much of his prime. jorge and dani crashed a hell of a lot less in 2013 than marc did. marc walked away relatively unscathed from pretty serious crashes, including at least one that was actively stupid - whereas jorge and dani were seriously punished for quite minor infractions. the injuries for the other aliens (esp jorge) were just seriously poor luck (dani is just generally more breakable); the former goes beyond 'luck' on a season-to-season level and becomes more about 'luck' in the genetic lottery + an ability to crash in ways that make severe injuries relatively less likely (aka by being lower to the ground while sliding off)

all this means that if you change anything major about 2013, like for instance introducing a whole different rival, then you consult the tea leaves and fresh up your butterfly effect lore and assume that jorge probably wouldn't get injured in the same way to the same extent. maybe he'd get injured in a completely different crash, who knows. but like... anything that isn't related to strict riding ability would obviously play out in somewhat different ways. you could argue that marc himself suffered a serious stroke of bad luck by being black-flagged at phillip island, but ultimately there's less reason to believe his team wouldn't still have fucked it - that was an error based on competitive paranoia and, to put it politely, rank stupidity on the part of marc's team. ultimately ofc marc does bear some responsibility for that since he's the rider. but it's like... excusable from a 20 year old (less so from the people advising said 20 year old), doesn't mean it couldn't have been competitively penalised considerably more if he hadn't already built up such a buffer to jorge

so that's the generic argument that it just becomes less likely for marc to win the title. obviously it's still possible - another title contender inherently makes things more chaotic and maybe jorge and casey end up tripping over each other. but the percentages go down. now casey specifically.... I mean, first of all, I think it's worth pointing out that casey didn't retire as the defending champion. did casey lose the 2012 season because of injury? ............ maybe he would've won without the ankle injury at indy, but it's worth pointing out that he was already 32 points adrift in the championship standings. the way 2012 works is that with the shift to 1000 machinery, honda struggles with chattering problems for the first half of the season before becoming the best bike in the second once they've figured it out - at which point jorge holds onto his championship lead through grit and consistency. this is where dani goes on that run of victories, winning six of the last eight races. basically if casey is still in there and plays the rest of the season smart, it does become quite marginal about whether casey can rediscover his title-winning form AND dani finishes ahead of jorge enough times to steal enough points to make up the difference (rather than casey and dani stealing points from each other). idk, it is quite a substantial points difference and it's the best season of both jorge and dani's premier class careers, but it is at least... plausible for any one of them to win in this scenario. jorge's still the favourite, but it's certainly not a done deal

the reason I bring this up is because casey was definitely also to blame for his points deficit in 2012. less so for the arm pump in qatar, but more for that sachsenring race where he chucked it out of second place while fighting dani or that.... vaguely embarrassing mugello race where idek WHAT he was doing. incidentally, here's a really good piece analysing jorge's 2012 season, which includes this line:

ntm buddy

the point is that 2012 casey - whether related to his imminent retirement or not - did still have a few mistakes in his system. (is worth pointing out that right before he had his indy disaster, casey was talking about how he was less motivated. the rhetoric changed by the time his autobiography was written, but in 2012 itself the picture is clearly more complicated.) look, I don't want to talk up one crash and one messy race TOO much because it feels like a bit of a silly standard, and also the quality of the 2013 title fight just was quite a bit lower than 2012. but if we're game planning 2013, all these things are relevant data points!! and, aside from jorge's injury, obviously we also know that casey's body isn't the most durable either and HE could've easily not been competitive for the full 2013 season, for whatever reason. it's not particularly narratively satisfying to say that 2013 would've come down to whether anyone who isn't marc could manage to keep their bodies in one piece for nine months, but it's not wrong exactly either

that being said. with the injury proviso, even with the casey headloss in 2012, I do suspect that a reasonably healthy casey would've been comfortably enough the strongest rider in 2013 to allow for a little headloss. basically he would've built up quite a nice championship lead early that he could have managed for the rest of the season. lemme show my working

so, here's the 2013 season as it happened irl:

first off - unlike in 2012, honda didn't have any teething problems early in the 2013 season, and it was on average defo the strongest bike that year (albeit with a less substantial margin than the following year). secondly, I'd say it's fair to characterise marc's season as really clicking when they got to sachsenring - before that he's done a very good job to be consistent enough to amass the points that would ultimately drag him over the line, but the performances are still a bit spottier. which is ofc fair enough because he's a rookie, but worth keeping in mind here

