#i try to be clear and direct with the customer service people

[rileyslibrary]

After suffering a gunshot wound, you wake up in a hospital bed with Ghost sitting by your side. Unfortunately, the effects of anaesthesia leave you unable to recognise him and, worse, confuse him with someone else.

A/N: Fluff. Based on a request I received a while ago. Hope you like it, anon!

———————————————————————

A machine on your left beeps rhythmically. The taste of something metallic lingers in your mouth, and the iodine smell stinks your nostrils. Your eyes open slowly, but the bright ceiling light forces them shut again. You lick your lips and attempt to swallow a couple of times. Dry. Your mouth is dry. You need water. Your hand moves towards your face, but a low, raspy voice advises you against it.

“Careful now,” it says, and a hand gently grabs your wrist. “Don’t pull the IV off.”

You turn your head towards the figure beside you and squint. It’s a man, but your blurry vision doesn’t help you identify him. Your eyes travel to your wrist and focus on the closest part of him: a skeleton’s hand.

You try to shake your hand off his grip, but it turns out futile. Frustrated, you give up and raise your middle finger at him.

“Not my time yet,” you declare. “Fuck off.”

“Pardon?” he asks.

“Not ready to go yet,” you reply, tucking your middle finger in your palm and lifting it back up again. “And also, fuck off.”

The man releases your wrist, placing your hand gently beside you. He clears his throat and leans forward. Though your vision remains blurry, you spot what looks like a human skull with a hood over it.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his tone softer.

“How am I feeling, love?” you repeat. “Did Hell improve their customer service?”

“I’m not-” The man begins but pauses. He sighs, shakes his head and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Never mind.”

“Where am I?” You ask.

“Hospital.” He replies. “You took a bullet.”

Directing your attention to your body, you feel a dull throb in your chest. You wince as your fingers brush against the bandages.

“You are joking.” You reply and slap your hand on the bed. “Why? How?”

“Well,” He says and tilts his head to the side. “You exchanged a few shots with the enemy, your gun ran out of bullets, his didn’t, and here we are.”

“My gun?” You ask, shocked. “I have a gun?”

“Several.” He nods.

“SEVERAL?” You shout. “Why would I possibly need several guns?”

“It’s your job, love.” He replies.

“My job is to have several guns?” you ask. “And shooting at people?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he explains, “but it’s mainly for defence.”

“Well,” you shrug and wince at the pain. “Doesn’t look like I’m that good at defence—especially for having several guns.”

“I was really worr—”

“Water,” you interrupt and gesture at your mouth. “I need water.”

“Doctor said it’s not the time for water yet,” he replies.

“Why?” you ask, pretending to check a non-existent wristwatch. “What time is it?”

“No, love,” he replies and muffles a chuckle. “Doctor said you need to wait until you have some water.”

“You throw the ‘love’ thing a little too freely,” you mumble, licking your lips and lifting your index finger. “I’d be really careful if I were you.”

“Really?” he asks, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”

“I,” you say and point at yourself, “got a boyfriend, thank you very much.”

“Oh,” he exclaims and tilts his head. “Is that so.”

“Yup,” you nod. “And he can kill you.”

“Can he?”

“Can?” You say, and a smug smile forms on your dry lips. “He will absolutely, one hundred and a thousand per cent kill you.”

“Is he that good?” He asks.

“I mean,” you shrug, motioning at the bandages on your chest. “He’s much better than I am.”

“Oh wow,” he exclaims and leans forward. “Is he as good of a boyfriend as he is a shooter?”

“Far from it,” you reply, letting your hand fall to your side.

The man doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seem that comfortable all of a sudden. He shuffles in his chair, trying to find a better position, and when he does, he clasps his hands together.

“Go on,” he finally says. “Spill it.”

“Ok, so,” you begin, “first things first, he doesn’t listen to me when I want to vent, and whenever he does, all he says is nonsense.”

“The lad gives you solutions,” he snaps, “and you call them nonsense?”

“I don’t want solutions, man,” you reply, shaking your head. “I want him to just listen to me.”

“Even if the solutions he provides are literally the answers to your suffering?”

“Even then.” You confirm.

“Gotcha,” he nods. “What else?”

“Oof,” you sigh, “how much time do you have?”

“I’m immortal,” he reminds you, “plus the next reaping is in five hours.”

“Oh boy,” you reply. “Business not going that well lately, huh?”

“Not many deaths to take care of,” he spits. “I guess some people could use some serious training when it comes to their aim.”

“Speaking of training,” you say, “he’s always at work and never spends much time with me.”

“The guy’s trying to spend as much time with you as he can, for fucks sake!” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “He even lied to get you on his team!”

“How do you know he put me on his team?” You ask.

“I keep a close eye on him.” He replies.

“What did he lie about?”

“Your precision in aiming,” he jokes and motions for you to continue. “Next one.”

“I can’t think of anything else,” you reply. “Other than he doesn’t say how much he loves me.”

“You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you?” He says, and his tone feels almost threatening. “He’s showing it to you daily; offering advice, keeping you close to him, even risking the possibility of being accused of nepotism for crying out loud! He doesn’t need to say it as well for you to know it!”

“It’s just nice to hear it sometimes,” you sigh and twist a thread from the bed sheet. You turn your head slightly toward him, and he lowers his head to the ground.

“How about you?” You ask. “You have a girlfriend?”

“I do,” he confirms.

“Shut up!” You shout, widening your eyes and immediately closing them back again. “Where did you guys meet?”

“Hell,” he replies. “Right in the pits of it.”

“How is she?” You ask.

“Perfect.” He states.

“Bullshit,” you murmur. “No one’s perfect.”

“She is to me.” He says, shrugging.

“Do you love her?” You ask.

“Absolutely,” he replies, nodding slowly. “One hundred and a thousand per cent I do.”

———————————————————————

[fairyofshampgyu]

Super shy !

genre: smut, baker au, college au, crack

Pairing: shy loser virgin bakery worker ! soobin x college customer ! reader

Warnings: sub soobin, dom reader, clubbing, loss of virginity, riding, hand job, titty groping (can’t be a Soobin smut without him being obsessed with boobies be fr), premature ejaculation,

word count: 2.9k

As soon as you stepped into the newly established campus bakery, walking up to the counter and observing all the pastries, contemplating for a rather long time before you end up deciding on what you’d usually order anyway, Soobin couldn’t help feeling like his world got totally turned upside down. The sight of you rendering him completely speechless and unable to even think.

Time seemingly going by so slow like in the kdramas as your shiny hair majestically blows in the non existent wind inside, smile brightening up the entire bakery. He could practically see the roses blooming around your face like in the mangas. Was this love at first sight?!

Realistically, no.

But were you incredibly attractive to him and a breath of fresh air to the moody, stressed out college students that purchase a single coffee and stay for hours completing assignments with their backs concerningly hunched over? Hell yes.

And unfortunately for Soobin, he does not do well with pretty people. At all. Not realising you had even ordered, too in awe and preoccupied with taking in all your features until he’s snapped back to reality with the clearing of your throat and he can already feel his cheeks burning up horribly fast. Oh god. He really, really hopes it’s not evident right now.

“S-sorry…What did you say?” He begins apologising profusely to you, too embarrassed to even look you in the eyes, staring off more to the side. This was definitely not his best customer service.

With a chuckle, you brush it off and state your order again, “I said could I have the strawberry swirl cheesecake please?” If Soobin could look at himself in third person, he would so be face palming right now. Or better yet, maybe he could just go up and like, punch himself straight up or something for acting like such a loser.

“Ah right... That’s ₩7500. Cash or card?”

You pay with cash and Soobin, very nervously, fumbles around to garner the right amount of change to hand you, though doing it in the most awkward way possible and his palm makes direct contact with yours as he hands the money, making him blush even more and let out a small obvious gasp at the feeling of your soft hand. Oh my god. Why did he do that?! He really hopes you didn’t find that weird.

You only let out another chuckle, thanking him before you’re leaving the bakery in an elegant manner and Soobin is left to sigh and watch your back disappear. Damn it. He’ll probably never see you again. You were so pretty and so cute, too cute even-

“You’re such a virgin.”

His thoughts about you are abruptly dissipated by his coworker and unfortunately best friend, Choi Beomgyu who gives him the stupidest, most annoying grin he would definitely like to slap off his face right now.

“Just shut up.” Soobin grimaces and rolls his eyes at beomgyu, bringing a batch of freshly baked cookies out of the oven behind him and placing them into the display glass one by one.

"You’re pinker than the strawberry macarons we sell. That's saying something." Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at him with sass.

So does that mean you could see how flustered he was getting then? Oh no! Soobin clears his throat and narrows his eyes at beomgyu anyway. “Am not.”

“Are too! Anyway, all I’m saying is that interaction was painful to watch. You’re really giving pathetic, loser, virgin right now. I cant lie.” Beomgyu attempts to stifle in one of his obnoxious laughs.

Soobin is quick to snap back, "You've only ever slept with one person!"

"S-so!! At least im not a virgin!" Beomgyu’s cheeks also become the equivalent to the strawberry macarons as he scrambles to try and defend himself, brows furrowed and cheeks puffed.

“Well, the concept of a virgin is purely societal anyway. It doesn’t actually matter. It doesn’t mean anything really.” Soobin bitterly replies, continuing to work whilst his counterpart does completely nothing like most of the time. It's usually soobin that does work, remind him not to agree to beomyu's silly ideas of getting a job together ever again.

Beomgyu scoffs and snickers at this, "Whatever. You’re just saying all that to make yourself feel better because you’re a loser. LMAO"

"I’ll punch you right now."

"Then we'll both be fired~”

A poor customer still awaits at the counter to be served, standing in bewilderment and tiredness. Waiting for the two bakers to finish bickering and sighing as they don’t seem like they’re going to stop anytime soon.

Soobin doesn’t expect to see you again, in complete honesty, he’s almost forgotten you even exist after you never come again. But he’s in luck and more than pleasantly surprised when he hears the bell to the door go ding!, indicating a customer had walked in. He looks up from the cake he was decorating and in comes you looking cuter than the first time he saw you. He tries not to mess up the cake and he stands up straight almost instantly when he sees you, waiting for you to order and trying to remain calm.

You laugh and point at his cute nose when you come up to the counter. “You have like, icing all on your nose.”

“O-oh. I do?” He points at himself and you nod in reply. He feels himself going redder by the minute. He must look so stupid right now! And he urgently brings his sleeve up and tries to wipe the icing off his nose to not make himself look an even more of a complete fool in front of you .

“Ah wait no. Let me do it!” You lean over the counter as you see him struggling and wipe it off the top of his cute bunny like nose instead for him.

And that was the end of soobin. The end.

-

You become a regular at the bakery and soobin becomes a regular of embarrassing the absolute shit out of himself each time he sees you. He really doesn’t think he can top the previous comedic disaster that occurs when you enter, yet he always proves himself wrong, the awkwardness reaching new heights each time. From dropping trays of pastries, spilling drinks, nearly slipping in front of you, giving you a ₩50000 note when it was only ₩5000 change, the list goes on and on. He’s actually surprised he hasn’t lost his job yet.

And there’s also always a disappointed beomgyu shaking his head afterwards ready to make fun of him when Soobin promises to make a move but freezes every time you’re in sight, too much of a pussy.

“I’m calling an intervention.” Beomgyu declares and sighs after the nth time of soobin making absolutely no moves on you whatsoever, “Soobin, my man, my bro, you desperately need to get banged. It’s painful seeing the way you act. Your little crush is not gonna like you with the way you act. That’s it. We’re going clubbing tonight after this shift. No buts.”

“But-”

“I said no buts!”

“You know I hate clubbing.”

“You’ve never even been with me despite my constant pleads.” Beomgyu shakes his head and makes a dramatic pained face at his way.

“So? I know I’ll hate it.”

“You’re such a hater bro.”

“Yes I am. And I take pride in it. I’m a hater of everything.”

Beomgyu just sighs. He was utterly hopeless.

Unfortunately, there was no way Soobin could get out of this because beomgyu was having absolutely none of his protests and excuses and that’s how he ends up finding himself at the club anyway after his shift, sitting off to the side as he watches beomgyu disappear somewhere into the crowd. Soobin sighs as he downs his jack and coke. This was going to be a long fucking night.

-

In the dimly lit club, soobin’s discomfort was palpable, like a fish out of water and you noticed instantly upon arrival. It’s that cute tall baker boy who always serves you! You excitedly make your way and sit next to him, he looked a little lonely. “Hey! You work at that bakery on campus. I go there!”

Soobin’s eyes nearly fall out of his sockets at the sight of you sitting next to him and he nearly chokes on his drink as he splutters on his straw and nods. Act calm, act calm, act calm, act calm. Act cool and mysterious.

It’s you! You’re speaking to him?!

“So…these things not really your scene, huh?”

“Gee. How did you ever notice?” Soobin attempts to smile and joke with dry humour but it executes a little more awkward and nervous than how he would have liked.

You also try to carry on the conversation since this is the first time you’ve got to ever actually talk to the cute boy before. “I’m very intuitive. I can just sense things like that.”

He laughs at that too, feeling a bit more comfortable around you now. “No but yeah, I’d much rather be at home right now sleeping. Can’t say I’m much of an advocate for getting stupidly drunk with sweaty people you don’t even know with terrible rave music and flashing lights that should have an epilepsy warning”

“I get it.” You chuckle at how passionate he gets talking about how much he hates clubbing, frown on his cute face. “So why are you here then?”

“Friend wanted me to. Said I needed to finally get laid or whatever.” Soobin rolls his eyes and sips on his drink again, motioning his head to the direction of beomgyu on the dance floor, clearly drunk off his ass now.

“Oh, you’re a Virgin?”

Soobin’s ears go red when he realises what he said to you. “O-oh um y-yeah I guess…”

“Are you waiting for like marriage or the right person or something?” You question, genuinely surprised. He was tall and very attractive and it was rare for college boys to not hook up every single night these days.

“God no. Just never happened. I don’t really care for things like that. It’s probably overhyped anyway and doesn’t even feel that good. Like porn is highly unrealistic anyway.”

“You think so?” You chuckle at him and he nods, continuing to cutely sip on his drink with his straw. “Well maybe you should to try it out first and see for yourself.” Your words start to become a little flirty as you grow more confident talking with him and also because of the alcohol making you slightly tipsy now. “Sorry, but do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes please.” Soobin’s eyes widen even more at your suggestion and he’s more than happy to get out of here with you especially.

“Umm your friend is a bit….out of it right now.” You watch beomgyu drunk from afar, whipping his long hair back and forth claiming to everyone around he’ll be able to do it fast enough to lift off his feet and fly like a helicopter.

“He’ll be…he’ll be fine I’m sure”

Soobin has no idea what good stuff he must have done in his past life to get to this moment right now, in your room, making out with you, in your bed. Did he mention making out? With you?! The customer he’s been crushing on for months?! Holy, he might hyperventilate right now. It all feels like a dream. Is this real right now?

You cup his cheek and move into his lap, continuing to move your lips against his and soobin’s ears and face are all flushed, breathing loud of enough for you to hear and he looks all nervous and a little shaky.

You stop kissing him but he chases after your lips still and you stroke his cheek, “Are you okay Soobin?”

He’s only able to nod, lips parted and eyes all glazed over. He’s so out of it just from making out with you it’s crazy. But so cute too.

