#or what i call a regular weekday !

[zorosdimples]

what if i write a fic with foot, armpit, ass, piss, and blood play?

[archangeldyke-all]

I’m BEGGING for angst to fluff to casual by Chappell with Sevika

I’m PLEADING for “working opening shifts/weekday shifts when Sevika doesn’t come in at the last drop” to Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers and reader falls in love with Sevika once they finally meet. (I will physically pay you for this one xx)

ohhhh my gosh the phoebe one..... holy shit...

listen to punisher here

men and minors dni

i love a good place to hide in plain sight...

you're one of the most popular nameless faces in zaun.

you know the name of every of the last drop's regular customers. you overhear gossip and plans and drama about some of the biggest people in the city. the liquor you slide across the bar for a living makes everybody's lips loose, and you know more secrets than any one person should know.

but nobody knows your name.

customers call theiram 'chuck.'

they call you 'doll.'

you don't mind it. knowing how to go unnoticed, how to keep your head down-- that's what's kept you alive this long in zaun.

but it gets lonely.

when there's a birthday at the bar, you're the one to pass out party hats and pull out the sparklers. last year, you ate a cupcake alone on your front porch to celebrate your own.

when you bump into strangers on the street on your walks home, you apologize with a duck of your head. it's either your familiar face and the fact that you pour their drinks; or the meek way you shrink in on yourself-- but they let you go each time.

when you clock out, if you're lucky, you'll time your leaving to overlap with sevika's arrival. and, for just a moment, you can pretend that she knows you as well as you know her.

what if i told you i feel like i know you?

you've known sevika your whole life.

you're certain she doesn't recall, but when you were children, sevika caught you shivering and cold-- the cardboard box you were living in soaked through with rain. she lent you a jacket and all the pocket change she had. she even smiled at you.

you were a barback when she was running with vander. you were there when she turned her back on the man-- when she chose her city over her friend.

you were there to watch her deteriorate under silco's employ. first her arm, then the various beatings she'd be doled each month, then the arrival of the dark bags under her eyes.

on occasion, she'll get belligerently drunk, loitering at the bar far after close, there to greet you when you open again the next day. on these days, you're the one to give her a glass of water and walk her home safely. her home is always a mess. the star patterned blanket you pull over her shoulders is so old it must be from her childhood.

but we never met...

silco dies, and everything goes to shit.

there's a week there where you're too busy avoiding the grey to worry about work.

and then there's the war.

and then...

the last drop is just a pile of rubble. jinx and isha are just as dead as the bar. and sevika is named ambassador.

here everyone knows you're the way to my heart. hear so many stories of you at the bar. most times alone, and some looking your worst. but never not sweet to the trust funds and punishers...

ran and thieram rebuild the bar. they offer you a job. you're right back where you've always been-- standing behind a bar and eavesdropping on people with real lives.

from time to time, you'll hear about sevika.

sevika, who's lost everything. sevika, who lives in piltover now. the thought makes you snort-- you can only imagine the glare permanently imprinted on her face now.

sevika starts welfare programs for zaun, slowly but surely. schools open, widows and orphans are paid, and more bridges start being built across the river.

sevika doesn't smoke. sevika doesn't drink. she quit for a girl who's dead now. but occasionally you'll hear that she's been sulking around piltoverian bars, nursing a fizzy juice and looking haunted.

you'll hear that she doesn't scowl at people who approach her anymore, instead, she signs pictures of herself with a resigned smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

you'll hear rumors that ambassador sevika can sometimes be heard quietly crying from her office.

sometimes, you'll walk by her old apartment. you wonder who lives there now. you wonder if she remembers those walks, if she remembers you.

you know she doesn't.

still, it doesn't stop you from crying for her.

i can't open my mouth and forget how to talk, 'cause even if i could i wouldn't know where to start, wouldn't know when to stop.

sevika's all alone in piltover and you're all alone in zaun. you wish you'd said something to her but you don't know when you could've.

maybe when you were kids, though you didn't know you were in love with her then.

maybe when you were strangers, though she would've simply laughed at your words.

maybe before she left zaun, though it happened so fucking fast.

you trail down the winding streets of the city she built, sipping on a bottle of her favorite whiskey, crying for her. for how lonely she must be. for how much she lost. you find yourself in front of her old home, like your feet have a mind of their own.

for a moment, you let yourself close your eyes and pretend that you're walking her home again. the woman you've loved your whole life-- the woman who doesn't know your name. you imagine the drunken slur of her voice, the stumble of her mis-matched boots, the warmth of her arm around your shoulders.

"dollface?" someone asks. your eyes fly open, and you blink at the woman in front of you. "what're you doin' here?"

sevika's wearing pajamas, her hair's a mess. she's got sand in her eyes that she's rubbing gently as she examines you from her front stoop.

you blink then stumble forward, reaching a shaky hand out to grab sevika's shoulder. she's real, solid and warm under your grasp. you gasp.

"have you been crying?" sevika whispers, her voice soft, her touch even softer as she reaches up to cup your cheeks.

there are a million things you want to say. i love you. i miss you. i am so sorry for you. for what happened to you. what are you doing here, don't you live in piltover? you look so tired. let me hold you, just for a day? let me tell you every single thing i love about you, i've got a list that's thirty years in the making. do you know who i am? do you know my real name? do you remember the nights you'd walk home with me under your arm? do you know those were the best nights of my life? do you remember when we were kids and you lent me your jacket? do you know i still sleep with it under my pillow?

but sevika's time with the pilties must've really softened her up, because instead of telling you to scram or spit it out, sevika reaches forward and pulls you in for a hug. "it's good to see you." she whispers against your shoulder.

you sob as you cling to her.

you don't think you'll ever stop crying.

you don't think you'll ever let go.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb

[j2hoes]

Intimate Treasures. (Steve Harrington x Adult Store Worker!Reader)

Word Count: 4.5K

Y/N works in an adult store and Steve can't seem to stay away.

Warning: Smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus (m and f receiving), dirty talk, knife kink, sex toys, mature language

Weekdays were always slow at Intimate Treasures, most people either working their regular 9-5’s or simply too embarrassed to be caught in an adult store mid week. Opting to discreetly shop on a Friday or Saturday night, hoping nobody will catch them. I often find myself amused by the actions of our customers, ninety percent of which seem to be ashamed of themselves for purchasing such ‘dirty’ products, as they like to call them.

Upon the opening of the store, many citizens of Hawkins were vocal of their displeasure at the presence of such a place. Believing that there was no place in the town for us. They argued that by opening within the Starcourt Mall, we would be indoctrinating their children into believing that sex is something that should be enjoyed and explored freely. Rather than an act of love that should only be taking place once married for the sole purpose of reproduction. There have been numerous occasions when I’ve argued with people about this, lecturing them on the importance of sexual liberation and safety rather than shaming people for their choices.

It was during one of these arguments that I met him for the first time. Wrapped up in a heated debate with none other than the local priest who was offering to save me from hell, I almost missed the mop of fluffy brown hair that hesitantly crossed the threshold of the store. He was trying to act casual, as though being here was no big deal, but I could tell he was nervous. Fumbled movements causing him to almost knock over a display of free condoms. To which he pocketed a few in the shorts of his little sailor outfit.

“What you are doing here in this store is sinful, I am only looking out for you young lady.” My eyes snap back to the priest who is glancing around the place in utter disgust, one hand gripping the cross around his neck, the other clutching a Bible.

“If you think this is sinful, you should see what I do in bed, old man.”

Despite losing sight of the sailor, I hear a muffled laugh coming from down one of the aisles and I can’t help but feel pleased that I’m not necessarily alone in this argument.

“You could be doing so much more with your life! You don’t need this filth, the Lord can set you on the right path if you would just let me cleanse you of your impurity.” The man pleads, his words failing to provide the impact he is hoping for.

Resting my elbows on the countertop, I lean towards the priest, hoping he pays attention to me. “Listen, I know for a fact that the Bible doesn’t specifically mention anything about sex toys or masturbation and not all of us are lucky enough to be in a relationship. Though I’m sure your wife isn’t exactly thrilled with her sex life.” 

He gasps at my words, shuffling towards the door whilst muttering about ‘young dirty girls of today’. 

“Be sure to send your wife in, her first vibrator is on me!”

As the door swings closed behind him, I let out a sigh of relief. Completely fed up of having the same arguments over and over again. My eyes fall back down to the stack of boxes by my feet, filled to the brim with new lingerie sets that need putting out on the shop floor. 

Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly add the inventory to the system before hanging the black latex to the hangers. I won’t deny, it’s a gorgeous set. Shiny black bralette, so thin that the strap of fabric is only big enough to cover the nipple, with a matching thong, which also happens to be just as small. It leaves very little to the imagination, and I would be tempted to spend my paycheck on it, had I anybody to wear it for.

Finding a spot in one of the aisles, I begin to hang the various sizes on the wall. Careful to make sure that they’re all in size order so that they’re easy to find. A shuffle of feet towards the end of the aisle pulls me from my thoughts, the sailor intently staring at different wand vibrators. Every few seconds picking one up before putting it back with a shake of his head.

“Need some help?” I ask, hanging the last of the lingerie up and strolling towards him.

His eyes widen as I stand next to him, a deep red blush rising on his cheeks and I can’t help but smile softly at his awkwardness. I’m never one to assume, though I’m fairly certain this may be his first time in any adult stores. If his blush is anything to go by.

“Sorry, I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Something for your girlfriend?” I push, the question slips off my tongue easily, one I generally ask all the male customers that look in need of assistance, yet something in me is praying that he answers with a no.

I won’t deny that he’s attractive, even with the unfortunate attire that he appears to be sporting. He has a boyish look about him due to the costume, it’s cute and soft. However, his chestnut brown eyes are dark and I can tell that he is very much a man. 

“No, no girlfriend.” He admits, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he does so I’m able to catch a quick glimpse and notice the large size, backs of his palms displaying very prominent veins and I can’t help but squeeze my legs at the sight.

I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with me. Never usually finding someone so attractive upon meeting for the first time, yet I’m practically drooling over the man in front of me. Even if I am putting on a very cool front.

“This is kind of awkward to admit but I wanted a vibrator you know for when I do have girls over. Just for something different I guess, in case my performance doesn’t cut it.”

I’m taken aback by his admission, most men refusing to believe they couldn’t be absolutely incredible in bed and insisting they’re only getting a toy because their wife wouldn’t stop pestering. To have a man so open about possibly not being perfect is refreshing and I realize I’m most definitely going to need some ice cold water then this customer leaves.

“Oh wow, that’s so thoughtful of you.” I tell him, moving slightly closer to the wall of products in order to assist him as best I can. Carefully, I grab a hot pink box, offering it to him. “So this is the newest wand vibrator we have, it has three different settings and a very long battery life. Trust me any girl would love it, it only took me about five minutes to cum when I used it for the first time.”

His eyes are focused on the box, teeth catching his bottom lip as he reads the information on the back. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, truly reading everything about the product in his hands. Something about him intrigues me, whether it be the sailor outfit or the fact that he truly cares about his sexual partners, I’m not sure.

“I’ll take it, thank you.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second time that the interesting sailor entered the store was only two days later. A Thursday evening, most of the stores in the mall were closing for the day, not us however. Opting to stay open later for more of a sense of privacy.

I’m idly flipping through one of the latest editions of Playboy magazine, staring down at the women sprawled out on the pages. They ooze confidence and sex appeal, something I could only dream of. Whilst I wouldn’t say I necessarily lack confidence, I most certainly do not have a string of guys desperate for my attention like the women in the magazine.

Completely wrapped up in my own thoughts as I turn the page, it’s only when a handful of products are placed on the countertop that I glance up. Boredom evident on my face, I’m counting down the minutes until I can close the store and head home for the night. That is, until I realize who the customer is.

“I didn’t think girls were into Playboy.”

Running a hand through his perfectly styled brown mane, he smiles at me as he speaks and I struggle to hide my excitement at his return. Though there is still a hint of red on his cheeks, he seems calmer this time, clearly less embarrassed by his visit.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but we don’t exactly stock academic reading material.” I joke, beginning to ring the items through the till.

Bottle of lube, metal handcuffs and black bondage tape. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to the kinky items that I ring out on a daily basis. Yet, something about the handsome sailor buying them has me weak at the knees and I have to look anywhere other than his face as I bag everything for him.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you by the way.” Finally making eye contact with the man, I can’t hide my confusion at his words. “For your help last time, the vibrator was a big hit.”

“Oh right yeah. No problem at all, I’m glad I could offer my assistance.”

My smile falters, why am I jealous? I shouldn’t be jealous, I should be pleased that I could help another customer. Pleased that I’m allowing others to enjoy their wants and desires. However, something about knowing the stranger has already used my suggestion on another woman hurts. I sound desperate, it’s not like me to get hung up on a man I have only briefly interacted with twice and yet here I am.

“No seriously, it was the most intense hook up I’ve ever had and it’s all thanks to you.” He rummages through his pockets as he speaks, before sliding a piece of paper across the countertop.

Free ice cream on me - Steve.

“I work at Scoops Ahoy, figured I owed you one.”

“Now the sailor outfit makes sense.” I laugh softly, carefully folding the piece of paper and slipping it into my pocket.

“I know. It sucks, does not help me woo the ladies at all.” He smiles bashfully, handing me the cash to pay for the products.

“I think it’s cute.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop myself and my head drops to the floor, shaking it lightly, humiliated by what I just said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it’s just-”

“Good to know, I’ll see you later.” He looks at me expectantly, awaiting my name, as he makes his way towards the exit.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll see you later Y/N.”

The moment the door closes behind him, I slide to the carpeted floor, head in my hands, afraid I may have just completely made a fool of myself in front of Steve. Doing my best to get over how mortified I feel, I quickly stride to the door and flip the sign to closed, not wanting to humiliate myself further in front of any more customers tonight, even if I am technically supposed to be open for another hour and a half.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to God John, if you take these home and add them to your wank bank, I am going to kill you with my bare hands.”

This week seems to be one embarrassing event after the next, standing in nothing but the new micro black latex lingerie, I pose awkwardly in front of the only blank wall in the building, allowing the store owner to take photos of me on the polaroid. 

“Listen, we need to advertise what we have on offer, putting these pictures in the window is bound to gain more customers. Not to mention the added benefit of being served by the hot girl plastered in the window.” He states as though it's obvious, shoving a large kitchen knife into my hand which I take reluctantly. “Now spread those legs and lick the knife.”

Dropping to a squat, I spread my legs wide open, raising the knife to my mouth and seductively licking a stripe down the edge, careful not to cut myself. I may as well be completely naked with how little the lingerie covers, moving the knife to cover my vagina, I feign a gasp as he snaps another photo.

“You’re a natural, I’ll put these in the window and then I’m off for the night.”

I throw the knife on to the counter as I watch with folded arms how John sticks up the photos by the door. No doubt we’ll have complaints as each photo has me in increasingly compromised positions. It’s borderline pornographic.

