#idk if I mentioned it on here but she’s even the reason the Christmas outing was cut short 😭😭

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

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[hyperfixat]

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!! here’s the first chapter to a new multi part series i’m working on! it’s an isekai of honkai star rail. (sahsrau, sort of…?) ANYWAY!! enjoy,,, updates will be. idk maybe once a month so i don’t get stressed about pumping out chapters… this baby has been baking for a few months in the drafts already LMAO. likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3 and my reqs are perpetually open! 4.1K words.

next >

** Written PRE 1.4 – Any mentions of new characters is pure speculation and or headcannons.

Your dailys are finished and there’s no new content, so you decide to look for some hidden quests throughout the map. You’re sure you’ve collected all the chests on the Herta Space Station, but you use a teleport waypoint there anyway. Caelus (although that is not what you have named them,) sprints under your control, running against the invisible wall separating available land from unavailable land.

You click aimlessly, your character summoning their weapon of choice, a bat in this case, and attacking the blank divider. They hit it a few times, the animation sparking as they attacked the blank. It’s not like you’re expecting something to happen, although a person can hope, but then something does happen.

The office around you, where you’re playing on your PC blurs. You attempt to clear your vision with a few harsh blinks, but your vision only gets worse. It’s golden tunnel vision to your computer screen, the Trailblazer isn’t there, oddly enough, but that doesn’t quite matter at the moment, as you feel the world around you warp. Your body and soul, something you weren't even aware of, are pulled, nay sucked, into your screen. The screen, something that should be impermeable, gives way like nothing, like air.

Something as large as the human body should not be able to fit through your screen, but you do. Somehow you do.

It’s warm and hot and cold and freeing as it is oppressive.

You’re disoriented and confused, and for some reason you know you’re no longer alone and in your office.

Tentatively you allow yourself to move and lift your head. Instead of being seated on your desk chair, you’ve fallen into a heap in… is this one of the rooms in the Supply Zone? That.. that cannot be right. That’s in a video game and this is real life.

…Right?

What are you thinking about?! Of course this is real life, just a dream, yes, a dream. What are they called, lucid dreams? That makes sense, you’re lucid dreaming, even if you’ve never had one before, you’re lucid dreaming.

Well if you’re lucid dreaming, maybe you can have some fun? What do you do?

Fuck, you aren’t prepared for this.

Before you can think of something good someone moseys into the modern-style storage room you're in. Oh, hey, it’s the main character of Honkai: Star Rail, the game you were playing before falling into this lucid state. You want to greet them; you should greet them.

Wait, do you call them Caelus or the name you put into the game? Ah, wait, can you pause this?

“Huh? What are you doing in here?” Their voice sounds… well just like it does in game.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer because you don’t know what you’re doing here. They wait for a reply, head tilting cutely as you think of a comprehensible answer.

“I’m… not sure.” You draw out the sentence as if by prolonging the words a better answer would appear.

Caelus walks closer to you, moving from the doorway to stand only a foot away holding out their hand to help you up.

“Are you lost? What part of the base are you stationed at? I know this place really well, I can help you find where you belong.” The confidence in their voice wanes, “Well, by your clothes…” their brow creases “are you from here?”

“Uh, I don’t, I don't know.”

They purse their lips, head tilting as they think. “Well, I don’t know who I should bring you to. You’re not a threat, at least not yet. Herta would be my first guess, but I don’t like her, and she might not even care or respond.” Another moment as they ponder, “let’s go find Mr Yang. He might be able to help jog your memory, or find out where you’re supposed to be.”

“Okay.” The walk through the station feels like a fever dream, though this is a dream, so that makes sense.

Caelus pulls open the heavy metal door to the Astral Express and holds out a hand to help you climb up inside. They don’t let go of your hand as you enter the passenger cabin.

“Mr Yang?” They call out, fingers readjusting over your own. Their hand is cool and comforting, realistic for a dream.

Welt Yang, sitting on the red curving couch looks up, setting down his book. His eyebrows raise when he sees that Caelus is not alone and is towing along a strange person dressed in even stranger clothes.

“Yes, Caelus? What do you need?” His eyes flicker between your faces before settling on Caelus’.

“This person, ah what’s your name?” They flush a pretty pink and turn to you, fingers flexing nervously around yours. When you give it to them, they repeat it aloud to Welt. “Is lost. How do we help them?”

Welt Yang frowns, a crease denting his forehead and he adjusts his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as he gives a low, thoughtful hum.

“What did Madam Herta say? You found them on her vessel.” Caleus rubs the back of their neck, a pink falling over his cheeks and tinting his ears.

“Well, I was hoping to avoid taking them to her…”

Welt doesn’t react, as if already knowing the answer. “Well,” his amber eyes meet yours. “What do you say to staying on the Astral Express for the time being? Of course, we’ll have to check with the conductor to make sure that’s okay.”

Caelus nods, their eyes narrowing as they think. “Do you think Ms Himeko might have an idea of how to jog their memory?” Their body shifts towards you as do their eyes, “in any case, we should find Pompom first, that’s the conductor.”

You want to say you know exactly who Pompom is, but that would sound odd from what should be a stranger, wouldn’t it?

Speak of the devil, Pompom comes waddling their body over to your gaggle. They aren’t as small as the game made them seem, maybe four feet of smooth fluff, and a content face.

“Hi Trailblazer, hi Welt, hi… Hi.” They pause and look up into your face, their features contorting, before they accuse you. “You aren’t a passenger!”

“Oh.” You don’t really know how to respond to that. Aside from acknowledging the obvious, they haven’t given you anything worthwhile to say. Before the silence can become too suffocating Caelus comes to the rescue, saving you from the critical look of the conductor.

“About that!” They give the creature a charming smile, putting their body between yours and theirs. “I was hoping my new friend could stay on the express until they can remember where their home is.”

So that’s why you’re staying, well staying til you wake, maybe wake. Fuck, you need a minute, well maybe once it settles in and you realize that you can’t escape, and don’t know how or why you’re here. Oh, you hope this is just a sleep deprived, very immersive deep sleep.

“Hmm,” Pompom shoves past Caelus’ legs to size you up. Their large, animal eyes make you melt, and you offer them a shy, nervous smile. “We’re out of rooms, but,” they turn back to Caelus, “if you or another passenger are willing to share, Pompom guesses they can stay.”

“Thank you, Pompom,” your smile widens a bit more. “But, maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to say that. I don’t know if anyone would want to share a room with me.” A breathy, panicky laugh leaves you, “I am a stranger here, after all.”

Pompom gives you one last, long look before shuffling away back to their rounds of the train.

“Hm, well, I understand where you’re coming from. But,” Caelus frowns and their eyes darken, going downcast, nervously. “I feel oddly connected to you. There’s more than one reason I didn’t take you to Madam Herta. I was hoping you might be able to stay on the Express, at least for a bit. So I could get to know you, a bit.” As your expression remains impassive, they’re quick to continue, taking hold of both of your hands. Their hands are large and warm, engulfing yours earnestly. “Please don’t get the wrong idea. I am trying to help you, however I can. Which is why I want to extend an invitation for you to stay with me, in my room.”

“Thank you, Caelus.” Warmth fills both your heart and face, both from the words and their touch alike. “I know you’re trying to help me, I truly appreciate it.”

They’re being so genuine, it makes you want to cry. How can you tell them this is all a dream, your dream at that. They aren’t even real, for crying out loud! The way they treat you makes you never want to wake up, stay so they can care for you, spend time with you. Would it be selfish to want to stay, to never leave, what would happen to your life if you never woke up, never left this dream (game, whatever it is now)?

You have the sudden urge to harm yourself, just for the sake of proving if this reality is just a dream or if some spatial temporal nonsense happened for you to get sucked into your PC’s game, turned real world.

The time you spend worrying cuts short when March 7th’s cheerful voice calls into the express. You hadn’t even noticed the metal screaming of the door as it was pried open.

“Caelus~ Help me convince Dan Heng to let us go back to the Xianzhou Luofu for some Berrypheasant Skewers and Immortal’s Delight- oh!” She’s spotted you. Her face lights up, an odd reaction, you think, upon seeing a stranger in what is essentially her home. “Hi there!”

“Hi,” you greet meekly, not used to being around someone so high energy. Not that you don’t like it, on the contrary she’s a very gregarious person, and the energy she brings makes you feel content.

“Caelus didn’t tell me they brought a guest!” March giggles. “It’s nice to see you, have we met before? I’d hate to think I’d forgotten your face.”

“No, you haven’t met me before.” It’s not a lie, you craft your words carefully. You know her though, very well, at that.

“Oh, well you can call me March 7th! What’s your name?” She fully enters the compartment now, the heavy train door slamming loudly behind her. She’s really pretty and cute in person, you wish that your mind could come up with any better words to describe her, but your mouth feels more than a little dry as she gets closer to you. You tell her, words sounding like mush, but she smiles and repeats it back to you, giving it a compliment.

She makes your heart stutter, and you smile at her, a little dumbly. Luckily Caelus seems sympathetic to your plight (going dumb at the sight of a pretty girl) and takes over explaining why you’re here.

“Memory loss, huh?” March pulls a sympathetic face. “I can relate. Well, you seem like a lovely person, and a friend of Caelus is a friend of mine, so my door is always open if you need to talk.”

Your deceit feels harsh, because you don’t have memory loss. Now March might try to bond over this perceived shared trauma, one that you don’t have…

March pats your shoulder in an attempt to soothe, a rush of her scent (solidifying this is more than a dream) fills your nose, fresh, clean, and sweet.

“Thank you, March, I appreciate it.”

“Anything for a friend!” March turns to Caelus, who lets your hands go as March engages them in a conversation. “Now, Caelus, help me convince Dan Heng to vote for Xianzhou Luofu on this week’s stop! I really want some of the local food.” She exaggerates the ‘really’ dramatically, making her eyes wider; the epitome of puppy dog style begging.

“Ah,” Caelus turns their head away, squeezing their eyes shut. “I already was planning on voting for Jarilo VI, and I’m pretty sure Dan Heng is dead set on his vote for another week at the space station.”

March sighs in disappointment, eyeing Welt as her next target before, “Wait! You’re officially a passenger now!” She is talking to you, “won’t you please vote for the Xianzhou Luofu as this week’s destination?”

The Xianzhou Luofu, you think about it. They don’t know that you know the place like the back of your hand, but it’s not like you have anything against the place. In fact, you’d rather not face the harsh cold of Jarilo VI so new to this world.

Oh, you shouldn’t have thought about that right now, the fact you’re stuck here for who knows how long, and you’re passively deceiving everyone you meet. Your knees feel a bit weak, but you manage to force an agreeable response to March.

“I’m feeling a bit tired, Caelus,” you grab their forearm to steady, “could I have a moment to lay down?”

“Oh shit,” they steady you, leading you to the couch, and helping you lay diagonally. Your eyes slip closed. Not caring about what you make yourself look like, you turn your face into the back cushion, tightening the harshness of how tight your eyes are closed.

Are you really stuck here? Is this more than a dream? Without fully realizing it, you drag your blunt nails over the length of your forearm. A soft, trembling gasp disguises the hiss of pain you make. Not a dream.

Fuck, not a dream.

You push your face deeper into the cushion, inhaling the scent of dust and fabric. The sensory input makes you even more certain this isn’t a dream. How do you go back to your world? Are you a missing person yet? What harm will come if you stay here, both to this world and your world? Do you tell them the truth?

How earth-shattering would it be to find out that your whole life is nothing but code? You are but a character built to entertain millions, any sense of individuality and personhood would surely fade. You can’t do that to them, can you?

But maybe it would help you get back to where you belong…

It hits you then, Welt Yang. Well, he doesn’t hit you. He’s still reading his book on the couch opposite to you. You’re no lore expert on any Honkai game except Star Rail, but he’s from like, another world as well, or something like that, right? Sure that world is another video game, probably, but alternate dimensions are alternate dimensions, right?

How would that conversation start? Hey Mr Yang, you’re a video game character and I’m from a different world, teehee can you help me figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now? Would he even believe you? Would you even believe you?

A warm hand rubs over your upper back, along your shoulder blades and vertebrae. Caelus, your heart stutters, a funny thing, at how you already know how much you’ll miss them.

“Do you want to use one of my Life Transmitters or a Healing Spray?” They offer their voice, kind and calm. “Or would something like Comfort Food be more to your taste right now?”

You move your face out of the cushion, “thank you, Caelus, you’re too kind. I’ll be okay, just… thinking.” Thinking of how this shouldn’t be real, how you’re too good to be real.

“Of course, let me know if you need anything. Anything at all, no matter how small.”

Caelus eventually left with March to pester Dan Heng, leaving you to revel in your confusing thoughts. After a few more minutes of lying on the couch, you steel yourself to face Welt Yang.

Thinking of his face is enough to make your hands clam up. Will he send you away and dismiss it as insane ramblings of nervous breakdown from one of Miss Herta’s overworked employees? He’ll believe you, won’t he? Surely a man of his caliber and experience can spot when someone is telling the truth, no matter how fantastical?

Pushing yourself up, you fight the tired and nerves that cling to you, and stand on unsteady legs. Welt looks up as you approach, folding the ear of the page he’s on and snapping the book shut.

“Uhm, Mr Yang, could we maybe talk in private?” Your voice sounds warbled, but if it’s more than a trick of your ears Mr Yang doesn’t let you know, instead offering you a reassuring smile and nodding.

“I will lead you to my room. No one will disrupt us there.” You’re glad he hasn’t questioned your intentions. Does he suspect you already and was unwilling to call you out openly?

Welt leads you down the sleeping cart aisle, maintaining a respectful distance from you the whole while.

He uses the handle of his cane to tap on his door handle, a jolt of pink-red magic and a click of the door’s locking mechanism and you are presented with your chance to talk to Welt Yang privately.

Welt’s eyes meet yours expectantly. You gulp.

“So. On a scale of one to one hundred how well would you react to me telling you this is a video game?” Yeah, and if this goes poorly you can pretend this was all a joke–!

Welt's previously curious harden into something more serious. “What?”

Ah fuck, nope, nevermind. “Hahaha.” It’s fake and painfully obvious to you both. “Sorry to bother you Mr Yang, I will see myself out.”