“C-can you…can we…just want…”

“What do you want, baby?” You chuckle and stroke his cheek as he manages to utter some words. The petname only makes his head go even more haywire.

“W-want you…”

“What do you want me to do?” You giggle and coo at him.

He shyly shows you the boner he’s had this entire time. You can’t believe he got a boner just from some kissing. “Can you-will you touch me…please? Need it…” He pleads at you nervously, so red in the face.

“Are you sure?”

He nods his head exceptionally fast and you begin to unbuckle his jeans as he watches you take his flushed and hard dick out, breathing only becoming heavier. Damn, you didn’t think he’d be that big.

You take him into your hands and his mouth his already agape, gasping when you slowly start to stroke him.

You pump his big cock at a steady pace so as not to overwhelm him too much, though twisting and thumbing at the tip occasionally that has him drooling at the corner of his mouth and beads of precum dribbling out heavily from his cock. It’s endearing how far gone he is just at you stroking his dick slow, shy whimpers and other noises eliciting from his mouth.

You unbutton you shirt with your other hand as you continue to pump him and his eyes go crazed at the sight of your tits, you guiding his own big inexperienced hands to grope at them and he does, slumping his head into your neck and shoulder moaning into it and still groping and squeezing at your tits.

With a sudden yelp you feel Soobin’s cum spurt up and leak into your hands, his eyes rolling back as he whimpers continuously from his premature orgasm.

He doesn’t lift his head from your shoulder yet, too embarrassed to face you but he eventually does, eyes still half lidded, trying to catch his breath and he’s hard again. “W-will you fuck me? Please please please. Wanna feel it, wanna feel you, please?” He practically begs, still panting out.

“Are you really sure, Soobin? With me?”

“Yes please! Only want you.”

You study his face for any hesitancy but it’s clear he’s so set on wanting you to fuck him. So you wrap your hands around both his wrists and bring him to lay down on your pillows instead, you still straddling his lap.

When you’ve undressed your lower half, you bring his dick and slide it over your entrance a few times, he moans out loud, hands coming up shyly to cover his face and then you sink down incredibly slowly on his massive length . Soobin’s jaw drops and breath hitches at the feeling of his dick finally in your warm pussy, a strangled moan ripping out of him. He could seriously cum just from being in you right now, but he tries so hard not to or you’ll be disappointed and he doesn’t want to see you disappointed or embarrass himself even more.

“You good, baby?”

“M’ f-fine. Just-Just need a minute.” Soobin shakes out.

You take his hands away from his face and lean down to softly kiss him instead, trying to calm him down and he effuses into your mouth, kissing back passionately with his eyes closed.

“I’m ready now…” He pulls away after a while and looks you in the eyes.

So you start to slowly move, riding him, going up and down on his virgin dick. Soobin’s mouth hangs open in endless moans and gasps and whimpers, face buried into your pillow to the side and his hair all messy now. Whole body flushed and shaking underneath you.

“Better than you thought, baby?” You grunt out, bouncing on top of his cock.

“So much better. O-oh my god, f-fuck…ah!” So maybe sex wasn’t overhyped after all. Because goddamn, you feel so fucking good. Maybe it was just you. But Soobin truly feels like he’s gliding on fluffy clouds right now. All the times he’s touched himself not even coming close to how he feels right now stuffed in your pussy as you fuck him, watching mesmerised as your tits bounce with each movement. He could die here right now in full contentment. Oh how he was so wrong.

It’s not long at all before Soobin can’t hold it anymore. His hips bucking up and breath hitching as a loud strangled mewl tumbles out of his mouth and you feel hot cum fill you up suddenly that makes you still your movements on him. He lets out a long slurred groan and then goes limp beneath you, eyes closing shut and open as he fades from conscious to not every now and then. Is he really that fucked out?

After a while, he finally somewhat recovers and comes back to you from his high, still panting out and chest rising up and down. He looks up at you with a small shy smile on his lips, arm thrown over his forehead.

“You know I literally only go to the bakery because of how cute and silly you are and how you always make a mess of yourself whenever I walk in” You chuckle and admit, drawing shapes into his chest.

“W-wait you knew I liked you?” Soobin asks, shocked and feeling embarrassed again.

You laugh, “Come on, you made it rather obvious.”

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and irriating when fics have such little reblogs ☹️. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it make writers want to actually write :)

A/n: having serious writers block rn but forced myself to write this in practically one sitting (it was so painful) and has not been proof read at all so if it makes no sense I apologise 😭

[yellowjestertfs]

The Billionaires secret

“Hi there. Find what what you were looking for?” I ask in my customary upbeat yet soul-dead customer service voice.

“I think so. Going to give this one a try.” She says handing me a copy of a book called The Billionaire’s Secret from the romance section. I can see why she picked it, on the cover a man in a suit lay on a bed with the buttons of his dress shirt undone showing off his impressive six-pack and strong hairless chest. Brownish red eyes smolder seductively outwards from a masculine face. High cheekbones, soft lips, and a wide square jaw adorned with black stubble that connects to a short-styled head of black hair.

“I’m Bridget by the way,” she says, obviously a bit embarrassed to see me eying up the cover. “Oh, and this is Dan.” She says gesturing at the man standing a few paces away, engrossed by some mobile game on his phone. 

“Nice to meet you, Bridget.” I scan the book. “That will be $17,” I say. 

She glances over at Dan, he doesn't seem to notice so she retrieves her credit card from her purse and taps it against the machine. “I don’t know why I expected him to offer.” She tells me in a conspiratorial whisper “He’s broke. I mean not that it matters to me, but it would just be nice to date a wealthy man or one who at least pays attention to me.” 

Customers often confided in me. I wish I could say it is because of my open honest face or charismatic demeanor but it probably had more to do with a book I once ate about a bartender people told all their secrets to.

I look around. There are a few consumers browsing the book shelves and my manager is sitting at his desk in the back, no one close enough to notice. Bridget seems sweet, too sweet to be with a man like Dan. Poor girl just wants to escape with some fiction, so why not indulge her a little.

“Did you get a chance to check out our books on sale?” I ask Bridget diverting her attention away. She looks over at the shelf I pointed at giving me enough time to crack my knuckles, take a deep breath, and begin.

I place my hands over the cover of the book and it springs open, the pages start to turn themselves slow at first then speed up. Words start to flow from the book as the pages flip past. The letters lift from the page like a sticker being peeled, floating into the air to spin around me. They form a cyclone of black ink as the pages that flip by are left blank.

I feel the lines as they flow off the paper. The first line reads. “Kustav tower is 400 stories tall, rumor has it, it’s smaller than Dane Kustav’s dick.” 

I directed the words towards Bridget’s boyfriend. The ink splashes into him, absorbing into his gray hoodie but leaving no mark. None except for the fact that his basketball shorts start to thrash like a wild animal is trapped inside. Dan didn't look up from his phone even as his dick doubled and then tripled in size to match the one described in the book Billionaires Secrets.

I tried to be sparing with my abilities. Fiction is great so long as it stays fiction, otherwise you have evil robots or sparkly vampires running around. Still, every once in a while my heroic urges will take over and I am called to help someone with my power to bring words to life. Bridget is one of those people.

More words flowed off the page. “Dane Kustav is well dressed at all times. One would be hard-pressed to ever see Dane not in a suit. If one did see him without a suit, it would be in the bedroom where they would be very, very hard pressed indeed.”

The words spin around me once then drift over to Dan again on an invisible wind. This time his clothes were affected by the words. His grey hoodie which he wore with the hood up, melted off his body, the threads unwinding then rebinding themselves into a far higher quality dress shirt and black jacket complete with a blue tie. His shorts became black dress pants and his sneakers a pair of brown loafers. The outline of his much larger dick was clear in his new tighter pants. A few seconds passed with no changes then, slowly his tie undid itself and each of the buttons on his dress shirt opened so that he was sporting a matching look to that of the man on the cover of the book. Unlike the cover, however, Dan lacked the chiseled face or body to pull off the open shirt. His slight gut and saggy, hairy chest made the outfit look awkward rather than sexy.

Bridget looked up from the sale rack and glanced at her half-nude boyfriend with a chagrined glance. In her mind, he was always dressed in the finest clothes even if he still acted like a man-child.

“Dane Kustav towered over everyone be that in stature or in business.” 

I directed the words into him. Dan shot upwards, his modest 5’10” frame becoming a proud 6’3”, clothes growing to match. And though it wasn’t visible Dan’s head was also filled with business smarts he had lacked before. The game on his phone shifted from Fruit Ninja to Hey Day.

The pages continue to flip, their words leaving the page to float in the air under my command.

“Dane Kustav's muscles were like that of a brass statue, smooth, hard, and golden. Each curve could only have been sculpted by the hands of an artist for nature could never make anybody so perfect.”

I look over at Dan’s soft pudgy body. Not the words I would use to describe him, at least not yet. I float the sentence to him.

Instantly Dan’s belly flattens. One by one his abs pop into being as if pushed out from the inside like one of those pop-it toys. His man boobs visibly transmute from fat to muscle, perking up and then growing into a strong chest like that of the man on the cover of the book. Inside the sleeves of his dress shirt, his arms thicken into a pair of round vascular biceps while his legs below do the same. A tan, like oil spreading over water seeps across his body until his exposed muscles really looked like sculpture bronze turned to life. The few hairs that had looked sloppy before now lent his body a rugged masculinity.

Bridget looks at her boyfriend with a new lust. Her hands start to roam his abs and chest but Dan, still on his phone, only bats them away. 

Man-child indeed, a man in the body, a child in the face and the personality. I divert my attention back to the flipping pages looking for words I could use to fix that. The book is reaching the end, and the main character, assistant to the billionaire, has finally seduced her boss in a very steamy scene. High-class writing it is not, but at least it gives me plenty to work with.

“I ran my hand down his sharp square jaw.” 

I throw the words at him. The shape of his face shifts to be more masculine.

“He looked at me through squinted sexy amber eyes.”

His eyes shift from a pale blue to an amber so rich it almost looked red. He finally looks up from his phone and deep into Bridget's eyes. She returns the stare with a smile. 

“He brought my hand up to his cheek, I felt each bristle of his short sharp stubble.”

Dan moves Bridget's fingers up to his face which is now covered in a sexy two days' worth of growth.

“Then he kissed me with his soft sensual lips hard enough to make me weak in the knees.”

The words flow off the page and into him. His lips grow pillowy and pink and interlocked with Bridget’s. He wraps his muscular arms around her, keeping her steady as she collapses into him. 

“I warp my fingers into his jet-black quaffed hair as I prepare for him to take me.”

His hair gains a stylish cut and is dark as pitch, body hair and stubble do the same. Bridget greedily runs her hand through his new dark dew.

“He smelled like sports deodorant, woody cologne, and sex. I wanted nothing more than this man to take me.”

The bookstore fills with his scent. I am surprised to find myself turned on by the whole thing. I have reached the end of the book, the final page.

“It was then that I learned the billionaire's secret.”

This was the good stuff. I leech the words off the page and send them to Dan, or rather now, Dane.

“His secret wasn’t that he was hot, or rich, or could make any girl swoon.”

Their kiss intensifies. Dane started to undo Bridget's blouse.

“No, the billionaire's secret was.”

Suddenly Dane pulls away.

“The billionaire was gay.”

“Sorry Bridget,” Dane says taking a few steps back and looking at her with sudden realization. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

His eyes wander over to lock onto mine, rich amber orbs seeming to really take me in. He winks. “You thought, I think that could work. What are you doing after this?” He asks smoothly “Want to go get coffee in Paris on my jet? My treat.”

[glubsurleseuil]

Don't be scared - Chapter 1

This is the first chapter - Next

A Pennywise X F!Reader fanfic 'cause I need to get these ideas out of my head before they eat me up. I'll post this thing on AO3 when I'm not so lazy to create an account. If I go ahead with it, it'll be NSFW, sexually disturbing, gory, violent, reader is an autistic drepressed suicidal girl… In short, skip it if you're a sensitive soul. For the rest of you, enjoy (I hope).

(Note: It was translated by Deepl, English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you want to correct me, don't hesitate!)

(Note 2: The image is by @fandomscreenshots but you should already know that because what she does is amazing)

You've always lived in Derry, Maine. Well, actually you were born in Derry, went to school in Derry and, like any good citizen, you now work in Derry. You don't like it, you never have, and you know that no matter what you do, you'll never like it.

Firstly, because no matter how hard you try since childhood, you just can't seem to make any friends. Worse, people seem to have agreed to shut you out and hate you. At best, they ignore you, at worst… well, let's just say there are certain people you've learned to avoid at all costs, so you don't have to spend the evening licking your wounds…

Secondly, because there's something unhealthy about the general atmosphere of this town, as if it were being devoured by a cancer that affected not only the surrounding greenery, but also the buildings and even the people. A cancer that could be called suffering, melancholy or despair. And although no one knows where these feelings come from, everyone seems to accept them as an inevitable burden.

Tonight, like most evenings, you're working at the Canal Rouge, a rather quiet bar where people can drink and listen to local artists perform on a small stage. You're a waitress, and it's not the most pleasant of jobs, especially when you're a woman. Fortunately, your boss is a woman too, and she's very strict about the respect customers show her staff, so things could be a lot worse.

But tonight, you're in a particularly bad mood. Fatigue has always been a difficult thing for you to deal with, and lately your nights have been… tormented. You've been having a dream, always the same with little difference, on and off for over a week. It's a hazy, dark, incoherent dream that's hard to remember. What you remember most is anguish, fear… and an unbearable feeling of being watched by something dangerous, making you feel like prey waiting to be devoured. When your therapist asked you to describe this dream, even with random words, you said 'fear', 'red' and… 'clown'. You laughed after saying that last word, a nervous, uncontrolled laugh, like a continuation of the one you always hear in this dream before waking up.

But tonight, the worst is yet to come, because you have to serve Jenny's gang as consumers, young people your own age who, like you, are stuck in Derry and like to pass the time by annoying other people. Especially you, since you met them in kindergarten. You know you won't be able to get home safely tonight…

And your fears are confirmed as you finish your shift. As you emerge into the alley to which the service door leads, you see them laughing at the end of it, looking in your direction. This is the way home. You quickly think of another option, but you know that even if you take a longer route, they'll be able to corner you sooner or later, and that's what they'll do. Unless… you go through the forest…

You don't hesitate, knowing that your pursuers won't follow. Their parents have given them the same instructions as you: never go into the forest at night. Ever. Your father had made it clear that he meant business by emphasizing his order with the back of his hand. But tonight, you're a grown-up, and between your dead father's old superstitions and Jenny and her gang's guaranteed beating, the choice was quickly made.

You head into the forest, at first more worried about your pursuers who, as expected, quickly abandon their target. Then you decide to turn on the torch on your phone, as it quickly becomes very dark between the tightly packed trees in the middle of the night. You recognize the path you're on and follow it to the ancient oak tree where you used to climb as a child to escape the bullies. But even this place, reassuring by day, gives off a menacing aura by night…

All is quiet, too quiet for a forest where animals should be going about their nocturnal lives. You get the impression that a kind of fog is floating around, light but unnatural, and as you look at the thick branches of the oak tree, you get a strange feeling… Like a memory from another life… Like a dream…

Suddenly, there's a sound. A sound you know well, having heard it every night for over a week. A laugh. A clown's laugh… You turn in all directions, shining your phone in every nook and cranny around the oak. And just as you realize that there's nothing there, that maybe it's your imagination playing tricks on you, the laughter starts up again. You jump back against the tree, light pointed ahead, anticipating the appearance of someone, something… The laughter becomes more distinct, closer… But it's not coming from in front of you, nor from the sides… It comes… from above?