Catching glimpses of the photos every couple of seconds, I can admit that I do look good. Incredibly good. They’re sexy and I feel empowered, it’s just a shame that they have to be on display for everybody to see. I’m all for being sexually liberated, I’m just not sure I believe everybody should be allowed to see me in such a vulnerable environment.

John leaves with a quick wave in my direction, flipping the sign on his way out so that I can finish my closing tasks in peace. Throwing myself down on the couch beside the window, I feel the shame start to flood my body. I begin to feel dirty and used, allowing my boss to take advantage of the fact that I have to follow his orders. 

Is this how the women in Playboy feel? Never once have I questioned if selling dirty magazines is unethical, believing that the woman in them felt free and proud that they can be so open and sexual. Now I’m starting to think that perhaps that isn’t the case.

With my head resting against the back of the couch and my eyes fixated on the uneven tiles on the ceiling, I hear the door click open beside me. Internally sighing, I don’t avert my gaze as I speak.

“We’re closed!” Voice snappier than I intended it to be, however, I make no effort to apologize.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just hoping you’d be here.”

Swinging my head to face the direction of the door, I match the voice to the speaker. Steve stands awkwardly in the entryway, eyes trailing over my body as I stand to greet him. His mouth drops open slightly, rubbing a hand over his plump cherry lips. Glancing down, I remember that I’m still only wearing the lingerie and heat floods my body.

“Shit, sorry. One second.” 

I awkwardly jog to the back of the store as best I can in the heels strapped to my feet, I’m careful to wrap the long satin robe tightly around myself before making my way back over to Steve. Who stands in the same spot, unmoving. Eyes focused on me as I lean against the counter, arms crossed over my body in an effort to keep the robe covering me.

“So what can I help you with?” I ask, voice shaking every so slightly due to the interaction only moments ago.

“You look incredible in that.”

Although my eyes are firmly fixated on the ground, I smile nervously at his words. Hearing the shuffle of his feet, I look up only to see him standing just a couple of feet away from me. Clad in his sailor uniform once again, I allow myself to gaze over his physique. Thick legs that wear the shorts well, tight in all the right places. Arms defined showing off the muscles he has built. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I round the counter, hoping that the distance between us will ease the ache between my thighs.

“Steve I really should be closing, did you need help with something?”

I notice his eyes fall to his shorts, an impressive tent having formed and I have to hold my breath so as not to drop straight to my knees. Without a word, he slowly reaches across the counter, gently knocking the robe from my shoulders, exposing me to him once again.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” He speaks quietly, so quiet I almost don’t catch it.

There’s a look of animalistic hunger on his face, one that is new to me. A stark contrast to the boyish smile he usually sports. Within seconds he’s leaning across the counter, capturing his lips with mine, one hand tightly grasping the back of my neck for support, whilst I grip at his shirt. His kiss is fuelled by passion and while it’s rough there’s a feeling of comfort that I can’t describe.

Without thinking, I’m striding back around the counter, pushing him backwards so that he flops down on the couch. Allowing me to take a seat on his lap, his erection firmly pressed in between my thighs, if I weren’t so focused on the moment, I’d most certainly be embarrassed by the wetness that begins to drip down my thighs.

Grinding myself slightly, I tug at his top, pulling it over his head quickly before throwing it behind me. His lips attach to my neck and I can feel him sucking gently, determined to leave a mark. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop myself, sparking a fire in his eyes as he grips my hips, guiding them to roll over his clothed length even harder.

His fingers move with haste as he works at the knot holding the flimsy bralette together, prying it off my body the moment the ties become loose. Grabbing his jaw, I pull his face back to mine, kissing him with burning desire as his hands move to palm my breasts. Our tongues entwine as his fingers brush over my nipple, releasing a soft gasp from me, to which he takes advantage. Dipping his head to suck and bite marks into my chest, I grab his hair tugging softly with every moan that he extracts from my body.

I can hear a groan escape his mouth, to which he covers it up quickly by dragging his tongue over my nipple. His hands playing with the other so as not to focus all his attention solely on one. Steve sucks gently, drawing unholy moan after moan from my body as I continue to feel the heat between our bodies.

Tipping my head back and pushing my breasts further into him, I find myself pushing a hand between our bodies. Slipping under his shorts and offering a short squeeze, causing the man to murmur a soft fuck as he continues to play with my nipples. From feeling his length in my hand, I can tell he’s big, bigger than I anticipated and much bigger than I’ve ever had. It scares me equally as much as it excites me.

It’s only when I begin to start delicately stroking up and down, that he pushes me to the side. Throwing me onto the couch gently so that I am laid on my back with him standing over me. As he smiles down at me, I can’t help but find the contrast between his soft smile and the dominance he has just been displaying amusing. A cheeky grin evident on my face.

“Where’s that knife?” He asks, fingers brushing over my throat as he stares down at me.

“Knife?” 

“From the pictures.”

Nodding my head towards the countertop, I watch eagerly as he grabs it, clenching my thighs together as my mind drifts to what he is going to do with it. Much to my surprise, he gently pulls my body up so that I’m sat upright, before settling on his knees between my thighs. Pushing the thong to the side, he presses the blunt side of the knife to my heat, trailing it between my folds. When he removes it, it glimmers with the slick that is now definitely dripping onto the couch.

“Lick it.” He raises the knife to my mouth and I brush my tongue against it as directed, immensely turned on by the entire situation. “You’re such a good girl.”

If his words didn’t make me moan, I do when his tongue makes contact with my clit. Head falling back as I close my eyes, focused only on the pleasure he is giving me. Despite not having my eyes open, I am acutely aware of Steve reaching up to my throat and holding the sharp side of the knife directly on my neck. Pushing it gently, though not so much to draw blood.

“God, you’re such a good girl.”

He switches between sucking and licking my clit, his free hand moving to push two fingers into me ever so slowly. The sounds are inherently sinful, the way he’s lapping up everything I can offer him is downright filthy and yet I feel like I’m in heaven. He devours me as though I’m his last meal, moaning against me, vibrations adding to the already exhilarating pleasure I’m experiencing. God, if this is what he can do with his tongue, there was no reason for him to buy a vibrator.

As he continues to push his fingers into me at an unruly pace, his tongue swirls circles against my clit, pushing me further and further to the edge. My stomach feels tighter and I try to close my thighs, though he reacts by pushing the knife closer to my throat, reminding me of its presence.

“Holy fuck.” I whisper, coil within me snapping and my legs twitching as he continues to lick up anything I have left.

With a pleased grin, he pulls himself away from me, rising to his feet and even in my post orgasm daze, I drop to my knees. Hurriedly pulling his shorts down to his ankles, I grab his erection with both hands. Mouth falling open in shock as I wrap both my hands around him.

“Jesus Christ.” My voice is almost silent yet Steve still hears me, chuckling at my words.

“You gonna be able to handle it?” He asks and I waste no time in nodding, gazing up at him, eyes filled with lust. “Yeah you are.”

In an attempt to calm my nerves, I hesitantly lick from the tip to the base, mouth watering as I hear Steve’s breaths become shakier. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I slowly begin to bob my head up and down, unable to take the whole thing but trying my hardest. I allow myself to coat his member with my spit, using my hands to stroke whatever I can’t fit in my mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily with a deep guttural moan and I can’t help but gag, eyes watering as he hits the back of my throat. 

Pulling back with a gasp for air, I continue to stroke him with one hand, the other reaching for his balls. As I lean in to go for round two with my mouth, he grabs my hair softly, pulling me to look up at him. With mascara streaks running down my and saliva falling from one corner of my mouth, Steve smirks.

“I’d let you do that forever if I wasn’t so desperate to feel you.”

He helps me up, pushing my body over the countertop, before pulling the thong off me completely. I spread my legs for him, allowing him to see the effect he has on me, he circles my clit with one finger as his other hand grips his length. The tip smacking against me as he nervously rubs it over my hole. 

“Steve please, I want you so bad.” I beg, feeling myself clenching around nothing as he teases me.

“Fuck you’re perfect.” He cautiously pushes the tip into me, my hands gripping the wood of the countertop at the stretch and I squeal slightly, from a mixture of pleasure and pain. “My perfect girl.”

He continues to push himself inside of me for what feels like an eternity, just when I think I’ve taken him all, he pushes further. I’ll admit it has been a while and with Steve’s size, the stretch burns and yet I want nothing more than to feel him inside of me forever.

The gentleman he is, he stills once completely sheathed within me, awaiting confirmation from me that he is able to move.

“Steve please fuck me now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and instantly pulls himself out, almost completely before slamming back into me. Balls slapping against my clit in a way that teases me as he practically rips me in half. One hand pushes on my back, firmly holding me down against the counter as he continues to pound into me. The other grips my hip, knife still in hand though neither of us seem to pay any attention to it. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.” He states between moans, slamming into me at an almost brutal pace.

I’m able to slip one of my hands between the wooden surface and my body, bringing it to the space between my legs and gently teasing my clit, resulting in a string of profanities falling from my lips. Steve notices this and bats my hand away, taking over himself. His fingers are like magic and combined with the way he is ramming himself into me, I can feel myself on the brink of cumming once again.

“Oh my god, Steve I’m so close.” 

Upon hearing this, he pulls my body upright, peppering kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck as he continues to drill into me at the same rough pace. Within a matter of seconds, I find vision spotting as I fall over the edge. Thighs sticky and wet with the remnants of my second orgasm. Steve allows me to fall back onto the countertop, continuing his assault on my vagina and the overstimulation drives me crazy. I’m a complete moaning mess and by the time he stills with a soft grunt, I have even more tears in my eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He murmurs, pulling out of me gently and pressing yet another kiss to my neck.

Turning around to face him, he has a lazy fucked out grin on his face and I can’t help but feel proud that I’m the reason for that smile. I smile at the thought, and at the feeling of his cum beginning to spill out of me and down my legs. Steve takes my hands in his and flops back onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me as I rest my head on his chest.

“You know I actually came here hoping I would work up the courage to ask you on a date but this was so much better.” He admits, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

“Wow so I missed out on a date?” I tease, hugging into him even tighter.

“I mean, we can always break into Scoops and go have that date now.” He suggests, voice soft as though he’s afraid I will reject him.

“That sounds perfect.”

[adelarsims]

i’m preparing gifts for this simblreen, but simply sending links and calling it a day is no fun – i want to do it with ✨magic✨

so, Morgyn invites everyone to the

✨ Embers Academy Spellcasting Tournament ✨

it's basically a mix of a challenge where you submit your sims to participate, and a gift giving event! i want me and you to have more fun and involvement than just requesting and sending a link

so how will the tournament go? 🔥

it will consist of two major stages: on the first stage contestants will try to score as many points as they can, showing off their skill in different magic disciplines; on the second stage contestants with enough points will be able to enter the main event of the tournament: magic dueling! for the fun of it, you may also see some familiar faces from Glimmerbrook as npc participants!

sim submission rules 🎫

must be a spellcaster, obviously!

the tournament is for students, so they can only be novice, neophyte, or acolyte

any age from teen to elder is acceptable. usually, students are teens and young adults, but who am i to say what story there is behind your sim? by the way, they don’t have to be from Morgyn’s school: guests are welcome, too!

give them up to 3 everyday outfits, one for regular wear and the optional ones for brewing potions and flying / magic duels if you want to. please keep the rest of their wardrobe to a bare minimum and limit cc usage to genetics and everyday outfits. maxis match only please!

schedule and deadline 📃

i hope 2 weeks are enough for submissions, because the deadline is october 6th. the tournament will start on the 7th of october and will roughly take three weeks. on weekdays i will post the tournament gameplay, and on the weekends i’ll post the scores

but what about gifts? 🎁

when the final champion will be announced, i’ll send the set of simblreen gifts to all participants. regardless of whether your sim made it to finals or left early, everyone will get their gifts anyway!

tag so i could see you: #morgyn’s spellcasting tournament

[starseungs]

of fishes and chocolate muffins. ksm.

kim seungmin x gn!reader — working the morning shift at a cafe on weekdays isn't really the best, entertainment wise. still, eavesdropping on your customers wasn't something you did on a daily basis. it just so happened that two of your regulars had something in store for you today.

GENRE/S — fluff, humor, a pinch of angst, cafe/coffee shop au, writer!seungmin (barely mentioned) • 1.2k words

WARNING/S — profanity for humor, seungmin is pretty down in the dumps for most of this, part 2 of this fic but a different y/n, mentions of unrequited love

( ✒️ ) happy birthday to @seungiepaws !! here's your request for a part 2 of universe lovie, i know i said i'll do a drabble as a gift but it ended up a little longer so you're getting a whole fic mwah <3 i hope you like it

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

The small bell perched on top of the cafe’s entrance door chimed softly at the arrival of a new customer. Your well-rehearsed greetings immediately followed, words racing out of your lips before you could even think twice. It really didn’t matter whether you meant them or not. As long as the guest felt welcomed, then that meant you were already doing your job well.

You doubt any of them ever even acknowledged your efforts, anyway. That was just how the world worked on a normal Monday morning—everyone running on autopilot until the seemingly brainless hoard of zombies got their lethal dose of caffeine or sugar and started acting like proper functioning members of society for the rest of the day. Then, the cycle repeats.

As an “all-rounder” cafe employee (as you liked to call yourself), this was just another day in the bigger scale of the year. Not too important, nor was it a particularly boring day. That simply wasn’t possible if you were working at a cafe, or really, just working in general.

“You’re always here, dude.” An exasperated voice groans from the window booth next to the serving counter. You recognized his face right away as one of your regulars who looked like a hamster. “At this point, you need to pay this place rent.”

The man he was talking to rolled his eyes with a scoff, even though his fingers never stopped typing on his laptop’s keyboard. “I’m a paying customer. Objectively, I’m already giving them money to stay here.”

You couldn’t help but silently snort at the guy’s comeback. He wasn’t entirely wrong, after all. This cafe’s prices already took into account the amenities they could use here. So technically speaking, as long as customers bought something from the cafe’s menu, they could stay for as long as they want until the establishment closes. That’s not usually the case, though. Most people still had places to be and other things to do other than have a staycation on some random cafe seat.

Note that you said “most” instead of “all”. Of course, there were always bound to be those who, for the lack of a better description—overstayed their welcome. 

And one of them is that chestnut-haired male who was currently getting berated by his friend.

“Seungmin, seriously!” The other guy, who you finally remembered being named Jisung from his previous orders, exclaimed in concern. “You can’t just stay here all day, every day. I know you’re trying to get over your roommate, but at least make use of your rent?” Jisung almost pleads.

You really didn’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation, as the topic seemed awfully private, but what exactly could you do from the close proximity of the counter and their booth? It’s not like you were judging the two of them. There was no harm intended, and you were sure you’d still go about your day as usual with or without this newly obtained knowledge from strangers.

Seungmin sighed. “I don’t think you want me to be cooped up in my room writing either, so what do you really want to achieve?” His hands finally parted ways from his keyboard for the first time in about an hour. “Jisung, you know being alone in the apartment is only going to remind me of how my roommate is out there with their boyfriend being all happy and enjoying life while I’m over here writing sappy fictional love stories because I don’t have one of my own.”