the season starts off in qatar, which is definitely more of a yamaha track than a honda track. then again, it's a casey specialist track - I'm kind of willing to buy his arm pump excuse for 2012 and am ready-ish to believe that he would have won that race, even ahead of quite a dominant jorge performance. at worst, he would've finished in second; remember the irl!hondas were slow enough they allowed themselves to be caught by valentino coming from the shadow realm. let's say jorge still wins that, ahead of casey and valentino. next, we have cota. now, look. I think on the balance of their respective careers, if they had both raced repeatedly there, marc would have had a distinctly better cota record than casey. but in 2013 specifically.... both marc and casey are good at tracks they're visiting for the first time, but this was casey's primary calling card and also like.... it's marc's second race in motogp. marc at his specialist circuits that year was 'very good' and he did WIN them, but he didn't win them with the utter ease that he did in his prime prime. anyway, I do think casey takes that one

onto jerez. traditionally, jerez was a bit of a casey bogey track (weird track to be mid at but whatever) and he'd actually only gotten his first and only win there in 2012, where he beat jorge. but... well, crucially he did beat jorge, and irl in 2013 we had a honda 1-2, so again on the balance of probability I kindaaa think casey wins that. (remember I've sent dani off to ducati hell so he's being deleted from the equation.) and marc gets to have a bit of fun and bump jorge off the road. the next place is le mans, which is a wet race - obviously there you never really know, casey was a very competent wet weather rider but it's also not like you can pencil in his victory by default (though dani did win that irl race). what you CAN say about casey, however... while it's marginal who out of him and valentino is the best alien wet weather racer, he's the alien you'd give the bike in the wet with the directive not to chuck it down the road. remarkably, he never crashed in a single wet or f2f race in the premier class except... *squints at notes* *taps earpiece* I'm hearing something about a jerez 2011? who can say what happened there. anyway, crucially jorge canonically had a pretty poor race so let's say both hondas gain on him in the standings

at a certain point, psychology does come into play for marc. if we compare this to his irl rookie season, what we have here is a 'very very good' season that also misses a couple of the same wow factors as he got irl - which inevitably is going to affect how he approaches the rest of the season. bluntly speaking, we know from his record over the years that marc is considerably more capable of being risk averse when he knows there's a championship on the line. at times, errors beget more errors because of a mix of frustration and a sort of 'might as well' attitude and a desire to get a big result At All Costs. irl, marc suffered his first race crash at mugello - butterfly effect goes both ways and maybe marc can avoid that particularly nasty experience, but I do think it's coming at SOME point, probably sooner rather than later. AND if marc never really feels in the title fight, then at a certain point I do think those mistakes could multiply. whereas casey is actually super consistent when he gets into title-winning groove. across his two title-winning seasons, he only records a single dnf, which happened at... *taps earpiece again* apparently that's also jerez 2011. huh. yes, it's somewhat circular logic to go casey didn't make mistakes in seasons where he won the title and thus he won't make mistakes and will win the title'. casey is ALSO susceptible to errors multiplying - as you could see with the whole sachsenring to mugello 2012 situation and, more memorably, the aftereffects of laguna 2008. but you kinda need something to set that off!! in 2008, casey's bike was a bit of a mess early in the season and that made him frustrated, then he had a bit of an unfortunate experience at laguna that I've heard made him rather unhappy. in 2012, he'd kill me if I said this to his face but, again, there was a bit of a retirement factor, like he just was 5% less locked in idk. (worth pointing out he was leading the championship *at the time of his retirement announcement*.) and the 2013 honda was just so well-handling, little cause for frustration there... idk. I think he'd be fine

mugello is still a jorge victory, both due to track characteristics and because it's one of jorge's strongest tracks. catalunya I could probably see casey launch a stern challenge there, but it's also a bit more of a yamaha than a honda track so sure let's keep those 1-2's in both where casey replaces dani. then you've got assen - I don't really have any strong opinions on the order here, it's not a particularly strong marc track, it's a... fine casey track... I'm not sure what would've happened between valentino and jorge if jorge hadn't gotten injured. since it is a very strong valentino track and valentino doesn't have to care about the title fight, I tend to think he still wins that race, but it's fairly marginal. (jorge's assen record is kinda weird but crucially it also gets severely worse specifically after being taken out through no fault of his own in 2012 and then after the 2013 injury.) a non-injured casey probably finished on the podium there in some constellation, because - as established - a non-injured casey in good form feeling good about life really wasn't particularly error prone