With a quick gesture, you point the light towards the branches of the oak tree and there, hidden in the shadows of the leaves, you see it: a clown. No, THE clown. The one who has haunted your dreams, distressed your nights, devoured your sanity. This present moment has repeated itself endlessly in your nightmare and now it's all happening for real, clear as day and just as terrifying.

With a muffled scream, you drop your phone, the lamp face down and your legs buckling beneath you. The little light that escapes from beneath your phone only faintly illuminates the bottom of the tree, but you know IT's there.

And it's not long before he leaps down from the tree. You can only make out a silhouette in the darkness, and as you hear him coming closer, you try to remember the end of the dream. It's all a blur, and all that comes back is a vague memory of a hunt in which you are the prey… Back on the grassy ground, you pull yourself back as best you can with your hands, never taking your eyes off the presence. Is this how you're going to die?

He moves slowly closer, slipping into the shadows. You can make out that he's leaning forward, then addressing you in a childlike voice.

"Hiya Y/N! I'm Pennywise, the dancing clown!"

He suddenly picks up your phone from the floor, pulling it up slowly, light downwards, gradually revealing his appearance as he continues.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, you know? Don't be scared, I'm not going to kill you…"

As he utters these words, light finally shines on his face, reflected in his abnormally large and sharp teeth, piercing yellow eyes focused on you, and horror fills you.

"… yet."

The instinct to survive gives you new energy. You leap to your feet and flee the way you came, briefly illuminated by your phone in the clown's hands. You run at full speed, ignoring the noises behind you that make you think he's chasing you. If you've got a chance of getting away, you're going to take it. In fact, the forest exit isn't far off. One last push! You close your eyes and accelerate again… when hands often clutch your collar, brutally stopping your momentum.

"There you are, you bastard!"

"I told you she'd come back! She's such a pussy!"

"No way out now, you bitch!"

Jenny and her gang… It was Tim, the big muscular guy who caught you. They were waiting for you just outside the forest…

"Why are you running so fast? Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?"

They burst out laughing, but the sound reaches you distorted. The adrenalin from your run is wearing off too slowly and you can still hear your heart pounding in your eardrums. You struggle on, your brain unable to make sense of what has just happened. Suddenly, you hear a foul noise. A kind of hoarse, inhuman growl, coming out of the depths of the woods like an echo to their pitiful mocking laughter. You feel Tim's hands trembling with uncontrollable fear on your collar and watch their faces disintegrate before your eyes. Tim lets go and they all flee in a single scream of terror, leaving you behind.

You turn around, your body still tired from your frantic run, and you quickly understand what made them flee: golden eyes, shining menacingly in the darkness, perched on a huge, muscular, fur-covered figure, its multiple sharp teeth accentuating the evil growl rolling down its throat. A werewolf.

You barely have time to realize that it's the clown from earlier before he disappears between the trees with a hoot that sends shivers down your spine. Just as you regain your strength to flee, something falls near you. You examine it carefully: it's your phone, and as you turn the screen towards you, you see a message written in a torn red font:

DON'T BE SCARED

You don't wait any longer and run towards town without looking back.

[2nd2ndalto]

You Deserve a Break Today

I started this months ago and finally hauled it out to finish it this week. Inspired by this post from @coldbasementruins:

~~~~~

Will is halfway up a ladder in the storeroom when he hears raised voices from the front of the restaurant. He sighs, frustrated. This is usually a quiet point in the day, and he'd been hoping to get some work done. As he climbs down and makes his way to the front counter, Will notes that the raised voice is Octavian's. Not a complete surprise.

Octavian's not a bad employee, exactly. But he tends to get too caught up in minutiae, often at the expense of getting along with his colleagues. And sometimes the customers.

On one level, Will get it. Customer service can be a bitch. But while Will doesn't want to manage this McDonalds for the rest of his life, that's no reason to be a dick about it while he's here.

"Hey Octavian," Will says mildly, sidling up to the murderous-looking young man at the front counter. "What's up?"

"This customer," (Octavian says the word as one might say pedophile, and Will restrains himself from rolling his eyes) "wants to order a Happy Meal."

"Yeah, and?" Will says tiredly.

"Just look at him," Octavian hisses.

Will does, and... wow, he's really pretty. Like, breathtaking. All dark wide eyes and delicate features and glossy dark hair falling into his face. Will realizes he’s staring and quickly wrenches his gaze back to Octavian.

"Well?" Octavian asks.

"Well, uh... well what?" Will stammers, trying to collect himself. He's pretty sure Octavian didn't just want him to see how hot this guy is. But he's having trouble remembering the other reason. Because, like, Will's heard people described as breathtaking before. But he's never experienced it quite so... immersively. He feels lightheaded.

"Happy Meals are for children. He’s not a child," Octavian seethes.

"He's - you..." Will squeezes the bridge of his nose. "Octavian, look. Why don't you head into the back and help Kayla with the shipment?" Will says, keeping his tone as even as he can manage. "I'll take over up here."

Octavian shoots one more dark look at the poor (gorgeous, flawless) boy standing on the other side of the counter, but he complies.

Will sighs, turning back to the dark-haired boy. God, those eyes are incredibly distracting. What was he going to say again?

Will clears his throat. "You will have a Happy Meal," Will announces, too loud, too bossy.

The boy looks startled, and two customers seated at a nearby table turn their heads in surprise.

Shit.

"Um. I mean. Would you like a Happy Meal?" Will cringes. He can feel his ears burning, and fervently hopes he can finish this interaction before the flush spreads to his entire face.

"Um, yeah. If that's okay," the boy says tentatively. "Cheeseburger?"

"Yeah, of course," Will shakes his head, punching in the order. "I'm sorry about..." he waves his hand vaguely in the direction that Octavian disappeared. "I'm sorry about Octavian. Just between you and me, he’s... well, he might not be cut out for customer service," Will admits.

The boy lets out a small laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking up and Jesus he's even prettier when he smiles. This really isn’t fair. Will has a restaurant to run, for god's sake.

“Book or toy?” Will asks weakly.

“Um. Toy,” the boy answers, sounding a little embarrassed. “I’m uh… I’m trying to get Squirtle.” He nods towards the display of miniature Pokemon stuffies.

Will grins. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The boy ducks his head, looking shy. “Thanks.” He pulls out his wallet.

“Oh, no,” Will waves him off. “It’s on the house. Don’t worry about it.”

It’s the least he can do after this poor guy had to deal with Octavian, right? That’s definitely the only reason.

The boy glances back up, surprised. “Thank you,” he says. His gaze lingers on Will a moment longer. It’s magnetic, mesmerizing. Will realizes he’s not breathing.

“I’ll uh - I’ll bring it out to you,” Will manages. “Go… make yourself at home.” He gestures to the seating area.

Make yourself at home, Will’s brain helpfully echoes as he walks back to the kitchen. What a stupid fucking thing to say.

It’s Austin who catches him with his forehead pressed to the cool tile wall next to the walk-in cooler.

Austin chuckles. “Octavian getting to you?”

Will turns, a little desperate. “Yeah. I mean, always. But there’s… there’s this really cute guy,” he chokes, waving vaguely towards the front of the restaurant.

Austin shrugs. “So ask for his number.”

“But he’s a customer. Isn’t that like… it seems… unethical,” Will protests.

“Will.” Austin grabs him by the shoulders. “This is a McDonalds. It’s not like you’re his doctor.”

But after a brief and intense internal battle, Will finds he just… can’t.

He does find the Squirtle, though, after a panicked search through the storeroom. He throws in an apple pie for good measure. Hovering surreptitiously behind the coffee machines, Will delights in the smile that blooms on the boy’s face as he opens the Happy Meal box.

Will’s just kicking himself for the dozenth time for being a chicken and an idiot as he grabs a cloth and spray bottle and heads out to wipe tables. Mostly to get further away from the growing tension between Octavian and Kayla.

He scans the restaurant, his heart sinking a little when he realizes it’s empty. Not that he likely would have worked up the nerve to ask the boy for his number this time, either.

But then a hand catches his arm, gentle. Will whirls, nearly losing his balance.

Dark eyes widen in dismay and the boy tightens his grip as Will rights himself.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says.

Will’s already shaking his head, his face heating. “No, it’s fine. I’m… a little twitchy.”

And there’s that heartstopping smile again. Jesus Christ.

Will swallows. “Is um - is everything okay? “Was there a problem with your meal?”

“No, it was great,” the boy says. “Um...” He holds Will’s gaze again, all dark liquid eyes and long lashes. It feels like falling. Like flying.

The boy’s nose scrunches adorably. “This might sound stupid,” he says, “but I was having a really shitty day - I failed a chem exam and my roommate nearly burnt down our apartment last night. And then with your co-worker there –” he continues, and Will interrupts.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry about that –”

“No,” the boy shakes his head, smiling. “I just wanted to say - I thought that was going to be the last straw and I was going to burst into tears in the middle of a McDonalds. But then you - you were just…” He swallows, his brow furrowed. “Thanks for being nice to me,” he finishes softly. “It might not seem like much, but… it meant a lot.”

“Oh.” Will smiles. “Sure. Of course. I’m glad I could help.”

Now that they’re standing without a counter between them, Will realizes that the other boy is almost a head shorter than him. He’s slight-shouldered and slim, and though he’s a little intimidating in his leather jacket and combat boots, there’s something undeniably soft about him. Will kind of wants to pull him into his arms and smell his hair. Or maybe shove him up against the muffin display and kiss him senseless. But that would be really unprofessional. Probably.

The boy takes a deep breath, shifting nervously. “This might sound stupid too, and please don’t feel bad about saying no, but um. Would you maybe want to go out sometime? With me?”

Will can feel himself grinning like an absolute idiot. “Yeah,” he says. “I would.”

“Okay, cool,” the other boy breathes, looking relieved.

“I’m Nico, by the way,” he says as they exchange numbers.

“Nico.” Will repeats, smiling. Nico. He likes the way the name feels on his tongue. Nico. He’d like to say it a lot, he thinks.

“I’m Will,” Will says, tapping his nametag.

Nico smiles shyly. “Yeah. I noticed.” He sticks out his hand, like he’s suddenly remembered to do it. “Nice to meet you.”

Nico’s hand is warm. A bit smaller than Will’s. It’s stupid to think so, but it feels as if they fit perfectly together.

“Um…” Will begins, gazing again into those dark eyes. But then there’s a crash and a shout from the back, and Will sighs, not really sure what he was going to say anyway.

Nico grimaces. “I should let you go.”

“Yeah,” Will says reluctantly. He glances at his watch. “Ninety-two more minutes.”

Nico laughs. “You could text me when you’re done. Like, if you wanted to.”

Will beams.

As he makes his way towards the sound of raised voices in the back of the restaurant, he muses that shifts with Octavian are almost always eventful. But he doesn’t mind how this one has turned out in the least.

~~~~~

Notes:

Thank you @coldbasementruins for the prompt!

I've never worked at a McDonalds. I do eat there too often.

This was supposed to be 1000 words! It is not.

Thanks for reading!

[spicyclover]

Unplanned | Part eight

Summary:  You are pregnant with Mick. It’s not going as planned; it’s not planned. Everything happened so fast, and everything was chaotic. Mick has a hard time accepting it. You have difficulty realizing that two of you may not be raising this child.

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four | Part five | Part six | Part seven | Part eight

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! 

I'm open to requests.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

The following day, he jumps on the next plane available for Canada, which is a three-connection, but he doesn't care at this point. He waits hours for his next connection at the Charles de Gaulle airport. Trying to think about what to say or do.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are forced to land at the Ottawa International Airport due to a snowstorm at the destination point. We apologize for the inconvenience. We sincerely apologize, and our stewardesses on the ground can assist you to redirect you to the next available flights. Thank you for your understanding.”

Mick looks through the window and sees the white expanse covering the airport's ground. The runway was covered with heavy snow, but he could see the plows clearing the runways quickly to allow the aircraft to land safely. Dressed in a little sweater and a T-shirt. He regrets not thinking about Canada’s complicated weather, especially at this time of year. Of course, it’s cold in January, and there’s snow. It’s not Australia, after all. He also regrets not putting a hoodie in his bag. He knows full well that he will catch his death once he gets out of the heat of the airport.

All the passengers on the plane complained about the change of direction, and several disgruntled people were already praising the company’s complaint. Mick looks up and knows full well that it’s not their fault. All of eastern Canada is blocked because of this storm.

However, he is thinking about what he will be able to do next. How will he get to Quebec City? He thought about the various options as the aircraft suddenly landed on the runway. He clings to his seat, taking a deep breath. He never liked to fly, let alone in a storm. The bell that says the seat belt is no longer necessary rings, and everyone rushes into the aisles to pick up their luggage as quickly as possible. Something else Mick doesn’t like. Being glued to strangers, he sits quietly in his place and waits for people to come out to get up and take his bag. He crosses the hallway and follows the arrows that lead him to security. He goes through customs quickly and ends up at the airport gates. He sees people pulling out their winter jackets and big boots. "I really should have dressed." He mumbles to himself, crossing his arms around his body to keep his body warm.

He went to the reception desk to be put on the next flight to Montreal, but it would not leave for three days. “It’s too long.” A little stress invades him, and he wonders how he will reach his destination if no plane lands in Montreal for the next few days. So he sits on a bench and thinks. “I have to get to her.”

He finally finds the best solution to his problem. “If I can’t fly to her. I’ll do what I know best. I’ll drive to her." He got up to determine and went to the car rental service.

Renting is the best option right now.

After five hours of difficult driving through the snowstorm, he finally arrived at his destination. The city is completely buried under the ton of snow that fell during the night, the streets are deserted, and it makes the landscape breathtaking. The snow covers the entire St. Lawrence River. He even sees people on snowmobiles, making tracks on the fresh snow to cross the river. Mick knows snow, but snow like this never happens. He never thought that when he came to Quebec, he would be blown away by his landscapes. The sun is rising, setting in the sky.

They spoke about her home. She described the island where she lives. Ancestral houses, fields as far as the eye can see and the different villages of the island. The bridge that connects the island to the city is old but beautiful. Everything seems asleep under its snow mountains, yet several people are already beginning to unfold their entrance, and children are waiting for the school bus. Fortunately, the road is perfectly cleared of snow, allowing Mick to admire the landscape without danger.

He easily finds the house. He remembers as if it were yesterday the description she gave him of her parents' house. She described the landscape and the atmosphere of the place, and he felt it strongly. He exits his vehicle and is surprised that the snow reaches his calves. He tightens his sweater against his body and approaches the house's porch. The lights inside his lit, and he still sees Christmas decorations. The tree shines with a thousand lights. He rings the bell.

A chime agitates and produces a magnificent symphony that mixes with wind and snow. He stands there for a few seconds without a sound and hops on the spot to warm up. Then, he hears through the door a person approaching.

"Yes?" asks the lady, opening the door.