“Oh, but you do.” Jisung huffs. “It’s just the unrequited kind.”

“Haha, very funny.”

“Just saying,” he comments. “I’m gonna let you sulk all you want as part of your healing process, but you really shouldn’t be sacrificing yourself just for the thought of them. You deserve better, Min.”

If you could only agree out loud, then you already would’ve. Unfortunately, that meant revealing the fact that you’ve been secretly listening in to the personal conversations of your customers, and you weren’t completely sure if that was even legal for you to do so. Still, what are they going to do? Charge you for having ears?

“I don’t know,” Seungmin mutters. “I’ll manage it eventually.” And to this, Jisung only frowns.

Now, you were just as frustrated as Jisung was. Seungmin is an attractive guy—you were one hundred percent certain that he could get anyone head-over-heels for him if he wanted. And yet, here he was, a monotone mess over unrequited love? Whoever that roommate is, they had severely failed to see the vision since if that was you, best believe you weren’t letting him go just like that. 

Seungmin had honestly caught your eye ever since the moment he started going to this cafe. To put things into perspective, you were practically all smiles for the rest of the day every time he came to order something in the mornings before his daily schedule. When he started staying for whole days, it was only a matter of time before you ended up shooting your shot, even if you barely knew anything about him. Heck, the most you even knew about him was that he liked the chocolate muffins the most here!

A plate of chocolate muffin was heavily plopped down on the two men’s table, startling them due to the sudden act. They exchanged confused glances before Jisung cleared his throat to speak. “Uh—we didn’t order that.”

“It’s on the house.” You pursed your lips.

“What?” Seungmin asks, dumbfounded. You knew he was going to ask for a reason until he saw the look on your face while staring at him. His expression quickly shifted to one of mortification. “Were—were you eavesdropping on us?”

You clicked your tongue. How were you finding his reaction to that so cute? “Look, I didn’t mean to,” you explain. “See that counter? Just how far do you think my station is to your booth for me not to hear a single thing?” Seungmin only grumbles—probably to hide his embarrassment.

“Alright, sure. Whatever,” he says. “I still don’t need that muffin.”

Your eye twitched involuntarily. All of a sudden, you were already leaning on their table with narrowed eyes pointed at the laptop-facing man. “Okay, listen here, you soggy rained-on puppy.” You could have sworn you heard Jisung choke. “This is gonna sound really shitty of me, but there are plenty more fish in the sea. The same goes for your experiences in life. Trust me, you’re not even close to losing those opportunities yet. Unless you’re trying to live like a saint, that is. So grow some balls after your little pity party.”

“That was,” Seungmin exhales shakily. “Vaguely threatening. But somehow I’m not as offended as I thought I would be, so—uh, thanks?” He taps lightly on the plastic cup of his drink, looking away awkwardly.

You lifted yourself off the table and crossed your arms. “My name is Y/N. I work here every morning on the weekdays.” 

“Right,” he hums, still not glancing your way and instead facing the baked good you dropped by their tabletop. “So, is this muffin really free?”

All you let yourself give him was a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah. Just call me whenever or something. Congratulations on hooking a new fish,” you said without shame before walking away back to your station.

If you only looked back for a moment, you would’ve seen Jisung gasping for air from laughter with an incredibly red faced Seungmin blanking out as he held a serious staring contest with his muffin.

You could only hope that cheered him up a bit.

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng @l3visbby @myjisung

[asriel-2]

Unexpected Customer

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x female reader

Summary: You’re a barista at a coffee shop and was surprised with seeing a famous face (Jenna Ortega). Perhaps that famous face would be interested in more then a coffee.

Warning: Some curse words I guess?

Words counted: 680+

You were working in a coffee shop. You always work here on the weekdays. You needed to make extra money while you were still studying in college.

You’ve been working here for over a month and got along with your coworkers pretty well. It was a regular day in your work place. Your coworkers were in the back working on drinks, the drive thru, mopping and washing dishes while you worked as the cashier.

You were getting pretty bored and tired. It was about 11:00 oclock in the morning. You already did some orders already. Thank goodness there wasn’t that much people today..

You stretched a bit because you were standing up for a bit of time but then quickly stopped as you seen someone walk in.

“Welcome!,” you said and the woman reciprocated as she started walking towards you to place her order.

You cant help but notice this lady looked oddly familiar, but you tried to push those thoughts aside because you were already tired and wanted to get this over with, since you have 3 more hours until you can go home.

“So what can I get for you, today ma’am?” You spoke again, but as you analyzed her face you felt like you totally seen this lady somewhere and it was infuriating that you couldn’t remember where you saw her, so you spoke before she was about to place her order.

“Uhm wait before you order. Have I’ve seen you before? I just can’t shake off the feeling that I have..”

You two were the only people around besides the other customers that were sitting down at a table, enjoying their meal on their phone.

The lady looked awkward and shy and hesitated before speaking, “Well uhm I’m actually an actor so I’m pretty sure you’ve seen me on the internet sometimes.”

you couldn’t help but analyze her face one more time and that caused her to to look awkwardly around the coffee shop. Your eyes widen as you then realized who she was.

“Wait.. you’re Jenna Ortega!?” as those words came out your mouth she nodded a bit as she let out a small smile.

“Being an actor takes major skills that’s actually so impressive! I can’t believe I have a celebrity in my workplace.. Wait shit! I’m getting too distracted I’m so sorry. What would you like again?”

You got embarrassed. You needed to stay professional, all she wanted to do was have her order placed, not have a whole conversation with a stranger she never met before.

Jenna Ortega chuckled a bit at your reaction. “It’s totally fine!,” she said, reassuring you. She then placed an order for a cup of coffee and took her money out and paid for it. As soon as she did you had one of your other coworkers work on her drink.

Jenna decided to sit down at one of the available tables as she waited for her drink. As she was waiting she couldn’t help but take another glance at you.. “she’s actually kind of cute?,”Jenna thought to herself.

You could totally see that Jenna Ortega was taking a few glances at you. You definitely thought was that she was probably judging you from that weird interaction.

A few minutes later you called out her drink and she came forward to it. A silent “Thank you” escaped Jenna’s lips as both of your hands touched when you gave her, her cup of coffee. Which made Jenna smile and blush a bit but she hid it and decided to keep her cool and leave.

As you gave it to her, you noticed a little piece of paper slipped from her hands onto the counter. You tried to give it back to her but she had already left.

“It wouldn’t hurt to look at it since she already left.,” You murmur to yourself as you opened the little piece of paper.

As you opened it you saw some numbers and her name in it. And your eyes couldn’t help but widen. “There is absolutely no way in hell she gave me her phone number..,” you say as you analyze the paper.

“I guess she wasn’t really judging me.. I’m so glad I didn’t call in sick today,”

You can’t help but smile widely.

[asunflowerana]

cinnamon - Ushijima Wakatoshi

summary: you never thought making coffee could comfort someone. but you'll do every morning for Ushijima.

w: mentions of divorce.

n/a: i love how soothing ushiwaka can be.

Bling bling

The front door’s bell rings, announcing the presence of another customer craving a good cup of coffee this morning. You just finished the first steaming jar, placing it on the counter as you lead your eyes and smile to the first client of the day. Breads are heated, pastries fresh out of the oven; lucky for them, they came just to the right place.

You’ve been working at “Beans And Milk” for nearly six months to help with your school fees. Even though it gets quite busy during the week, you enjoy your work, especially after your supervisor let you customize the drinks of the house. The environment is pleasant, the tasks are simple, the tips are fair, customers are kind — well, mostly kind. And to make it even better, the shop’s 15 minutes away from your home.

Your kindness and proactiveness made you win the respect and hearts of a lot of customers, some already calling you by your name and making small talk. You’re truly grateful for how things are turning out, but there’s this one client that, different from the others, has been intriguing you since you started working there.

His name is Ushijima Wakatoshi.

He comes every weekday at 6:30 am sharp, orders a cup of latte with one spoonful of sugar, sits at the third table on the left row by the window, and stays there for about ten minutes before leaving, sometimes with a small tip. No chatting, no sudden movements, he doesn’t even use his phone: he just sits there, watching the street through the window, mind in an unknown place. 

As you are the first to arrive on the days you work, you ended up serving him alone a lot of times. It was strange at first, being alone with one of the most famous guys in town, but over time, you got used to his quiet and serene presence. You didn’t exchange many words though, your conversation consisted of “good morning”, “thank you” and “have a good day”.

The only time you both talked more than three sentences was when you took an act of courage and questioned him about his unchanging order: a cup of latte. You regretted the moment that question came out of your mouth, dreading to lose a customer, but you were surprised with his answer.

“I like the cinnamon touch.”

You almost didn’t hold the beaming smile you wanted to show him, chest filled with enthusiasm because that touch was made by you.Your creation, something you thought would complement this regular drink with its earthy and warm flavor, making it soothing to savor. You couldn’t imagine that someone one day would acknowledge and approve your effort. Ushijima’s words hold a lot of meaning to your heart, and since that day, you started to look forward to seeing him in the mornings. 

It didn’t last long, to your disappointment.. Because of the volleyball tournament, Ushijma was away from the shop for two weeks to compete. His absence made you feel a little lonely, but you were able to support him by watching his matches on TV. Not that he could hear your cheers, but it was a nice experience to see him out of the cafe environment, doing what he’s good at and putting all of him in the game. It made him even more admirable in your eyes. 

The shock of seeing Shiratorizawa lose the tournament final game was huge. Karasuno is an amazing team, even if they weren’t known, but it was almost guaranteed that the first school would go to the nationals. You started feeling anxious, imagining what Ushijma was going through at the moment, and wondering how he was dealing with it. 

If he had someone to support him as he needs.

The next day, you did a favor to one of your work colleagues and took the afternoon shift instead. Another quiet day, with just a few customers, and by 06:00 pm, you were closing the kitchen and preparing to leave. The “closed” sign was already hanging on the door, but that didn’t stop someone from knocking. 

You frown, but walk towards the door to check who it is, hoping the person would understand that the service was done for the day. 

Your eyes widen as you gaze at your last customer. “Ushijma? I’m about to close the shop and-”

“______.” He interjects, calling you by the name. Did he know your name all this time? You try not to let your mind wander, focusing your attention on him: the dark circles under his eyes, head slightly down, eyes averting yours as if in shame. Whatever it is, it’s making him uneasy. And making him speak. 

“I know you’re closing it, but I just need a cup of latte… please. ”

You don’t hesitate to step aside, making room for him to pass and leaving your bag on a nearby table. You have one last order to make. 

A quarter of espresso, half a cup of hot milk, and a touch of powdered cinnamon: the latte is ready, the heat of the milk exhaling through the glass cup. You lend it to Ushijma, who’s sitting at his usual table. You place it in front of him and move to leave him at peace, when he slowly holds your wrist, making you almost open your mouth in shock.. 

“I… I would appreciate some company, if you’re okay with that.” He admits, a bit timid.

Trying to make Ushijma as comfortable as possible, you comply with his request, sitting on the chair in front of him . Maybe he’s like that because of what happened one day ago, or maybe something more serious happened that made him want to escape to this humble cafe instead of staying at home. Regardless of his motives, you don’t want to give him more reasons to be sad. So you do the only thing you can think to support him: you keep him company.

“I’ve been visiting this cafe since elementary.” His deep, sonorous voice echoes around the place, while he moves his gaze to the window. “My dad loves a good espresso, so he used to bring me here before taking me to school. One day, I asked him why he did the same order every single time. He said 'because they took the cinnamon from my latte”. I didn’t know what that drink was, so when we got back home, he made it just the way he likes. It was the first time I tried coffee. And one of the best moments I had with him before the divorce.

He averts his gaze to stare at you. You can see a glimpse of comfort coming from it. "I’ve been coming here for a long time, but only when you came in, the latte became the one he likes. The one that should always be. With a touch of cinnamon.” A small smile appears on his face. A smile from someone who has just got what they needed. “So thank you , ______. For reminding me of the best moments in my life, every day I come here..”

You are speechless. A gesture of affection makes a difference, but you didn’t imagine it would be through a simple preparation of coffee. If this brings Ushijma and other people a comforting feeling, though, then you won’t stop anytime soon. “You’re welcome.” It's what you offer him, with a small promise to yourself.And now, like every other morning, the two of you remain quiet, but savoring not only a drink and a tip, but each other’s presence.

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[nattheother]

over the counter and back ✧ jww

tags fluff, meet cute, izakaya!au / midnight diner!au, slight misunderstanding, few swear words, self indulgence (surprising), love me a sopping wet pathetic yn

wc 2.7k words

note that men’s nonno izakaya shoot with dk… yeah... *faints* the hirotaka allegations aint helping either [pic cr. jwwfile on twt]

note i was gonna put an alcohol on the tags but its an izakaya au, u know what ur getting into so :3

crossposted to AO3

—

It wasn’t the weekdays or the rush hour, it’s just the izakaya usually is not that packed. Only two couples on the tables and a woman tonight, who seemed to get off work quite late, sitting at the bar area, seemingly laid back on her phone over her unfinished beer. Old jazzy songs from your boss’ playlist softly filled the bar, warming up the mood.

Your head chef, well, your boss, Kouji, just bid you a farewell. The izakaya just opened about two hours ago this evening, but he had to clock early for his daughter in labour. She usually works part-time here alongside you until about a month ago, which is why you tried to fill her shift until she comes back. Not that you mind.

You wished him good luck before he tackled you into a light hug, resulting in a small “oof!” out of you.

Honestly, handling the diner on a slow day alone doesn’t really worry you. It’s always just the three or two of you. Kouji said the neighborhood was particularly safe, “also it’s a small bar afterall,” he adds.

As you came back from the kitchen after finishing the woman’s check, a new customer came in behind the bar island this time. Young man probably what describes him more. Looks about around his mid 20s, pretty thick rimmed glasses. You’re not sure if it’s his shoulder who’s wide or his button-ups were just oversized, but does he look lean. 

“Welcome! Anything for your order tonight?”

He sits on the barstool at the centre by himself. He adjusts his glasses as he glances around unsure, “yeah, um… just gyudon and draft beer, please,”

You walked around getting the tall glass to pour one from the beer machine. “Sorry, can I ask something?” he promptly starts.

”Yeah?”

”Where is Kouji-san?”

Looking up from the filled glass, you serve the beer on the counter, “Sensei? His daughter’s in labour tonight. I’m in charge for tonight,”

“Only you?” you smiled at his question and nodded, “‘Seems you know Sensei. You’re a regular?”

He took off his watch and chuckled, “Sort of? I do stop by pretty frequently but I’ve kinda never seen you,” he reasoned as he folded up his sleeves.

You laughed softly in the middle of wiping off the beer faucet, pointing to the back with your thumb, “I’m usually in the kitchen.” You put the rag into your apron, “So ring the bell or call up if you need anything.”

You felt the banter was enough as you turned your heels back to the kitchen because you had to make his gyudon, “Wait,” but his calling stopped you in your step. You turned around to him taking a sip of his beer.