“No.” Welt positions himself between you and the exit. “Tell me.”

It’s hard not to spill the beans when those dark amber eyes bore into your very soul. And, you do.

You tell him how you got sucked through your PC and woke up in what should be simply pixels on your monitor. You tell him how you don’t know what to do and how he’s one of the only characters, well, you correct yourself, people, you thought might know how to help you.

Welt’s face is stoic and you purse your lips as your nerve filled ramble comes to an end. “How… odd.”

You’re sure it must be. Especially for him, learning he’s a game franchise’s tool, everything he’s done was all written out and predetermined by forces he has no hope to control.

Welt sits on the edge of his bed, cane used to steady himself. “I need a moment, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m the interloper here.” You kneel in front of him, trying to comfort the man in any way you can. After a brief hesitation you cover his hand with your own. Perhaps physical contact will bring some sense of consolation.

His brows are furrowed, but your touch lesses it minutely.

“Do you… want to go back?”

It’s a fair question, but you aren’t sure of the answer yourself. Because on one hand, being in this fantasy world with characters you like that treat you nicely is quite literally a dream come true, but on the other hand you have a life. Not anything important, you’re just a person. A person with friends and family and a job that all needs you.

You cannot be sure of how much time will pass before you can leave this world, universe, whatever. Is this even your real body? Is there an empty vessel sitting in your desk chair that will wither and decay while you explore the wide world of Honkai Star Rail? You are led to believe this is your real body due to the sensations that an artificial vessel wouldn’t feel.

But.

There are your favorite characters and they’re so so nice. So far.

Your inner turmoil must be showing on your face because Welt squeezes your hand, running his thumb over the back of your palm.

“I suppose a better question might be: are you comfortable staying in this world for a prolonged period of time?”

This time the answer comes easier, “yes.”

“That certainly makes things easier,” Welt relents.

“Do we tell anyone?” The question brings on another bout of quiet. You wet your lips, nerves still simmering from the confession you made.

“I think it would be best to keep it among the, how shall I phrase it, main characters?” Welt winces. “Who would they be? Me, if you know enough to confide in me, and who else?”

“Well, I don’t think you, the Express, like all the main characters, but,” you sigh, beginning to count off who you can think of. “Caelus, March, Dan Heng, you, Himeko, Sampo, Gepard, Serval, Bronya, Seele, Natasha, Luka, Blade, Kafka, Silver Wolf, Herta; maybe, Asta, Arlan, Jing Yuan, Yanqing, Jinglui, Loucha… There might be more, but they seem to be the most lore relevant and repetitive so far.”

“Yes, I imagine some conflict might crop up with that roster…” Welt thinks. The way his brow furrows and his legs spread (manspreading… drool) is subtly attractive.

Ah, the Stellaron Hunters. You can and will admit you want to see Blade and Kafka badly, but if it could result in… tension, would it be worth it in the long run? Just to satiate your thirst? They’re so imposing in the best way possible.

“Hm. Do you want to tell them?” Welt interrupts your little Kafka slash Blade slash you fantasy.

After a moment of mentally debating, you decide that, “yes, I do. All of them.”

“Very well.” Welt gives a reassuring smile, “I will support you in any path you may choose to take.” And if that didn’t make butterflies flutter all the way from the pit of your tummy up to your throat.

“If they were to ask; how am I going to prove myself? Is there something that can show I’m not from this world?” Sudden anxiety seizes you, will your favorite characters mock you? You’d die.

“There’s nothing to say they won’t believe you. You’ve convinced me after all.” It helps you stay calm, and you nod seriously. There’s another gap where neither of you speak.

“Who will we see first, do you know?”

“How about the whole Express has a meeting and we can decide from there, sound good?” Ah, that smile. A shot to the heart it is.

“Yes, thank you, Mr Yang.” Your face is hot when you say it, suddenly desperate to leave the room and cool yourself.

Oblivious to your sudden burst of attraction, Welt continues on. “Of course, always feel free to stop by my room. I’d like to extend an invitation as the others have, if you want to rest in my room, you’re welcome to.”

Rounding up the entire Astral Express doesn’t take as long as you expected it to. Himeko was in her room; and March, Caelus, and Dan Heng weren’t far from the loading deck; and Pompom is always on the Express.

“So.” You start, folding your hands together and looking at everyone around the table. They’re all watching you, and it’s really sort of scary, but you need to be brave. “I’m not from… here.”

Honestly they take the news well. Sure there were some questions, some you knew the answer to, others you are unsure of yourself.

“Is that why,” Caelus cuts themself off. “I feel drawn to you.”

“Drawn to me?” Your head tilts curiously, “could you expand on that?”

“I feel it too,” Dan Heng murmurs, eyeing Caelus. At this you lean back, furrowing your brows in thought.

“Oh?” March leans into Dan Heng’s seat. “I think I know what they’re talking about.”

“Something, emotionally, maybe, makes me want to be close with you,” Himeko speaks to you directly for the first time. “It’s like a tugging in my chest telling me to care about you.”

Ignoring the blatant rush of heat to your cheeks, Caelus expands on Himeko’s words. “Exactly. I can’t explain how or why, but I feel that you’re important, at least to me.”

Fuck, they’re going to make leaving so hard, won’t they? They can’t just say things like that.

“Oh.” Processing those words is hard.

Noting the way you’ve halted and your body language, March hovers a hand over your forearm, debating whether to touch you.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” She asks, already sounding let down.

“No! No, not at all. It’s just.” You laugh, not out of humor or joy, but something nervous. “If you guys say things like that I’m not going to want to leave.”

“What if we don’t want you to leave?”

“I think that’s a conversation for another day, Caelus.” Welt steers the conversation back on track; what you really came to ask: “Where are we stopping first?”

next >

[carolmunson]

once bitten, twice shy (pbv!steve x f!thick reader)

finally, we made it. been writing this since october with breaks in between. if you're new to the pbv!steve universe (which is just an incredibly wealthy big money version of steve), i'd recommend reading 'peanut butter vibe' first.

here, steve invites his thick hottie bestie (you, who we're calling natalie because i HATE 'y/n') to his office holiday party. this fic has everything: sugardaddy!steve, casual dominance, office sex, unrequited love, some guy named rob -- anyway, enjoy. warnings/content prev: piv sex (protected), fingering/oral (f receiving), mentions of oral (m receiving) some angst/unrequited feelings, casual dominance, light spanking, office sex, sort of a 'boss' kink?? idk what to call it, rich people behavior, snide comments about thick!reader but not really about her body, some body descriptions but nothing wild, mentions of clothing sizes, lots of fluff, steve is a hot hot hottie throughout. little christmas light dividers by @newlips

“Is it fancy?” you ask, “I don’t really have anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“Is it fancy?” you ask, “I don’t really have anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“Is it fancy?” you ask, “I don’t really have anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I’ll take you to get something tomorrow,” he insists.

“I can buy my own dress, Steve,” you sigh, he can hear the eye roll through the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, everyone in Indiana knows you can buy your own dress, Manhattan, we get it,” Steve’s eye roll is even more audible than yours, “But you only have to get one because I’m asking you to come to this party. Let me get it for you.”

“Steve,” you scold, “No.”

“I have to finish shopping anyway — don’t you still have to finish getting gifts for your niece? We can go to the mall, two birds one stone!” he quickly adds. He hopes the thought of your niece’s tiny toes in some new little socks or a cute little outfit will soften you up.

“The mall is going to be a mess, Steve. It’s the weekend before Christmas,” you complain.

“We can go to a boutique or something,” he counters, determined to get you in a dress so you had no reason not to go to this party.

“Boutiques in Indiana aren’t making dresses for girls like me, Harrington,” you laugh, he doesn’t. He’s quiet for a moment until you hear his signature aggravated sigh come through the ear piece.

“You can just say you don’t wanna come,” his voice sounds slightly sullen, “Just wanted to show you the office, since you won’t get a chance to see it after I move.”

“It’s not that I don’t wanna come, Steve,” you say softly, “It’s just..it’s what it implies.”

“It doesn’t have to imply anything! Can’t you just come have fun with me? It’ll be so fun, I promise!” there’s a mild whine to his claim and you have to stifle a laugh.

Breaking News in Indiana: Poor little rich boy wants his big booty Barbie to play with at a party — throws minor tantrum when he might not get what he wants! "Fine, fine, Jesus Christ," you tease, "You're so annoying when you get whiny."

"So I'll pick you up in the morning? Is nine okay?" he asks, voice back to his regular charm. "Yeah, that's fine," you start, "Wait, we're not taking the Porsche to the mall, are we?" "Uh, yeah?" he replies, confused, "Did you want me to take a different car?" "Ugh, Steve that's so tooly," you moan, "You're such a tool."

"I'm about to uninvite you," he huffs, "Do you want me to buy you something pretty tomorrow or--" "I can buy my own dress," you yell over him. He lets out another aggravated sigh. "Tomorrow, nine, in the Porsche," he says finally, you hear the click of the dial tone as soon as he finishes speaking.

The Porsche rolls up at 8:58 and he knows better than to honk the horn, lest he wake your sister's newborn. Instead, he parks and walks up to the porch of your sister's house; knocking on the door and waiting for you with his hands clasped behind his back. When the door opens, he's surprised to see your mom behind it. She smiles, big and warm. She looks familiar, definitely a face in the stands at basketball games because your older sister Carly was a cheerleader. She was a senior when you were both freshman, before Steve was King Steve. "Oh, hi. You must be Steven," she whispers, when the door opens further he spots your little niece propped up high on your mom's chest, "I'm Maureen. Come in, come in. S'way too cold to be standing out here." "Thanks, thank you," he smiles, the kind of smile that makes mom's melt. Steve takes a step inside and your mom steps back, patting the baby's back to burp her. He wipes his shoes on the welcome mat and undoes the buttons on his Hugo Boss wool coat. His cashmere scarf hung loosely over his shoulders down his chest. "I've heard so much about you. Nat should be out in a second," heat blooming in her cheeks, "Make yourself comfortable." Maureen disappears into the kitchen but he can hear the gurgles of your niece and your mom's little titters to her. He leans on the back of the couch, the house smells like you and his heart swells. So this is what it looks like when you go inside after he drops you off. This is where you go when you're not with him. It feels like a secret he's not supposed to know. "Oh, hi, you're in my house," his eyes snap up when he hears your voice. His teeth shine through his smile, he waves with a leather gloved hand. "Good morning," he says, his voice is low and warm. Your heartrate speeds up when he says it. It's awkward when you walk up to him, unsure if you should hug or kiss on the cheek. It's normally never awkward, but you're always meeting at the bar or in his car. He's never been so...available at the first greeting. You don't want to kiss in front of your mom because then she'll have questions. She already asks too many about Steve to begin with. He scans you, your white sweater and jeans, square toe brown boots on your feet. You reach for a black parka on the coat rack and a scarf that he recognizes as a polyblend. He makes a mental note to get you a cashmere one when you're not paying attention. "Good morning," you reply, shrugging the coat on and tossing the scarf around your neck sloppily. He walks towards you, tutting while he does, reaching out to flip your hair out from under the scarf. He readjusts the material so it lays neater against you, tucked in and under the jacket so you actually stay warm. "Gonna freeze if you don't wear it right," he sing songs, shaking his head while he works. "Okay dad," you roll your eyes, swatting his hands away when he goes to zip up your coat, "I can do it." You don't zip your parka up, instead you peek your head into the kitchen and whisper a quick goodbye to your mom and your niece. Maureen appears with the baby again and says a motherly goodbye and 'Merry Christmas' to Steve. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Maureen," he almost flirts, "Have a Merry Christmas." She winks at you when he turns towards the door, mouthing a very enthusiastic 'He's cute.'

You have half a mind to say, 'Yeah, he knows. That's what's so infuriating.' But you think it, instead. You opt to mouth a simple 'Stop,' at her before following him outside towards the car. "You're mom's so sweet," he says when he gets to the side walk from your porch, hand immediately coming out to support you down the icy steps, "Careful." "There's a railing," you explain, using him for support, "It's there so I don't fall." "Well, you're holding my hand anyway, so," he shrugs. You bristle at his coolness, always so slick even when it's innocent. He's so hateable, it's almost unfair how excited he makes you. "As I was saying," he starts again when you make it to the end of the stairs, "Your mom's so nice." "Maureen? Yeah, she's a sweetie," you agree when you get the passenger door. He reaches past you to open it, and in doing so has you chest to chest with him. He lingers there for a moment, looking at you down the slope of his nose. He cocks his head, eyes a little hard, lips pulling into a smirk. "So what happened to you, then?" he teases, lips dangerously close to yours. You catch your mom peaking out of the living room window and sink down into the open door onto the leather seat. "Shut up," you huff, "You're not funny." "I'm so funny," he corrects, shutting the door, appearing on the drivers side moments later. "The stores don't open for at least an hour," you say, buckling into the seat, "Why'd you wanna leave so early?" "Thought we could get breakfast first," he shrugs, looking your over in the passengers side. He bites his lip, eyes flitting from your thighs to your face, "You look nice."

"It's nine in the morning Harrington, keep it in your pants," you shove his shoulder and he grins while he puts his attention back on the road, pulling forward away from the sidewalk. "It's 9:07 actually," he says, aloof, hand resting on your inner thigh once he had his bearings on the road infront of him, "You're so warm." "Perks of big thighs, I guess," you shrug, "You're wearing gloves though, I think that helps." "Nah, your thighs are just warm," he grins again, "Haven't had to buy ear muffs for the last five years cause'a them."

"You're so gross," you turn to him as you say it, exasperated. The car rolls to a stop at a redlight and he turns to look at you. "I'm so gross, huh?" he asks, leaning in. His hand floating from your thigh to under your chin. The leather is smooth on your skin, you can smell his cologne as he moves closer, "S'that why you want me to kiss you so bad?" "I think you wanna kiss me so bad," you tease back. His lips catch yours, fingers gently wrapping around your jaw as they do. The leather sinks into your full cheeks, flush from the cold and the way his mouth fits against yours. His nose bumps your cheek and your ungloved hand finds his, you can feel the smoothness from his shave this morning. Smell his moisturizer, his shaving cream. Taste the mint from his mouth wash in your mouth. A soft hum leaks from your chest and you feel him smile into the kiss before he breaks away, the light turning green against the white cloudy sky. "You're right, I did wanna kiss you so bad," he admits. His hand falls right back on your thigh, hitting the gas to pull onto the highway.