She's staring at Mick from top to bottom, probably wondering what he's doing in a weather like this, dressed like this. Mick looks up at the woman in front of him, and she doesn't look like Y/n, and he feels embarrassed to disturb her. He blushes when he stutters.

"Um... I don't think I have the correct address. I'm sorry to bother you." He quickly steps back and is ready to go down the stair when suddenly.

"Mick," he hears a voice in the distance.

She approaches the entrance door and lets her face be seen in the door frame. A smile from on his face. It's her, and it's really her. He can't believe it. It seems like ages since he last saw her. Her hair is brighter, and her skin is radiant. She seems to radiate for miles. She has a worried look on her face. He's shaking like a leaf, and his face seems frozen from the cold.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, taking him by the arm and drawing him into the hall. "Come, come in. You will catch death."

She closes the door behind him, and the other woman leaves at the end of the long corridor in a room unknown to him, leaving them alone. The young woman helps him take his shoes off, grumbling about not dressing enough for the temperature. She guides him into the living room, sitting him in front of the fire to warm him up. Mick doesn't say much, but he thanks her. He's thankful she didn't throw him like an old sock in his car so he could get out of the country. She leaves in another room, and Mick takes the time to look around at the pictures in front of him sitting on the mantel. He rubs his hands close to the fire, hoping to warm up. She comes back a few minutes later.

"Thank you," he said, taking the hot chocolate in his icy hands.

He shudders and shivers from the cold. She watches him for a few moments before returning to the corridor. She returns with warm clothes and a vast warming blanket. He puts on the clothes, and she tenderly wraps him up like a child in the blanket and caresses his hair. Despite all the anger, she may feel. At this very moment, all she wants is his good. He puts his head between the palm of her hand, taking the time to feel her warmth, keeping her contact a few moments before it is interrupted.

“What are you doing here, Mick?" She asks tenderly as she sits on the couch next to him.

He doesn't know what to say at first. So, he lets his eyes look at the room. He notices the house is small but extremely warm and cozy. The mix of wood and cream makes the home very welcoming and not intimidating. Nothing like his house. He feels good here, and he hopes she is too.

“I... He’s searching for the words he spent hours practicing on the plane and in the car to her house. “I came to see you.” He admits locking his ocean-blue eyes in hers.

“Mick, what did you really come to do? Are you not with Nina?” She wonders with a touch of bitterness in her voice.

He feels the bitterness in her voice, and he feels terrible. Bad because he wants her to know so many things all at once, but she doesn't seem able to listen.

She didn’t want to show him that he hurt her, but she couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the other. "Why is he here? Did the other girl leave him? Is that why he came here?" All those questions invade her mind immediately, and she feels her tear coming up. Her throat tightens.

“No. No. I...” Words struggle to get out, and Mick feels increasingly uncomfortable. His cheeks turn red, and he mumbles an apology again. “I broke up with Nina.” He finally confesses, looking at her in the eye once more.

“Oh, sorry about you.” She isn't sorry for a bit but doesn't feel better either. Strangely, she feels weird about all this.

He takes a sip of his hot chocolate. All the sentences he prepared, all the words and promises he made up on the plane, are gone. He wants to tell her the world and even more. "How can he describe how she makes him feel if he doesn't even have the words?" He wants to kiss her, to prove to her that he'll be hers, and only hers by now. But he knows for sure that a kiss isn't the right idea. She needs explication, and quickly. All this situation makes him anxious and stressed.

“No. No. No. She's not important to me.” He puts his coffee cup on the table and turns his body towards the young woman. “I want you.” He mumbles, taking her hands gently in his own.

“Mick...”

“No, listen to me! I screwed up, I know. I shouldn’t have left you alone all this time, and I’ll have. I want to be there for you, with you. I want you to be close to me. The few days we spent together have opened my eyes, and I know what I want now. I...”

"Don’t say it," she implores with eyes full of water.

“I need you to know that. The few weeks without you were the worst weeks of my life.” He approaches her hand and rubs her cheek tenderly. “I don’t just want to be involved in your life because of the baby, our baby. I want to be involved because I...”

“No, stop, Mick.” She says, pushing him away. “You can’t say that when it’s only been a few weeks since you walked out on me, kissing your girlfriend in my face. I can’t... I don’t want those words coming out of your mouth. You’re being unfair to me.” She cries out as she leaves the room in tears.

She hates hormones. She hates the control it has on her. She can't have a proper conversation that doesn't involve tears and screams since the start of her pregnancy. She feels so frustrated with herself and doesn't want to say more things to Mick. She storms out of the room, slamming the bathroom door. Her hormones make this situation somewhat upsetting, a real drama. She locks herself in the bathroom and lets herself slide to the ground.

He has no right to come back like a flower and ask him to forgive him for the weeks of pure sadness that he made her live. He has no right. She bursts into tears and brings her knees back to her chest. She did her best with her growing belly, a little more rounded by her 15 weeks of pregnancy.

On his side, Mick’s remorse seizes him, and he feels at his worst. How she feels and expresses it is worse than he could have imagined, and he never wanted that to happen. He sees the woman who welcomed him, and she approaches him with a compassionate smile.

"Don’t worry. It’s hormones. She’s just upset about the situation, but once she’s calm, she’ll talk to you.” She said as she sat beside him, offering him a comforting pat on the back. "Don’t worry about it. I know that you have good intentions."

"How do you know?" He questions down.

"Well, I talked with your mother a few hours ago. She's a very persuasive woman.” She giggles slightly to relax the atmosphere and reassure him. "She cares about you very much."

“You are her mother?”

“Yes." She nods. "You should go see her."

"I don't think it's the right idea. She hates me." He mumbles, wiping a few tears down his cheek.

"She doesn't hate you. She's upset and pregnant, which are two things that don't go together. Knowing my daughter, she’s probably doing a thousand scenarios in her head, so I think you can go and reassure her." She taps his shoulder gently before getting up again. "You have to lift the handle a little to unlock the door. And a little tip, don’t talk too much. Let her open to you.” She winks at him before heading outside.

Mick nods and gets up from the couch. He listens to her choking sobs with his ear glued to the bathroom door. A pinch in the heart invades him, and he unlocks the door without difficulty. She barely has time to look up as he’s already hugged her. Letting her go through her emotions. She wants to struggle and get away from him, but deep down, she doesn’t want to. She allows her tears to stain his sweater. Mick gently cradles her. She feels good in his arms, reminding her of the day he took her in his coat to keep her warm.

Her sobs subside, and her breathing resumes a normal rhythm. She feels her body relax more and more and closes her eyes, happy to have him back by her side. She gently detaches herself from him to take a handkerchief and blow her nose. She laughs and implores him not to watch her blow her nose. He laughs but does what she says, and he looks away.

They remain for a moment in silence, sitting in the bathroom, enjoying the presence of the other. When Mick’s stomach starts to gurgle strongly, she finally decides to get up. He helps her get back on her feet, and she giggles when she hears his belly gurgling. He blushes heavily when he mumbles an apology. She leads him to the kitchen and orders him to sit down. She takes out a pan and removes the pancake preparation that she made a few hours ago from the fridge.

He takes the time to admire her. Her cream hoodie, which he recognizes from the RIC store, suits her perfectly. She seems cozy and warm while the sun sets on the kitchen windows. As always, the light from the mighty sun reflects on her magnificent strawberry blonde. Mick wants to put his hand in her hair and smell that sweet smell of honey again. Her perfume intoxicates him. He's lost in her beauty that he doesn't even realize she talked to him.

"What?" He mumbles, a bit embarrassed to have been cough daydreaming.

"Do you want maple syrup on your pancake?"

He nods, and they eat in silence. Mick thanks her multiple time for her kindness, and she laughs. She finds him sweet. He is sweet. All those things he says and how he tells them makes her heart go. Butterflies in her stomach. She rests a hand on her belly, rubbing it distractedly, listening to Mick mumbling about his recent discovery about their baby.

The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes she hasn't been fair to him either, especially about the baby. She knows they have to talk about it eventually, but right now wants this peace and quiet moment, without drama, to continue forever. She's lost in her thought and hasn't realized he is asking her a question.

"Hum?"

"How is he?" He asks again, pointing at her baby bump.

"Oh, everything is fine. The baby is perfectly healthy and strong and has a strong heartbeat."

"Really?" Mick’s eyes light up, and she smiles affectionately.

"Yeah! Do you want to hear it?"

"Sure." The spark in his eyes makes her smile even more.

She gets her phone and headphone and comes back quickly. She sets the devices on his head and searches her playlist for the baby songs. She hasn't stopped listening to it since the doctor gave her a record.

For a few seconds, he can't hear a thing. But, little by little, the beats are listened to. Regular and strong. Tears of joy appear in his eyes. This is Mick's first time hearing his baby’s heart beating. Even if it’s not live, he is filled with joy. He smiles fully and gently puts his hand against the young woman’s belly. He caresses tenderly and can no longer hold back his tears. The emotion is strong. He never thought he would be so moved by a very small being not yet born. Seeing him move makes her move, and she wipes her tears. She is more than happy to be able to share her moment with him finally. She ties her fingers to his and puts her head against his shoulder.

"Come with me at ROC this weekend." He mumbles once the recording of the heartbeat is finished. "We have much to discuss, but I want you close, and I don't want this to end."

Mick’s heart beats a thousand a second, and his nervousness makes him blush. To reassure himself after this proposal, he caresses his stomach. God, he can’t wait for the baby to move, for him to feel it too.

She hesitates to accept his request and doesn’t want to find herself in a situation she doesn’t like again. And even more, this is a public event, and many people will be there. It’s one thing to meet his family at home and stay in a private setting, but it’s another to make this story public. He feels his hesitation, and he cannot help but add.

"My friend Sebastian is going to be there. I really want you to meet him. It’s like a second father, a mentor to me. And I want him to see the person who’s going to... I hope... share her life with me." He whispers at the end of his sentence, barely inaudible.

Her heart goes wild, and the butterflies in her belly fly away. She feels light and happy. Happy that he offers her. Glad he chose her. Glad she could finally tell “us” after these weeks of loneliness.

"Okay." She says. "I'll go with you."  

Tag list:

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[al-astakbar]

☆ Good and Faithful Service - Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ Good and Faithful Service 

> summary ☆ Grand Admiral Thrawn gets dosed with a powerful aphrodisiac and then trapped in a room with one of his junior officers. She offers to help him through it

> pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [5.1k] ☆ warnings ☆ aphrodisiacs; mildly dubious consent; masturbation; blow job; PIV sex; power dynamics & imbalance; fraternization

> posted on ao3 ☆ 

“Sir,” you try to be discrete about clearing your throat. “Are you sure that’s… safe?”

The Grand Admiral gives you a quelling look and you immediately step back, determinedly not looking anywhere in the direction of your hosts, the rulers of this planet who had offered Grand Admiral Thrawn the drink in the first place.

It seems to be some sort of hospitality ritual, though nothing about the Nevow people is suspicious or threatening. Indeed, everything has gone perfectly to plan so far. The negotiations have been amicably concluded, the Nevow people have reaffirmed their strong loyalty to the Empire, and committed to a 1.5 percent yield increase in yttria mining productivity over three years.

Grand Admiral Thrawn had been very pleased with that. Or, you’re pretty sure he was. After almost a year serving as his aide de camp, he is still as enigmatic and aloof as the day you first reported to his command. Most of the time, you just can’t read him, and you still don’t know if that’s really what he’s like, or his sabacc face is just that good.

It’s been frustrating, to say the least. He is a good boss, you’ve decided, and an outstanding leader. You like serving under him, had even requested the Chimaera as your first duty station after hearing about its accomplishments. You hadn’t expected your assignment as his personal aide. There were rumors aboard the ship that none of his previous aides had lasted longer than three months. Either he had dismissed them, or, if they had connections, they pulled strings to get transferred. You can understand where some of the conflict came from. He has been cold, blunt, and uncompromising. But from the moment he caught you doodling on your flimsi in a meeting, and instead of reprimanding you, he’d nearly smiled, and had given you a quiet compliment in that soft, thoughtful voice… well, perhaps your allegiance is too easy to win. But you are loyal.

You watch him and the Nevow toast, and down their drinks at the same time. Well, whatever was in it, you only have one night left on the planet. Tomorrow, the shuttle will take you back to the Chimaera and you can get a little distance from him. Not that there is much privacy on an Imperial Star Destroyer, even for a mid-grade officer. You share a stateroom with another lieutenant, but this whole trip it’s just been you and the Grand Admiral in suites and generally close quarters, and it is very hard to repress a blossoming crush when you’re at his side every minute of every day and he’s sleeping just in the next room.

He purses his lips. Whatever was in the drink, it looks bracing, and definitely not to his taste. The Nevow Second Undersecretary of Mining and Industry steps forward with an elaborately-wrapped gift.

“And now, Grand Admiral Thrawn, it is our honor to present you with this ewer, fashioned from tempered yttria and embellished with precious sun-stones. This vessel was made in the traditional style of our people, used for our custom of imbibing the galvi root in preparation for the mating ceremony.”

Your gaze flickers to the Grand Admiral for a moment.  Mating ceremony? Slightly odd choice for a diplomatic exchange. If he agrees, he gives no indication. He inclines his head to each of the Nevow leaders in rank-order. “I am honored… it is truly an exquisite example of Nevow craftsmanship and artistry.” He accepts it on behalf of the Galactic Empire, holds it solemnly as they pose for holos, and then it is handed off to a porter to be conveyed to the shuttle.

That’s your cue to approach with the gift the Grand Admiral had selected for the exchange. And it was his choice-- you know for a fact that any other commander of his rank and many lower would have foisted the task on a junior officer. He had delighted in it. He had spent hours poring over dealer listings, researching the Nevow, had asked your opinion on several options, as he had started doing more and more. That had been one point of friction, early on. You deferred too much, when he was really asking for your sincere thoughts. Even if you disagreed or questioned him, he did not punish you. Another odd trait of his, and so starkly different from any other senior officers you’d met.

The Nevow act suitably impressed and appreciative of the set of greenstone swords. You notice that a couple of their party have grown sharp-eyed, watching you and your commander a little too intently. Was the gift inadequate? Or are they looking for some other reaction…

The Second Undersecretary launches into a longer explanation of the ewer, describing its purpose and the significance of the mating ceremony as a religious rite, meant to be a sacrifice of pleasure to the gods.

Grand Admiral Thrawn seems unusually restless. You’ve been around him long enough to know that he has a stillness to him, that even when the Chimaera is getting rocked by salvos of turbolasers and cannons, and enemy fighters are trying to suicide into the bridge, he will stand there, hands behind his back, a center of calm authority in the eye of the storm. Now he’s shifted on his feet not once, but twice. He pulls at the high, stiff collar of his pristine white uniform, as if it’s too tight. When the Second Undersecretary starts in on some rather lurid detail about the joining, you think you see his jaw clench. To be fair, it has you blushing too, watching him wide-eyed until he gives a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised and then you swallow thickly, cheeks flaming even hotter as you quickly look at anything else.

At last, following some final pleasantries and exclamations about how late it is, your hosts bid you goodnight. An honor guard escorts you to your quarters. You follow dutifully along behind the Grand Admiral, noting that this isn’t the right way to get to the suite they had you staying in.

“Sir?” You ask quietly, trying to mask the trepidation in your voice.

“Yes, Lieutenant.” He doesn’t turn to look at you, but you can tell from his tone-- he realizes, too. Of course.