“I haven’t gotten your name.”

“If it isn’t Wonwoo!”

Who?

Kouji’s whoop was muffled behind the kitchen curtain. You tried to calmly finish plating up the dish for a current customer so you can quickly move on to this acquaintance of Kouji. Putting his order is for later, so you swiftly deliver the tray full of bowls to the also full table at the back first.

You came back with another tray of empty dishes as you can finally see your next customer.

Oh, right… I forgot to ask his name.

He smiled at you as you confidently welcomed him, mirroring his smile.

In the middle of putting away the dirty dishes, Kouji came into the kitchen with a question, “Wonwoo said he knows you? You’ve never told me!”

You looked back at him in a slight surprise and a chuckle, “Not really, actually, we met around last week I think? You clocked off early.”

What you remembered from that day was after Wonwoo asked your name, customers piling up in a short time right after you served his food. That resulted in you spending most of your time in the kitchen and finished his check a little quickly because the other was also queuing behind him.

“Go take his order. A group just came in just now and I’m taking theirs,” Kouji ordered.

“What?? Why not you earlier, Sensei?” you whined.

After your half-playful complaint of not taking his order, you wipe off your hand dry and sighed on your way out.

“Another draft beer?”

You guessed as you walked up to him. He nodded, “And a mapo tofu, do you have that?” You took out your notes to write down his orders, “I’ll make sure and prepare that for you.

Anything else?”

Days after that, Wonwoo stopped by around eight to nine, assumingly whenever he had overtime. It’s always the same order. One (or more) glass of draft beer and any bowl dishes, that mapo tofu most of the time.

There was also the time where he came in at almost eleven. He usually never shows any signs of fatigue or weariness on his face but you can see the dim in his eyes. You tried to not approach him that much, spending more of your time checking up the kitchen before touching the baton to Kouji for the night.

You rang up his check right before you clock out. He looked a bit more refreshed after his meal, cheeks slightly flushed after a few refills of beer.

“Please walk safe home,” you gave back his card to the small tray alongside the bill.

Not expecting your non-customer service-way farewell, he stared at you for a few seconds before nodding his head, “you too.”

You swear in every language you can think of. Your heart squeezed. Wonwoo was starting to grow in your heart. It’s really nice to see him in the izakaya for a few days a week after that. You never sort of believed in any of those “at first sight” moments, if it works, good for them. While it did feel slightly heavy on your feet anytime you had to walk back to the kitchen instead of seeing him and talk to him, you had to put your mind in place. Focus. 

It could be because he’s one of your first regulars and, cough, is good looking, but you don’t know his background. Who are his friends and family and why does he always come in alone? You’re not even sure if it’s a crush or that you just found comfort with a customer. Either way, workplace is still a workplace and he is your client. This izakaya is your only rendezvous to him.

That is when Wonwoo ordered two glasses of beer. You tried your best not to halt when you stepped out of the kitchen and saw a young woman around his age beside him. You didn’t, and served him his usual bowl of rice. Gyudon this time, and mapo tofu for her.

You need to stop looking like a stalker, hiding behind the kitchen curtain. This is the second time he had brought her to this izakaya. You need to stop before someone accuses you as a total creep as you compare their interaction a few days ago with today. Almost the same. From outside it looked like they were having a quite serious and private discussion, noting down stuff on paper and their phone alternatively. As if someone’s life was actually on the line. You are also lucky Kouji will come later at night, because he might also accuse you as a total creepy stalker.

You try only focusing on attending customers. It’s almost the weekend and customers start piling up before you realize Wonwoo was already sitting alone. You try to not overthink why he didn’t take her home himself and let her go home by herself.

You walk up to the bar to check the beer dispenser. You can feel his eyes boring at you, slightly dim again like it was a couple weeks ago, and two empty glasses of beer.

“Need a refill?” you carefully ask, walking up to him.

“I’m good.” he slightly smiles before asking for his check.

You kept your sweet encouragement to yourself as you don’t want to force and assume anything towards him. He left the change and gave you a tip.

“Wonwoo?”

It was nearing autumn. Though the sun was already setting at five, the bar still opens at the same time. The rain pours hard, covering any sign of the sun setting with gloom. But nothing could’ve prepared you other than the six feet tall man crouching under the roof in front of the closed bar you’re working at, shading himself from the rain. You grip your umbrella tighter when he looks up to your call.

He calls your name in recognition as he stands up.

The rain poured harder above the roof of the izakaya when you hand Wonwoo the warm coffee on the bar. He’s in the middle of taking off his damp jacket when he looks up to you at the sight of the cup.

“On the house,”

“Thank you.”

You busy yourself behind the bar, checking and tidying stuff up under the bar as Wonwoo sips on his coffee. You peek glances over him. He doesn’t look as tired as the last time you saw him. But if your over-analysis and timeline matched, his reasoning behind crouching like a pathetic man in front of your workplace must have something to do with it.

“Is it okay if I ask you what’s wrong?”

Your sudden approach jolts him a little. He chuckles, “it’s fine,” you wait for his pause.

“I can say it’s family matters. Something came up and we had to figure it out somehow, a little stressful I might say,” you hum understanding.

“Did you not have work today? You usually come later. It’s not even six yet,”

He shakes his head, “No, I just finished super early. My seniors are having dinner, too, so,”

“Not going?”

“Not really my thing. Only works when I was new,”

He takes a sip of his coffee again. You space out for a moment not knowing what to respond. You were never the best at comforting someone. For as long as you’ve been friends with your best friends, you’ve always listened. Maybe give them some hugs and pats on the head, words of “I’m here” and “You’re not on your own” repeatedly said, affirming.

You felt sort of bad and truly embarrassed at how you acted behind him the past weeks, sort of suspecting his love life, getting (you admit) jealous at some random woman you don’t know and didn’t even try to know. Maybe what you thought a few weeks ago was right. Maybe you do have a huge cru–

“Yes, Wonwoo?�� your ribbons of thoughts were snipped by Wonwoo calling your name.

“You’re usually bright, is something wrong?”

Confused by his question, you look around unsure. Guests usually come around an hour after opening, and you never wished someone to come in right now so bad through your whole career.

“M-maybe? I don’t know, sorry,”

Wonwoo was in the middle of wiping his glasses with the paw of his sleeves. He puts them back on.

“It’s usually me who’s quiet between us,” he adjusts them to the bridge of his nose, looking up at you from his seat, smiling.

Between us? He’s not making this any better. You scratch the back of your neck, not planning to come up with any reply or answer. You avert your gaze to the window, trying to avoid his eyes. Your wish of customers barging in is washed away by the rain—not slowing down any minute apparently.

“I just thought something came up and you had to like,” you chuckle at your assumption, “get off early or, run away or some sort,”

Wonwoo was still sipping his coffee. Not sensing his answer in any minute, you finish your prior thought with your remaining breath, “sort of heartbroken-looking.”

You organize the shot bottle on the under bar, again trying to distract yourself from the fact that he's now facing you, eyes boring. You didn’t budge and he stared at his coffee.

“I wanna get to know you, Wonwoo,” you finally look at him. Emphasizing on your tone, you don’t want him to feel like you’re just messing around.

“Can I?” you ponder at him, preparing yourself for the worst.

“I don’t know if it's possible. For all the time you came here, the past few weeks, I always get all... gung-ho when cooking, or preparing side dishes and bowls in the back. It’s like I want you to see me doing great like there’s nothing wrong in my mind. You know, "bright" like you said. It’s honestly stupid, fuck…” you breath out the last word.

“And then you came in super late that night, with that… heavy shoulders and countless refills of this damned beer, and then came in with that lady not once but twice, and this… serious tension between the two of you. You know, I just didn’t want to assume but it’s just… I don’t know, it was kinda confu–”

“With who now?”

You instantly pause, knowing full well he has probably catched on. So you sigh, “That… friend around your age. Pretty, slight tan, long hair,” you scratch your forehead in defeat. It’s like your pride just splurts out like a balloon being squished its air out.

You excuse yourself by collecting his empty cup on the top counter to refill it, but a hand halts your steps grabbing onto your arm.

“Don’t give me more, I don’t handle caffeine that well.”

“Just… let me put this back to the kitchen,”

“Later. Sit here.” he orders.

Your heart flinched at the slight octave drop of his already soft voice. Another sigh of loss, you put back the cup. Wonwoo slowly let go of your arm to let you walk around the bar counter.

It’s now a whole new view. Wonwoo is sitting right next to you and you can definitely smell his cologne. Even just one second of eye contact, you couldn’t handle it. How does one’s gaze be so soft and comforting? You dart your eyes and cover them with your hands with elbows on the table.

“Just… let's just finish this. I already feel ridiculous.”

All you can catch with your ears was his soft chuckle and fabric rustling, “you wanna get to know me right?”

You feel his fingers snake around your wrist, gently pulling your hands away from your face. Seeing his face up close does not help even one bit, you feel even more like shit of how messy and pathetic you must’ve looked.

“That… “friend”, is my future sister-in-law,” he starts,

Your eyeballs could probably see the back of your head as you whip your head away in another embarrassment, “Ugh, Wonwoo, enough of that,”

“Which is why we were so stressed we had to talk about it on our own. My brother’s marriage is on the line.”

You hear his tone indicating him smiling whilst explaining. To be frank, you kind of already gave up the moment his voice dropped an octave lower. All you can do now is just to sit next to Wonwoo with his thumb drawing circles on your palm. 

“It’s not stupid,” he softly assures, fingertips a little cold from sheltering the rain earlier. But it does feel so to you. Stupid crush at the ripe age of your 20s. Great. 

“So can I get to know you then?”

You look up at him, desperate for his answer and decision.

“Only if I get to know you, too. Here,”

He taps his finger to the table, hand still not letting go of yours. You make sure once more, “like right here?”

He nods, “until today’s first customer.”

You’re not sure if the smile on your lips is for him or just out of embarrassment, “Well technically you are one,” you chuckle, “at least let me put this back to the kitchen.”

Well, now that your stupid crush issue is all clear, you can finally find the courage to look at his face one more time, no meddling. All you can focus on was the soft and playful beam on his eyes behind that thick specs.

“Tell Kouji-san you got a date tonight.”

[18:06] sensei [18:06] i might have to clock off early

[18:12] Oh sure, something’s up?

[18:13] yeah umm [18:13] i just booked myself a date

[18:14] Oooh [18:14] Hahaha [18:14] About time that wonwoo

[18:14] ??? [18:14] sensei???

—

[m.list]

im bout to make a “try not writing scenario about another meet cute at 3 am” challenge (already failed)

[gatheringbones]

[“My girlfriend (I’ll call her Rachel) and I have been riding the same bus to the Metro station together nearly every weekday morning for the last two years. After a few weeks, all the commuters on the bus start to look familiar. You begin to notice who travels with whom. You start to give people secret nicknames (Franklin Planner Guy, Park Service Guy, Beautiful Woman, Vancouver Boy). Pretty soon you start noticing each other around town, start saying hi at the farmers’ market. You don’t know each other’s names, but if someone disappears from their regular bus for more than a few days, you begin to wonder if they’re okay, if they’ve moved or changed jobs. It’s an odd sort of community.

Rachel and I wondered sometimes if our fellow workers had nicknames for us, too. What would we call ourselves? Dress Alike Girls? We’ve committed the Ultimate Lesbian Sin—dressing alike—on more than one occasion. We have totally dissimilar clothing tastes, but an unfortunate affinity for the same colors, so we’ve been known to show up at each other’s houses in the morning to find one of us wearing tailored silk khakis, black pumps, and a dark blouse—that would be Rachel—and the other (that would be me) in khaki shorts, black sneakers, and a dark blue T-shirt. Embarrassing. We finally decided that our bus gang would call us Jointed at the Hip Girls. We’d sit at the back of the bus, hold hands sometimes, whisper. We didn’t need to wear T-shirts that said “Dyke.”

But we didn’t actually think about it very much either. We felt safe enough in our little bus world to be “straight acting” (ha ha).

And one morning, when we were standing on the platform at the Metro station, one of our bus buddies approached. She’s tall, light-skinned African-American woman with a penchant for outfits that Rachel admires, and we had wondered if she were family; she had that look about her. She apologized for interrupting and said, I just wanted to tell you guys that it’s so nice to see you in the mornings. I looked at Rachel, a little puzzled. I mean, the woman continued, You both just look really happy when you’re together, you sort of glow.

I started to blush. My ears got very, very hot.

Umm, I umm, I said.

Rachel was more composed (although she was blushing too). She thanked the woman graciously, and asked her name. Kara, she told us. I actually ran into Kara the other day at the grocery store, and we rode the bus home together. I found out that she’s a poet and a sculptor, and she lives three blocks from me. I told her I was writing about her in an essay I was doing for an anthology. She laughed and said, Oh, because of that thing I did that morning?, and chatted for a few more minutes. I don’t remember the rest of that conversation either, really. After all this time, is it possible that I’m still traumatized at the thought of coming out?”]

kanani kauka, from freedom rings, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[unkindnessesofone]

Gravitational [Elliot x Reader]

Words: 2.4k TW: Mentions of intimacy. Tags: Fluff/Angst. Disclaimer: This isn't about the real Elliot. This has nothing to do with the real person, just Cosmo Jarvis in the movie with the name 'Elliot'. That's it. That's all.

The usual babyfaced redhead in her Taco Bell uniform was waiting for the bus outside the window. The regular bikers in their leather vests and lightwashed jeans had taken up the biggest table toward the back right under the dimming Dos Equis sign and the three U.S. Navy Seals who came on the weekends for a good time and weekdays to watch baseball were holed up with grit teeth ardently watching the game. In fact, the only outliers on this Thursday night were that the Cubs were losing to the Cardinals, and the phone behind the bar would not stop ringing. 

“You guys in trouble with the mob? Who the fuck keeps calling?” Zawi hissed before taking the last sip from his Corona, leaving only the carcass of lime lifeless at the bottom. Over the neck of the bottle, he showed off how annoying the incessant sound was with widened eyes so dark they needed a candle to guide your way through. 

“Ask her.” Behind the bar, rubbing at the bottom of a beer glass with a damp rag like it owed him money, the owner arched his head back to nod in your direction. 

The air shifted, like someone asked to change the channel or something, and you felt an unusual set of curious eyes studying your profile suddenly. It was one thing to have Jake or Zawi look at you. They were regulars. Hell, you considered Zawi to be a friend, but Elliot’s stare hollowed out your chest like a hunter would to open up and gut its kill. It was the first time you wondered if they knew about you and Elliot. Zawi had referenced the tension between you both before a long time ago, but had Elliot told them any details? Did they know he had laid awake with you as the sun rose above the building outside your bedroom window, fingers hopelessly brushing over your hair, heartbeat like a steadfast lullaby in your ear? Had they known you two had done more than just make each other laugh with the cherrywood between you? 

You picked up the phone and put it back down, just as you and your boss had been taking turns doing since the fourth call, “It’s just some guy.” 

Elliot’s eyes were still more occupied with you than the game on the screen above your head.