You'd been at it for a couple of hours now, store after store, the mall littered with families and screaming children. "We can go to the west wing. I don't know why you keep avoiding it," he chides. He puts all the shopping bags you've both already accumulated into the hand furthest from you, offering you the empty one. You take it, your other hand empty since he wouldn't let you carry your own bags. "That's the nice part of the mall," you say, "I don't want to spend that much on a dress for one night."

"Then it's a good thing you're not spending any money on it," he smiles. "Steven," you chide, "Enough, pl--" "Don't use that voice with me. I told you a thousand times I want to get you something pretty. So we're getting you something pretty," he urges, "Let's go." The west wing has all the fancy stores in it. Luxury brands, far stretches from Kay Jewelers and JC Penney. You aren't sure if they even carry your size in stores like this, but maybe you'll be surprised. It's not long before he has you in a dressing room, working with the attendants and tossing dress after dress in behind the curtain. Steve sits on one of the waiting area couches with the rest of the men. Your purse and coat is on his lap, the shopping bags resting between his feet. You poke your head out after the fourth dress, looking for an attendant but they're all busy. He notices your nervous face and waves to get your attention. "Need help?" he asks. You flush. "Can you get this zipper for me? It's not a side zipper so I can't reach," you ask. He nods, slinging your purse over himself with the cross body strap, asking the guy next to him to watch the bags with a quick 'Would you mind, chief? Thanks a million.' He comes up to the curtain and sees the front of the dress, red bursting to his cheeks, tinging his ears, "Good fucking lord." "Oh stop it," you blush back. You turn around and zips up the dress, some resistance meeting at the top. You walk closer to the mirror and inspect yourself, scrunching your face at your reflecting. "You don't like it?" he asks with a frown. "It's just not me," you shrug, "It's a little tight, and I don't want to be thinking about that the whole time, y'know?"

He nods, looking over his shoulder to see a dress on the 'put away' rack, dark green and off the shoulder. The style a mix between Herve Leger and vintage Dior. "Ma'am," he calls out when he sees an attendant walk by, "Would you mind pulling that dress for me? The green one?" She scans her hand over the rack and points at it, reading out the size. "That's perfect, actually," he smiles, that winning Harrington smile that makes the girls melt, "Thank you." "You're very welcome," she says sweetly, posture straightening when she brings it over. You peak back out and he turns you around to start the zipper down on the number you'd just tried on. "You look so good in green, try this one," he says, passing it to you, "Very Hawkins High." You hold it up in front of you and consider, it's a bodycon but still somehow classic looking. A velvet piece that you wouldn't have picked out yourself. "Hm, okay, I'll try it," you say, turning to him with a furrowed brow, "Now get out, perv." He smiles, closing the curtain carefully and retreating back to the couches, "Thanks for watching the bags, man." The guy smiles, "Us husbands gotta look out for each other, right?"

Steve bites his lip in a toothy grin, nodding, "Yeah, for sure."

"How long you been married?" he asked. "Few years," he lies, it's fun to lie when people have asked about you before. He'd get comments every now and again at Porter's, have chats with bar stoll warmers about you like you'd been together forever. "Few years? You look like babies," he laughs, the gray smattered in the man's hair shines in the pristine white lights of the store. "When you know, you know," Steve shrugs. The man nods, "They do say that, don't they? Well, I'll give ya a little advice. Fifteen years down the line, here -- they aren't lying when they say 'happy wife, happy life'. So just, y'know, do whatever she says and you're golden." "Great advice, honey," a woman's voice coo's above them. Steve sees her Vivienne Westwood shoes first, head tilting up to see a very expensive woman in front of him. She has a few dresses in her hand that he immediately stands up and takes from her. "Merry Christmas, kid," he says while they head out, the wife nods toward Steve in acknowledgement and he gives them a small wave. "Oh Steve, this is it, this is the one," you say, stepping out of the dressing room with the dress in your arm, the 'no's' in the other. His shoulders slump, "You didn't even let me see it."

"It'll be a surprise. You'll see it tomorrow night," you smile. He instinctively gets up and takes the dresses you don't want to hang up them for you on the rack. You exchange them for your purse and jacket, scarf previously abandoned in a shopping bag. "You all set to go? You have any other shopping you wanna do?" you ask.

"Hmm," he thinks, "Let's stop by jewelry first."

"Something for your mom?" you ask, putting your parka back on. "Something for you," he says, "To go with that dress."

"No, no, I have jewelry at home. I'll ask my mom if I can borrow something," you wave your hand off at him while you walk out of the dressing area and back into the store together. "Hey, hey," he shushes you, raising his neck to look into your eyes, "Let me spoil you a little, okay?"

"You already got me a new scarf and gloves," you say earnestly, "It's too much, Steve."

"You needed a new scarf and gloves," he says knowingly, "Let's get you a necklace to go with that dress, hm? You need shoes, too?" "I'm drawing the line at shoes," you warn, putting your purse over yourself while you walk through the beauty section, "I brought plenty of shoes with me."

He shrugs, "Suit yourelf."

Monday night comes quicker than expected, but you'd stayed the night at Steve's after shopping, only to wake up in the late morning with him the next day. You'd been up late fucking mercilessly wrapping gifts with each other, teaching him how to curl ribbon, watching him fold wrapping paper with obscene precision. The only reason you went home is because he had to go into the office to finish up some reports. You arrive around seven-thirty, a little late but still there, heels clicking on the marble floor of the lobby -- and there he is, waiting for you behind the turnstyles to the elevators -- suit jacket fitting him almost criminally.

"Fashionably late?" he teases, opening the side gate to let you through to him, "Everyone thinks my date stood me up."

"Oh, I'm sure your secretary will be so disappointed to know I'm here," you joke back.

"I don't fuck my secretary," he shakes his head, hitting the call button, "I fuck Rob's secretary. God, do you ever listen to me when I talk?"

Rob, Steve's work nemesis.

"Oh forgive me, there's so only many office flings I can keep up with," you say, stepping into the elevator. You take off your scarf from under your coat, revealing the necklace Steve bought you at the mall. He smiles to himself, seeing your adorned by his gifts. The scarf, the necklace, the gloves. He's excited to see the dress, it's all he thought about today. When you get the floor of the party, you wince a bit at the noise. It's rowdy, a lot of the men are already drunk. And boy is it, fancy. Men in suits, women is cocktail dresses in sky-high heels, hair in big blowouts with glowing gold and silver jewelry. You're suddenly thankful for the necklace Steve bought you. You'd been around your fair share of fancy in New York, but never really living it outside of your own work holiday parties. Sometimes you forget that this is Steve's day to day. "The actual offices are the next floors up, this is just our meeting hall. They really go all out, huh?" he smiles, "Let me bring you to coat check." On the walk to coat check you scan the room, it's decked out in gold and red. Ten foot Christmas trees sit in every corner, draped in garland, ribbon, and tinsel. Lights leaving a soft glow out of the floor to ceiling windows of the room. Intricately placed curtains of warm white christmas lights hang from the ceiling, dress the walls and windows. The room is a halo, glowing and warm. In the center of the room is the open dance floor, flanked by tables covered in white cloths -- drinks already littering them. Speakers boom top 40 and Christmas music, chatter and laughter booms over it.

"Here, let me get it," he says when you reach the coat check area, a little set up of a few racks with a sweet woman at a table, writing out tickets for you to keep track of for the end of the night. He undoes the buttons of your coat and you shrug it off slowly. His eyes round and he gulps, mouth going dry at the sight of you.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out, pulling your coat back over you, "You can't be serious rigt now."

"What?" you ask, suddenly self concious, "Does it look bad?"

"No, oh my god, no, it's..." he pulls your coat away again and sucks in a sharp intake of breath, "If I knew you were gonna look like this, I wouldn't have let you wear it here. Can't have everyone looking at you when you're here with me."

He looks you over, the way your breasts sit in the sweetheart neckline, how tightly it clings to your curves, the shape of your hipes, the outline of your belly in the fabric. He licks his lips, knowing he's not strong enough to see you from the back just yet.

"God damn," he shakes his head, "You're gonna kill me." "Well, you look very handsome too," the compliment is genuine but it doesn't register for him. He's busy looking at your glossed lips, the necklace places perfectly above your chest, the smell of your perfume. He licks his lips and your words finally hit him, so does the feeling of the fabric of your coat in his hands. "Th-thank you," he smiles, "Thanks." He checks your jacket and gives the lady at the table a $20 even though the coat check is free. Waiters walk around with hor d'ourves and drinks and he reaches for the champagne flutes, nodding to you to see if you want one. "It's kind of chilly, is there coffee or anything?" you ask, running your hands over your arms. "There's hot toddy's," he says, "They're by the bar but you don't like whiskey."

"I can pretend to like it for right now," you smile, he smiles back, placing his champagne flute on a table that he'd been sat at earlier, your name card placed on the seat next to him. He takes your hand and leads you to the bar, running his own hands over arms to warm you up while you wait behind a small line of people.

"This is pretty," you tell him, "Looks like everyone is having a good time."

"Half of these guys have been drinking since four," he laughs a little, "I'd hope they're having a good time."

"Oh, Harrington, is this her?" you hear a gruff voice ask. Steve's arm sling protectively around your waist at the sound. "This is she," he says back, he presents you like a trophy to him. His best Vanna White while he scans a hand over you to show you off. "Rob Delaney," he smiles, a smile that rivals Steve's, and offers his hand. He is devilishly handsome, no wonder Steve hates him so much, "You must be the girl that's got Harrington running to the big city."

"I think it's the pay raise that has him running to the big city, but thank you," you giggle, shaking his hand. It's a firm shake, a businessman's shake. You feel the chill of his gold pinky ring brush against your skin. "Pretty thing like you got a name?" he flirts, you feel Steve pull you closer, his hand splaying at the curve of your waist. Your face heats up at the feeling, knowing he doesn't like sharing you even though you weren't his to begin with. "Natalie," you smile. "Natalie," he repeats, giving you a once over, "Pretty name for a pretty girl." "Well, thank you," you say politely, letting go of his hand. He puts his own in his pants pocket, smiling at the both of you. "It's nice to meet you. Save me a dance, will ya?" he smirks when he asks.

"Don't know how free I'll be for a dance, Delaney," Steve replies with a tight voice, ffingers digging into the velvet of your dress, "She's kinda got me tied up all night. Maybe next time." Rob nods, biting back at snicker before walking away with his drink. "See, angel, this dress is dangerous," Steve says in your ear, you hold back from having your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling of his voice in your chest. He orders your hot toddy and a whiskey on the rocks for himself, you nurse it slowly back to the table -- the drink is strong and the food here is light. You feel lucky you ate dinner before you left or else this night would've been ten times more dangerous than the dress you were wearing.

An hour and two hot toddies later and you're chatty at the table with Steve's work friends. He glows while he watches you, the way you are able to blend in so seamlessly with everything. Like you've known these people longer than he has.

"And so I'm still on the phone after he puts me on hold for thirty minutes," you continue through gasps and giggles, the whole table is crying with laughter, "And -- and he comes back and is like, "Oh ma'am, I'm so sorry. Did you say L'Oreal? I thought this was the Oriole's marketing office!"

The table erupts in laughter, feet stomping, glasses clinking while men bang on the table. The women dab tears away with their napkins. Business talk, business jokes. Two big kids in their parents clothes again, at a fancy office party that they don't need to go to.

"Oh god," Steve's co-worker says, face red with liquor and laughter, "That is fuckin' marketing for you. I'm gonna go get a drink, you all want another round?" The group at the table nods, but Steve waves off a no for both of you. 'Last Christmas' flows through the speakers and some people have found their way to the dance floor. He takes the hand resting on your lap and gives it a light squeeze to get your attention. "Hey," you say, turning towards him.

"Hey," he says back, thumb brushing your skin, "You wanna dance with me?" You blush, nodding when he stands up. He's almost too charming, who are you to say no to him.

“Happy Christmas, I wrapped it up and sent it — with a note saying I loved you, I meant it —” Steve mouthed along with the words dramatically, guiding you to the dance floor on gliding backwards feet. His hips swayed expertly — surprising since he didn’t strike you as much of a dancer. You saw him at many a homecoming dance, he was not incredibly impressive in the 80s.

“Now I know, what a fool I’ve been, but if you kiss me now, I know you’d fool me again,” he sings along softly while he pulls you into him. His hand presses against your lower back until you’re chest to chest, hips against his hips, holding your other hand outside the both of you. Your face burns in the low light, noticing the other couples on the dance floor — women with engagement rings and wedding bands, women introduced as ‘my girlfriend _____’ who would be fiancés soon.

“When did you get so good at dancing?” you ask, looking up at him.

“This year to save me from tears — been going to a lot of weddings — give it to someone special,” he explained through his soft singing, “Got good at dancing so I could pick up bridesmaids. What about you?”

You scoff at his answer before answering yourself, "I was always a good dancer, Steve."

"How was I supposed to know?" he shrugged. Hair falls in his face when he leans forward to brush his nose against yours, his tell that he wants to kiss you.

"Should've danced with you at prom," he mumbles, resting his forehead down on yours.

"I didn't go to prom," you smile, moving your head on his chest, "Wasn't really my thing." His hand travels from your lower back to just below your shoulder blades, holding you while you both sway in time with the music.

"What'd you do instead?" he asks, you can't help but giggle and he can feel it in his chest.

"Ugh, it's embarrassing," your face burns while you nuzzle into the lapel of his jacket.

"It was years ago, c'mon," he urges, “Tell me.”

You look up at him and scrunch your nose, “I let Eddie Munson take my V-card that night.”

Steve gasps, you want to punch him in his perfect teeth.

“Right on his stained mattress at his uncle's,” you laugh and scrunch your nose harder.

“Oh, no…” he laughs, a twinge of jealously plucks in his chest, “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?”

“I mean he was a different kind of freak for me,” you shrug and Steve presses you even closer, feeling your breats and tummy squish against him. Warm and soft.