The honor guard brings you to a different set of rooms, not the ones you’d been staying in, with an explanation about the refresher flooding, and water damage. “All of your belongings have been transferred here. We do apologize.”

The guards see you into the new room, then bow and depart, shutting the door behind them.

You go immediately to inspect your things, making sure none of the locks have been tampered with. “Everything appears to be in order, sir. Nothing’s missing.”

The Grand Admiral does not answer. You turn from where you’re kneeling to find him standing there, with all his impressive height, staring down at you. There is a strange intensity in his glowing red eyes, a hunger. Many of your crewmates find his eyes unnerving-- completely red, with no pupils or iris-- it’s impossible to tell exactly where he’s looking. But right now, there’s no mistaking the weight of his regard on you.

He runs his hand through his hair. Another strange gesture. Then he turns away. You move quickly to get out the mobile workstations and datapads, get them set up. He’ll want quiet, and a chance to catch up on work before tomorrow. He thanks you, and then you settle down to your own work at the smaller desk.

This room is stuffy and too small. It seems designed to force its occupants into close quarters. Several times, you glance up to find the Grand Admiral watching you. Intent. Appraising. It’s the same look he gets when he’s studying a newly-acquired piece for his collection. Very rarely, aboard the Chimaera, you’ve caught him looking at you like that, but he’s never been so brazen about it before. You shift in your seat, feeling your cheeks redden and the first blush of arousal heat your core.

You steadfastly ignore it. Ignore the fact that your commanding officer is looking at you like he wants to take you to bed.

You take a deep breath, and try to focus. Focus on anything else besides how darkly handsome he is. Besides how the low light in the room makes his blue skin more vibrant, and how something catches in your chest at the very thought of being attracted to him. How very not-human he is, and how you want to trace your fingers along the strong cut of his jaw, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get. He’s your superior, you keep reminding yourself.

After a time, Grand Admiral Thrawn stands, and you look up to see him unbuckling his service belt, swiftly followed by unfastening his collar clasp and then the sealing strip of his tunic.

You nearly choke. “S-sir?”

His eyes snap up, as if he’d forgotten you were there. “Dismissed, Lieutenant. Get some rest.”

You can’t obey his order any faster, but when you get to the door to the adjoining room, you find it’s locked. Confused, you try it again. “Sir? I’m sorry, but it seems they forgot to unlock the door to the other room.”

His eyes narrow. “Galvi root.”

You look at him, bewildered.

“Galvi root,” he repeats. “Our hosts did not forget. The windows and the door to the hall will be locked as well.”

You stride over to try them. He’s right, of course, but-- “they didn’t take our blasters.”

He lets his eyes slip shut, takes a deep breath and shakes his head slowly. “The primary rare metal export of this planet, Lieutenant,” he prompts you.

Realization and dread sink like a weight in your stomach. “Yttria.” Highly resistant to heat and temperature fluctuations. Perfect to repel blaster fire. Every fixture in the room is probably imbued with it, including the locks and door panels and windows.

“Comms?” You ask hopefully.

“Jammed.”

“... Galvi root?”

He gives another one of his piercing stares. “The ritual, Lieutenant.”

Then, it all clicks, and your voice pitches up at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “They dosed you! To get you to- to carry out some ceremony for their religion?”

“For us to carry it out.”

A shock of desire pulses through you, you can feel it in your chest, pounding in your ears. You cross your legs under the desk, pressing your thighs together, seeking friction.

“It has already…” he pauses, uncharacteristically. Almost flustered. “It has already begun to take effect.”

You can’t help it. You have to look. Beneath the shadow of his open tunic, you can just make out a bulge straining the front of his trousers. He catches you, and raises his eyebrow at you. You quickly stare at your lap, face burning, mortified to even be having this conversation with him.

“I will not-- we will wait. When we don’t return to the Chimaera tomorrow morning, searches will be launched immediately. If not before. We’re expected for morning comms check before our shuttle is scheduled to depart, and when we miss that, Commodore Faro will know something has gone wrong.”

“Sir, are you sure it’s… is it safe to ignore it?”

He fixes you with a knowing look, his voice low and soft. “No, Lieutenant. Are you offering an alternative?”

The words catch in your throat. You could rise. Go to him. Make it clear what you’re willing to do. You sit, keeping yourself very still.

Silence settles, thick and heavy and hot. You wish you could change out of your uniform, but that’s out of the question. You wouldn’t even dare undoing the sealing strip and pinning the flap open to the opposite shoulder like some officers do for a more casual, comfortable look. Never mind that it clearly violates Imperial Navy uniform policy.

The Grand Admiral appears to be meditating. Or at least trying. He is sitting perfectly straight, facing the latticework windows. His eyes are closed, his breathing deep and deliberate. But calm eludes him. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple— you’ve never seen him sweat, had wondered if his species just didn’t— his hands, which he has flat on his thighs, clench into fists.

Then one of his hands shifts, grabs and squeezes the bulge that has only grown more prominent. He stifles a pained groan.

You put aside your embarrassment. You have to say something. “Please, sir. I’ve heard of drugs like this. If you do nothing, it will maim you. The Undersecretary even said—“

“I heard him, Lieutenant.” He lets a beat pass, “You have a suggestion?”

You almost don’t. Can’t believe you’re saying this, but you do anyway, in your most professional, Graduate of Royal Imperial voice. “You should try… taking care of it, sir. With your hand, I mean.  I’ll face the wall and…”

He stares at you, and for a moment you wonder if you’ve gone too far.

Before he agrees or refuses, you get up and do it, going to the farthest corner of the room, which isn’t very far.

Sound carries all too well in the oppressive, still heat of the small room. You hear, almost feel every one of his movements. He gets up, shrugs out of his tunic. Folds it with much less care than he normally does and tosses it on the desk. His rank plaque and epaulets clatter against the wood. More rumpling of fabric, and he quickly takes himself in hand. He exhales in quiet relief and then— flesh on flesh.

You shut your eyes, trying very hard not to imagine what you would see if you turned around. Your commanding officer, brow furrowed, mouth parted in pleasure as he strokes his cock. And that, too, is a singularly intriguing thought. Is he big? Small? Anywhere near human?

You shift on your feet, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. To be standing here listening to him get himself off is one thing, but if he were to see your body’s reaction to it. To him…

Soon, the rhythmic sounds get faster, louder. Harsher. His breath hitches and you can tell that he’s coming and with that realization you feel your resolve fracture against a powerful shock of need.

You listen to his breathing slow and even out, while struggling to keep yourself steady.

You don’t turn around until he tells you. He is more disheveled than ever, pacing in a corner of the small room in his black undershirt. His normally sleek blue-black hair is messy, stranded with sweat.

You track him, drinking in the sight of his tall, powerful build. Well-muscled arms, shoulders, chest, trim waist. Strong legs, which your mind unhelpfully imagines straddling. The Grand Admiral has always cut an imposing figure, but most people only credit his brilliant mind for tactics and strategy even though he is, at his core, a warrior first above all else.

He catches you staring, again, but makes no comment on your open admiration of him. To your surprise, he gives it right back, fixing you with an intent, lustful stare that makes you squirm. He wouldn’t, you tell yourself. He won’t take you to bed. But he’s thinking about it. He’s the first to break the spell, turning away as another spasm of pain wracks his body.

He sits again, resting his elbows on his knees, his shoulders hunched, head bowed. He stays like this, you aren’t sure how long. Whatever jamming they’ve got around the room has also affected your chrono. Long enough that you get worried, and he’s rocking slightly, breathing labored.

“Sir?” He doesn’t answer. Concerned, you finally get up and approach him. He’s still breathing, at least. “Sir?” When again he doesn’t respond, you reach out and very lightly touch his arm.

He open-flexes his hand, then clenches it into a fist. “Don’t.”

You yank your hand away. “Sorry… Did it help?”

He shakes his head slowly. “No. I--” his fingers grasp at his thigh, pulling at the now-rumpled wool  “-- I think it made it worse.”

You digest this for a moment, and then, “can I help?”

Everything seems to stop, to go still and silent. You feel your heart beating in your ears, you’re staring at a spot on the wall across the room but your eyes won’t focus. You’d really gone too far.

When Grand Admiral Thrawn speaks, his smooth, modulated voice has an edge of amusement to it. “You’re proposing fraternization with your commanding officer, Lieutenant.”

“It’s a practical solution to the problem, sir.”

He draws himself up, holding himself with all of his usual commanding bearing, and the effect is not lost on you.  “Tell me precisely what you are offering, Lieutenant. Be explicit.”

You swallow thickly, trying to regain some of your composure. “I-- I’ll…” You look at him helplessly, but get no reprieve. What have you gotten yourself into? “I’ll suck your cock, sir. And if that still doesn’t help with the effects of the drug, you can… you can fuck me.”

He leans back, and you can see the huge bulge in his trousers on full display, his erection straining the fabric. He taps the arm of the chair, a gesture you recognize as him thinking. You’re prepared for rejection, certainly. For the promise of a court martial when you get back to the Chimaera. For how little you, and everyone else really knows about Thrawn, you realize that propositioning him, even with the best intentions, was an extremely foolish idea. You’ve seen him shoot an officer before. Right on the bridge. The question is, have you made an error, or a mistake?

“Very well.” He sits back more, widens his legs.

You gape at him, blinking, before what he said sinks in. Oh. You respond as if it’s any other order he’s given you, anything else he’s entitled to compel you to do as your superior.

You move quickly, with purpose, get in front of him and drop to your knees. “You have permission to remove your tunic, Lieutenant,” he says rather dryly. You do, quickly, grateful to be rid of  the itchy, high collar. Then, you look up once more, reaching for his fly with shaking hands; he nods, his red eyes gleaming as you pop open the buttons and pull the fabric aside. He hisses in sharply as the material drags over his erection.

You pull the material down more, and finally, his cock springs free. You can’t help your quiet gasp and the unprofessional holy shit, sir that escapes you. It’s gloriously long and thick and purple and, when you reach for it, you can’t quite get your fingers all the way around. He shifts again, getting his pants down more to expose his balls, large and heavy. Impulsively, you dip your head to lick them-- he tenses-- you suck on one and his hips jerk up.

The reaction sends another thrill of arousal through you. You switch, laving the hot skin, taking in his taste and scent. Part of it is familiar. The same wool and starch that’s standard throughout the Imperial Navy. The part that is all him is intoxicating, something crisp and wintry and wholly alien.

Though he’s trembling, his control over his own body tenuous, he does not hurry you.

He’s gripping the arms of the chair hard, and when you lick the underside of his erection, he exhales a shuddering breath. You do it again, dragging your tongue up that one prominent vein, tasting his pulse, and you wonder how you’ll fit him all in your mouth. How it’ll feel when-- if-- he fucks you.

You press your thighs together. Take him in your mouth, let him push past your lips and feel the huge, thick weight of his cock on your tongue. You grip him at the base, pumping your hand. Start to bob your head slowly and the Grand Admiral gives a strangled moan.

Your eyes flick up. You’d been steadily not looking, some ridiculous thought about giving him that little bit of privacy, even as you suck him. His gaze is there to meet yours, hooded and glowing and imperious. You hold it, keep moving with the head of his cock sliding over your tongue, feeling utterly filthy. Devoted. Loyal.

You force yourself to take more of his length, deeper, until your mouth is stretched uncomfortably full, until the plush head nudges the back of your throat. You brace your hand on his thigh, which is tense, the hard muscle flexing under your touch. For a moment you worry it’s too forward, too intimate, but he bucks up and groans your name. Not your surname. Not Lieutenant. Your given name.

You choke, spluttering as he starts to thrust up into your mouth.  He says it again, so close to breaking, his usual effortless control over himself and everything around him threatening to crumble. Eyes wide and watering, you look up at him, greedily drinking in his expression as he surges up, fucking your warm, willing mouth, allowing you to serve him in this way.

He loses some internal battle with himself, relents, his hand going to the back of your head, tangling in your hair so he can make full use of you, his balls pressing against your chin. His neck is corded, his chest rising and falling with rapid, jagged breaths. You breathe through your nose, jaw aching, face shiny and slick with drool. Refuse to look away, refuse to close your eyes to him. He seems entranced with the sight of you between his legs, lips stretched wide around his shaft, swallowing his cock.

It doesn’t take him long to come, and he gives you little warning. Only a strained groan and a terse “swallow as much as you can, Lieutenant” and then his movements jerk and stall and he’s coming down your throat. His smell and taste overwhelm your senses, familiarly salty but with something else cool and crisp, and you remember, again, you don’t even know what species he is. You obediently do as he says before you can’t swallow anymore; he overfills your mouth, spurting more and more cum, so much you sputter and choke and pull back, a string of the viscous spend stretching from your lips to his cock. You’ve made a mess, or rather, he has, but you will be the one to clean it up.

Dazed, you lean in, licking his still-hard shaft as he continues to twitch and pulse. You’d swallowed as much as you could, but it had leaked out, dripping down your chin, and on him, already drying sticky and clear on his pants. Some on his polished black jackboots, even.

“Sorry, sir,” you murmur, sitting back on your heels.

Thrawn-- Admiral Thrawn, you remind yourself-- offers no praise or reassurance.

His eyes seem to glow brighter, unnervingly fixed on you, on the debauched mess he’s made of you. Your hair, your cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, his cum all over your mouth and chin. He reaches for your face, swipes some off your chin and offers his thumb to your lips. You suck without thinking and, to your ultimate humiliation, let out a desperate, muffled whimper.

When he withdraws you take a deep, shaky breath, eyes bleary, core throbbing with unmet need. He seems to have recovered his self-control, at least for now, though his cock is still achingly hard. He stands, grabbing it, as if it’s too painful not to touch.

“Did it… help? … sir?” You amend quickly, almost forgetting the honorific.

His jaw works, and he pumps his erection slowly, right there in front of you. You watch his hand, entranced as he slick-slides up and down his shaft. “Undress.”

You nod, unable to reply as proper military bearing dictates. Your hands shake, fumbling with your pants. He does it for you. Sits you on the bed and pulls your boots off one by one. Then undoes your trousers, pulls them off with your standard-issue skivvies. All efficiency, no lingering touches. He pushes your undershirt up over your breasts.

Conflict screams in your mind. That this is wrong, against regulations, that it’s the Grand Admiral and you won’t be able to look at him after this but… Your duty is to him. Your duty is to serve.

You are bare before him. He doesn’t bother shucking his own boots and trousers, but simply crawls over you, and kisses you deeply. You whimper in surprise, and allow his tongue to sweep into your mouth, for him to lay this claim on you as well.

You spread your legs wider for his rutting hips, driven by your need, a drunken, weightless feeling. Your empty cunt clenches in anticipation, he finds the angle where his erection slides over your clit, swallows down your moans and keeps doing it. 

The head of his cock catches your hole-- he slips, you’re tight and so so wet. He breaks the kiss with a growl. Tries again, deliberate and slow, positioning himself and pushing in mercilessly.

It’s too much, his girth splitting you as he works to open you around his thick shaft. You pant, whining with the effort. “Thrawn--”

Too familiar by far, but he huffs gently, almost a smile. He rolls his hips, licks his thumb and presses it to your clit. You gasp, looking down to watch where your bodies are connected. You are close already, each new flush of pleasure opening you more to him, letting you take him deeper, harder, faster.