“Must be down bad.” Jake mused as the phone started to sing out again after only a forty-five second break. 

“I think I’m going to report him for harassment.” Your boss came up behind you, lifting his arms to add the clean glass to the row hanging above. Once free, he gave your shoulder a polite squeeze. He was old enough to be your dad and, thankfully, that was how he behaved. “And make a No Dating Patrons rule for all staff.” It wasn’t a shot just at you. Last summer, Gavin had flirted for tips with every single mom who came in for Margarita Mondays and the cops had to be called after one hurled glass after glass at his head, layers of black Maybelline mascara staining her face. 

Zawi’s elbow jabbed Elliot’s ribs, “I guess you’re screwed then.” He teased and winked at you right as you removed his bottle and instantly replaced it with a fresh Corona. 

Elliot’s gaze followed your fingers from the bartop to the recycling bin under the sink, barely registering the clang of glass on glass. He missed your hands most, not just the way they held tight around his neck in the throws of passion, but the soft graze of your nails over his chest, the way they would animate a story as you two talked on the couch while whatever chosen movie went ignored. 

“You going to tell us what this loser did?” Jake pushed, smirking like the cat that ate the canary.

“It’s not a very exciting story.” Coming forward to lean over the bar, hands together, you tried to ignore the sound and think of how much to say, “We went out, like, three times. It was fine. He asked to get together again and I said that I wasn’t really feeling it…I didn’t want to waste our time anymore…”

For the first time since the Cardinals gained the lead on the Cubs, Elliot smiled. It was small and without teeth, but you saw it flash by like sneaky lightning. 

“Whoa, had no idea you could be so heartless.” Jake teased, but his interest was already back on the TV. 

In the key of C major, the phone's ringing bled through the bar three, four, five more times while you worked, moving through tables with a tray in hand. It didn't matter how diligent or kind you were, the noise was beginning to irritate everyone in the place. It wasn't as if your boss hadn't picked up and told the guy that if he didn't cool it, he would call the cops. He had when the calling began. 

“I have told him to stop.” Shoulders up to your ears, you defensively explained yourself as soon as you were back behind the bar to Jake and Zawi who were glaring at you as if you were the mastermind behind all this. “I swear I have.” Putting the tray down by the ice bin, your whole body deflated as you sighed. 

Your hand was inches from the black phone that hung on the wall when it was snatched away. Elliot had reached over the bar and practically ripped it off its station.

“If you do not stop calling her, I will reach into this phone, push my entire arm down your throat, grab you by your pathetic sack, then pull you out to shove my foot so far up your asshole, you taste my shoelaces, alright?”

It was so vivid and direct that you worried if you made a sudden movement that you would wind up in the scenario he just described. Unlike most people who spat out crazy threats, Elliot was pretty capable of messing someone up. It wasn't until you put the phone back down that you exhaled and allowed yourself to register how hot it was. 

The break from the ringing made it seem like the announcer was describing the game from inside the bar. You could actually hear the ice in Jake's whiskey glass as he mindlessly sloshed it around in the sepia liquid.

“Thank you.” Sincere, but soft, you told Elliot, but all he gave you in return was a nod with a split second of eye contact.

You had expected the bar to explode with applause, but that would have actually bothered him. Perhaps, his throat to the guy you had dated had effectively frightened everyone to be on their best behavior.

Hunched over the bar, yawning as you counted your tip out, the bell attached to the door rang out. 

“We are closed!” The sign was switched off ten minutes ago, but you couldn't allow yourself to sound upset. Clearly, you hadn't locked both doors. 

Spinning around on the stool to assist the patron with exiting, you saw Elliot. His hands were deep in the pocket of his jeans which made his arms seem larger somehow, like they didn't fit against his side. He looked shy, a new kid on the first day of school, not at all like the guy who threatened a stranger's life earlier.

“Did you forget something?” Me? You didn't want to make things weird. In your experience, men spoke through their actions. Elliot had made it clear that he had got what he wanted from you and had no further interest. It wouldn't change anything if he heard how that made you feel. “I didn't see anything.” You pushed off the stool in order to go look behind the bar.

“No.” Elliot stopped you, gruff and clear all at once. He shook his head, “I didn't want you to be closing alone in case that creep came around.”

“I think you successfully scared him off.”

“Well, you can never be too sure.” Relief loosened Elliot up. It didn’t seem like you were cross with him even though he thought you probably should be. “I want to walk you home.” He didn't pose it as a question because it wasn't one. Elliot was going to walk you all the way to your building's door and wait until you were inside. He would be the creep following you if you didn’t oblige. 

Back and forth, like a ping-pong ball, you wondered whether you should argue with him about it, but your body couldn't deny that a walk with Elliot. It was only two blocks anyway and your muscles yearned for time with him after a long stretch without so much as a high-five or wave across the bar. 

“Yeah, I just have to do a few more things.” Swiping your apron off the table in one motion, you fled to the backroom. Had you always been this attracted to him? Your stomach felt uncomfortably tight when you two had been standing in front of one another alone in the bar. Heat clung to your body so immediately that you thought to check if the AC broke. A ripple of arousal had formed under your skirt without your approval.

Sweater on and hair down, you came back and turned off the lights. Locking the door behind you both, it was like a magnet was trying to pull you together by the hips despite your resistance. You had to push your feet into the ground to keep yourself in place. He was doing his best to distract himself with the passing cars instead of how well you filled out your pencil skirt. He had seen you in it at least a dozen times, but it was still a sight to behold. He once said a Polaroid he took of your ass in red mesh underwear belonged in the Louvre and he meant it. It was what he pictured underneath your skirt right now. 

“So, you good?” Elliot's hands were back in his pockets as you two started to walk. His voice was layered beneath yours as you spoke at the same time.

“That was some game, huh?” The Cubs had pulled through in the last inning and saved everyone in the bar from a bombastic Zawi tantrum. 

As natural as it felt to laugh with Elliot, the rigidity that had newly introduced itself didn't suddenly vanish. He hung his head down and pulled out his hands, adjusting to his own discomfort.

“I should have called.” He finally said, owning it after clearing his throat.

“Why didn't you?” Nodding, you confirmed before busying yourself with rifling through your purse for keys to your apartment. In case his answer didn't sit well, you wanted to be looking anywhere, but at him.

Elliot swung his arms out in front of him, groaning as his palms slapped together. It was hard for him to explain things to himself sometimes. He wasn't totally sure how to do it to you. 

“It got a little…” Once he started, he winced and tried again, “Sometimes…” This didn't sound right either. He cleared his throat and thought about how he had left things with you. He remembered dropping you off for your afternoon shift and saying that as soon as he was back from Frank's bachelor party/fishing weekend, he would be right back at your place. He was such an idiot that he even promised he would make you dinner that night. Elliot knew that he meant it. He'll, he still wanted to make you dinner in your kitchen that desperately needed a fan. “Sometimes it gets a little dark in here.” Pointing to his head as he managed to finally say it. “It might not be a very good excuse, but that's what happened.  It wasn't you, it's me. Something about being out there for Frank's…thing, I don't know, and then I just kept my distance because I don't to put that evil on anyone -”

“You could -”

Elliot wasn't done, “Then we left and I still should have called from overseas, but I didn't and I've been avoiding the bar ever since.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jake and Zawi had come in plenty of times without him. You had even served his mom on one particularly rowdy Margarita Monday. 

“I did miss you.” Right in front of your apartment, Elliot stopped with you and swung around in order for you to face one another. The light from inside the small mezzanine of your building illuminated his earnestness.

“I missed you too.” A large part of you wanted to invite him up, but there was also a voice insisting you stay vigilant for the sake of your head and heart. 

“The drinks at Three Arms suck.” He deadpanned, earning a snort of laughter so honest from you that it made his shoulders wiggle with his own laughter. “I understand if you don't want to hang out anymore especially after the night you've had with that guy calling you all fucking shift, but I'd really like us to get back on track.” 

The moon behind his head, inviting itself in through the thin branches of a tree, stole your attention so you would not find yourself lost in his eyes without a compass or any way back. Elliot was carefully studying you in return, trying to deduce what was going on in your mind.

“I'll think about it.” Humming, you decided and started up the three brown polyester carpeted steps of your building. Once you put your keys in the lock, you looked over your shoulder and caught him clearly deep in a self-deprecating thought. “You owe me a dinner."

Elliot was surprised for a second, returning to reality after a few seconds of beating on himself mercilessly, but once he realized, his whole face lit up. 

“I do, yeah. I was gonna make you crab cakes.” He called out, the moon cheering him on as it overcame the bur oak.

“Throw in some roasted artichokes and I'd be willing to give you a second chance.”

“Saturday?”

“Don't let me down.” You sang, popping open the door and then blindly fighting your key until it was removed.

A man of action and not talk, Elliot took the assignment seriously as he watched you go inside and then wait for the elevator. The whole time he was reminding himself to go home and look up “roasted artichoke recipes”. He was not going to screw this up again. 

[sithgea]

Persona 5: The Phantom X Classroom Answers

These are all the questions teachers ask you in the game. Since there are too many, you can use Control + F and type in a keyword to search. Hope it helps! ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ ⊰ ᯽ ⊱ ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ ⊰ ᯽ ⊱ ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ ⊰ ᯽ ⊱ ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Fibre-optic cables may connect us with people around the globe, but do you have any idea how that was done? • Under the ocean — Where do both English and Japanese get their names for the days of the week from? • Astronomy —

Do you know what happens if you drink too much water? Think worst-case scenario, here. • You would die —

Which of these three was a famous smuggler? Let's see if your French history is up to par. • Louis Mandrin —

What did women of the time find so attractive about Hikaru Genji, the ultimate playboy? • Financial resources —

What's the most widely recognised constructed language meant to be used as an international auxiliary language? • Esperanto —

What’s so special about owl earholes that helps them with hunting? • The left and right ear holes are not parallel —

Was the author of the "The Tosa Diary" a man or a woman? • Male —

What was dodgeball originally called? Remember, it sounded frightening. • Death ball —

Any idea what that word would mean in more modern terms? • Encumbrance —

In "An Encouragement of Learning," why does Fukuzawa tell us to pursue education? • To make money —

When Kiyomori is delirious with a fever, what happens to the water that's poured on him? • Turned into hot water —

What is the state of human society absent law? • War —

Henry Cavendish may be an excellent scientist but what was the one thing he never did? • Socializing —

One "oku" in Japanese is a large amount. But how much exactly is it? • One hundred million —

What was Ghino di Tacco's nickname? • Gentleman — Which 17th century artist created paintings with a revenge theme, and is regarded as the greatest female painter of the Baroque? • Gentileschi —

What will happen if people drink too much water? I mean the worst case. • Can cause death —

“Abduct”, “only”, “never”. Among these three words, which word do you think is related to “1”? • Only —

In your opinion, what is the common etymology of weekdays in English and Japanese? • Celestial bodies —

Among the cross-media works that depict the end of Atsei, which one is the most famous? • Noh drama —

What is the solution for controlling mortality invented by Semmelweis and widely used in contemporary medicine? • Wash hands and disinfect —

What is the gender of the author of the Tosa Diary, male or female? • Male —

Do you know what dodgeball was called before? It actually uses a pretty scary English word. • Death ball —

What was a time when math affected history? • The ending of a war —

Which civilization has a name that can represent its terrain? • Mesopotamia —

A honeycomb is made up of many regular hexagons. Why do you think this is? • It saves on materials —

In the witch hunts, were there any suspects who were ultimately acquitted? If so, don’t forget to name them. • Biddy Early —

What would you do if you dug up buried gold? • You can only take part of it —

Confucius, who proposed that the Son of God is silent, has strange powers and confuses the gods, yet he studied and laid the foundation of divination. Is there a contradiction between these two points? • Not contradictory —

Which of these people is the thief inspired by Slovakia’s Robin Hood? • Juraj Jánošík —

The theory of seismic motion is considered to be… for a certain field… well, a fatal problem… Which field do you think it is in? • Religion —

In order to better hunt, what special mechanism does the owl have in its ears? • The left and right ear holes are not parallel —

The Nobel Prize is awarded in a number of fields, but guess which field doesn't get one. • Math —

In order to save Kiyomori who was suffering from a fever, he poured water on him… Can you reason about what the water has become? Please answer! • Turned into hot water —

“Hundred million”, in Japanese, how much is it? • 1億 —

How many years did it take for the cattle problem raised around 250 BC to be answered? • 2000 years —

Can you give me an example of a mathematician influencing history? • Ending a war —

The word "melancholy" historically referred to a secretion… Which organ did that secretion come from? • The liver —

In the “Encouragement to Study” chapter, how does it explain why you should study? • To make money —

Do you know what this “extraordinary person” means? • Useless person —

Why was Magellan motivated by spices when he traveled around the world? • It can make money —

Compared to "destiny," is "fate" more positive or negative of a word? • Negative —

What material was not used for Roman roads? • Wood —

In the song “One Hundred People”, what is the shortest word “jue”? Please answer! Boom! • 1 —

Name me one famous smuggler from that time. As long as you have studied some French history, this question will be easy. • Louis Mandrin —

A li is also known as the Chinese mile, but would that make the Great Wall 10,000 miles long? • It depends —

What geometric figure does “arbitrary triangle” refer to? • Any kind of triangle —

It is said that the internet connects the whole world into a global village, but do you know what exactly connects it? • Seabed —

Where do you think the etymology of the word “wed” comes from? It might be better to put aside marriage for a moment. • Gamble —

Besides red and blue, blood can be another color. What color do you think it is? • Green —

How many haikai stanzas did Saikaku Ihara write in one day? Consider this a legend and answer me~! • 20,000 stanzas —

There are parts of the human body that are harder than iron’s 7 on the Moh’s hardness scale. What are they? • Permanent teeth —

What did Diogenes value in order to be liberated from desire? • Exercise —

What I care about is sports uniforms. The “form” in “uniform” means form. So what does “uni” mean? • Single —

What parts of the human body do you think are most likely to degenerate and disappear? • Pinky toes —

Encountering a flood in the desert. Is this possible? • Possible —

Which country’s language do you think the word “beef” comes from? • France —

What d'you think would happen if you unearthed some buried treasure? •I'd only get part of it —

What is the origin of the name of the Canary Islands in the Atlantic Ocean? • There are many dogs —

What was the most popular thing about the world-famous playboy Hikaru Genji among the women at that time? • Financial resources —

What was Semmelweis's countermeasure that reduced patient mortality rates and is now common practice?

Washing hands and disinfecting ————————————————————————————— * Credits: Persona 5X Zone and myself.

[spinfins]

WIP Weekday

I was tagged by @sunny374940 for this about a week back. But i’m behind on everything so you get it now.

For everyone waiting for the next chapter of “The Gift of Elgar’nan,” it was supposed to be out Monday morning, but I was invaded by ants, and ao3 is down, and when I tried to make Emm and Rook wake up and do something a boot was thrown at my head.

Okay universe, I get it.

Expect it in completion this week, and regular updates on Mondays.

Here’s a taste for you.