“Any good?” he asks, trying to make it casual. But even if it was so long ago, he had to know. "Good for seventeen," you shrugged, "And eighteen, and nineteen, and twenty. Then Corrded Coffin took off and he left."

"So you kept fucking him when you'd come back for breaks?" he laughs.

"It's a long winter break, Harrington," you explained, "I had a life before you, y'know."

"Yeah, but, was it a good one?" he squints when he asks, so you know he's joking. You roll your eyes at him, anyway. While George Michael wails, Steve can't help himself while looking at you in the low light. His body so close to yours he could barely breathe correctly. His hand skates up the the top of your back to your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that only both of your lips understand. Sharing secrets with eachother through clicks of spit, soft breaths, and swipes of tongue. If it weren't for the hot toddies, you'd never let him kiss you like this with people around. When you break away, he's breathless. "You look so good tonight," he confesses, the hand holding yours leaving to meet your cheek, "Can't stop lookin' at you." "Well thank you for the dress," you smile, "It's all you."

"Fits you like a glove," he smirks, "No lines or anything."

You blush but he can't tell, "Well I'm not wearing anything under this so that's why."

Steve chokes, sputtering, astounded at how you can say that to him so casually. The whole time he's had his hands on you, it's only been this flimsy velvet fabric keeping him from feeling your skin. All night you've been naked under this -- and you're just telling him now?

"Uh -- um," his voice cracks, "Do you uh, um, you wanna see my -- um, my office?" "I don't know, is it interesting?" you ask with a laugh. His hands skate down to your ass, the whiskey in your system tells you its okay when he lets his palms roam the mass of it. "Can make it so interesting for you," he says, lips brushing yours, "So, so interesting."

His hands and lips are on you the moment you step into the elevator and the doors close. His tongue runs a flat stripe over your collar bone, over the twenty four karat gold chain around your neck, following your jugular until he gets to your job.

"Your quarterly review came in," he murmurs in your ear, hand skating up your dress to tease you. Fingers brushing over your inner thighs, creeping slowly upward while you whine, "It's abysmal."

The doors ding open and he pulls you by the hand down the hall to the corner office. The windows show off the Indianapolis skyline, buildings glittering from floor to ceiling. There were packing boxes littered around, leather chairs and a couch cross from his desk for meetings. A bar cart left abandon in the corner with a large oak desk in the center. "Abysmal?" you reply innocently while he shuts the door behind you, "Does that mean I'm gonna get fired?"

He finally gets a good view of you from behind and bites his fist bringing the other hand down hard with a loud CRACK! against your ass. He smirks to himself with you yelp. "It might," Steve sinks down into the chair behind his desk, beckoning you over with a finger.

“Wanna keep your job?” he asks with a sly smirk, the authority building in his chest.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington," you playfully whisper. "Then show me," he sighs, reaching for his belt. The clink of the metal on the buckle being undone sent a shiver through you. He stayed relaxed in his office chair, pulling out his length to pump it lazily in his fist.

"Don't be such a tease," he scolds while you stand there, gaping at his cock, feeling behind you to twist the lock on the door.

"Steve! You can't just -- you're at work!" you gasp, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

"You just locked the door," he shrugged, "They're all downstairs, c'mon just -- please, come suck my dick. It's already out."

“You’re insane,” you laugh, “We have to go back out there eventually, Harrington.”

“I promise I won’t mess up your makeup,” he pleads, a soft grunt escaping his lips while he quickens his pace on his cock.

“So, I suck your dick,” you start, walking slowly back towards his desk, “And what do I get?”

“Baby, in that dress, you can have anything you want,” he gasps as he runs his thumb over his leaking tip, watching your hips sway while you continuing your slow strut toward him.

“Want me to fuck you instead?” he asks, “God, fuck, bend over the desk. I’ll fuckin’ give it to you.”

“Very forward, Mr. Harrington,” you coo, slowly reaching for the hem of your dress, “Can I keep my job if I let you fuck me?” "Keep your job?" he pants while you bend over in front of him, hem slowly rising over your thighs, "Give you the whole--whole fucking c-company." Your dress slips over the curve of your ass, legs taught and flexed while balancing your weight on your tall heels.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispers while he stands, still fucking his fist while he does it, "Your body's just...shit, you're so...I wish you could see how you look."

He clumsily reaches for the middle drawers on the side of his desk, hastily fishing into a half empty box of condoms. You can't stifle the laugh that bubbles out of your chest, "How many people are you fucking in here, Steve?"

"Shh, just shut up," he huffs while he quickly works the latex over his shaft. "Well excuse me," you murmur, bracing yourself while he puts one hand on your hip. The other dips between your legs, pressing against your entrance. "You nice and wet for me?" he asks gently, soaking his fingers in his mouth and coating your opening with a mix of your slick and his spit. "Y-yeah," you say breathily, rocking back onto his hand. Steve smirks, feeling your walls puff and twitch as his touch. You feel his length slide between your thighs, hand guiding his tip to drag across your folds, parting them as he pushes in just an inch or two. You hiss at the intrustion, you were wet but not relaxed. The let downs of not having enough time for foreplay. He runs a calming hand down your back over your dress. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he soothes, "I'll go slow." You feel his hips slowly pull out and push in again, coaxing your walls to start accomdating him. You part your legs a little, the arch in your back matching the porn stars in 'SLUTS AND CEOS XXX' videos you were sure Steve had seen before. Slickness builds between your legs while he pushes his hips in and out again, more and more of his length getting sucked in. You hear him groan when it gets all the way to the hilt.

"So tight..." he grumbles. It was almost uncomfortable for him, he knew you were turned on enough, "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, sort of," you nod, wincing, "Hurts a little."

"Sorry," he apologizes again while running a hand through his hair, "Lemme...hm..." You hiss again when he pulls out, looking back to see him get to his knees while his hands grip your thighs. Steve just goes for it. His tongue immedately making contact with your entrance. "Steve, oh..." your eyes roll back when he parts your lips with his thumbs, tongue gliding forward to your clit while his fingers find home inside of you. "There we go," he chuckles darkly, "Did she just need a little somethin' extra from me?" "Oh, shit, that's so good," you whisper, covering your mouth to stop your whimpers escaping from under his office door. His fingers pumped like pistons inside of you, teasing your g-spot just enough to get you dripping down your thighs. "Think it'll be okay now?" he asks, his hand meeting your hip while he gets back to full height. "Mhm," you gulp when you feel his head push in, and then the rest of him. Much easier this time around. "Fuuuuck, me," he groans, his hips rolling in steady thrusts against you. You cover your mouth harder, moans caught in your throat, in your palm, threatening to ricochet of the high ceilings of his office. "Better, baby? That feel good?" he asks, his voice clouded behind breathy grunts. You were still tighter than normal, and while that was great, he'd fucked you enough times to know when something wasn't working. "Really good, Steve," you whine through gritted teeth. His speed picks up, the skin of his thighs clapping loudly against the backs of yours. Steve's thrusts are shallow, hitting deeper and deeper until you're on the toes of your heels. "Look--oh fucking fuck--Look back at me," he pleads, "Wanna see you." You oblige and he sighs at the sight of you, reaching forward to move your hair away from you, "So pretty for me."

Steve never looked at the girls he was fucking in his office. It was always just to get off, to feel good after a rough meeting. To let off some steam after his underlings fucked up yet another sale. New secretaries, mail girls, office assistants, you name it -- all he had to do is wink and they'd be bent over his desk by lunch. "I'm close," he admits with a blush, "S'just...mmm fuck, s'what you do to me." "That's okay," you smile, his hand reaching forward again to touch your face. "Been hard since you fuckin'--oh shit, Christ--since you got here," his brows are furrowed while he watches you. Swollen wet lips letting out soft moans while he pumps into you. God, he'd do anything to keep you like this -- wet and ready for him. You catch his hand, pressing kisses to his fingertips, eyeing him mischeviously while you do it.

"D-don't, you're gonna m-make me---" he warns, another groan taking over while you slip his first and middle finger into your mouth. Sucking expertly, your lipstick smearing on his knuckles. "J-just need s-something in your mouth, hm?" his face contorts, brows furrowing while he clamps his eyes down. Whatever authority he had in his voice falls into boyish whines when your tongue swirls between his fingers. It's a sensation he didn't know he'd like so much, having his fingers sucked on while he was buried inside you. Something about the warm wetness of your mouth. The dirtiness of it. The way you'd wink at him while you did. He took his fingers out with a sharp inhale of breath, trying to stave off his orgasm. Instead, he uses them to wrench your hair back, your chest arching off the desk. The sound of your cry would definitely be heard a few doors down if anyone else was around. You involuntarily clench down on him, gushing. "Oh I see, you want me to be a little mean?" he asks against your neck, open palm coming down against your ass again, "Put you in your place?"

"In my p-place? Please. I thought I was getting the whole c-company?" you ask slyly, turning back to face him against the hold in your hair, "Isn't that what you promised...?"

You raise your eyebrows at him, mocking his own approach to the edge, mouth gaping. "Isn't that what you p-promised, Mr. Harrington?"

He gasps, hips stuttering while his grip in your hair slacks and clutches your shoulder. Gutteral groans flow from his throat, a string of expletives pour from his mouth. Gasps of phrases like, "My little office whore...fucking Jesus, my perfect girl...Pretty -- oh god -- pretty baby..." Steve slows his thrusts to nothing, heaving his breaths until they steady and leaning forward to rest his forehead on your back. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "You didn't..." "I didn't," you shake your head, "But it's okay."

"It's not okay," he says while pulling out, carefully removing the condom and tossing it in the trash can under his desk. "Gross, Steve," you admonish, standing up. You adjust your dress while turning to face him and he frowns, "Someone has to clean that up."

"Don't put your dress down, let me --" he reaches for the hem, but you stop him.

"Steve, it's fine. We have to go back downstairs, they're gonna know you're missing," you smile while you say it, "They're loving you down there."

"I'll make it up to you later," he promises, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, "Wake up all the neighbors when we get home tonight."

"Whatever you say, Harrington," you roll your eyes while you get to the door, clicking the lock. You both make your way to the bathroom when you leave his office, making quick work of cleaning up. He waits for you against the wall across from the door, your purse in his hand. "Hi," he smiles, when you exit, "Missed you."

You scoff, reaching for your purse and fishing out a compact to touch up your lipstick and powder. He walks next to you while you touch up, arm slinging around your waist while he does.

"You're gonna make me mess it up," you say, swiping a line of color over your lips. "I already messed it up back there," he shrugs while the elevator doors ding open, "What's a second time?" He pushes you up against the elevator wall when the doors close behind you, "Or a third time?" You hum into his kiss, hungry and touchy, feeling yourself swell between your legs.

Another drink and an hour on the dance floor later and you're back at the table while the guys chat with cigars on the opposite side of the room. Steve stands with a hand in his pocket, cocky and confident, while he talks with his work friends -- you're sure about something he doesn't really care about. Mergers and acquistions.

"He sent Rob's secretary three dozen roses as a goodbye gift," one of the women at the table behind you said to another. "Oh, you know he just did that to piss him off," her friend replied, "Muffy told me she doesn't even like him like that. It's all been for fun."

"He told her to come visit him in New York any time," she shrugged, "But he stopped sleeping with her earlier this month cause he said he's got himself a girl in the city."

"Can't believe he's going to New York for some girl," she complains, "He stopped flirting with everyone. But you know what? Good riddance, he's fucking boring now. Hot but boring." "It's not the girl he brought tonight, right?" the other woman asks, "That's gotta be a friend from school or something. She's not very New York looking, pretty home grown if you ask me."

It doesn't bother you, but your shoulders tense a little. In your own little world with Steve was one thing, but to hear people confirm your slight fears about what the future could hold was another. You couldn't deny the sinking feeling in your chest every time you remembered he was moving to New York. Moving into your life in a way you'd never had him before. Disrupting the whole life you built there by yourself, a place you've been able to call home without anyone from your real home to bother you. 'Got himself a girl', since when? Weren't you just having fun? Before you can get too lost in your thoughts, he's coming towards you with your coats in his arms, holding yours out in front of him. "You wanna get outta here, baby?" he asks, there's a slight slur to his words that makes you laugh. "Sure," you smile. You hear a soft 'Oh, shit,' come from the table behind you. "You need me to find a phone to call for a car?" you ask him. He shakes his head, "No, they'll call one for us downstairs." You put on your coats, led around for a flurry of goodbyes before heading back into the elevator to the lobby. He takes your hand immeidately, leading you to the front desk to ask for a car before taking you outside to wait. "You have fun?" he asks, pulling you in to hold you, protecting you from the cold. "Oh, a lot of fun," you smile, "You brought your dancin' shoes, for sure." "Had to, since you're so nice to dance with," he smiles, hands dropping from your arms to laces fingers with yours. You smile, but he notices there's something off about it, not as genuine, "You okay?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, fine," you shake your head, "Just thinkin'."

"Yeah, I've been thinkin' too and um..." he starts, looking down, brows furrowing, "Thinking about you and uh--"

"What did you mean the other night, on the phone? When you said 'It's what it implies'?" he asks, thumb gliding idly against your gloved hand. One of his co-workers came bumbling through the revolving door, eyes glazed over with the buzz of alcohol. You dropped his hand before whoever this was could register it, embarrassment buzzing through you. If the women were talking about you, you couldn't imagine what the men were saying.

"Hey man, goodnight -- good to see you and uh -- yeah g-good luck if oh, shit I'm so fucked up dude -- good luck if I don't see you," he slurred, pulling Steve in for a hug. "Thanks, Jack. Easy there, buddy," Steve rolled his eyes at you from over his shoulder before he let go, "You're not driving tonight, right?"

Jack shakes his head and laughs, leaning against are large stone sqaure pillar. His eyes semi-follow the figure of a beautiful woman in a maroon dress pushing through the revolving door.

"Jack, let's go," she calls, like a mother to a son. She waves him over with her clutch, engagement ring glinting in the buildings facades.

"That's my ride," he smiles, stumbling over to her. They take eachother's hand and she offers an apology over her shoulder, saying goodnight to Steve and smiling at you.

"Sorry about that,” Steve says apologetically, reaching for your hand again, “You we’re saying.”

“Just that,” you stuttered, unable to find the right words to say to explain it, “I don’t know Steve. I’m not like — I don’t — This isn’t — ugh..”