He pins you down with his well-muscled weight, makes you take all of his massive cock, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. The tight little circles on your clit drive your need higher, tighter, sharpening to a singular point and then you’re coming with a quiet, desperate little sound, waves of pleasure radiating from your core as you clench and flutter around him. Thrawn follows a second later, hitching your legs up, pressing your knees to your shoulders. He buries himself deep in your pussy, grinding relentlessly as he pumps his cum into you. Fills you up, more than you can take, just as he had your mouth. This, too, you can feel leaking out, sticky on your thighs.

He sighs and pulls out. Sated for now, barely. You lie there, breathless, turning your head to follow him as he goes to get a cup of water. He brings one to you before drinking himself. A small gesture. Senior officers always eat last after crew and junior officers.

He lets you rest for a time before taking you again, and after another respite, a third time, chasing his release over and over. By the fourth, you are too fucked out and exhausted to hold yourself up. He arranges you as he pleases, face down and prone on the bed. You cant your hips up for him and he climbs over you, sinking into you easily with an obscene, wet sound. He kicks your legs wider, lets his thrusts take him deeper until he’s driving into you with long, full strokes and all you can do is submit.

You wonder how long it has been for him. How long since he’s had a partner, or permitted himself this kind of indulgence. You can sense him giving in to some darker, wilder part of his nature. The instinct to possess, and mark, and dominate. You’ve seen hints of it before, very briefly. His sometimes brutal pragmatism. His cold calculus that would always find the most advantageous solution, even at the cost of lives. If he wanted to, he could just collect art. Instead he chose rank. He chose power.

Any shred of his self control is long gone. His movements are rough, he’s given over to a feverish lust. He pounds into you as if your body belongs to him, as if you’re nothing but a hole, something warm and wet for him to fuck. Still, the pleasure rises in you again, all of it has made you unbearably sensitive.

You moan into the sheets, helpless and wanton, giving yourself over to him and letting him use your body. He holds you down when you cry out, stretching you to your limit. You don’t struggle. Just take his cock as he reams you, as another climax starts to overtake you, harsh and hot and raw. Thrawn growls when he feels you. Accepts your good and faithful service and pushes into you deep deep deep and stills there so you feel his hot spurts of cum fill you up and overflow.

He pulls out with a slick sound. Empty again, you twitch and spasm, pushing some of his cum out, making it drip down your used, swollen cunt. You can feel his gaze lingering there. He likes what he’s done, likes the sight of it. For a moment, you imagine yourself not as his aide, not as a junior officer under his command but as a piece on display in his collection. Something prized and fascinating. Another time he might lay you out and touch you for hours, curious as to how long he could stimulate and tease you before you break.

Eventually, you drift quietly to sleep, and awaken under the covers. The light in the room has changed. Morning. The Grand Admiral is fully dressed, seated in an armchair with a steaming cup of caf and his datapad.

“We are free to go,” he says without looking up from his reading. You hear the unspoken command and get up immediately and get dressed, gathering your tunic and trousers and boots from where they’re scattered around the room. Again, he does not bother to look up.

Once on the shuttle, you aren’t sure how to act normal. He speaks to you as he always has, with quiet, direct instructions. You do your best but all you can think of is him telling you to swallow as much as you can. You look down at your uniform and find a dried blot of his cum on your pants. Shit. You try to scratch it off.

“Lieutenant.” The Grand Admiral’s voice cuts into your thoughts rather sharply.

“Yes, sir.” You sit up, properly chastised. It’s not like you to be inattentive, and he gives you a stern look before continuing.

“The galvi root. It has great potential as a bioweapon, of sorts, but will need further study. I obtained a sample before we left.”

You nod, dutifully noting all of this down.

“I’ll need you to test it, Lieutenant.”

“But I… it… alone?” Is all you can manage.

“No. Set aside twelve hours or so in my schedule.” His voice goes cool and soft. Full of promise. “Not to worry, Lieutenant. I will be there to see you through it.”

//

☆ link to part 2

[odinsblog]

“All this happening at once is really startling,” said Joseph Schwieterman, a DePaul University professor who researches intercity bus travel and directs the university’s Chaddick Institute for Metropolitan Development. “You’re taking mobility away from disproportionately low-income and mobility-challenged citizens who don’t have other options.”

Roughly three-quarters of intercity bus riders have annual incomes of less than $40,000. More than a quarter would not make their trip if bus service was not available, according to surveys by Midwestern governments reviewed by DePaul University.

Intercity bus riders are also disproportionately minorities, people with disabilities, and unemployed travelers.

A spokesperson for Greyhound, which is now owned by German company FlixMobility, said it strives to offer customers the most options for connections, but has “encountered challenges in some instances.” The spokesperson also said they “actively engage with local stakeholders to emphasize the importance of supporting affordable and equitable intercity bus travel.”

The terminal closures have been accelerating as Greyhound, the largest carrier, sells its valuable terminals to investors, including investment firm Alden Global Capital.

Last year, Alden subsidiary Twenty Lake Holdings purchased 33 Greyhound stations for $140 million. Alden is best known for buying up local newspapers like The Chicago Tribune, New York Daily News and The Baltimore Sun, cutting staff, and selling some of the iconic downtown buildings.

Alden has started to sell the Greyhound depots to real estate developers, speeding up the timetable for closures.

“I don’t know the specific details of each building, but it is clear what is happening here: an important piece of transit infrastructure is being sacrificed in the name of higher profits,” said Stijn Van Nieuwerburgh, a professor of real estate at Columbia Business School.

“The public sector has turned a cold shoulder to buses,” DePaul’s Schwieterman said. “We subsidize public transit abundantly, but we don’t see this as an extension of our transit system. Few governments view it as their mandate.”

Bus terminals are costly for companies to operate, maintain and pay property taxes on. Many have deteriorated over the years, becoming blighted properties struggling with homelessness, crime and other issues.

But terminal closures cause a ripple effect of problems.

Travelers can’t use the bathroom, stay out of the harsh weather or get something to eat while they wait. People transferring late at night or early in the morning, sometimes with long layovers, have no place to safely wait or sleep. It’s worse in the cold, rain, snow or extreme heat.

Bus carriers often try to switch to curbside service when a terminal closes, but curbside bus service can clog up city streets with passengers and their luggage, snarl traffic, increase pollution, and frustrate local business owners. In Philadelphia, a Greyhound terminal closure and switch to curbside service after its lease ended turned into a “humanitarian disaster” and “municipal disgrace” with people waiting on street corners.

(continue reading)

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Black eyed & Blue ||

Chapter 1 - Skull & Crossed Wires

Frank Castle x Female Reader/OC

Notes: I'm posting this first short chapter in my Frank Castle and female OC/reader mini series in the hope that it will spur me on to finish it! I have some other chapters written already just need to get them where I want them and write some more. 😊

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, biting, general vampire themes, fluff & smut, frank being protective, Matt makes an appearance.

Please comment and let me know what you enjoy or would like to see as the story develops and I'll see what I can do!

Frank managed to limp his van to the nearest garage before it crapped out entirely. He had cleared it out after his latest 'road trip' back at the safe house. It wouldn't do any good if the mechanics found any of his arsenal…

He left them with the keys and said he'd check back in a couple of days. Leaving a cell number was out of the question too, he still wasn't quite comfortable leaving much of a trace even if he was now 'Pete'.

He walked up to the shop office two days later, hopeful he could throw down a few hundred and get going. A fraught looking gangly guy was having an in-depth discussion on the phone as he entered. He passively waved Frank in the direction of the garage floor, pulling the phone away from his mouth and yelling towards the doorway.

"Blue! Customer!"

Frank gave him a semi-polite nod and headed through the side door where his van was jacked up, a pair of dark blue Converse sticking out from underneath.

"Uh, right. Guess it ain't ready yet." Frank ventured.

"No shit Sherlock." A voice came from below.

"Can see why you got Shaggy on the front desk there, customer service ain't your thing huh?"

The feet peddled their way out from under the van to reveal a woman with her hair tied up out of her face with a blue bandana. She had an oil-smudged face, and chipped sky blue nail polish on her fingers. Her mouth dropped open as she pushed herself up and took in the figure of Frank standing over her.

"Oh fuck- I mean, shit! Damn! Fuck!" She winced. "I'm really sorry mister… thought you were Ray winding me up again. Sorry, I'm trying not to cuss as much but, um…"

Frank couldn't help the sly smile from spreading across his lips.

"Think you're doin' well enough. Don't you worry about it. Maybe uh, you can gimme an idea when she'll be ready?"

She got to her feet, wiping her oily hands on her dirty coveralls, which were also blue.

"Well, that's the thing. I'm still waiting for a part to come. I woulda called you to let you know but, uh, you didn't leave a number so…

"Yeah, don't have a phone." He scratched at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Kinda hate all that tech shit y'know."

"Wow. Well, okay old man, I'm not sure exactly when it'll arrive, our supplier is vague at the best of times, I really wanna find someone better but…"

Frank couldn't help grumbling a little. He was keen to get back on the road, after all, biker gang ass wasn't gonna kick itself. "Then I guess 'i'll just keep comin' back every day till she's ready."

Blue smiled politely. "Once it's here I'll get it fixed as fast as I can but if you refuse to have a phone like us regular people I guess that's just what you'll have to do. See you tomorrow then?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah. See ya tomorrow."

The next day Frank dropped by the garage late afternoon, he'd had a particularly rough night chasing down some dregs of the Dogs of War that refused to go down easily.

"Jeez, what the heck happened to you?" Blue asked, looking up and seeing the dark bruises around his eyes as she heard him come in. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking? Those are some shiners."

"Walked into the side of the door when I got up during the night to piss. Bein' how I'm an 'old man' an all," Frank deadpanned back.

"No shit. You gotta be more careful, looks a bit like someone belted you right in the kisser!"

Frank shrugs.

"To be honest I wouldn't be too surprised if they had. Don't take this the wrong way but you've kinda got one of those punchable looking faces, mister..?"

"It's uh, Pete." Frank replies with a slight chuckle, only slightly offended. "And is that so?"

She holds out her oily hand for him to shake. "Hi Mister Pete. They call me Blue. And yeah, I mean you're real good looking and all but-" she stopped as Frank shook his head and laughed.

"Jeez, I really gotta stop running my mouth around strangers! I am so sorry…"

Frank holds up both hands giving her a smile, it had been a while since he had laughed as much. "Hey, no worries. Punchable and good lookin'? I'll take it. So, Blue, huh? No need for me to ask why I guess. "

She returns the smile, scuffing the toe of her shoe into the ground shyly. "I just like the colour."

Frank clears his throat. "So uh, there any news on that part yet?"

"Oh! Yeah, um it might be tomorrow but…"

"Might not?" Frank finishes with a slightly tense shrug.

"Yeah, really sorry about this, Pete. I'd even go as far as to offer you a free coffee in apology but our machine's bust, and even if it was working it tastes crap anyway."

"Don't worry about it. Alright well, guess I'll seeya tomorrow again."

Blue gave him a little wave. "Yeah, seeya tomorrow Old Man, hope I've got some good news for you then."

Frank just shakes his head, smiling to himself as he leaves the garage and sets off back home.

The next day, when Frank turns up, Blue's face is bright with the biggest smile, and it only got brighter as she saw what 'Pete' had in his hands.

"Hey!" She greets him animatedly and it makes him feel a little warmer inside.

Frank nods then hands her one of the carryout cups of coffee he has. "Hey, didn't know how you take it but I got some sugar and milk here too if you want, seeing as your machine is broken an all."

Blue beams, her fingers brushing briefly over his as she accepts it. "Oh, thank you so much! And no, that's great, straight up is perfect, so kind of you, thanks Pete!"

Frank shrugs. "S'nothin'."

She takes a hearty sip and then remembers what she was about to say. "Good news by the way, the part arrived this morning! I'm about to get on it right now, shouldn't take too long if you don't mind waiting?"

Frank nods, finding a space to sit nearby. "Yeah, sure, if you don't mind me watching you work."

She disappears under the van. "Actually, gives me the chance to ask what the hell you've been putting this poor van through, you gotta take more care of her if you don't want to run her into the ground."

Frank huffed. "Yeah, just been real busy, y'know, and my work takes me all kinds of places, some uh, rough terrain."

"What kind of business are you in Pete?"

He scratches the stubble under his chin. "Uh, removals, pest control, odd jobs. That kinda stuff."

"A Pete of all trades?" Blue suggests, and Frank has to laugh.

"Yeah," again he feels the rare smile stretch his face as he strokes his stubbled jaw. "Somethin' like that."

It wasn't till later, when he was on the road again rummaging through the glovebox for the map when his hand landed on the tin of sweets. He took them out, curious seeing the note stuck to the lid.

'Something to sweeten you up, old man :)

-Blue'

He chuckles to himself as he opens the tin and takes a candy.

[mins-fins]

☆ 2 DO NOT GIVE JISUNG FIRE!

❝ DO NOT BLOW UP THE STORE! ❞

⌗ NOTE 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 you literally do not get how exciting this all is to write for me like i am enjoying this so much 🙁 if you havent already watch superstore i took most of the inspiration for this fic from the whole show 🙏 dream my loves ugh 😖 (especially renjun my wife 💔)

⌗ WORD COUNT 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 1.4k

⌗ PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

TRYING TO KEEP EVERYONE IN ORDER HAS STRESSED YOU OUT EXTENSIVELY.

now, usually you consider yourself a surprisingly patient person. no matter the situation, you can always somehow find enough calmness left in your system to not snap and simply keep yourself tranquil enough that you don't go completely batshit crazy and proceed to take it out on everyone in the room that made you mad and lose your cool in the first place.

even then, that is a pretty rare occurrence, you've only ever really lost your cool one certain time—

but now it seems like everybody is out to get for some reason.

you had been left in charge by your ever so sweet boss, and it's now that your here you wish you genuinely tried to oversleep. your not sure why instead of asking the, i don't know, SEVEN OTHER PEOPLE that they see around the store in the same uniforms, customers resort to walking up to you, while they see your doing something with another customer, and still decide to ask you for directions.

the amount of times you've sworn in your mind today is immaculate.

and it's not even noon yet.

"excuse me? where do you guys keep the mugs?"

you stare at the shorter woman blankly, not even having to think about it. "aisle five, when you take a right they'll be right there".

"oh thank you!"

you just give her your signature customer service smile, hoping she doesn't notice the clear bags under your eyes. you glance down at your watch and for once, are suddenly full of relief.

 a break! finally a break!

and it may be a measly 30 minute one but it is a break and that's all you've been needing for the past four and a half hours. you feel like your about to fall asleep as you shuffle your way towards the staff room.

"you look like you've been through hell" jaemin comments as soon as you walk in, a look of playfulness crosses his face instead of the concern you hoped he would've shown you.

oh who are you kidding? jaemin would rather die before he showed any kind of seriousness at his workplace..

"i need to sleep" you don't even try to acknowledge the comment he just made, instead letting yourself fall into renjun's arms as you close your eyes.

"you need to eat".

"no, the only break we have in the whole work day is obviously for sleep" you mumble as you make yourself comforting in your roommates hold. renjun doesn't try to argue with you, just pats your back and lets you lay on him.

"can you even get a quality sleep in thirty minutes?"