—

Free of blood magic and meddling elven gods, Rook slept like the dead of the Necropolis. And like the dead of the Necropolis, she stirred when Emmrich’s voice called to her.

“...Rook?”

She snorted and mumbled at the morbid images that brought to her mind, still half lost in nonsensical dreams.

“...No, I’m not going to bury you. I’d rather we left that line of thought behind entirely if you don’t mind. I’ve brought you breakfast.”

Oh. She’d been talking out loud. She awakened by another degree and felt soft blankets and smelt wonderful foods, and salty air and…

…and sand in her teeth.

Spitting, Rook rolled from her front to her side and forced open her equally sandy eyes.

Emmrich sat beside her, looking like a vision. And it wasn’t fair that he was able to do that, make himself so immaculate in a make-shift camp on the Rivain coast, while she awoke in a small tide pool of drool. Not that she didn’t enjoy how he looked. His hair was pushed back, his jaw shaven, his skin clean and unblemished and–

Rook came fully awake and tossed aside the sandy blankets. Emmrich flinched as she reached for his face, but he allowed it.

He was patient as her fingers brushed over his hollow cheek up to his eye and the pink, healthy skin there. Her touch drifted over to the bridge of his nose, where only the faintest red line marred that proud arch. Rook bit her lip, because she’d cried just yesterday, thank you, and Emmrich had breakfast for her, shouldn’t that make her feel less like crying?

“I would have kept the color if I knew you liked it so much,” he said.

—

And there you go. Feel free to curse all ants in my name if you want.

I tag @dragonracer and @notyourmamasdeerbat because I wanna see more of what they’re getting up too.

[kilojulietsierra]

When You Touch Me Like That (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!massage therapist reader)

Self indulgent maybe, but who wouldn't want to get there hands on this man!?

Your boyfriend visits you at work and suddenly can't get his mind of one specific thing.

Warnings: 18+ only content, established relationship, jealousy, inappropriate massage therapist behavior, consensual kink, sexy massage, happy ending, unprotected pinv, dirty talk, very hands on...

~~~

He had brought you lunch that day. That's how this all had started. He'd hung out in the front office, the girl working the front desk said you were finishing up with an appointment and that you'd be right out. So he'd hung out in the office and waited.

Not long after he heard a door close softly and another door close a moment later. He could hear water running for a long while and then a few minutes later you appeared.

"Jake!" Your face lit up when you saw him and it did his ego good. "What are you doing here?"

Jake was in civilian clothes; boots, jeans and a size too small t-shirt with Wayfairers hooked in the collar, "Out early today, knew who had a busy day so…" He held up a to go bag from your favorite Deli

"God bless you." You walked straight up to him for a kiss and to retrieve your lunch.

"BLT with avocado and an egg, extra runny." He smiled as you took the bag from him to inspect, "Don't worry chips and salsa too."

By this point one of the other therapists had finished an appointment and was talking to the young lady she had been working on. The two of them and the front desk receptionist all seemed to be staring on in envy and Jake couldn't help but play it up a bit. Then he saw the man come down the hallway and walk up to you. He was an older man, definitly older than you, and Jake would guess older than himself as well.

"Thank's hon, amazing as always."

Jake watched him as he walked out the door, hackles raised.

"I'm sorry we're so busy, otherwise I'd say we could eat together." Your voice snapped him out of his murderous thoughts.

"I know darlin," He bent down to drop a kiss on your forehead, "Me and some of the guys are gonna meet up at O'hargens in a bit, I'll get some wings there."

"Day drinking on a weekday? Careful Lieuteant." You had given him a cheeky smile and one last kiss, "Thank you, I love you, have fun."

"Love you too, still want me to come over tonight?"

"Of course," You rolled your eyes a little but still smiled, "Don't get tou turnt up."

Jake smiled and slid his glasses on, "Please, Ferg is the one you gotta watch out for. I'm a boy scout."

Out in the parking lot Jake was still smiling. Until he saw the guy again.

Your appointment. He was sitting in his camaro with the top down and sweat already seeping through his shirt in the Pensacola sun.

Jake eyed the man as he walked to his truck and waited for him to pull out of the parking lot first. Jealousy wasn't something Jake dealt with often, only when it came to you. Mostly when someone was looking a little more than he cared for. Occasionally when Jake remembered that your job included touching people, specifically asshats like that guy.

The whole way to the bar Jake had been grinding his teeth, thinking about that guy and that he called you hon, apparently was a regular, and Jake was certain he wasn't getting regular massages for chronic back pain. Then somehow after a few beers with the boys from the squadron a wire had gotten crossed in his brain.

Which is how he ended up looking away from the game on tv and over to you where you were reading at the other end of the couch. "Darlin, would you give me a massage tonight?"

"Sure babe," You paused for a minute to finish a sentence in your book before looking up, "You sore or something?"

Your hands were amazing and you gave the best massages, Jake was lucky and he knew that. He had free access to you for every ache and pain a hard day of training or flying might cause.

Tonight though, that wasn't why he was asking. "No, not like that. Just... " Now that he'd started this he realized there was no good way to ask for what he wanted. "I mean, like, like a sexy massage."

You chuckled, you looked confused, but you gave him a smile. "Jake, what are you talking about?" As soon as the words left your mouth realization dawned on you, "Ohhh..." You looked him over carefully, "You mean like rub your back before we have sex?"

Jake dropped his head back against the couch, "Know what, don't worry about it, it was just a dumb idea anyway."

"What? No, babe" You scooted over to his side of the couch, "I think I'm just not understanding what you mean."

"Promise not to make fun of me?"

"I mean... no more than normal." You laughed but Jake accepted that answer with a sideways glance.

"So, I got a little jealous after leaving your work today, and then the more I thought about it..."

"Jake, you know when it comes to clients..."

"I know babe, that doesn't meen I don't...can't get Jealous." You both shared a knowing look, Jake was territorial to say the least. "Anyway I had a few drinks with the guys and I started thinking about something else..." When you didn't respond Jake took a deep breath and continued, "I mean like a happy ending kind of massage."

Now it was obvious you understood what he meant this time. You sat there, legs crossed on the couch next to him, and contemplated a few things. "Does that turn you on? Thinking about that."

"Apparently." Jake felt a little embarrassed and couldn't meet your eye.

"Since when?"

"I don't know, about 12:45 this afternoon."

That made her laugh a little, "Do you mean like role play? Or..."

Jake looked at her finally, "No, not like that. I just..." He looked at her hands and lost his train of thought.

"Jake," You brought his attention back and moved closer to him on the couch, now sitting on your knees with your elbow braced against the back of the seat. "You know how sometimes in bed... my brain kind of short circuts and I need something but can't get it out." When he continued to stare at the celining but nodded, you continued, "You make me slow down and take a minute, until I can tell you what I want." His eyes dart to yours and he nods again. "This is a time where you need to slow down and tell me what you want."

He sighed deeply and stared back at the football game, "It sounds stupid now that I'm trying to say it out loud."

You smiled, "I said the exact same thing the night I came back from my birthday party." You smirked when that brought his attention back, you could see him biting the inside of his cheek, "Remember how drunk and silly I sounded trying to explain to you what I wanted? Y'know the thing with the scarves and your..."

"Oh I remember." Jakes smirk doubled, relishing the tinge of pink in your cheeks.

"Well, that ended up not being stupid at all did it?" You asked as you moved to straddle his lap.

His hands grabbing your hips on reflex alone he grinned, "Definitly not stupid."

Your weight settled on his thighs you grinned back, "Now it's your turn, so spill."

~~~

Jake leaned against the door to your bedroom as he watched you change for bed. Nervous as he may be he still smirked to himself knowing full well if everything went well, you wouldn't need clothes to sleep in. "You're sure this isn't…" He momentarily trailed off as you shimmied out of your cut offs and did not replace them. "This isn't, like demeaning or objectifying or like, crossing some sort of boundary?"

You laughed and gave him a big bright smile as you crossed your bedroom to where he stood. "You know how I really," You ran your hands up his chest to wrap around his neck, "Really like when you come home in your uniform and let me… help you get undressed?"

He grinned and set his hands on your hips, "I do."

"Well, I think it's kinda like that." You scratched your nails over the back of his neck and smiled up at him.

Jake leaned down to kiss you, "You're amazing, y'know that right?"

"Mhmm," You grinned into the kiss and then pulled back the slightest bit, "Now, take your clothes off and get on the bed."

With a hint of a groan he pulled away, already turned on, "Yes ma'am."

When you came back from the bathroom with Jake's favorite lotion, which he denied to the bitter end, you found him face down in the middle of your bed, naked and tense. You couldn't help but giggle to yourself as you approached, "You look a little tense there lieutenant."

"Don't tease me darlin'." Jake grumbled into the pillow, arms folded beneath him.

As you climbed onto the bed and straddled his lower back, just as you normally did when you gave him a backrub, the thought occured to you that this was, actually, very different. Lotion in your hands you admired the expanse of muscle before you. "Thought that's what you wanted." You ignored his warning as you made the first firm stroke over his back, a palm on either side of his spine.

The muscles under your hands shivered and flexed and Hangman let out a groan, "Your hands are amazing."

Your cheeks flushed, you bit your lip as you worked over his lower back, up along his spine to his shoulders. You scooted back enough that you could dig your thumbs into the divots at the base of his spine.

Jake was always vocal in bed, but the way he groaned and ground his hips into the mattress emboldened you. You licked your lips and leaned down close, your chest pressed to his back as you whispered in his ear. "Feel good?"

"So fucking good." He groaned, face buried directly into the pillow, hips grinding more as you kissed and mouthed at his neck while your hands stroked over his bulging biceps.

How had you never done this before?

Bracing you hands against his shoulders you pushed yourself back up to a sitting position and began to work your way down his back. When you paused for more lotion you couldn't help but enjoy the way he fidgeted beneath you. LIke he was chasing after your hands, after your touch. You scooted back over his thighs and bit your lip, fighting back a grin as you swept your hands up his sides, strong fingers curling into his ribs and raking their way down over his waist and hips.

You continued down until you were at the backs of his thighs and then reversed direction and stroked over each of his glutes. His hips bucked into the mattress even as his muscles clenched under your touch, "Not that kind of massage darlin'."

You giggled as you drug your nails down over the small of his back and then over each ass cheek, "Maybe some other time."

Again, his hips rolled beneath you, but this time he chuckled. His voice muffled by the pillow he responded, "We'll see."

You continued to knead your way up his back so you could kiss and nip along his neck and shoulders, sucked his earlobe between your lips as moved one hand to stroke up and down the back of his neck before carding your fingers into his hair and massaging his scalp. While he continued to moan in to the pillow and writhe beneath you you smiled and whispered, "Roll over for me baby."

He moved so fast he nearly tipped you over.

You giggled as he steadied you by the hips only for you to swat his hands away, "No, touching."

Jake rolled his eyes, but let his hands settle plam down on the comforter. You purposefully moved to settle yourself over his lower abs, barely brushing his erection as you moved. He let out a long breath like it would help him keep his composure as your hands sarted back into his shoulders only from the front this time. Your thumbs tracing along his collar bone several times before you lifted one arm.

You moved it so his hand would rest on your shoulder as you massaged the muscles of his foream, his biceps and triceps and then back in long languid movements. You couldn't help but hum approvingly as the hand at you shoulder lazily moved to grip the back of you neck. Jakes thumb stroking over your pulse point in time with your massage.

You repeated the same with his other arm, your resolve to drag this out chipped slightly as he again took a gentle hold of your neck and caressed your skyrocketing pulse with the pad of a rough thumb.

"What happened to no touchin'?" Jake teased, his cocky tone a stark contrast to the half lidded eyes he gazed up at you with. Biting your lip you leaned forward, down, into the pressure of his thumb. His grip on your throat shiffting automatically as he held you.

After a brush of your lips over his, and the slight increase in pressure around your throat, you whispered, "Did I say that?"

He chuckled, squeezed your throat a little tighter as he kissed you, "You sure did."

"Oops." You winked at him as you easily broke his grip on your throat to pin his hand above his head.

Jake took the hint and brought his other up to join it, folding his hands behind his head and cursing under his breath when your hands began to work over his pecs. His hips jerked each time your thumbs would swipe over one of his erect nipples. "Fuck baby." His eyes were closed and the muscles under your hands flexed and tightened.

You couldn't help but lean down and lick over one and then suck, like he so often did to you. "Jesus, fuck..." A hand dug into your hair and clamped your mouth in place for a moment, urging you to continue licking and sucking at his nipple, biting it not so gently with your teeth before soothing the sting away with your tongue.

Then he was dragging you back up his body for a kiss. "No touching, remember?" You mumbled into his mouth.

He nearly growled at you in return, "I should have specified sweetheart, happy ending for me means I cum in your perfect, tight little pussy. Not all over my stomach." He kissed you again, his tongue sweeping through your mouth, his grip on your hair keeping your face smashed against his.

A giggle escaped, "This turning you on that much baby?" You pushed aside to kiss and lick your way down his neck, "I'm not even halfway done yet."

Jake spit out another, "Jesus Christ." As you licked over his opposite nipple and then began to trace the lines of his abs with your thumbs. You pushed back, over his cock, the feel of it hot and hard and oh so ready for you tempting, but you slid further, ignoring the way the his entire body rolled as you did so. His hand in your hair tightened quickly and then relaxed, like he caught himself.

You traded your thumbs for your tongue as you began to lick at the planes of his six pack, earning more cursing and another roll of his hips that had his cock pressing against your stomach. In response you moved to straddle one of his thighs and ground down against it, long and slow. Your wetness spreading over it as you finally, truly crossed over that line to make this way more than just a massage.

"Fuck, you're so damn wet darlin', I can feel it." His thigh flexed beneath you and his abs fluttered under your lips. He was not wrong, you were soaked, drenched, leaving a smear of arousal over his thigh. The coarse hair and thick muscle of it doing terrible things to your own self control.

"This the kind of massage you wanted Lieutenant?" Your own voice was breathy as you had made it to nip and kiss at his hip bone, your hips 'massaging' his thigh faster and harder.

"Yes, yeah baby, your hands," Which were currently occupied dragging your nails lighlty down his chest over and over, "Your mouth, fuck baby your pussy feels so good rubbin' on me like that." He thrust up against you again, chasing some sort of friction, some form of relief. His hands moved to the shoulders of your t-shirt. His t-shirt. "Take this shit off."

He drug the fabric off your body with no assistance from you and groaned when you shifted enough to let his cock brush against the soft, bare skin of your breast. WIth a long, wide lick you traced one side of the sharp cut v at his lower abdomen and he thrust against you again. When you moved, scrambled to settle on his other thigh and begin to give it the same treatment, you moved and licked another path up the opposite side of the v and Jake lifted his thigih slightly to add pressure.

"Need you to touch me darlin'." It almost sounded like there was a please at the end of that sentence that he couldn't quite bring himself to say outloud.

You smiled against his hp, "I am touching you babe." You registered the bolt of pleasure that shot through you before you really realized that it came from the harsh slap Hangman had laid across your ass.