“Take your time, Manhattan,” he teases. You don’t want to hurt him, especially not when he smiles at you like that.

“Bringing me here,” you start, “In this dress you bought me, in this necklace. Dancing with me, taking me to your office. It’s making people think we’re together.”

“Are we not?” Steve asked, his brows furrowing, “Cause I thought that — like, we talked about — have you been sleeping with other people?”

“No, Steve, I haven’t,” you shake your head, keeping your voice calm, “But I’m not going around telling people that you’re my boyfriend.”

Steve’s face drops a little, some pink rising in his cheeks that isn’t coming from the cold, “Oh.”

“I thought you liked me,” Steve confessed, “That you, y’know — that you wanted me. That you liked me the way I like you.”

“I do like you, Steve,” you tell him, your hand resting on his chest, “But what if this isn’t what you really want? What if this is just fun for now?”

"I mean, I -- I uprooted my whole life for you," Steve argues, "I'm moving to New York in a week and a half."

"I didn't ask you to do that for me. You wanted to do something new," you calmly explained back, "I said I thought it would be a good idea."

"You said we could try it for real..." his voice got weak, caught in his throat. Steve's amber eyes rounding while he looks at you, how the street lights dance across the jewelry he bought you, the gloss on your lips.

"When you got there," you corrected, "And what if you get there and that's not what you want anymore? There's a lot to offer guys like you in the city, Steve. It's a totally different world than the one I'm living in."

"I can bring you into it with me," he pleads, hands sneaking under your coat and finding your waist.

"Steve..." you say knowlingly, your shoulders sinking. Your fingers reach up and brush his hair out of his face, delicately following the line of his cheek.

"Nat, please, I..." his voice trails off when he realizes what he's about to say. You watch his Adam's apple bob while he swallows the words.

"Don't say it," you whisper softly, shaking your head, "You don't mean it."

A cab finally pulls in, and you take a glance at it over your shoulder. "I'm gonna go home, okay?" you ask. You turn to pull out of his hold, but he pulls you in desperately.

"Natalie..." disappointment soaks your name when he says it, "Just -- c'mon. We can forget this whole conversation. Please, come home with me."

You shake your head no.

"Please?" he begs, pulling you a little closer to him, "Please?"

You lean in to kiss him, taking him all in. His cologne, the way his lips taste, the way he moves his hands from your waist to your jaw. He wants to keep you there forever, pausing his life for however long it took to get bored of how our lips feel against his. He doesn't think there's a time when he will.

You break away when the cab beeps, brushing your nose against his like he does to you, "I had a really nice time."

"Me too," Steve kisses your forehead, swallowing the lump in his throat when he accepts that you're not staying the night, "Call me a little later? So I know you made it in okay?"

"Of course," you promise. It hurts to look at him like that, tears shining in his eyes that he’s trying to blink away.

“Goodnight Steve,” you smile with your lips closed, afraid that if you open them you’ll never stop talking about all the things you’re afraid to talk to him about.

“Night,” he says while you turn to hurry towards the cab. As it drives away, you see him wipe at his nose and shake his head, crossing his arms tightly around himself to protect him from the cold now that you weren’t there to keep him warm.

Steve watches the cab leave with a lump in his throat, sniffling hard enough that the cold air burns the back of his throat. There's no way in hell you don't love him back, he thinks. There's no fucking way. When the red lights from the back of the cab disappear onto the city streets he turns back into the lobby, Last Christmas plays again softly over the speakers like it's mocking him. The tinny layments bouncing off the marble floor and back into his ears, down to his chest where his heart thumps painfully. Rob, and his secretary Muffy, stumble out of the elevator bank drunk with giggles and empty champagne flutes. He catches Steve walking towards the security desk and lets out a hearty laugh. "You goin' home alone Harrington?" he asks with a grin, "Shoulda let me know, would've brought your friend along. Three's company, huh?" Steve's jaw ticks but he ignores him, letting the gush of cold air soothe over his mixture of sadness and frustration while Muffy and Rob open the door. His shoes click on the marble as he approaches the desk, the music taunts him as he does it. 'A face of a lover with a fire in his heart, a man undercover but you tore me apart...'

"Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Harrington?" the attendant asks. Steve sighs, the breath comes out in a shudder, "Would you mind calling me another cab?" "Right away," he says warmly. Steve appreciates the kindness, he wishes he got the man a goodbye card. The sound of the phonecall for the car is muffled as Steve thinks about how it felt to dance with you, the warmth of your skin, your giggles at the mall, the way you kissed him goodmorning in his bed earlier. He swallows, tears pooling in his eyes. 'But the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special. Special -- someone --' "Car should be here shortly."

"Thanks man, thanks so much," Steve says without turning around to face him. He wipes at his eyes with gloved hand, heading back into the cold to wait for the cab.

Alone.

[thecluelessdoctor]

ok ok fine I'll make the rant I've been planning for like.. a week now.

It's about time I talk about Helluva Boss, It's fandom, and it's creators themselves.

i personally really love helluva boss, even though it definitely has fallen short since the last season. I think the most recent episode is probably going to be their best one and they'll go back to falling. but, personally, I like the show! It's goofy and when it's not being srs, it does it's jokes well! Normally. There is one joke I hate though (if yk, yk. It's in happy campers 💀) ANYWAY

Character design in the show is... okay?? I guess???ammon looks like a Christmas tree so idk man.

But we aren't here to talk about the show itself rn. I just had to say some praises before I start bashing it otherwise stans will come after me and that's not a fun brawl.

ANYWAY *SLAMS ON UR DESK* AA

I wanna talk about it's fans. Some of its fans are really chill (like myself) and only get stirred up if something really bad is being made of is happening. But other fans are more.. intense. It's in every fandom so I won't say too too much on it, but yall- stans please chill out- let bigons be bigons endless its something immoral. (Like more than murder. Yk what I mean)

The major reason I wanted to make this is to talk about Viv, and spindlehorse in general. Mainly because of my recent AU, I really need to make this clear.

I do not support Vivziepop, or any of viv's actions.

Ive been reading about all the controversy and discourse involving her and Brandon (yeah he's not innocent here don't act like he is) (we will only be talking about recent things, basically from Hazbin to now)

And jts.. something.

Abusive work, transphobia, ablelism, favoritism etc etc. yeah so that's fun.. it's hard to know what is stated is true or not, so I'll just settle on saying this

Viv is juvenility petty. Like, I'm still pretty young, but this is just insane. I grew out of these behaviors by 11ish, and I'm still younger than 16. She's what- 30ish now?!? She shouldn't be acting the way she is at her age, just saying.

I also wanna touch a bit on Brandon (even though I know less about him than I do Viv) but I.. highly dislike how people are claiming Brandon to be innocent and Viv isnt. Like- that's not fair. Let me point this out, viv and Brandon are working TOGETHER on this, all the writing and shit. Meaning Brandon also gave the "yeah this is good" to all of her petty shit.

Anyway let me wrap up by saying don't attack anyone mentioned or implied here, because doing that is cringe and it just waists your time. Anyway I'm dotty, and I'm a homosexual

[ronsharry]

1. What is your favourite HP ship and why?

2. If you like fanfic, which HP one is your favourite?

3. Out of all the potential paternal figures for Harry, which one is our favourite and why?

(4. Do you have any ronarry fluff fics? All I can find are abandoned or not ronarry fics)

ohhh i love these questions!! tysm for asking :))

1. i’ve shipped many ships in many eras and the one i always go back to is ronarry!! they’re so special to me and i know it’s like a popular trope that people find annoying but i really love the bestfriend to lovers trope it’s so sweet :)) and not to mention that they are both in my top 3 😭

2. i definitely read fanfic (i have an ao3 acc 6amflwrr) I’ve been reading it for years 😭😭 ahh this is such a hard one but out of the hundreds of fanfics i’ve read there’s a few that i always think of or go back to:

‘honey honey by aeoneskova’ — marlene lives and takes harry from the dursleys!! harry is in muggle primary school in this and it’s soo realistic !! really sad too harry literally fainted in p.e bc he was so starved ITS SO SAD

‘Hermione Grangers Hogwarts Cranmer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi’ — i suprisingly loved one sm i went through a phase of hardcore shipping drarry and i met this gem through it!! idk if i ship them anymore but im not like against them either idk anyway this one harry doesn’t know he’s a wizard until they recruit him 💀 and sirius is alive also <3

‘An Hour of Wolves by solvskrift’ — one of the first fics i ever read so that’s probably a reason but this one’s dark and it shows harry’s ptsd really well and also check tags for this one!!

3. oooo i love this question sm i love all dynamics between harry and parental figures bc they’re so interesting but my favourite is sirius and harry by far!! they get each other so well, sirius would do absolutely anything for him and he is the only adult harry fully trusted like harry loved him sm :(( they had their flaws and while i don’t think sirius was the healthiest (something that i don’t blame him for at all i think he did amazingly given the circumstances) he definitely was the best choice and i think that makes it even sadder actually 😭

4. oh i definitely have fics!!! here are some of my favs:

‘perspective by malapropism’ — In which Ron realizes that maybe, just maybe, you aren't supposed to feel this way about your best mate. But only after a dance at the Yule Ball, months of being busy with other things, Cedric Diggory's death, the return of Voldemort, and a quiet knock at his door. (i love this one sm and gof and ootp!rarry is my fav <33)

‘Foolish hearts by iwantacoolassname & orbithastnt’ — this is set in hbp and sirius lives !!!!! the only thing is that it’s ongoing but i don’t think it’s been discontinued :)

‘sacrifice by sim54’ — i love this one sm

‘Somber Skies and Bruised Bodies by ManyGayUmbrellas’ — i love this one too it’s so sad but happy ending!! more of a character study but yeah it’s good :)

‘i’ll hold you when things go wrong by cloudlesslysky’ — Ron has always struggled with insecurity and jealousy since he was a child. However, Ron has grown up. And while he loves his mother, if she's making him choose between her and Harry...Well, Ron knows where he stands. (this is probably my favourite even tho it’s not actually ronarry but they are very close and it’s definitely worth the read and uncle harry & rose AHH)

‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell by IamShadow21’ — one of my favourites too!! this one got me into ronarry in the first place :)

‘merry christmas, war is over by dykesiriusblack’ — wolfstar&ronarry and i loved this one sm!! definitely recommend:))

[starry-hughes]

guys i had an angst idea regarding mooch’s love for giving homemade gifts and some angst kj drama…

- my idea that’s come to me suddenly…

in the midst of their fling, it’s kj’s birthday (let’s go with that). he’s channeling his inner toddler and snooping around for presents. he sees (a painting? a knitted sweater? a cross-stitch art piece? idk) in the back of mooch’s closet and just wants to peak. it’s a (painting of her favorite photo of her and tyler? a sweater knitted with tyler’s number? a cross-stitch thing with something tyler has said before?). it instantly puts kj in a sour mood. he’s sitting there thinking “shouldn’t she be over him? that’s what i’m here for now, so why does she have gifts for him?” (she has all of those gifts she premade for christmas/tyler’s birthday and doesn’t have the heart to throw them away) he gets distant real quick, thinking mooch is trying to play him/with his feelings (even though he literally signed up to be a rebound?) it takes mooch a little while to notice, but she does. and she starts freaking out. because first, it was her and tyler separating because she thought she wasn’t good enough, and now she’s not good enough for kj either. she decides best way to cope, is a frat party. she ends up stumbling through the osu campus drunk as a skunk, somehow making it to a little park thing. she sits there sobbing, leaving tyler a sad voicemail about how she’s sorry she’s not good enough, and then proceeds to call kj about how she’s sorry for whatever she did, she promises to be better. kj tracks her phone and comes to pick her up, and he feels guilty about his feelings now. he takes her back to her place, and she’s just crying the whole time. next morning, she doesn’t remember calling tyler, who’s now sobbing in his dorm room because his girl is forcing herself to live with the weight of the world on her shoulders, and there’s nothing he can do. (he proceeds to call dylan, who tells luke, who tells quinn, who calls mooch and talks her through another breakdown, and tells her she needs help, and can always talk to him. tyler’s never mentioned because he doesn’t want to overstep and hurt mooch more.)

…. i’ve made myself sad.

- 🫂

tyler normally never fell asleep early, especially on a party night but he wasn’t partying. he missed the call. “hi ty,” mooch’s voice cracked, “i’m sorry. for everything. for not being good enough. for not showing you all the love. for being the reason you’re leaving ohio. i miss you so much.” and then the call ended.

kj answered his phone pretty quickly. it was late and he was returning home from a game. “kj, i’m sorry,” mooch slurred. “are you drunk?!”

he stayed on the phone. listening to her babble on about random things. he was just listening. “i don’t know what i did but i’m sorry. i promise i’ll be better. i always mess up my relationships,” she cried.

kent got to her soon afterward and got her back to her dorm. normally he’d share the bed with her but she was such in a vulnerable state, he didn’t want to overstep.

[meteor752]

Oh lawd they been through some shit

So, I’ve done their designs when their parents were still alive on DL. I’ve done their designs of when they joined Empires. I’ve done their designs for when they visited Hermitcraft. I gave them lil Christmas outfits. I showed what they would look like in the future. I even made them as gosh darn villains

But there’s one period of their lives, that I haven’t shown you. I’ve talked about it plenty, even wrote a fic about it, but you’ve never been shown it visually

Double life when their parents had died

Twenty years, of just starving to death repeatedly for the babs

Let’s show it

Oh and btw tw for like, some minor body horror, gauntness and starvation, blood, injuries, and all that jazz. Will be properly tagged

(Also, I cannot express how fun these designs were to make. I spent hours on every single one and it was just such a delight to make them)

Liana

I think I’ve stated this before, but Liana took some heavy damage to her left eye during this time, resulting in her needing a monocle to see properly, thus the eyepatch. Dirty and ripped clothes (those will be very common across every design), and fresh scars that can still be seen in her later designs, just more faded. The missing shoe is also intentional, as that is the foot she later looses to frostbite. It had very little protection against the elements. Her wings being their normal bright colors is also a fun little thing, as even during her most horrid distress, Liana found the time to preen. Idk what’s going on with the pose, but I’m assuming broken ribs. It just looked fun

Wes

The famished look actually the most unnatural for him, because he’s usually so bulky and large. Moss coat fresh and clean, most important thing for him. Newly broken horn, probably a month or so into the development. I actually have very little to say about Wes’ design here compared to everyone else’s, cause like it’s the one I’m probably the most dissatisfied with. It still looks fine and such, but it’s just a bit basic I guess. Idk. I still like the hair, especially the dyed part

Gertrude

Could have gone with the same kinda vibe for her as everyone else, but I realized that I actually haven’t shows Weretrude. This right here isn’t full on Weretrude, more like halfway through transformation, cause I still wanted her to like, look like her ya know. But yeah girl is fully out of it. This is probably not too long after the end of dl, before the game mechanics stopped. When the passing of time kinda stopped, as did the monthly full moons because it never became night. So yeah, the one advantage to their miserable situation

Johnny

The first design, and the reason I did all of these. Johnny was always the one closest to his parents, so their death tore him up the most, to the point where he never left their grave. Moss and vines started to grow on him eventually, and animals and bugs found home in his hair and wounds. So yeah, bad time for lil country bumpkin boy.