I've typed in some very fake numbers into a spreadsheet and I've got about 40 points between them headed into sachsenring. marc's best chances for beating casey in individual races are cota, le mans and assen I reckon. marc gets his first premier class race win in germany; casey got beaten at the sachsenring by dani in both honda seasons, his only win there was a torrential rain affair, he's fine there but nothing special. but... y'know, at this point I kinda feel like it doesn't matter *for this specific season*. unless casey gets injured, if he gets into his groove and is sitting on a comfortable championship lead, he can see that thing out. he probably holds off the jorge challenge fairly well too - he's traditionally very strong at the flyaways and I don't think jorge would be able to pull off quite as many wins as he did in the irl season (and obviously you can pencil in phillip island as 25 points). marc gets going mid-season, spurred on by the sachsenring win. do suspect casey beats him at laguna... again, if they'd both raced there a bunch it would've been slightly more of a marc track I reckon - but it very much was a casey track, and he usually had a pretty good excuse for not winning in his less fruitful years at that circuit. (satellite honda; victim of attempted murder; mystery illness; evil bike.) hey, maybe that marc-on-vale corkscrew overtake happens for p2 and we can do an experimental study in rancid vibes in the presser. maybe marc wins indy, I kinda suspect casey wins aragon (by leading from the front - irl!marc had to cut his way through the pack by which point casey would've checked out). I'm not going to work out the maths for this but vibes-wise I reckon casey wins aragon, sepang and phillip island and that's where he seals the title

so that's how I think that season plays out! I also kinda think that if marc isn't in the title fight, he doesn't intentionally start any MASSIVE drama. the attack dogs in marc's camp are probably still trying to establish themselves within honda - but as long as this isn't actively annoying casey, he doesn't really care. marc probably has a somewhat crashier (in races) somewhat messier rookie season, still racks up 2-3 wins, sets himself up very nicely as the next generational talent and is generally seen as highly impressive. he has at least a couple on-track incidents with casey, both in practise and in races, that make casey... not happy. there's also the potential for canon events like the whole laguna situation to stoke tensions. I have a bit of a two year rule for feuds where I think it's really hard to start a proper feud in a single season... I just think you need to have a bit of an established interpersonal dynamic for things to get really nasty. you need a bit of history to your rivalry, a few past incidents on both riders' minds, a few plausible grievances for both sides to draw on. basically I think by the end of 2013, marc and casey have had enough brushes that everyone can kinda see where this is going - maybe at least one proper on-track incident in the style of jerez or aragon that casey pretends to get over in the moment but will remember until the day he dies... so he can harbour a grudge that will come back with a vengeance if the opportunity presents itself. the proper title fight happens in 2014 and that is where things get really (and irreparably) ugly between marc and casey. my kind of season

[spacequokka]

Page 270

Pairing: vamp!Jinki x Reader Genre: Vampire AU, Fluff Rating: PG Summary: Jinki has a surprise for his favorite human. Word Count: 0.9k Warnings: None, really. Blood drinking mentioned but not done.

A/N: Happy birthday to one of the cutest leaders I know <3

No matter how many times Jinki ran his hands over his cream slacks, he couldn't get rid of the sweaty palms sensation. Sure, his body hadn't produced sweat in centuries but that fact did little to the feeling go away.

Today was the day.

All the paperwork was done. Any registration fees were paid. He just needed to ask you. Make it official on paper.

A quick glance at his watch reminded him that you should be getting off the bus soon. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.. Everything would be alright. Even if you rejected his request, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

You knocked on the door lightly. It'd be difficult, if not impossible, for other people to hear it, but you knew he could be deep in his basement and still pick up the sound. He opened the door and smiled. "____, welcome."

You smiled sweetly and stepped inside. "The storm's starting to kick up. I brought my overnight bag, just in case." You held up the leopard print backpack. "Hope that's okay."

He nodded and closed the door. "Of course it is. I prefer it over traveling so late."

You laughed. "Somehow I knew you'd say that." You stepped close and poked his cheek, eyeing the reaction of his skin. "Hm, you're a little dryer than usual." You stepped back and peeled off your scarf and coat. "Have you been overdoing it again?"

He avoided your perceptive gaze. "It couldn't be helped. I needed to pickup documents and return them as quickly as possible."

You sighed and turned on your heel. "Then we should go ahead and get started." You beckoned him to follow with a few curls of your finger. Like a lovesick puppy, his feet obeyed. It wasn't until you pulled your shirt collar away from your throat that he even noticed you were seated, waiting for him to drink his fill.

"Oh, no." He shook his head to clear away the fog. "I wanted to talk with you first."

"Oh?" You blinked then let go of your shirt. "What about? Is it my work schedule? I can request to get off earlier, but I'm not sure my boss will allow it."

"Well, yes but not exactly." He went to his desk and plled out the contract he picked up from H&V Resources. "You made a comment last month about how it'd be easier to be a live-in donor--"

You glanced at him then at the papers in his hand before jumping to your feet. "Is that--" Fear and sorrow flowed from your pores like a thick, bitter syrup completely unlike your usual light floral scent. "Oh. I-I didn't mean to upset or offend you. It's just been a mess at work and being with--I'm mean, around you--Oh, God. Please don't fire me--"

He shushed you with a cold fingertip against your trembling lips. "I wouldn't dream of it." When he was certain you'd calmed down, he held up the papers. "It took me a while to get permission and the permits, but I'd like to ask you to be my personal live-in donor."