You moaned and bucked forward, his thigh chasing you and causing you to hump aginst it even harder. "Smartass." He grumbled even as both hands settled on your ass to squeeze and caress the sting away. "Touch me."

The moan escaped without your permission and you realized you were going to cum. You were well and truly humping his thigh, riding it with your thighs spread wide and your clit rubbing over the muscle. "Oh shit, Jake, fuck..."

He realized too, one hand moving to grab yours and guiding you to his balls, "Go ahead sweetheart, cum for me, be a good girl and cum for me," His larger hand encouraged you to squeeze his balls, massage them the way he liked.

"You're supposed to...' A tremor cut your words off as the knot spun and spun low in your gut.

Jake chuckled, strangled as it was, "It's okay, you first then you can finish my massage, go ahead darlin', go ahead, that's right." He continued to encourage you as you chased your orgasm, riding his leg harder and faster, your grip on his balls tightening as the pleasure crashed into you.

Jakes free hand stroked over your back as you came down, soft and soothing even as his cock twitched with need in front of you.

"Jake..."

He smirked, "C'mere baby girl." He used the hand at your back to pull you up into a kiss while his other hand continued to hold yours around his balls. His fingers working with yours to roll and tug at them. Jake kissed you like he ate you out, his mouth wide and shoving his tongue deep, licking his way into every opening until you were even more of a moaning mess. "Need a minute?" He asked, voice a whisper when he finally pulled back.

You gave him a hallf giddy, hafl shy smile, "Why is this so hot?"

His smile grew, "I don't know, but I love that it got you off to baby." He kissed you again.

"Now it's your turn." You returned the kiss, "In this new fantasy of yours, how do I finish your little massage?" J

ake groaned, "Can I take back what I said earlier? About the roll play thing?" His smile was wide and happy but his green eyes were dark, pupils blown wide.

"Next time." You picked his lips.

He nodded, "Okay." He dropped his head back into the pillows and rolled his hips experimentlaly, smirking again when you shivered, "Want that wrecked little pussy to massage my cock baby. Grind on it like you did my leg, rub it real nice and firm. Want you to get off on it."

You bit your lip and hummed, slipped your hand away from his and his balls to drag a light finger up the length of him. "Thought you wanted to come inside me?"

"Oh, I'm gonna." He chuckled, deep and low in his chest, "You let me worry about that."

All you could do was whine in anticipation as you settled in place, your thighs wide over his hips as you lined up the hadrness of his cock between your lower lips and began to move. You were so sensitive and so wet that every inch of him was nearly too much. Forget that he wasn't even inside you.

All you were doing was rocking your hps, guiding your still trembling pussy from the base to the tip, pressing his cock between the two of you and biting your lip as the familiar sensation sitrred to life within you. You moved your hands to his torso, doing your best to move them like you had before. Slow, firm steady strokes meant to losen the muscle and drive him crazy at the same time.

Then Hangman began to match the motion of your hips with his own. An image flashed through your mind as his hips bucked up into yours, his abs contraciting under your touch with each snap of his hips. The idea of Jake on your table at work, the dim lights, the music, the incense and his skin warm and slick with oil. Your eyes fell closed. He would look so strained, like he was fighting to keep his composure, his control. He would have to keep quiet, you both would or someone would hear you.

It would be so unprofessional, but so hot. As a shiver skittered up your spine you leaned down, your hands sliding over his abs, brushing his nipples on the way up his hard chest. You placed your lips against his ear and tossed your earlier statement out the window. "I'm so embarrassed Lieutenant Seresin." You let out a shaky breath that was only slightly played up, "I don't..." You rocked your hips down hard, "I don't do this with clients, I don't know what came over me, you just... you just look so good, feel so good..."

"Holy fuck." Jakes hands dug into your hips and drug you down over his cock, hard. He swallowed audibly, "Oh sweetheart..." He stretched beneath you, fighting off a wave of pleasure, "Don't be embarrassed." He turned his head so he could mouth at your neck, "Can't help myself when you touch me, you make me so hard, so horny. You're such a good girl I know you don't do this for anyone but me do you?"

"Just you." Your hips stuttered and you wrapped your arms around his neck, "Nobdoy else, just you."

Jake growled, "You only get naked for me don't you?" He was thrusting up into in earnest now, sliding you back and forth over his cock, the head catching against your clit every so often causing you to whine. "You only touch me like this. You only get this needy for me."

"Fuck, yes just for you. I can't help it." "Neither can I sweeheart, can I have that pussy sweetheart? Your mouth feels so good, your hands feel so good, want to feel what that pussy can do."

You fought to keep up the act, "I shouldn't..."

His grip on you tightened, "Just for me darlin', it can be our little secret."

For whatever reason that gets you, so you push yourself up as much as you can and take him in your hand. Trying not to feel silly you stroke the length of him, "It's so big, and hard, it does look like it hurts."

You catch him grin and you know that even though he's nearly out of his mind with how bad he wants to fuck you, the line is cheesy and such a cheap porno thing to say but he loves it. "It hurts so bad baby, make it feel better for me, please sweetheart"

As soon as you nod he as you impaled on his cock and begins fucking up into you. The act was gone completely as he drags you down into an obscene kiss, "You're so fucking good to me baby." His hips are snapping into yours so hard and so fast, that he has to lock his arms around you to keep you in place, "You playing it up for me?"

You nod into his neck, words a mix of strgangled moans and syllables, "It, oh fuck Jake, I kind of like it."

"Damn baby," He grunts as he gives in and rolls you to your back, slamming into you, "Just for me? Just for me, right?"

Your eyes roll back in your head with the way his body and his words are overwhelming you, "Only you Jake, only you, only you..." Your mind shorts out, unable to say anything else as your nails dig into the muscles of his back, warm and smooth where you had stroked over them early, only now to claw deep red welts into him as you cum again with a straingled moan.

Jake has his face inches from yours, watching as you bounce and writhe beneath him and as your pussy clenches down on his cock and he feels the first wave of your orgasm hit he burries himelf deep and cries out your name. Over and over again between grunts and groans as he empties himself into you.

~

You can see the marks on his back from your spot in bed, your heart just now starting to slow, no longer pounding in your ears. You watch him at the sink where he rinises himself off quickly with the tap water as it warms. Not for the first time you wonder just how the fuck he is so good looking. Then when he catches you looking, his eyes dancing and his grin cocky but his overall expression goofy and satisfied you wonder how the fuck he is so in love with you. Jake gives you a wink as he tests the water and then dunks a rag under it.

When he comes back into the room to clean you up, it's a struggle to keep your eyes open as he works the rag over you. He takes longer than he needs, wiping down places where he never spilled a drop, just for the excuse to return a little bit of the favor. The hot towel and pressure of his hand soothing as it stroked over your hips and thighs before he dipped it between your legs.

With your eyes closed the kiss he drops against the dip of your hip makes you jump and he huffs out a warm laugh that slides over your skin.

"What?" You ask, voice barely a whisper.

"Just thinkin' how God damn lucky I am." He places another kiss an inch over. Not sexual in anyway, only adoring.

You chuckle, "I had just been thinking the same thing." You comb a hand through his already disheveled, golden hair and smile. "You're so lucky."

He laughs and nips at your hip bone before soothing it with a kiss. Then he's off the bed and back to the bathroom. Then the room is dark and the bed dips as he crawls in beside you. "Were you really…" His voice is just shy of steady, "Were you really thinkin' about it?"

You schoot back, smiling as he wraps his arms tighter, "Yeah…" You breath deep, "Just kind of, came over me."

Jake nodded behind you and placed a kiss to the side of your neck, "I wouldn't ever ask you to do this outside of the bedroom. You know that right?"

THe smile on your face widens, "I know Jake. I wouldn't mind doing it for your again, just so you know."

He hums, obviously pleased. "Next time you could call me Commander Seresin."

"Not until your promotion is official flyboy." You tease him, shifting your ass back against him as well.

He laughs again, deep and sincere and smooths a hand down your side to keep your hips close. "You didn't mind calling me Admiral when I put on my dress whites and tied you to the bed." He teased, nipping at the shell of your ear, "Sounded so pretty, all drunk and horny, calling me Sir and asking me to put a baby in you…"

You elbowed him hard in the ribs, "Well, the next time I call you Admiral OR ask you to… do that, there better be a Mrs. Seresin to go with it."

Jake turned you to face him and kissed you, slow and deep. "Don't tease me darlin'."

"I would never." You kiss him back, grinning into it until you pull back, "Never about that."

He kisses you again, "Admiral and Mrs. Seresin… is it bad i'm gettin' hard just thinkin' about it."

You shove him onto his back with a laugh, "You realize we'll be like.. what? In our fifties, at least."

His smile was wide and his dimples showed even in the dark of your bedroom. "If we hurry and get those babies on the way, they'd be out of the house by then…"

"We are not havin' babies until you are on permanent shore duty Hangman, you hear me."

"So, what you're sayin' is; I've got a few more years to get all the kinky shit out of my system?" He licked his lips and gave you a look.

"And to sort out that jealous boyfirend thing." You chided him.

"Darlin'," He pulled you down into a kiss, "You let me give you my last name, I won't have nothin' to be jealous of."

You kissed him again, nipped at his bottom lip as you pulled back and settled your head onto his chest. His arms coming around you again made you sigh in contentment.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!

[psiioniicarts]

im so sorry if i was spamming you with likes i ADORE your art and concepts holy shit. and also sorry if i missed a post that explains these, but was dave aware of the exact ways mark died / of cesar's existence AND ALSO how does catalyst-presto play out in this au? either way you dont have to answer if you dont want but YOUR ART IS SICK AS FUCK AND YOU SHOULD KNOW IT!! KUDOS!! 💜💜💜

OH HEY! I remember you, I remember the comments you left in the tags of my first two TMC pieces: The Diner and The Call! Hiiii it's so nice to see you again, I have your comments saved because they make me really happy :D

As for your question about Dave with Mark and Cesar, I will say that Dave had semi-regular contact with Mark after he was born in 1974. He visited the Heathcliff house and adored his nephew, all the way up to the 1980s. When he moved out, Mark's mother (Jane) stopped attending church (for unrelated reasons), and Dave decided to keep taking Mark (a young child at this point), meeting Gabriel at this time (who was the church's new pastor).

In December 1984, something happened that caused a HUGE fight between Dave and Jane, and after that Jane basically told Dave to never come near her or her family again. That's the last time Dave ever saw Mark, and he never got to even see Sarah (though he knows she exists). Starting in 1992, Mark went behind his mom's back and secretly established communication with Dave, planning to officially reunite with him after he was 18 and she couldn't forbid him from seeing his uncle. It's in these emails that Dave learns Mark has a friend, though he never learns Cesar's name.

How Dave finds out about Mark's essentially proceeds like in this comic, with Thatcher (a close friend of Dave) coming to tell him the night of. From then on, he stopped attending church services altogether (he used to occasionally go on weekdays, not Sundays). He also dedicates all his time to finding out what exactly happened to the nephew he loved so much...

(as for catalyst-presto...I haven't gotten that far yet, ehehe. I think once I can smooth things over in Volume 1 to how I like it, then I can establish a timeline for Volume 2 and beyond...)

[lucianhuntress]

Clive & 43.? 👀

Clive Rosfield x Reader: #43 “Please, stop looking like you want to kill me.”

Brooding man in a coffee shop AU. Hope you like it 🖤

Afternoons feel relatively slow during the weekdays. Nektar’s Café draws in customers at a sluggish pace compared to the morning crowd—not to mention the lunch rush. All the daily work is done, and the café is already prepped for the next day, which gives you ample time to sit behind the counter and doodle chocobos and moogles on a napkin while occasionally standing up to brew coffee or warm up pastries.

The bell above the café door clinks cheerily as a customer steps inside, and you lift your head to see who it is this time. You have plenty of regulars—some you're even on a first-name basis with.

And this one is definitely a regular. Just… not one you know well, because—well—he isn’t the talkative type, even when you’ve used your best customer service lines on him. He’s like an approaching storm; sulking, gloomy, and all brooding silence. His dark hair certainly doesn’t help the image.

He scans the café, and for a moment, you catch the way he squints in quiet disappointment when he sees the table he always sits at is already occupied by a lovey-dovey couple. They’re even taking selfies with their cake slices and iced lattes.

You have to bite your lower lip to keep from grinning.

He walks up to the counter, offering only a curt nod, but you can already see the frown forming on his face. You’re one step ahead of him, though—already prepping to brew something special. He doesn’t order. He never does. Getting him to speak more than a sentence is like trying to reason with a mossy rock. Besides, he always drinks what you give him, and never complains.

“Let me guess,” you begin with a wink, determined to shine some light into his sullen little world. “Flat white with a dash of annoyance?”

He doesn’t respond. His eyes stay fixed on the table that was “stolen” from him.

“Maybe with a sprinkle of cinnamon and judgment? That one’s pretty popular today.”

You spot the tiniest twitch at the corner of his eye as he turns his gaze to you—but still no words.

“Or how about the day’s special: triple espresso with seething rage?”

His voice, when it comes, is rough and low. “You done?”

You jump slightly, startled by the sudden reply. Heart thudding, you finish prepping his drink. You pour it into a takeaway cup and doodle a thundering cloud with a pout on the lid.

“I call it the Brooding Blend.” You fight the smirk threatening your poker face.

As he pays, his eyes flick back and forth between you and the occupied table.

“They’re in my seat,” he mutters, clearly frustrated.

You glance at the couple—clearly lost in their own little love bubble. “Well, as far as I’m aware, that table isn’t actually yours…”

He squints at you. “Yes, but I sit there every time.”

You plop back into the chair behind the counter. “Oh, I know. And you glare at anyone who takes it like you’re about to burn them into cinders.”

He turns his brilliant blue eyes on you, and the intensity of it makes heat prickle at the back of your neck. There’s a long beat of silence, and it would almost be funny if he didn’t look quite so intimidating.

You clear your throat. “Please, stop looking like you want to kill me.”

Something flickers in his gaze. For half a second, you could swear you see the twitch of a smile. Then, he lets out a small sound—somewhere between a cough and a laugh. It's low, rough, like he doesn’t quite remember how to do it properly.

He picks up the coffee, and you realize you're holding your breath.

Would this be the day he finally tells you it’s not what he wanted?

“The cloud with a pout was a nice touch.”

He turns and heads for the second-best table. But you’re frozen, stunned.

That was the nicest thing he’s ever said.

You exhale, but let yourself smile—absentmindedly doodling a little pouting cloud with tiny hearts above it on a new napkin. And across the café, at a very different, slightly wonky table, so does he.