Jassy

Ngl, Jassy looks cool as fuck. The sunken in eyes paired with the startling green of her irises, her dirty white hair and mask covering most of her face, her clothes, the fucking contrast in her skin between the light and the dark sunken in parts. I didn’t even intend for that but I just loved it so much that I kept it. Also since this is before she started to form her own identity, she still has the classic Kakashi mask.

Jekiv

Mans looks…honestly pretty normal. Like when everyone is just skin and bones, the actual zombie doesn’t look that zombie like. His skin and hair is a little dirtier, his pastel clothes are a lot dirtier, but yeah he faired pretty alright during this time. Since the first fic I ever wrote for the kids was Jekiv’s logbook, I felt it would only be fitting that he was writing in it for his pose. The quill is also made from one of Liana’s feathers, hence the quality condition. As mentioned in the logbook as well, Jekiv lost his hooded cloak a few years in to a spider, so his hair is on full display here. He hates it.

Novo

Absolutely obsessed with him actually. All of the kids have their own unique weapons (Liana her bow, Wes his war hammers, Gertrude her mace, Johnny his whip, Jassy her double daggers, Jekiv his scythe) except Novo, so I thought it would be only fitting for him to have something as well. And what’s better for him than a barbed bat? He probably still has it in the future, but it’s mostly being kept in his inventory. Difficult being a friendly bard if you keep a murder weapon on you at all times. Also, his cloak? It’s one of Pearl’s old dogs. Not Tilly of course (She was cremated), but one of her pups. Morbid? Yes absolutely. Fitting for my favorite weirdo? Yes absolutely.

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

A Very Religious family friend contacted me to say that she's going to be in town visiting my mom if I wanted to see them, and mentioned that she was coming sooner because mom had said she might not live until Christmas. That's interesting because I had just heard (from another family member) that mom was declining and asked her about it directly, and got a vague answer.

I thought of asking her about it, and pointing out that refusing to tell me what's going on when I've directly asked doesn't help anyone, but. I know she's not going to suddenly become more mature or develop better communication skills, she's not going to start talking to me. Also, if I brought it up to her it might turn into her asking me to visit sooner, and if I DON'T do that, I might get off not only not having to see her at Christmas as planned but not ever having to see her alive again. And that's honestly a joyful thought to me.

Like the idea that she might be gone soon is such a relief for a variety of reasons. I've been feeling sort of in limbo with job/potential move stuff, I would leave stuff at my parents' house but I don't want to see her while dropping it off, I don't mind my dad as much (his main crimes are letting my mom do whatever unquestioned and reacting poorly when I came out, compared to my mom, I can deal with that) so I could maybe repair our relationship a bit if he can bring himself to be cool about gender now, I could even leave Thistle with him, I wouldn't leave her with mom in the house bc the last TWO SEPARATE OCCASIONS I left cats with her that I thought we had decided as a family were inside cats she threw them out of the house while I was gone and I'm not taking that risk with Thistle. But the alternative once I move out is leaving her at her old home with my friend for awhile, where she will continue to bully her cat siblings in the way that made my friend want to give her to a single cat household to begin with. (My current roommate wants me to take her as she clearly prefers me and screams when I'm gone, lol. I'm glad because I love her very much but may not have an apartment for her to live in for a year or two while doing seasonal work and didn't want to claim her if my roommate wanted her and would have a better place for her. But I get to keep her! Yay!)

Like idk what to tag this as. Probably vent is close enough but it's a weirdly positive vent. My aunt kept trying to pressure me to spend Thanksgiving with them awhile back and saying that I'd regret it when she's gone and that she regrets not saying things to her mom. I'm sorry about that for her but, secretly, I'm glad her mom is dead too, she contributed to making my mom the way she is and she also was a nasty difficult person to deal with and it's a relief to no longer have her to deal with. I'll probably feel the same about my mom. I was done with the endless sisyphean attempts to salvage our relationship years ago. Break is almost over so calling this post here

[cowlovely]

oooh and stranger things And 911 for the tv show one

hiiii thank you erin ily <33

stranger things:

favorite character: uhhhhh i think it’s tied for max and will at this point, but honestly at least half of the characters are competing for that slot akdjdjsk

funniest character: murrayyyyyy! brett gelman’s comedic timing is so good

best-looking character: oh this is hard. i think it’s pretty close between steve and hopper for me (also honorable mention to chrissy <3 grace van dien you are soooo lovely)

3 favorite ships: lumax, ronance, steddie

least favorite character: billy <3 both because he sucks as a person, and because i feel like his writing could’ve been more layered than it was :/ they tried to introduce it in s3, but they did too much damage in s2 lol

least favorite ship: h*rringrove. literally why

reason why i watch it: it’s genuinely one of my favorite shows, i really just love almost every aspect of it. great characters and dynamics, compelling storylines, interesting atmosphere, fun and inventive editing, bomb production and costume design, etc etc. “it’s not that good” it is to me. sorry <3 i imprinted on it at age 15

why i started watching it: i literally just saw it advertised on the netflix homepage and was like “:0 what’s this it looks cool?” and then i watched 6 episodes in one sitting and was hooked

911:

favorite character: chimney :)

funniest character: buck <3 the silly! some of his lines truly live in my brain permanently

best-looking character: KAREN!! maybe a kind of out-of-left-field choice but she is SO pretty 😵‍💫💞 (chim is second)

3 favorite ships: buddie, madney, bathena

least favorite character: hm. honestly this took some thinking because i like all the main characters—if we go to secondary it’s shannon. i want to like her but i just find her grating, and i don’t think her actress is very good which definitely doesn’t help :/

least favorite ship: shannon/eddie. are we seeing a pattern asckdnfjsk

reason why i watch it: i sat here staring at this for multiple minutes like. idk how to answer this one. part of it i feel like is just routine at this point? i’ve been watching live since halfway through s2, it would feel super weird to drop now even though the show has changed quite a bit since then (and not always in ways i like). but also it’s just! when it’s good it’s SO good! and i love the characters so bad, i would miss them too much <3

why i started watching it: someone i followed started posting about it a bunch while s2 was airing, specifically after the christmas episode, and i was like “oooh first responders show! maybe this one will be better than sirens” aakdjfejdjk

[deadhumourist]

I posted 1,186 times in 2022

That's 892 more posts than 2021!

82 posts created (7%)

1,104 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@oonajaeadira

@sirowsky

@just-here-for-the-moment

@katareyoudrilling

@quica-quica-quica

I tagged 1,055 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#comment reblog - 109 posts

#pedro pascal fanfiction - 96 posts

#pedro pascal - 78 posts

#dieter bravo - 65 posts

#frankie morales x reader - 49 posts

#din djarin x reader - 46 posts

#din djarin - 46 posts

#frankie morales x f!reader - 42 posts

#pedro pascal fics - 40 posts

#dieter bravo x reader - 35 posts

Longest Tag: 110 characters

#also for some reason her looking down and seeing the closeness of their shoes waa weirdly intimate and how idk

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Mistletoe and Beskar

Pairing: Modern!Din Djarin x F!Reader. Mechanic AU.

Rating: M for the series, minors shoo. 

Warnings: Female reader, use of “she” pronoun. Reader has no physical description, but general mention of “curves.” We're here for a good time, not a canon-compliant time - watch me take massive liberties with Mandalorian lore. Well-worn and loved tropes ahoy.  Helmet off.

A/N: This was a Christmas drabble I reworked into a proper story. A big thank you to my darling @just-here-for-the-moment for reading it over and shouting at me. 

Author Masterlist --

Din sat in the waiting room of the specialist auto repair shop, mindlessly scrolling his phone. Every article was Christmas this, Christmas that. If it hadn’t been for the kid, he would have just stayed at home and never paid attention to any of it. A little smile crept up his face at the thought of his son, who was visiting Aunt Peli for a few days before Christmas.

A few minutes into his scrolling, Greef Karga's face popped up on his screen, a FaceTime call ringing loudly in the quiet room. His heart sank as he realised that he knew what this was about.

He swiped and instantly the screen animated. “Mando! You’re a difficult man to track down.”

Din winced. He had not-so-subtly been avoiding this phone call, but he had to get it out of the way one way or another.

“I keep busy with the kid and catching up with other things.”

Greef chuckled. His booming voice seemed much louder than it needed to be in the quiet of the workshop.

“You haven’t RSVP’d to my invitation, my friend. You skipped last year’s function, I hope it’s not what you’re planning to do again.”

“You know why I skipped last year, Karga.”

There was a long beat before he spoke again.

“Is she going to be there?”

“Of course she is, she’s an old friend. If I had to uninvite every person who bats their eyelashes at a Mandalorian, my guest list would be empty."

Laughter thundered through the phone, Greef very amused with himself.

Din sighed.

“Alright. Let's get it over with. But I’m not staying late at the Christmas ball. Not my scene.”

“None of this is your scene, which is the point, my friend. I await your arrival with optimism.” And with that the call ended.

Din stared morosely into the middle distance. He needed to get out of this somehow. 

He trundled into the workshop to see how far you were with the Razor Crest. He only trusted one person with his gunmetal grey Jaguar E-type and she was currently on her back underneath its chassis. 

Your denim-clad legs stuck out underneath the car and as he stared at the shoelaces on your trainers, a thought subtly drifted into his mind like the snow outside. If he had someone there she would leave him alone. Even if it only discouraged her from sticking around too long, it would be worth it. 

You were…nice. You talked to him sometimes. Despite only seeing you when the Crest was in need of some attention, he liked being around you. 

There was a quiet, unassuming comfort about you that didn't require effort on his part. You didn’t fawn over him or expect anything of him, you were just you. Unbothered with his title, reputation or what you thought you knew about him.  

He leaned against the front fender, crossing his arms across his broad frame. 

You heard the warm baritone, revealing little emotion as usual, bouncing off the cold concrete. 

“How long?”

The mechanics creeper shot out from under the car and your face came into view, a firm scowl in place. Clever hands with grime stuck in the cuticles came up to cup the air, and an uneven oil dab was streaked across your cheek, making you look grubbier than usual. 

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119 notes - Posted August 2, 2022

#4

Rescue

Summary: Oberyn brings back what belongs to him. Little comfort ficlet.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell X GN!Reader

Warnings: Mention of violence and discomfort, use of "little one" as nickname, no pronouns used, no physical description of reader.

A/N: This is a little dip into writing a new character so it won't be perfect. Oberyn is almost always associated with seggsy times so I thought it could be interesting to put him in a protector role. Microficlet - around 650 words . Thank you @just-here-for-the-moment for the read.

Masterlist

-----

You wake up. The ground is hard and compacted and it takes time to get upright, your elbows digging without much give into the soil below. A chill has sunk deep into your flesh, many hours of exposure making you icy to the touch. 

Grey light floods straight down like a dull halo on a dirty, fallen deity. It burns your newly opened eyes anyway. Vision suddenly swimming again, you lie back down and get folded into the darkness.

Until a warm hand grips your wrist and you feel your body lift.

When you wake up again, the first sensation that drags through the thick cloud of your mind is softness. Warm, brushed fleece against your skin and the comforting weight of arms wrapped firmly around you. You’re securely nestled against a broad chest when your eyes flicker open, the muted yellow silk almost covering your field of vision. Worry makes the brown eyes looking down at you inky.

He sees you draw breath to speak and he reaches down and gently cups your cheek.

“Quiet, little one. You are safe.”

And then, looking up, the words seething from his lips like smoke as he focuses on the middle distance.

“They can never hurt you again.”

You’re too tired to ask, but your eyebrows lift to him.

He looks down at you like he’s considering staying silent.

“A poison-laced dagger has pierced each hand that was laid upon you. Nailed to the trees they will wait for death - I am not merciful to those who take from me.”

You shudder in his arms. His eyes soften as they meet yours again.

“I wish you were not a witness to the cruelty of this world, my love.”

He presses you closer to him, feeling a sense of peace for the first time in the week since you disappeared.

"We are a day away from Dorne, and I will make sure that pleasure and comfort wipes away every trace of fear once we are back. That is a promise."

You drift away to the feeling of the slow rise and fall of Oberyn's chest under your cheek. You're safe.

163 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

#3

Real Sugar

A/N: So this one has been stewing for a while. It's completely self-indulgent and built around things I love irl. A huge thank you to @just-here-for-the-moment who kindly read a first draft of this - without her encouragement I probably wouldn't have worked on it again. Not beta'd mistakes are mine.

Rating: M - brief mention of smut in this but will get much spicier in subsequent parts.

Characters: Frankie Morales x f!reader - Chef AU

Warnings (let me know if I missed any): In-depth descriptions of food, cooking and feeding. Cursing, some flirting, R-rated things. Mention of receiving a noogie and reader not wanting their hair messed up.

You smoothed your Henley down and peered out of your kitchen window. It really was a perfect day to make something different. Not a cloud in sight, and sunlight was streaming in the large bay windows, bathing the counter in a soft glow.

Even though you were excited to get started, you carefully placed all your utensils out one by one, a ritual you learnt in culinary school that just became habit. Only once you had your own kitchen, your items became a little less..utilitarian. Your pastel green mixing bowl and measuring spoons stood to the side, and you ticked off the necessary items in a neat little mise en place.