Your jaw dropped.

"As you said then, it'd be much easier if you lived here with me." He gestured to your surroundings. "I have plenty of space. I'm offering a six-figure salary as well as health and life insurance." He passed the papers to you.

"Mr. Lee, that's a lot of money."

"I realize that. That's why I hoped to have you take on the role as my personal assistant with my company as well. You could help me avoid 'overdoing it,' as you say. It'd benefit you as I wouldn't need to feed as often." When that thoughtful look settled on your face as you flipped through the pages, the sweaty palms came back. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Feel free to take your time to look over--"

"Where's a pen?" You searched the top of his desk and found one. Before he thought to stop you, you were going through and signing and initialing wherever highlighted.

"I-I thought you'd want to take your time to read it thoroughly." It was a lot to process given all the disastrous ways he imagined things turning out.

"It's a no-brainer. I hate my other job and we get along great. On top of that, you're essentially offering a way to turn my life around. Even one year working for you would pay off my debts." Your words were rushed and your hand shook as you blitzed through the contract. "Imagine me being able to lease a car!"

Your happiness was contagious, treating him to a richer flavor of your scent he'd never experienced. "I'd be happy to help you get a car. I could also loan you one of mine as a company car."

You paused and looked at him with a mixture of shock and glee. "I've never had a job with a company car before." Doubt flittered through your mind. "Are you sure you want me for this?" Worry filled your eyes and it melted his heart.

"____, dear. May I be brutally honest with you?" When you nodded he took one of your hands in his. "You are one of the most brilliant, endearing, and compassionate people I've ever met. There's no one else I trust, or want, to give this position to."

"Thank you so much." You blushed then returned to the contract. You scribbled your name on the final page and handed the stack to him. "It'll be a pleasure living with you."

He chuckled and accepted the contract. "I'm almost positive the pleasure will be all mine."

[maconthepen]

I used to work in a bookshop.

It was a new one, and I was hired before it opened. For weeks, I was surrounded by the smell of paint and sawdust as we got the place ready for opening. When its doors revealed it to everyone else for the first time, we gave a free book to the first customer and I remembered thinking, I can't wait until this place smells of paper instead of tireless renovation.

By the time I left, it did.

Most of my colleagues just wanted a “real job”: a nine-to-five and a salary with benefits, somewhere far from a new and characterless shopping centre in low-income area of our city. I couldn’t judge them for that; I wanted one, too. I wanted job security, and I wanted not to work until midnight on Christmas Eve, slinging David Williams and Roald Dahl and Jojo Moyes at disorganised fathers and husbands with stress veins pulsing at their temples.

And then I got a “real” job, and I realised working in a bookshop was the realest job I’d ever had.

Here are the things I remember:

The peace of the nature and travel section. We had an armchair there for the adventurers and gardeners who wanted a quiet moment in their day.

The mum who thanked me for choosing the right book, for helping her child to read something for the first time in years.

The little girl who talked my ear off for half an hour after school about the Murder Most Unladylike books.

Talking to authors, and hearing — seeing, too — their unspooling, magic passion about the worlds they’d created.

The growth of our accessible kids book section from one shelf to half a bookcase, though that hardly seemed enough. The joy of a little boy who had dyslexia and could finally read the book his friends were reading.

Saturday mornings in 2018. Slime was really popular and we had to shield our books with tarp, while the kids who made their own ran around with blue-purple-glitter-stained fingers.

The teenager who came in by herself every day with scuffed shoes and a heavy backpack. Each afternoon, she would read a chapter of a book with the utmost care. When she put it back on the shelf, there were no dog-ears. There were no coffee stains, no spinal damage, no sign she'd been there at all. We were that girl's local library. The day I realised that, I started taking the book she was reading off the shelf until the next day when school was out again.

Most of all, I remember the people. My friends with beautiful Celtic names who laughed with me as we shelved and shelved, and I remember Jack, a man with a booming laugh who'd always give me a lift home and who put kippers in the fucking microwave that made the break room stink for a week.

He played the bagpipes at my wedding.

I applied for another bookseller position today, half a world away in a place where literacy rates are high and the people buy the newest Barbara Kingsolver when it's in hardback and still priced over thirty dollars. If I get the job, I'm sure I'll love it. And I do want it. I want to return to saying the alphabet under my breath as I deal with a new delivery and fill the gaps in the shelves, exactly one book wide. I want to see streams of customers walking away with whole worlds in their hands, and in the off season when there isn't anything to do, I want to tuck my own book underneath the counter and read it surreptitiously.

But there's a grief about me too, today. I will never have my old life again. I will never again have that job I took for granted with those people I cherished.

I wish I loved it more when it was mine, but all I can do is make sure I love whatever comes next, too.

Anyway, here's to books.