[cowgurrrl]

You're My Only Hope for Heaven

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: oh bitch I'm having a fucking blast with this dynamic the slow burn is slow burning

Summary: An unlikely patron saunters into your bar [3.5k]

Warnings: one (1) creepy guy, one (1) fake marriage, lots of flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, one (1) kiss

You try not to make it a habit of picking up bar shifts during the week. Not only is it almost always slow, and you barely make any money, but it's hard to go from teaching for eight hours directly to another job. You'd much rather be at home, grading or doing something for yourself for the first time in weeks. But you couldn't say no when Katie called you, almost in tears, begging you to take her shift so she could deal with a burst pipe in her house. You don't regret doing her a favor, but you do regret other things as you stand behind the mostly empty bar as whatever game is happening plays on the screen above your head. You think it's a UT game. Or maybe A&M. Or any of the other SEC Texas schools with an absurd football budget. 

You're basically yawning your way through your shift and working through your newest painting in your head, trying and failing to not think about school until absolutely necessary. Principal Martinez is cracking down on the stupid minutiae the school board demands of its teachers, and you spent most of your afternoon writing student objectives on the board. On top of that, your art club kids have been begging you to plan a field trip to the local art museum for weeks. You finally relented, but the paperwork is mind-numbing and requires much more work than you thought. Between working, making art, and trying to live your life, you barely have time. 

Another reason you hate working weekdays is the creepy regulars. Normally, you can ignore them on a busy Saturday night, but it's harder when it's as dead as it is. You have no idea how Katie deals with them on a regular basis. It started with a guy at the bar, you think his name is Steve, asking you progressively invasive questions. "How old are you?" "You gotta boyfriend?" "What time do you get off?" One right after each other, even after you made it clear you're not interested. Fake laughing and making excuses to run to the back or change a keg don't throw him off. 

"Keep it up, and I'll cut you off." You finally threaten after he asks you why you're being a bitch. You roll your eyes when the bell above the door rings, probably admitting yet another asshole who's gonna make your night hell. When you turn toward the door, the words leave you before you can stop them. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"Now, is that any way to greet your customers?" Joel chuckles, and you sigh as he sits down in front of you. Thankfully, his brother is not in tow, and you can save yourself a little embarrassment. "I didn't know you worked here."

"I don't," you say. "Whatcha drinkin'?" 

"Looks like you're workin' to me." He smirks and you shoot him a look.

"You wanna free drink or not?" 

"Shiner," he answers quickly. You hum in acknowledgment, not even bothering with the POS system and going right to the fridge to pull a bottle out for him. You pop the cap off and place a napkin under the beer before sliding it to him. "Are you bribin' me?"

"You've gotta be faster with your questions, Miller. You've already accepted it. Might as well enjoy." You say, and he laughs. 

"Well, alright, then," he says, raising his beer to you before taking a quick sip. "So, what's this, then? You moonlightin' as a bartender?" He asks, and you fight yourself on how to answer. What if word gets back to parents? Administration? They couldn't reprimand you for that, right? You know plenty of other teachers with second jobs, so it can't be that taboo. Still, you're hesitant to open up to Joel. Out of all the people who could've walked into your bar tonight, it had to be him.

"Something like that." You settle on, wiping a sticky spot on the bar to avoid his gaze. If he feels anything negative about you having a second job, his face doesn't show it. He has a soft smile on his lips and a slight sunburn across his nose, highlighting the freckles living there that previously went unnoticed. You want to tease him about not wearing sunscreen, but the joke dies in your throat when he rests his elbows on your bar, showing off those stupid biceps you can't not look at. He catches your eyes lingering near the short sleeve of his shirt and opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but a grating voice from the other side of the bar cuts him off.

"Excuse me, sweetheart! You've got other patrons over here!" Steve yells, and you feel your eye twitch at his attitude. Joel notices.

"What's wrong with him?" He asks quietly, leaning forward over the bar to get closer to you. Looking into his brown eyes and confused expression, an idea forms.

"Pretend you know me." You say, and his eyebrows knit together, every emotion visible on his face. 

"I do know you."

"No, I mean," you sigh. "That guy over there is a regular on Wednesdays, and the girl who usually works is married, so he doesn't try anything with her, but I won't give him my number, and he's making me fucking miserable. So, just... pretend to know me." Joel is bigger than Steve. Much bigger. Probably a whole head taller and much broader than the man on the other side of the bar. One word from Joel, and he might actually shut up or, better yet, leave altogether so you can finish your day without any more hiccups.

"Okay," Joel agrees, and you reflexively reach out to touch his thick forearm and squeeze. You don't even realize you did it until he smiles like he won a staring contest or something.

"Thank you," you say before turning and bracing yourself to deal with Steve. "What can I do for you, sir?" You ask, but before you can even finish your sentence, he holds up his empty beer bottle and waves it in front of your face like you're stupid. 

"Another beer." He says, and you bite your tongue. 

"You got it."

"Finally," he groans. "You'd think for such an easy fuckin' job, you'd be better at it." 

"What the fuck is your problem?" You ask, refusing to move from your spot to get him his beer, and he scoffs.

"My problem is that you're bein' a fuckin' bitch and ignorin' me when I didn't do nothin' wrong." He's slurring his words together at this point, and you wordlessly go to the POS system to close his tab and send him on his way. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you!" He yells after you.

"Hey, man, why don't you leave her alone? She's just tryna do her job." Joel speaks up from the other side of the bar, and Steve straightens up in his seat as he assesses Joel. 

"This isn't any of your fuckin' business. Stay out of it."

"It's my business now. That's no way to speak to a lady. I think you owe her a mighty big apology." 

"I don't owe her shit," he spits, and you look over to see Joel setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders. "Why's this even matter to you, big shot?"

"That's my fuckin' wife you're mouthin' off to," Joel says without hesitation, and you quickly school your expression. Wife? You asked him to play along, but you didn't think he'd say that. "So, if you wanna keep the rest of your teeth, I suggest you apologize to her, leave her a nice, big tip for dealin' with your sorry ass, and get yourself a ride home." 

Steve is silent as you take the empty bottle away from him— just in case things get really ugly— and slide him his card and bill. He eyes Joel carefully for a few tense seconds before picking up a pen, signing his check, and leaving without another word. The second he's out the door, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders and sigh at the relief. You scrub a hand down your face and look over at Joel.

"You okay?" He asks gently like you're a spooked horse, and you nod. You take a few minutes to get yourself together, putting in Steve's 30% tip and cleaning off the empty bar before returning to Joel. "What?" He asks when he catches you smirking.

"At least buy a girl dinner before you call me your wife." You say, and he laughs, shaking his head. 

"You said the other girl is married. I just took it and ran," he says. "And I already tried to take you to dinner, but somebody said no." 

"School regulation says it's unethical." 

"Well, we're not at school now, and you're certainly not a teacher right now." He says smoothly, vaguely gesturing to your all-black outfit, and you give him a look. "What time d'you get off?"

"You're gonna get me in trouble." You whisper, and he leans forward across the bar. 

"All I did was ask you a question." He whispers back, playfully mocking you. It could be the smile on his face, the relaxed humor behind his eyes, or the fact that he stood up for you because you asked him to, but you glance between him and the clock and take a deep breath. 

"I get off at 12. Unless it stays dead like this, then I'm closing early," you say, and his smile grows. "But this is not a date." 

"'Course not." He chuckles, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

"I'm serious. I need you to say it's not a date, so I know you won't come after me if your kid fails my class." 

"Is my kid failing your class?"

"No, she's amazing. But for my own mental well-being, I need you to say that this is not a date." You say, and he grabs your wrist to stop your anxious wringing. 

"Let me buy you a drink. That's it. Nothin' more," he says, squeezing you. "This ain't a date." 

"Thank you." You sigh, and he nods. 

You spend an hour or two idling between conversations with Joel and trying to look busy for any manager who might care enough to check the cameras. You're pretty much done with all your closing duties by 10:00, and you wait until it's been a full hour since anyone else came in to flip the closed sign and do a few last-minute things. When the bar is completely clean, empty, and ready for the next shift, you slink back behind it to make yourself and Joel a drink before sitting beside him. 

"You feelin' proud of yourself for getting us here?" You ask as you clink your glass against his and take a sip. 

"Yeah, I've got the prettiest girl in the whole place sittin' by me," he says, and before you can even scold him, he throws his hands up. "Not a date." 

"Not a date." You repeat.

"Still true, though."

"Don't make me regret saying yes to you, Mr. Miller." You say, and he gives you a look. You like teasing him, especially since you can always see exactly how he's feeling. He's not particularly subtle, contrary to what you're sure others think about him. 

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Joel?" 

"As many times as it takes, I guess," you shrug. "You also clearly have an aversion to being called Mr. Miller."

"My dad was Mr. Miller." He says, and you roll your eyes, groaning and half-folding in on yourself dramatically. 

"Oh, my God, do you know how many men have said that to me since I've become a teacher?"

"Well, it's true!" He says. "Are you sayin' other people are tryna tell my wife to call ‘em by their first names?" He asks, and you laugh. 

"Believe it or not, you're not the first single parent to ask me out." 

"Am I the first one you said yes to?" 

"So far." 

"So far?" He asks, raising his eyebrows, and you hum. "I'll take it." 

Unsurprisingly, Joel is really easy to talk to. He asks questions about your life outside of work, where you went to school, and what made you want to be a teacher. You ask him about his job and family and, somehow, end up talking about the latest cheesy action film he's seen. When both your drinks are empty, the glasses sit there, the ice slowly melting as you talk into the night. Every time a hint of anxiety creeps up your spine, he makes you laugh or tells you an interesting story from his past and distracts you from it. You lose hours sitting there, and you don't even realize it until your phone pings you with a reminder, and you suddenly see it's past midnight.

"Oh, shit," you mumble, showing Joel the time. "I gotta lock up."

"And you have school tomorrow." He says, and you groan as you stand and grab your glasses. 

"Don't remind me. I've got like five million things waiting to get done there." You say. He watches you step behind the bar, leave them in the sink for the opener to find, and no doubt send a catty message in the group chat asking who closed the night before. His eyes don't leave you even when you reach up and grab your bag, your sleeve falling down just enough to reveal a nasty bruise.

"Woah, that looks like it hurt," he says, gesturing to your arm. "How'd you get that?"

"Promise you won't laugh." Your response does nothing to clear up his confusion, but he raises his right hand and makes a cross over his heart.

"I promise." His tone is gentle and even, but you're still hesitant to actually admit it.

"I fell off a table." 

"I told you!"

"Hey!" You scold. "You promised you'd be cool about it!"

"I promised not to laugh." He says, and you roll your eyes. "They still haven't come to fix it for ya?"

"Would I be climbing on tables if they did?"

"Fair enough," he shrugs. You find the bar keys at the bottom of your purse and walk over to where he's still sitting, your hand resting on the back of your chair. He shifts forward until he can catch the edge of your sleeve and roll it up to see the bruise in all her glory. His fingers are warm, and his touch light as he traces the edge of it, not firm enough to make it ache but enough that you feel the pads of his fingers. You freeze like your stillness will be enough for the feather-light touches to continue, your eyes meeting for a split second. He clears his throat and rolls your sleeve back down for you, drawing his hand back. "Tell you what," he says. "I gotta buddy who gets me a good deal on some spare parts. Let me see if I can track down the part you need, and I'll come fix it myself. Free of charge."

"You don't have to do that." 

"And let my wife fall off tables?" He asks, a smirk pulling on his lips, and you shake your head. "It's the least I can do for the free drinks and, ya know, teachin' my kid." 

"Fine, but don't make it a thing. The maintenance people already don't like me. I can't imagine seeking outside help will make them like me." 

"I won't make it a thing," he promises, leaning back in his chair as his eyes travel up and down your body. He sighs heavily and sucks his teeth like you're suddenly too much, and you smile. "It's a damn shame this wasn't a date."

"What'd you do if it was?" The question borders on dangerous, but you can't take it back now that you've said it. It seems to have piqued Joel's interest, too, because he raises his eyebrows at you.

"You really wanna know?" He asks, and you nod.

"I really wanna know," you say. "How does Joel Miller end a successful date?" He gets a little bashful at the question, a blush creeping up his neck, and you knock his knee with yours to get his attention. "C'mon, don't get shy on me now."

"Alright, alright," he grumbles. "If this were a date, and we were gettin' ready to go out separate ways, I'd walk you out to your car, open the door for ya 'cause a lady should never open her own doors," his voice is slow and low, and he watches your face as he speaks. "And I'd kiss you. Nice and slow so I don't scare ya off or anythin'. I might put a hand on your waist or bite that pretty lip or somethin'. And right when I can feel you wantin' a little more, gettin' a little desperate, I'd stop, say goodnight, and walk back to my truck." His words have a devastating effect on you, and you can't look away from him. The heat rolling off him in waves makes you too warm and flustered. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his plump bottom lip, and you have half a mind to think he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. You have half a mind to let him. 

"You're right," you finally breathe. "It's a shame this isn't a date." He nods and stands, his broad chest grazing yours as you look up at him. You're not a science teacher by any means. If you were, you might be able to explain the magnetism you feel toward Joel or what stupid chemical in your brain makes you wonder what tricks he keeps up his sleeve. But you're not. You're an art teacher. So, the only thing you can focus on is the deep brown of his irises and the heavy lashes and crow's feet that frame his eyes. And the swoop of his salt and pepper curls, the tint of his slightly pink forehead and strong nose. You want to capture his image in the dim lighting of the bar, but you settle for committing it to memory to scribble in the margins of your notebook for the rest of the week. Why couldn't you have been a science teacher?

Neither of you says anything as he finally steps away, giving you the space to turn off the last of the bar lights and push through the haze he created in your mind. He lingers by the door and opens it for you when you go to the front and step into the humid Austin night. You lock the doors and give him a small smile when you turn around to see him rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

Then, just as he said, he walks you to your car and opens the driver's side door for you. His truck, the only other car in the parking lot, is parked a few spaces away from yours. It would've been so much easier to just ignore you, get in his car, and drive away, but here he is, being the gentleman he's always been toward you. You step into the space created by the open door and throw your bag in the passenger seat, but don't get in the car. Not yet. He sighs heavily, like he's in physical pain, when you meet his eyes again, and his hand flexes around the edge of your car door. 

"Thanks for my not date." You mumble, and he nods. You're close (and weak) enough that brushing his lips would just take a strong breeze. It freaks you out how okay you are with the idea of "accidentally" kissing Joel Miller. You should be panicking. Alarm bells should be sounding in your head, but the only thing filling the cavernous space is the echo of his voice explaining what he'd do if this were a date. Idiot.

He leans on your door a little more, and your heart quickens, thinking he might actually be the one to make the move. His head ducks just a little, and you get a strong whiff of his cologne, your eyes fluttering shut at the scent. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you're all but pushing up on your toes when he swerves past your lips and presses a chaste, firm kiss to your cheek. His beard scratches your soft skin pleasantly, and you keep your eyes closed until he pulls away, looking like he just won a prize.

"Get home safe." He says as he steps back, still holding your door open. You sigh and fight a smile as you look at him— cocky, vindicated, and knowing exactly what he just did. 

"Goodnight, Joel." You manage to get out before sitting down and letting him gently shut the door for you. You wait until he gets in his truck to roll your window down and shout his name until he does the same. "I'm gonna get you back for that."

"Oh, I'm countin' on it, darlin'."

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