"anything can happen in thirty minutes" you say as if it's one of those stupid movie quotes people put on pinterest. "now stop talking na jaemin you have a job to do".

"yeah yeah whatever boss".

jaemin doesn't escape the sharp glare you give him through your right eye before closing them once again. you hear the sarcastic laugh he lets out before he exits the room, making sure to slam the door behind him for extra effect.

"okay so how has it been? trying to find other jobs?"

now that it was just the two of you in the room, renjun decided that now was the best time to bring up what's been troubling you pretty much all week. you try your best to pretend that you don't hear him, and that's when renjun decides to pinch you.

"ow! really!?"

"you need to do something eventually! you're really not going to work here for the rest of the year are you?"

the question makes you frown, yeah you've had this job for what seems like forever and it's been a good year now, but working on this random retail place isn't going to work out forever, and obviously, it isn't going to pay all your expenses.

you've worked three jobs at the same time before, but working only one on the weekends is the only shot you have because your weekdays are full of essays (for some particular reason), and your at the college pretty much all day, so what free time do you even have anymore?

"of course i'm not, but you know how things are, people say their hiring when they're not actually hiring and even when you do apply they don't come back to you for like two weeks and when they do it's 'oh sorry this position is no longer available'!"

renjun has gotten used to listening to your frustrated rants, you really don't mean to suddenly just drop them on him, but he's always willing to listen to you, give you advice on stuff that you weren't really thinking about, but had been tucked away into the back of your mind.

he just knew you, he knew you better than anyone else.

"well there must be someone that wants to hire.."

"yeah but i'm not really sure how yoon would feel about me suddenly having to dedicate time to other jobs".

"you could always, quit this one".

the suggestion makes you look at renjun like he just cursed your bloodline. "if i quit then it's 'oh y/n what's wrong you can't be a responsible student?' and all types of ridicule from my family who refuse to help me pay off at least half my tuition even though they can and then continue to complain when i cut them off!"

okay so now your getting mad, you quickly take a deep breath and stop yourself from shouting, because you cannot lose your cool at a time like this. "i'll try, but i also don't wanna risk it, you know?"

renjun knows, unfortunately. compared to everyone else, you have the least amount of luck at finding other jobs if you end up quitting this one, despite the fact that you probably have the fullest resume, that seems to not matter to future employers (it does, but for some reason they enjoy passing the blind eye when it comes to you).

"yes i know" renjun hears that familiar weary sigh escape your lips, and he crosses his legs. "but, at some point, this job is gonna ruin you mentally, you have to know when enough is enough".

you pause, then slowly sit up and cross your arms. you open your mouth to respond to his statement, but then you pause, turning your head towards the door. "do you smell something burning?"

renjun blinks, then his eyes widen as he looks over at you. "yes?"

you immediately, once again, curse in your mind.

your just having the best day aren't you?

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"

you usually never curse at jisung, you have no idea why you seemed to like him extra compared to everyone else. maybe you love him more since he's the youngest of the team, or maybe he's just good at convincing you into things, your not exactly sure, but right now, you are pissed off, your not sure what's coming over you at this very moment, but your definitely not happy with jisung at the moment, that's for sure.

jisung opens his mouth to answer but closes it, and you narrow your eyes at him.

"fireworks inside? really!?"

"it wasn't on purpose!"

"what— what made you think that was a good idea!?" you don't mean to yell, but you are just so frustrated, because why would anybody think it was a good idea to do that!? it's at times like these that you wonder is this job is even worth all the trouble.

"i'm sorry! okay? i didn't mean for the situation to get out of hand!"

"maybe you should've been paying attention then!"

you look like your about to kill him with the way your glaring, but you take in a deep breath, and close your eyes. you are being just a little too hostile, and you probably look like an absolute crazy person right now.

good god you feel conflicted.

"i'm sorry" you whisper, crossing your arms. "i didn't mean to yell at you".

"i'm just.. i'm looking out for you, really".

jisung nods, he knows you just want the best for him, all the time he does stupid stuff and your always there to take the blame for him, especially when he first joined the job. you both know how yoon is, and you just don't want him to get in trouble and potentially another strike.

"i know" he mutters. "i'm sorry".

you sigh.

you wonder how long it'll take until you lose your sanity in this place.

[magicagrove]

Wolfs Instinct: ZakuMint one shot

Written by SugoiGrove (me)

The hustle and bustle of cafe mew mew was growing steadily everyday. Things were busier than usual and that went double for chimera anima attacks.

To broken glass and Retasu’s muttering apologies, to Purins dinner and entertainment. The place didn’t change.

Giving a side glance, the strawberry haired waitress had a displeased look on her face. One she always wore but it was more intense. As Ichigo held a full tray in her hands, she tried not to let her sour attitude spoil the sweetness of the parfait on her tray. Staring at Mint while customers were trying to flag her down, Ichigo huffed.

The high class lady sat at her table with a calm exterior. Drawing out her porcelain tea cup, she lifted the cup to her mouth with her pinky to hover just below. Sighing with an amount of satisfaction, she let the warm sensation of the tea refresh her.

“Mint!” Ichigo hissed as she barged up to the table. As Ichigo hounded Mint for slacking especially during such a busy day, the lavender haired waitress walked out from the kitchen with a full tray in hand.

As her eyes skimmed the floor, she spotted Ichigo nagging Mint like the usual. Zakuro’s performance in the cafe wasn’t spectacular but she worked hard. With a stoic look on her face, she walked up to a table with an order. The customers silenced their conversation as Zakuro’s uncomfortable glares made their stomach churn.

Muttering a nervous greeting, Zakuro placed the dessert on the table and walked away. Overhearing some unusual chatter from another table, she stopped to peer at a table with two males dressed in school uniforms.

Spying on them from afar, they had an odd smile about them. As they threw glances occasionally in a certain direction, Zakuro glanced at their curiosity. Staring across the room, Ichigo badgering Mint about her tea time was what caught the two males attention.

Staring at their body language, it was clear to her that they were curious about the navy blue haired girl. Staring back and forth between Mint and the school boys, Zakuro felt a strange feeling overcome her.

Finally, after Ichigo’s constant nagging, Mint set down her cup of tea and pulled out from her table.

“Fine, if it’ll get you to stop bugging me. Besides, seeing Oneesama work so hard has me motivated!” She added with a gleam in her eye.

“Whatever puts you to work” Ichigo sighed. As Mint picked up a tray, she was suddenly flagged down by the innocent school boys.

“Miss!” They exclaimed. As Mint took notice of the customer, she put on service with a smile and went to work (for once)

As Zakuro looked upon their nervous smiles as Mint took their order, she felt an odd twinge in her eye.

“Zakuro..” Ichigo added nervously. Ichigo, Purin and Retasu stared at her as she exuded a fearsome aura.

“Ichigo” Zakuro added with a deep voice. Ichigo flinched from having been called in such a deep voice. “Can you help me with something?”

Meanwhile, Mint was flustered at the customers advances but tried to stay neutral.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Can I have your number”

Those were certain advances Mint wasn’t particularly used to. During her dance performances, she had fans and people who looked at her with adoration. But none so forward as them.

Denying more advances, Mint was starting to get a little annoyed. Mint wasn’t afraid to kick someone out for misbehaving but surely that would be the last resort.

“Is there anything on the menu you’d like?” She asked.

“That depends” The school boy added “Are you-“

The conversation was suddenly put to a scary halt as a tray slammed on the surface of the table. The school boys looked on nervously as Mint was quite stunned for words.

With an eerie glare in her eye, Zakuro had slammed on the table what appeared to be two parfaits dressed in an odd sauce.

“O-oneesama?” Mint inquired. It took a lot of strength out of Zakuro to not go full mew mew and kick them out.

“Here you go. Two mayonnaise and ketchup parfaits” Zakuro added with a monotone voice. The two boys were honestly too scared and confused to argue with her as she looked as if she could break their limbs.

“Eh?” Mint inquired.

“W-we didn’t order-“

“It’s on the house” She snapped as she glared daggers at them. The two boys looked on with disgust at the parfait, but too afraid to say no, they quietly thanked her.

As Zakuro turned away from the table, Mint looked back at the boys to see them forcing down a parfait with sour condiments. Meanwhile, Zakuro glanced at the other girls who witnessed the whole thing.

“Ichigo, did you have anything to do with that?” Retasu asked. The strawberry haired girl winked and shushed.

“Zakuro-neechan is jealous~!” Purin exclaimed out loud.

Meanwhile, Mint was absolutely flabbergasted at the scene that just unfolded. Mint however, paid no attention to the two boys who were clearly struggling to keep down the odd flavoured parfait.

[jeonvein]

| genre: thriller, romance.

| extras: this story follows my book version of this. The names Garam and Jungseok will be changed. Jungseok becomes Jungkook and Garam is Y/n. For the fanfiction version everything will be changed to fit it.

| trigger warning: child abuse, abuse, violence, murder, cannibalism,

Chapter 1: Y/n Pov

"How long am I required to work today?" I asked my manager who was sitting just inches away from the counter where the register was placed. I had just clocked in to my shift not knowing that my other boss left a note wanting me to work an extra shift because people hadn't shown up.

My manager shifted slightly into her seat, sighing heavily. "I honestly don't know. Seyoon barely comes to work and when she does, she begs other people to take her shift."

I chuckled lightly. "I know Seyoon is very unique."

"I wouldn't say unique, she has a habit of laying people off. Why I would rather have you work the hours I do than work her hours."

Eunae had been my manager for some time. She's been very helpful while I was struggling with money problems that had affected my family upon moving to Tongyeong-si. I moved to stand in front of the register that is next to Eunae. She didn't move an inch in her seat but she looked extremely exhausted.

"You should head home, Eunae."

"My shift isn't over just yet."

"You look exhausted, Eunae."

Eunae laughed. "It is part of customer service especially in a coffee shop." She stood up, wiping down her apron. "Our jobs ain't cheap."

I chuckled lightly. "You got that right."

Eunae was right, sometimes serving customers here at the coffee shop was exhausting mentally and physically especially if these customers were being rude to the employees causing more stress onto us and the managers. That was the only bad thing that I could think about being here in this small city.

There were a lot of memorizing sights like the small fountain placed just inches away from the coffee shop. I loved to stare at it during my breaks, it helps clear my mind most days. I've been offered multiple jobs by multiple different people, I even had one person offer me $200 a week to be a stripper at their club but I respectfully declined them.

Luckily, the coffee shop was just enough for me and I was offered great staff for the most part.

"Y/n, how is the landlord acting today?"

"Bad, He basically told me I have a month to earn at least 1318000 won or we would be kicked out of the house."

Eunae sighed heavily. "Your mom is still not helping?"

"Not that much, she barely works while she is telling me to get two jobs while dealing with my father's illness."

"If I could let you stay with me I would but I am about to get an apartment of my own."

"I wish but It is what the world is, Eunae." I started counting the money in the register to make sure we had enough to give back to the customers who paid with $5 dollar bills and even $10's.

I was already mentally preparing myself for homelessness, knowing how much of a risk I will be to diseases and even an illness that has affected my father. I am praying in my heart that I will be able to make enough money to last another month or I may have to beg our landlord to extend it even further since we cannot make it to the pay day.

I placed the money in the register, closing it upon hearing quickened footsteps coming closer towards me. I looked in that direction to see who it was and to my surprise it was Hwayoung. She was breathing heavily, holding a piece of paper tightly in her hands.

"Hwayoung, you okay?" Eunae turned around to look at her, seeing her messy hair and sweat upon her clothes. She huffed and slammed the piece of paper onto the counter, making both Eunae and I jump.

"Damn Hwa, You didn't have to slam it on the counter like that."

She was still heaving trying to catch her breath. "Give me" She sucked in the air around her. "Two seconds."

Both Eunae and I laughed. It was nice to see Hwayoung at the start of such a stressful shift. There were not enough words to express the love I have for Hwayoung but I think having her in my life was enough to express that.

There was visible sweat built up on her forehead as we watched her catch her breath before standing up straight. Eunae and I raised an eyebrow at her, curious on what got her running towards us in excitement.

"You had a good run Hwa?"

"Amazing run! My body is pumping full of adrenaline."

"We can tell." I laughed.

"Well, It is not just about the run."

"Then what is it about that has gotten you so excited?"

"That piece of paper!" She exclaimed, pushing this unknown paper closer to me.

"Is it for me?"

"Yes it is! I know how much you have been needing 1318000 won by the end of the month so I did something exciting!"

I looked towards Eunae, still confused about this. Eunae shrugged her shoulders and pointed to me to pick up the piece of paper and read it. I reached over picking up the paper and bringing it close to my face to start reading it.

"You signed me up at an orphanage?" I didn't even read the full thing when I came across the name of the orphanage at the top of the paper. "Jungsik's orphanage" plastered in bold and eye-catching font.

"I did!" Hwayoung shouted, causing some of the customers that were already in the coffee shop to look her way.

"Hwayoung let's not shout, you're disturbing the customers." Eunae explained sternly, signing to the customers that she is handling it.

"I'm sorry, I am just so excited." Hwayoung slightly turned towards the customers, bowing 90 degrees before standing straight.

"But back to the orphanage, how did you sign me up without me being there?"

"It was easy, I saw an application online last night and went to visit it this morning. When I came in, I asked for the job applications. The old lady at the desk gave it to me to fill out as she was thinking I was signing up and I just put your name."

"You basically committed fraud Hwayoung.." Eunae held her laugh.

"Did I?.." Hwayoung took a second to think about it.

"I mean the thought is what matters in the end right?" I shrugged.

One thing about this paper is that the orphanage does look legit but maybe I should look up during my break today to see if I can find its location on the maps. I was still a little bit suspicious about how quickly Hwayoung got the job for me but maybe they were desperate for workers that they took anyone.

"Hwa, How did you get this job so quickly?"

"I have my ways." She smirked towards me and Eunae laughed, hitting my shoulder lightly.

"They owed her money."

"That is not trueee."

"Then what is it hmm? I mean Y/n is right, she shouldn't have gotten that job so easily."

Hwayoung hummed. "What the lady at the front desk told me is that they were actually looking into Y/n. They didn't know what she looked like quite yet but they were going to offer her a job so It was convenient I turned up there and used Y/n's name."

"Which I still can't believe you did."

"Hey I mean I got you a job right!"

I shook my head. "Correct."

"In a weird way but It does work for Y/n." Eunae sat back down in her chair as Hwayoung got closer to us to let people who just came inside of the coffee shop by.

"Make sure to read the whole thing Y/n, if you don't read the whole thing you will miss something and let the company be allowed to rip you off of a job if they wanted to instead of giving you any benefits."

I nodded my head, moving my eyes back onto the piece of paper. I made sure to imprint every inch of information that was said on this piece of paper just in case the company decided to try to lie to me. While I was doing that, my eyes came across another bolded message near the end.

'DO NOT: Do not come at night, throw out your personal feelings before you enter our orphanage'

I didn't understand what It meant or the hidden meaning behind this message. This new boss was definitely like leaving warnings which was normal in this working industry. After that bolded warning, there was a list of potential risks while working at the orphanage.

There were mentions of missing children and the environment of the place causing injuries to the workers which I could understand since I assumed it was in place since the 1900's. I was really glad they told the risks and even mentioned that all injuries are paid for by the orphanage.

Thank god I didn't have to pay for another hospital bill.