You reveled in the quiet moments before you started a new dish. Taking a deep breath. It was a quiet moment with a blank canvas before it exploded in colour, and this anticipation before letting go was cathartic in a way.

You were not an expert baker, preferring to spend your time on the savoury side of the spectrum. Now that you had everything set up, you were missing one more thing.

Ah, yes.

You reached over and turned up your stereo. When you were used to the chaos and cacophony of a professional kitchen the quiet was disquieting in its own way. With this in the background, you could avoid thinking and just focus on what was in front of you.

I know you wanted me to stay

But I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA

And I heard that there's a special place

Where boys and girls can all be queens every single day

I'm having wicked dreams

Of leaving Tennessee

Oh, Santa Monica

I swear it's calling me

As you got into the song and your stand mixer whirred to life, you spun in the kitchen, holding the wooden spoon up like a mic, singing along loudly and tunelessly.

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

For a brief second you considered whether to take your pants off and attempt a slide into the kitchen like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. You decided against it as you heard the oven ding.

It pulled you back into your kitchen and the deliciously sweet mixture waiting to be baked.

You were excited as the cake came together bit by bit. Your best friend Hannah was celebrating her birthday so you were heading over to her house later. She was hosting what sounded like the party of the century and you volunteered to bring something sweet. You slipped the cake into the oven and turned back to the counter. Eyeing the box in the corner, you couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

A Captain Crunch cake for your friend’s 30th was going to be a hit.

At 5pm you knocked.

“Baby Cakes! You missed the unicorn tequila shot round! ” Hannah squealed as she opened the door further and grabbed your arm to reel you in.

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169 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

#2

Bravo Juliett

A/N: Since the trailer for The Bubble dropped, we've been reduced to thirsty (gender-neutral) bitches, and there are some good fics out. Dfinitely check out Please by @ezrasbirdie , Extra Whipped Cream by @pettyprocrastination and Stay by @honestly-shite. And like clowns we're all using the same fucking gifs because this character ain't even on screen yet. All three fics are brilliant, please go read and shout at them about how good it is.

This fic definitely borders on a crack fic, he’s not a fully rounded character and the action is smutty and with tongue very firmly in cheek. And other places. It’s satire if you squint. I am both amused and deeply ashamed. If I’m going to horny jail, I’m taking you with me. Not beta’d, mistakes mine.

Rating: 18+, no minors

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (fuck, I know ok. I KNOW)

If you want more ficlets in this universe please come shout at me. This was so much fun to write.

------------------------

You're one person in a long line of interviewers. They're ushering you into the hotel like cattle, but honestly, you would gladly queue for days to meet him. You spent way too many hours engrossed in Dieter's work, rewatching scenes. You can quote most of his iconic lines. You didn't even have to do research prior to this interview. Dieter. Mentally you’re on a first name basis with him. You have lost yourself in his work, and you want him to know that.

The hotel lounge is a large, airy space, the Rococo decor offering glints of gold as it catches the morning sunlight. Most interviewers are sprawled across couches and chairs, with one pacing nervously and reviewing his notes, repeating it back to himself.

You know your shit, so you opt to spend your time doom-scrolling through Tumblr looking for Dieter fics. Commented on two; reblogged one that was particularly hot. What you wouldn’t give for him to go down on you like that, worship your body for hours and call you his sweet girl.

It feels like the day is dragging interminably, when a PR assistant beckons you. You have 10 minutes.

By this time the sun is dipping low on the horizon and it’s many many hours into his media schedule.

You make your way to the veranda and as you sit down, you can see the day wearing on him. Even though he’s incredibly handsome, he looks every inch the middle aged, harried acting veteran tolerating yet another interview by some clueless twit asking irrelevant questions.

He looks bored. Irritated. His eyes screaming “A moment of respite please.” as you smile at him in greeting.

"So Dieter, tell me a bit about your character in Cliff Beasts 6"

He rubs his neck and sighs deeply, mustering the energy from somewhere to give a terribly rote description of the character.

You listen intently, waiting for the right time to drop your bombshell.

"You have an unrivaled command of physicality, seen in so few actors. You manage to convey the entire character's personality without a single line of dialogue, like in Death Games. Will we see more of that in this movie?"

Dieter sits up, attention suddenly focused on you. You can see that you’ve surprised him, and you're silently reveling in that he might start to enjoy this interview. He rolls his tongue in his cheek, like he's contemplating something.

“You did your research.”

His full eyebrows quirk upwards, almost as if impressed.

“ With Death Games, the director, Joel, trusted me to go beyond the page and really create Jackson from the ground up and make him real. This….”

He breaks your gaze to look over the horizon, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

…is not that kind of movie."

The PR assistant on the side motions for you to wrap it up, your slot is almost done. As you thank him for his time, he leans over and whispers in his assistant's ear, winking at you. You can't make out what he's saying but you feel a blush creeping up your neck at the brazen gesture. He’s doing this in front of everyone.

You shake his hand. A warm, large palm that almost completely envelops yours. He has a firm grip and for a split second you imagine it wrapped around your throat, as he caresses you with just enough pressure to make your pussy clench and your breath hitch.

As you walk out of the room, his assistant pulls you to the side by your arm."Mr Bravo wants you to wait in the lounge area."

You swallow nervously at the strange request."Uhm, okay…how long?"

"Until he's done with interviews"

You nod slowly, not sure if you understand, but make your way to the plush lounge at the centre of the hotel.

See the full post

188 notes - Posted March 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Emptiness

Summary: Soft Dom Dave spends a little time with you.

Pairing: Dave York X f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamics, established relationship, Soft!Dom, Sub reader, Smacking, PiV sex, anal toys, no physical description of reader.

A/N: This was a 250-word ficlet that ran away with me. Beta by the lovely @just-here-for-the-moment

Author Masterlist

-------

Dave’s voice lowers to barely a whisper, and he slowly strolls towards the desk, shoulders squared like a predator whose prey has given up the chase. 

He trails a cold hand along the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps in its wake. Long, clever fingers tap the heel of the anal plug and you jump from the sudden touch. The blindfold digs into the corner of your eyes as you wince. 

“This stays in, hmm. You’re going to be my good girl.”

A sharp thrill chases down your spine, straight and tense on the desk. Waiting. You feel those same fingers close to your pulsing heat. 

Then his flat palm thwacks down on your pussy, a sharp twinge of pleasure pulls a whimper from you. The obscene, wet slap sounds loud in the quiet of the room and you hear the smile in Dave’s gravelly voice.

“Can’t wait, can you? So needy.” 

The last syllable is punctuated with another sharp slap, followed by a soft, luxurious rub of his open palm on your heated sex. You feel your folds glide against his large hand, and you squirm at the temperature difference and obscenity of it as his hand leaves again.

Minutes tick by.

Loudly.

Slowly. 

His large, blunt cock head slides from your clit down to your entrance and up again, the slow drag of the hot flesh against yours delicious but not enough. He does it again. You feel him twitch against you.

“Does my good girl need me to empty her head?” 

You nod into the darkness. Agreement and submission bob your head of their own accord. 

The next moment, Dave sinks into you in one smooth thrust, his large hands curled around your hips to make sure he fills you completely. Without warning, your pussy convulses around him, the sudden thrust and the plug lighting your nerve endings like fire. He wraps your legs around him, enveloping himself into you.

You cry out helplessly. Dave reaches forward and gently cradles the back of your neck in his hand as he thrusts, working you through your first orgasm. As it subsides, he starts thrusting in earnest, the hand that was on your hip migrating to your clit. 

He always knows how to work you just right. 

In the dark behind your eyelids you thrash as the sensation starts becoming overwhelming. 

“Let me have it. I want it.” he commands. 

The hand that gently held your neck slides to the front and his fingers close around your throat. Gentle pressure makes your head swim pleasantly. 

Your breath stutters. Your mind is empty and the only thing you know in the darkness is Dave’s cock driving into over and over and over. 

When he knows you’re close, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your sternum.

“Give it to me, my good girl.” 

See the full post

228 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[luvyeni]

LUCIFER ✦ ( 02z series masterslist & intro )

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ demon!02z x female!reader

𓄷 warnings 𓈓 murder (sunghoon has a back story and your grandma had some problems). death. supernatural themes. pwp. some angst. some fluff. will add more if needed...

genre. smut mdni. supernatural au. demon au.

nia's notes. a few weeks ago i got an ask to do a fic based on lucifer— so why not make it a series? the song gives me demon vibes idk why, but i hope everyone who reads it will like it,, all the fics will have bits and pieces from each other, but you can read stand alone if you want. ENJOY!!!

(🎧) ...playlist: lucifer ( 02z ), fatal trouble ( enhypen ), bite me ( enhypen )

TAGLIST. ASK TO BE ADDED !

THE DEMON IN MY CLOSET ...

wc. 6.1k+

synopsis. a week into moving into your deceased grandmother's mansion; everything goes smoothly; you've gotten most of your grandmothers things out of the house; still wearing the necklace you found everything is going good— except the door to your closet that won't stay closed.

𓄷 warnings smut mdni. mentions of abuse. mentions of death. oral (f. receiving). unprotected sex. softdom jake.

STATUS: READ HERE

THE DEMON IN THE KITCHEN ...

wc. 5.2k+

synopsis. sunghoon didn't want anything to do with you really; the only reason why he agreed is because jay had the upper hand on his vote. he hated your grandmother, he wished he could avoid you forever— so why is he currently sitting in your kitchen wondering why you've come home late?

𓄷 warnings... smut mdni. mentions of murder. sunghoon actually hates you. attempted murder ( twice ). reader likes some weird stuff. sexual tension. oral ( m. receiving ). rough sex. degradation.

STATUS: READ HERE

THE DEMON IN MY MIRROR ...

wc. 4.7k+

synopsis. he watches you through the mirrors of the house; watches how you interact with the boys, even sunghoon. he's enchanted by you; you're meant to be his; theirs, he can feel it— knowing that your time is almost up here, it's time he finally introduces himself.

𓄷 warnings jay is half human. mentions of a curse. jay is guiding her in her head. exhibition kink? mutual masturbation. oral ( m. reciveing ). unprotected sex.

STATUS: READ HERE

FOREVER OURS ...

wc.

synopsis. it's your last week here; you have a decision to make; will you put the necklace away leaving them behind— or will you start your new life in the city; not with your parents but with three new demons???

𓄷 warnings foursome, oral ( m & f receiving ), unprotected sex, breeding kink, rough sex , double penetration, lots of cum, heavy degradation

STATUS: tba

you were freshly graduated from college; you should be spending your last summer as a non working adult having fun with your friends— hell doing an internship for your future company; anything really, anything would be better than this. because instead of doing any of that; you were stuck going to the middle of wherever emptying out your dead grandparents mansion.

“I didn't know the lady.” you tried to complain about it to your parents. “Mommy, this was your parents, why can't you do it?” your mother and her mother; your grandmother, never really got along growing up; your grandmother never approved of your father, so it put a strain on their relationship, which resulted in your mother moving out and moving to the city. She then married your dad and had you a year later.

you met your grandmother; well your grandmother met you, because your eyes were barely open, having been on earth a month when your mom came back home so your grandparents could meet their only grandchild, your mom told you that was the last time you saw your grandparents— they did send christmas presents, and birthday cards with a hefty check in it. “I didn't know anything about her except she was extremely generous when it came to money.”

your grandfather passed when you were five, that was the last time your mother went back, for his funeral. Instead of going into a home, your grandmother chose to stay in the huge home; by herself and live out the rest of her days, which she did; she died in her room, being found by her caretaker in the early morning.

The funeral was small; and you were being nice by saying that— it was only you and your mother; your father didn't bother to show, the lady didn't like him. Why would he bother? After putting her in the ground next to her husband, your mother was ready to put that part of her life to rest finally… that was until you got her will in mail.

“Everything?” your mouth hung open. “She's giving you everything? I thought she hated you?” your mother scoffed. “she didn't really have a choice, she cut all her family off; and she would rather be buried with the money than to give it to a charity.” your mother said. “at least she left you some.” she pointed. “to my granddaughter— she couldn't even remember your name.”

That's how your parents were able to retire early, with the huge settlement of money and new house, they decided to settle down and live out the rest of their days in solitude. “So why can't you do it?” you said, your mother turned to you as seriously as ever. “she died in that house, she was a spiteful woman, the type to find a way to become a ghost just to haunt me just in case I brought your father in the house” she said. “I want you to go up there and clear it of all her things and then we'll be up there in the early fall.”

That's how you found yourself driving up the extra long driveway to the huge mansion; the vines growing up the walls really added to the ghostly aesthetic. “she had a caretaker but not a gardener?” you parked right in front of the house, getting out of the car. “This house is scary.”

“Girl, we're having so much fun!” Your friend, Yeji, yelled into the phone. “really?” you said sarcastically. “I could totally hear you over the blasting music in the background.” you heard her giggle, before she told you to hold on. “Okay I'm alone.” The low music confirmed that. “Did you make it up there safely?”

You settled on a room, it was huge much like the rest of the house, unpacking the clothes you would need for the rest of the summer. “Is the house nice? Does it come with a pool?” You scoffed; “this house was made in the 1600’s , no it doesn't have a pool.” you said. “and it's okay, if you like creepy dim lighting and cold hallways even though it's 84 degrees outside.”

“Yikes.” she said, you nodded. “Yeah, this lady was loaded, but god did she not have any taste.” your face turned up in disgust. “Hopefully my parents will brighten this place up when they get here.”

After talking to yeji a bit, you let her go back to the party; at least one of you could enjoy the summer— meanwhile you had to find someone to eat. You weren't stupid the town was like a 30 minute drive out, so you made sure to pick up enough groceries to last you at least a week on your way here. Looking through the options, you settled on ramen; cause there was no way you were cooking anything else after a 5 hour long drive.

taking your bowl of noodles, making your way back to the room, you pass the many portraits of your mother as a child and a teenager— for your mother and grandmother to never get along, there surely were many; after making it back to your room, sitting the bowl on the nightstand.

Unfortunately there was no wifi, but you had data so that was good; you'd definitely had to change that wifi situation soon though, your mother was just obsessed with the Internet as you, there was no way she was coming here without it. Eating your noodles, scrolling through the stories with envy in your eyes, of all your friends enjoying their summers.

After finishing your food, and making yourself depressed; you decided to just go to bed, and start fresh in the morning— where you actually had to clean out her things.

The next morning you woke up at 11:30 feeling a little better than before, starting your day with a shower since you didn't have one in the morning; stripping yourself of your clothes, stepping into the warm shower, letting the water hit your skin, you let out a sigh of satisfaction; at least the water made you feel better.

after cleaning yourself; getting rid of yesterday, you stepped out of the shower, the foggy mirror in front of you. turning around to turn the water off— you turned around to face the mirror again. “what the fuck.” squinting your eyes, you rubbed them. certainly that wasn't a fucking person in the mirror. You quickly wrapped a towel around your body, wiping the fog off the mirror, your own reflection still there. “Great, not even 24 hours later and I'm already going nuts.”

You got dressed; deciding to finally tour the house— it was beautiful, despite the haunted nature of it; the furniture a bit outdated for your taste, but your parents will love it. you made your way to her bedroom; almost scared to go in— she died in there anyone would be scared. you pushed your worries aside, pushing the door open; walking inside.

The bed had been made after her passing, but everything else was still in the same place according to the caretaker. You started by stripping everything from the bed, throwing the sheets in the trash, emptying all her drawers; your mom said you could keep any jewelry she had, and she'll give the rest away to your cousins on your father's side. you then moved to her closet, separating all the clothes that you were keeping and the ones you were giving away, and finally the ones that you were tossing.

About 2 hours later you were done separating everything, putting the donation boxes in your car to take into town, throwing the clothes in the trash at the end of the long driveway. you kept a lot of things, turns out she kept a lot of clothes and her style wasn't that bad. “I’m gonna need a new suitcase.” you said to yourself.

You scrubbed everything down in her room; per your mothers request. “Yes mommy, I got rid of her ghost.” You rolled your eyes when she called to ask. “Great, is everything else okay?” you hummed. “Well despite the no wifi and being completely alone, yes.” You said. “Well we're still trying to sell here, we've found a realtor.” you let her go on and on, until she'd managed to talk for 2 straight hours— your stomach rumbling being the thing to interrupt the conversation. “Gosh love , have you eaten today?”

“I had some yogurt for breakfast.” you could hear her sigh. “It's 5:30 y/n and all you've eaten was yogurt?” She questioned. “Well I've been busy cleaning up your mothers home.” You said, she laughed. “Thank you, my daughter.” you mocked her. “Seriously honey, get yourself something to eat, I will call again.” you hummed. “And don't leave those clothes in your car, take them to the goodwill.” you nodded. “okay.” you hung up. “Really let's get you something to eat.”

After showering for the nights— luckily your eyes didn't create delusions this time, you settled on ordering take out, luckily someone was willing to bring you a pizza. “Thank you.” You handed the delivery guy the money. “Is this your new house?” he looked up. “My parents.” you said, he handed you the pizza box. “Scary.” was all he said before walking away. “Yeah.” You closed the door.

Taking your pizza back to your room; you almost made it back to your room— when you noticed the door to your grandmother's room was still open. “Hmm?” You were certain you closed it, you went to close it— but something caught your eyes on the dresser. It was a jewelry box. you don't remember putting that there; you don't even remember seeing it before.

You picked up the box, taking it with you to your room; sitting it on the nightstand. You finished your pizza; making an appointment on your phone to have wifi installed. “Sorry grandma, you might've lived in silence, but I need tv.” You finished the last bit of pizza, taking the box to the kitchen, returning back to your room, climbing under the covers; the wooden jewelry box still sitting on the nightstand.

You reached over, grabbing the box; it looked pretty old. You stopped admiring the details on the box; opening it. A thin silver necklace with a red and black pendant sitting in the box; it was the only thing in the box. You picked up the necklace, examining it. The necklace was beautiful, probably the prettiest piece that you took from your grandmother— yes of course you were gonna keep it, you wouldn't dare let your destructive ass cousins destroy something as beautiful as this. “Thank you grandma.”

You sat the box in between your legs, unhooking the necklace, placing it around your neck, snapping it. “Let's see.” you picked the box up, looking into the mirror. “So pretty.” You smiled, closing the box, sitting it back on the nightstand, yawning.

reaching over; you turned the light off; pulling the covers over your body, touching the pendant one last time before you fell into a deep sleep…

So unaware of what you had just done; who you just awakened, what you just invited into your life…

©️LUVYENI

[eatember]

Vent post

I am being very sensitive to lack of empathy (esp w holidays and flashbacks) and my bestie is having a hell of a time with The Neurodivergance TM and like... Idk what it's called but it's the trait where you get soo swept away in something (I've only seen people do it with positive things) that it's like there's this happy inertia. And it's like...she doesn't really think about my feelings? Like the usual empathy she has for me in situations is 1000% unclocked. Will not register. Too much happy inertia, the ice cream maker is broken come again.

This year was the first year I had the guts to tell my mother that if she made Christmas about whatever exchangeable man was in her life this time, I would not go. I even planned a gathering for my extended family that had nowhere else to be instead. So after my mom chose a stable-feeling man over me for the one millionth time, she called her parents and got them convinced that my Christmas plans (that she wasn't coming to) were a bad idea so now nobody is coming. The biggest reason I felt the strength to do this was because my friend (same one) had been telling me all year that if the worst happens, I can just hang out with her. And what do you know, a reasonably stable man comes along and she's so happy about it, here I am alone on Christmas eve. I don't think she even thought about me. I texted her and mentioned dinner and she's like actually I have plans with stability man. ! :)

We talked about the fact that she was doing this a few days ago because it's not the first instance but she doesn't know what to do and I'm so frayed right now, even conceiving that this was unempathetic of her is such a big leap for me. It's really hard for me to not feel guilty, unreasonable and embarrassed for expecting compassion when it's unexpectedly taken away.

And there's been so many little things. Drinking with this dude when it was just the three of us and I couldn't drink. Which is genuinely fine, I usually don't drink. But like. It was weird. Like there was no attempt at inclusion or jokes to lighten the mood. Or attempt to bring me in about something else? And they were really into it. Like I wouldn't treat someone like that if it were me. They keep wanting to do activities around me I can't participate in and they don't really try to include me, it's not just drinking.

And part if me is like...do I need to communicate my emotional state in words or is this a sign that maybe this isn't a friendship that's healthy or where I'm really wanted anymore?

[bellsliturgy]

sry for the lack of activity on my part here it’s been v stressful wrt the crimis season i’m dealing with a lot of small things and a couple really big things and it makes me want to eat my own hands more details under the cut if ur interested (tw mention of a horrible certain swamp scum transphobe author; fellow transpersons beware)

1) my gma is 85 and is on her last legs idk how much longer she’s got left in her and with her being in the hospital with afib (atrial fibrillation for those who dont know, basically her heart is beating 2 fast and out of rhythm (but afib can be any kind of heart beating speed, it just means it’s Not Normal) and the winter storm she is staying with us which means my mom is more Aggressive and Demanding and Hateful towards me and dad bc idk i guess hosting ur small quiet kind grandma calls for attacking your husband and child (very important ingredient cannot skip)(btw my grandma is fine she’s just very weak and is struggling to physically move around by herself but insurance company is refusing to let her go to a physical rehab center for treatment???? lol????? hashtag AICAB (all insurance companies are bastards)

2) speaking of whom i also came out to my mom as trans after an argument abt justa kunt r*wling (mom doesnt know anything abt how nasty of a creature wizard bitch is but i’m still like mom pls there are better authors out there with fictional work that isn’t harmful) book that she bought for my cousin’s step-daughter (she’s fucking NINE) and i was so triggered i was like i need to get this out it’s weighing on me (it was every time i wanted to come out to her and didn’t it was so damaging to me mentally) so that was wild and lukewarm but she didn’t kick me out of the house and says she loves me and wouldn’t reject me no matter what (unless grandma is around??? for some reason idk) so while that is a good thing it’s still been a very hard birthday month for ya boi greg

3) i’m also on the phones at work which in itself isn’t a bad thing because the calls i get are from ladies who work at the courts across the state and they are for the most part very nice and easy to work with but i have Big Phone Anxiety thanks to my time working at the call center for the same agency (i don’t even answer the phone at home anymore and i get scared when it rings, members of public are nasty and i hate them and they belong in a zoo) so that’s causing me anxiety at night andd also at work even tho when i’m actually talking on the phone it’s not really an issue it’s just the Anticipation of a Call

4) i’m in therapy!!!! with a transgender therapist and he’s WONDERFUL but we are focusing more on cbt (cognitive behavioral therapy) which is digging up a lot of pain for me and forcing me to deal with my emotions and my past trauma so THAT’s A LOT and now i have “I came Out to my MOM” for him for next time so that will be interesting (i need to just let myself cry in front of him i have a VERY hard time crying in front of ppl bc i was horribly abused for crying at a babysitter’s house but that’s 1) very heavy and 2) neither here nor there)

5) BEACUSE OF ALL THE STRESS and cold weather my lip split open and 2 canker sores formed in the split area so that’s been cool

6) christmas is just stressful for me and also my mom has been On One this whole month because murphy’s law keeps going into effect w grandma being in the hospital and her brother my uncle suggesting we have christmas separate because of covid (he and my aunt both had covid VERY recently), grandma being sick in the hospital, and the winter storm and i also have 3 cakes i’m baking so THAT’s stressful to think about and i just want it to be over lollll

[caught-the-lovebug]

Hey there! I’m a girl and I met this new girl. We hit it off pretty nicely at first and felt really comfortable with each other even tho she kinda intimidated me a little since I started rly caring abt how she saw me and thought of me. She even mentioned she was bi. I then went through some personal stuff and I usually don’t socialize much and tend to isolate myself when going through such things and naturally I started barely talking to her. I only share one class with her so we didn’t see each other much to start with, but we always sat beside each other in that class. I also noticed she stopped saying hi as much to me after that when we for example crossed paths in the corridors even tho Ik she saw me and I’m not usually a person who says hi first especially with her since as I mentioned she does make me nervous. After that, one time I skipped the class since I was sick and when she came the next class she passed over me and chose to sit at the back. We then had to work on a group project together and we ended up texting alot since we had to get it done fast and she even ranted to me a little abt the course but then next day when we met we still didn’t talk as much it was kinda awkward. Anyways when exams came up I ended up asking her for help and she was very nice, we texted a little bit and she asked me if I don’t mind her checking up on me during the break…but she never did until now and it’s been a month. She says some concerning stuff sometimes and idk if she feels comfortable being vulnerable with me or if she’s just very open and like that with everyone, cause she seems like a strong person and she’s really social and friendly with anyone. I thought abt checking up on her several times but idk if I should do it I feel like we are different and idk how would she take it or if she’s even interested in becoming friends with me…

I can completely understand this. Putting yourself out there to even just say "Hi" can be really hard! It sucks that things got less close because of how you cope with big personal stuff. But I see that as a great sign that you can get there again, and further.

There are plenty of reasons why someone might back off or even stop chatting with someone despite saying they will. She could be also anxious, maybe something is going on in her life, maybe she wants to give you space, maybe she has trouble remembering something is there until she sees it, and so many more possibilities.

I encourage you to take the first step here. Message her. Say something like "Hey, how are your holidays going so far?" Or, if you need time to work up the courage. Message on Christmas or New Year's (if you celebrate) "Happy [holiday]!" It's a good way to start up a conversation.

I did that with a crush once. "Happy New Year! Happy 2016!" It works, he talked to me for a bit after it happened. But alas, that crush was never meant to be.

But finding excuses to message them and actually starting up conversations is absolutely a great way to get to know and get closer to someone.

You got this! And I hope you become friends, even if the crush doesn't turn into a relationship.

- Fox~

[emmacrb]

The Nan movie/Nan’s character

The Nan movie was ok- a bit disappointing but not as bad as some people are saying. It wasn’t really as funny as some of the old stuff but it was ok and some of Nan’s backstory didn’t line up with some of the stuff that had already been established in the shows- e.g in an old sketch Nan said she was evacuated during WW2 as a child, in Nan’s Christmas Carol her mum was played by Niky Wardley & acted like her and she was married to a man called Jake who was played by someone different. She also had a sister from Spain called Junie (who acted like her) in the show but I guess she wasn’t mentioned in this. But the flashbacks were still nice and it flowed better than some people are claiming- Terry’s death made me cry. 

Idk if Nan was a bit out of character- I feel like her character has changed over the years. In the old sketches the character was more realistic- and she would normally talk about people behind their backs & be nice to their faces but sometimes she would stand up for herself or occasionally be rude to people’s faces. I think she acted worse than usual in Nan’s Christmas Carol kicking out her family & stealing all that money (even though I love Nan’s Christmas Carol), and in Nanger Management she was just picking on people for no reason (although it was funny). The character became more chaotic and less of an old grump- other people have even pointed out that she wasn’t as grumpy in the movie.

The lighting was so bad at the end I didn’t even realise Walter was wearing a dress lol. The officer/traffic warden was a bit of a stalker lol.

My IMDB review:

It was ok- a bit disappointing but not as bad as some people are saying. It wasn't really as funny as some of the old stuff but it was ok and some of Nan's backstory didn't line up with some of the stuff that had already been established in the shows- e.g in an old sketch Nan said she was evacuated during WW2 as a child, in Nan's Christmas Carol her mum was played by Niky Wardley & acted like her and she was married to a man called Jake who was played by someone different. She also had a sister from Spain called Junie (who acted like her) in the show but I guess she wasn't mentioned in this. But the flashbacks were still nice and it flowed better than some people are claiming- Terry's death made me cry.

Idk if Nan was out of character-I think the character has changed over the years. In the old sketches the character was more realistic. I think she's become more chaotic & less of an old grump- someone else on here even mentioned that she wasn't as grumpy as she usually is.

The lighting was so bad at the end I didn’t even realise Walter was wearing a dress lol. The officer/traffic warden was a bit of a stalker lol.  

I give it a 2/5 or 4/10.

[saltine-kakyoin]

although i cannot wait for 2020 to end, oh my god the end of 2020 is going to be such a personal nightmare 🥺😔