I read the application over one more time, allowing it all to seep into my brain. Then I placed the paper down on the counter. Hwayoung pointed at a small line towards the bottom of the paper right after the potential risks section.

"Do make sure you sign it. He can't officially let you be an employee there until you agree to the terms and risks of working there."

I squinted my eyes at the paper finally seeing the small smudged line. I can't believe I didn't see it before. I went to reach for a pen that was placed in one of the cups just right of the register. I moved my head down near the paper before signing it with my signature.

I should have thought twice about applying but they seemed promising with the amount of work they would give and health benefits if anything happens to me while working. I do like that I will be taking care of children which is one of my best qualities. My Aunt always said I was good at taking care of young toddlers.

I went to put the pen back in the cup holder when the bell from the front door rang loudly. A large family came into the shop and stood behind Hwayoung looking at our menu. There were a couple of children with them and they seemed well behaved.

My gaze moved back towards Hwayoung when she practically jumped over the counter to wrap her arms around me to dig her knuckles into my head playfully.

"I knew you would do it! I am always such a good friend!"

"I need the money but thanks Hwayoung." I laughed lightly.

"You're so welcome! I'mma head back towards the dance studio see you both then!" Hwayoung sent us goodbye air kisses before walking past the family behind her to leave the shop.

I sometimes wonder how me and her are friends sometimes but It wasn't my worry at the moment. I just had to get through my shift right now and tonight at this orphanage. I am hoping they are really nice to me.

—––———–––

It reached 6 pm right on the dot. The clock that was set up in Eunae's spot went off reminding her and me that It was our time to go home. I finished with the last customers who came in and ordered their late night coffees. I understood completely why some of them needed it that bad since work drains a person mentally.

Then I placed my apron onto the wall hanger in the break room near the door. Once I finally clocked out, my other manager Seyoon entered the break room. She grinned towards me, placing a hand on her hip.

"Are you taking my shift?"

"I'm sorry Seyoon but I have to go to my other job."

"Other Job? Who else would hire you?" Seyoon snickered out.

I took a step back from the door when I noticed Eunae entering the break room. Eunae looked towards Seyoon before clocking out herself.

"Seyoon, please make sure the coffee shop is closed correctly this time. I don't think we can handle another complaint."

Seyoon chuckled. "I think I was just about to leave, right Y/n?"

"Not really, you have to do your job, Seyoon. I'll see you tomorrow Eunae." I smiled towards Eunae as I pushed past Seyoon who was blocking the entrance.

I started heading towards the bus station just down the street from the coffee shop. It was not a long walk and it was nice to enjoy the breeze that flowed by everyday. When I reached the area, I went to look at the map to see if I could find this orphanage and ask the driver if they could take me out that far.

I placed my finger on the map to point at where I was before looking around for 'jungsik orphanage'. For a couple of minutes I couldn't find it. It was making me think that maybe this place wasn't real but I decided to pull out my phone and go on google Maps to help me out.

When I found it on google, I saw the bus pulling up to the station. I kept a right grip on my purse before getting into the bus. I stopped in front of the bus driver to hand him some money.

"I also have a question sir."

"Hmm?"

"Do you have a station out near Jungsik Orphanage?"

The bus driver looked at me with a weird smirk on his face for a split second before his face went back to normal.

"Yes we do sweetheart, now go wait your turn."

I took a step back, concerned about what I just saw from the bus driver's face. I sighed internally.

Y/n, it is just your imagination.

I hope it was, everything about this night seemed off. When I sat down, the bus driver had already hit two other stops before driving off. While I was waiting, I decided to call my mother and tell her that I found my second job. I know she would be proud about me working instead of coming home.

I dialed her number hoping for a response but It just went straight to voicemail. I sighed lightly, not letting myself think about my mother more than I have to. I didn't want to bother her while she was trying to take care of my father. My mother was starting to get protective of me and I think it is because she knows my father may not make it. I am hoping he does but fate is not always on my side.

The bus reached the orphanage allowing me to get off. I looked straight ahead, seeing the big orphanage in the distance illuminating with the sunset. I should head over to it before I run out of light. I quickly ran towards the orphanage reaching the front yard, that is when I noticed the huge moss growing on the bricks and even the brown burn spots on the green grass just inches from the place.

I decided to take a minute to look up the history of this place. From what I know, the orphanage was built during Emperor Hyo's reign over korea. Which did make sense with its structure and the wood looking rotten. However, I was starting to get a little bit nervous with the human-like burn marks on the walls.

They were in the shape of bodies along with words like "save us, help us, they are hurting us" written in white chalk. I managed to head inside of the orphanage where it looked mostly up to date with the time period. The feeling of the carpet underneath my feet still had its softness while some areas were brittle.

I noticed the hallways were being lit by candles nailed into the walls which added to the swift draft of the wind. While walking down one of the hallways, I stopped in my tracks upon seeing stabbing marks. Some of the marks had a splotch of blood on it.

I think I may go home.

No Y/n, you need this job.

The hell I do.

It was a battle with my mind. I needed to leave, there were obviously better jobs out there than this. I rushed back towards the reception area where a young woman was apparently waiting on me near the entrance.

"You are Mrs.Heo Y/n correct?"

"Um, yes that is correct."

"Great." She walked towards the reception desk with a clipboard. "I am going to need that paper that you were supposed to sign."

Right. The application.

I pulled out the application from my purse, handing it to her. She took the paper from me, reading it to make sure I followed all of the instructions. The young girl put the paper on the wooden desk before picking up a huge stack of papers.

"I am Joy. I will be your tour guide since I will be quitting." She smirked, handing me the stack of papers that I needed to carry.

"Uh, thank you?"

"You're welcome, let's start upstairs." She went up the stairs first leaving me behind. I slowly followed behind not seeing the male that walked in front of me. I stopped in my tracks when I reached the top step, finally seeing him.

The mysterious male was glaring at me with his piercing eyes only to walk past me leaving me alone. That is when I noticed one of the rooms where two boys were playing with a toy but when Joy walked back towards me, they hid it under their bed.

"Let's start with the rooms. I don't need to tell you how many rooms but I am going to pretend that you are stupid."

I should have walked out. I don't know why I didn't.

But Instead I didn't and just smiled at her. She went past one of the first rooms.

"There are six bedrooms on this floor. 10 children are living in each room with the left side belonging to the boys and the right belonging to the girls."-"The rooms are in order from youngest to oldest, Do I need to explain the ages to you?'

I shook my head. "I think I have It ma'am."

"Good, I am happy you're not incompetent."

We reached the end of the hallway where I noticed a door that was cracked. I didn't think anything of it but I did want to ask about it.

"Joy, I have a question."

Joy turned around crossing her arms. "Yes?"

"This room." I pointed to the door. "Is it important?"

"I didn't tell you about it, which means It is not for you."

I nodded my head following Joy downstairs where she showed me the rest of the place like the classrooms, living rooms, nurse stations and kitchens.

"I will be going, I assume you have the common sense to follow the rules."

"Thank you."

Joy quickly left the place leaving me alone. I started doing this stack of papers in my office when crying started getting louder and harsher every couple of minutes. I went to take a break from my work to go see what happened. I headed towards the nursery to find her near one of the cribs.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you."

I whispered it to her kneeling down in front of her. She hesitated but let me look at her arm from a distance. Her arm had burn marks making her arm a bright red. I slowly moved towards her to help guide her to one of the girls bedrooms, tucking her in one of the beds.

"I'm going to get medicine for your arm, okay?" I told her softly, trying not to scare her.

I ran down stairs swiftly rummaging through the cabinets until I could find bandages. I pulled up a stool next to the young girl, taking her arm slowly. Putting on the ointment she was wincing in pain every time the ointment touched her burnt skin. Her tears started filling her eyes as I wiped her tears.

"Can I know what happened?"

She doesn't look in my direction. It looked like she was scared to tell me who hurted her. I stood up and started putting things back into the first aid kit before moving closer towards the door.

"I will be in the hallway if you need me."

Before I could walk out, she whispered out "thank you for being nice." like she didn't want anyone to know she was thanking me. I smiled and turned around where I kissed her head.

"I will always be nice to you."

When I stepped out into the hallway, there was that male again. We almost bumped into each other but he took a step back from me. You could see he was definitely taller than me by a couple of inches along with that scar that came across his right eye complimenting his raw red eye.

He had another scar on his chin down near the bottom left along with his captivating left brown eye. It was definitely rare in Korea for people to have two color eyes and it was nice to see someone unique, specifically in a part of town I've never been to.

"Are you done eye fucking me?"

My eyes widened when his voice turned cold like ice.

"No sir, I was not eye fucking you."

Right when he was about to respond a nun walked up to the both of us.

"Dinner is at 6:30 pm. Bedtime is at 8:30 pm. Don't be late next time."

I looked at her confused. "It is 8:30?"

The nun walked away from me not answering my question. I didn't pay any mind to it and walked past the male to put the rest of the children to bed. I entered one of the rooms where the young boys were jumping on the beds.

"Please, let's get you all to bed hmm?" I tried to convince them but they didn't listen quite well.

"Get into bed, do you want the boogeyman to come out and get you?" I saw the mysterious male enter the room and leaned against the doorframe. He chuckled while each of the little kids went up to him to say goodnight.

"Unnie was so nice to us! She helped Jian today after the meanies hurt her!"

That is when I saw a smile on his face. It was definitely memorizing. I was slowly learning the concept of who the children called the meanies and I was glad It wasn't the mysterious male. He seemed interesting but I didn't have enough time to admire as I rushed towards the nursery to put the babies to bed.

I read the names on the crib, picking up Min Ae and Min So. I sat down in one of the rocking chairs near the corner and started softly singing a song my mother would always sing to me as a baby to help them sleep.

TAGS: #kpop

[rainyfroggy]

Hi Rainy!

I really like the way you’ve set up your commission sheet- it looks like you’ve had a bit of experience with making them, and I was wondering if I could ask if you had any tips for artists just starting out on selling comms?

I’m an artist thinking of selling commissions because I’m broke and need to make some $$ for food and living expenses lol. (this is my reblog acct so I don’t have much moved here rn unfortunately.)

I have no idea where to look for advice and Google hasn’t really been the best help as a lot of resources I’ve seen are mostly pros/people in the later stages of making an entire career out of it (which, for my situation right now isn’t exactly what I’m looking for)…

I also don’t really know much about payment methods like Patreon or anything like that so I don’t really know which is best or which to start with.

Any info you could provide would be very appreciated, even if it’s only a little!

Hello! I will try my best to help from my experience and what I heard it works. 1. It all depends on your needs, but you need to be organized. It doesn't matter if you use a notebook, your phone, an excel sheet or whatever: It's important to keep on track who requested a commission, who had paid you and the order you need to follow. Even if this list is only to yourself.

2. This is a universal thing: Make a work email and use it as a contact for customers, paypal and other things in case you don't want to get mixed with personal stuff.

3. I highly recommend using a Google Form or simmilar to receive request of commissions (you can use mine as reference or look on other artists who use it). It will also helps you to put on order the order of commissions and you will spend less time asking the customer a bunch of questions or explaining innecesary stuff. (Ko-Fi also have the tool for commission!).

4. I only use Ko-Fi (for now). I had used it on commissions. It's useful if your method is simple. Allow you to put add ons with its respective price too!

5. It's hard to make a portfolio, but at least make one example of each type of commission you are doing. People gotta see what they are buying.

6. You make the rules. You can see in my cardd I have the Terms of Service where you explain what you do and don't, how long you take to finish a comm, etc.

7. Be as clear and direct as possible. Don't accept commissions you are uncomfortable with. Don't allow people guilt-trip you or start asking to lower your prices.

8. About pricing: Look up people with simmilar skill level and art style as you to make an idea of pricing. You can start with one price and rise it as your skills improve! Set a price you can be satisfied with, or you will feel downhearted.

9. I highly recommed being paid first before start drawing. Be careful of scams too! Never trust a paypal email that isn't official (I say this cus someone tried to scam me last week).

10. I would recommed choosing a few niches of your interest and work on your public from there. It can be an specific fandom, a genre, an animal, a topic... Stuff people can know your work and be sure you are good at it. Example: I draw g/t stuff, so people into it know how I do it and what to expect from me. You will not ask the furry artist to draw you '90 mecha robots right? (THIS MAY OR NOT WORK! draw whatever you want and make you happy. Follow your heart and people will slowy get at your work).

That's it! Uh I'm not an expert, I'm still not big enough to live full from commissions but don't give up! Can be rough at first but keep working!

[supermassivebutthole]

I am autistic. For me, this means I have heightened sensitivity to stimulus, problems regulating my emotions, problems completing tasks in a timely or "usual" manner, and trouble presenting myself to people in a way that might feel natural to them.

Because of this, the wage labor that is available to me is technically possible, but really lessens my quality of life. It's difficult for me to do the same thing every day because I don't always have enough energy for the work I'm required to do. Some days, I can do the wage labor, take care of myself, AND find time for things I enjoy. Most days, I have to pick and choose. If I work every weekday, that means that 5/7 days I have to make really difficult choices about how to spend my time.

When I have a job, sometimes I have to choose between showering or sleeping and going to work, or between making dinner or avoiding a meltdown that might derail my day.

Meltdowns happen for a lot of reasons. I might have a meltdown from an unpleasant sensory experience (my environment being too loud; feeling too itchy or hot; being hungry, tired, or sick; feeling confused about my surroundings or a social situation)

For me, a meltdown feels like a panic attack, if the panic were replaced with dread, sadness, fear, and shame, with an uncontrollable need for intense, sometimes physically harmful pressure on my body. During a meltdown, I might cry, scream, pull on my hair, hit or scratch myself, lose the ability to speak, or try desperately to find a small, dark space like a closet or under furniture to hide.

Meltdowns can make me feel physically sick, ashamed, and they are exhausting even once they are over. A meltdown might mean that I have lost some energy that I critically need, especially if Im participating in wage labor.

But it isn't only the energy management that's difficult for me. The jobs themselves are often confusing, demeaning, and exhausting. I have a hard time following directions that might seem clear to other people, so sometimes I need to ask for more direction than my managers are comfortable providing. Customer service positions drain me completely and leave me dangerously tired, confused, and disoriented at the end of my shift. Food service positions present me with stressful time constraints, unpredictable situations, and unpleasant sights, sounds, and smells that can trigger meltdowns. Socializing with coworkers is often confusing, distracting, and disorienting. Transitions to and from work cause me extreme distress.

The longer I work in environments I find untenable, the more energy I have to give toward surviving those environments. This results in a downward spiral that eventually ends in me leaving the job.

Luckily I have a partner who works, but the money we make isn't enough for us to have the quality of life that everyone on the planet deserves to have.

I am useful at home, where the environment is predictable and safe, and I can complete tasks in my time and my own way, but no one pays you for doing your dishes or laundry, cleaning the house or making dinner. These are things you're expected to do on top of everything you do to make money, which is untenable for me because of my autism, but I also recognize is just plain untenable.

Domestic work is work, necessary work, hard work, and for a lot of us, the only accessable work that we have. My partner performs better at her job when she doesn't have to worry about laundry, dishes, dinner, maintaining the house, checking the mail, taking out garbage, or the million other things that have to be kept up with at home.

But she doesn't make enough money alone for it to be acceptable for me to not participate in wage labor. And worse, if we complain about our position in life, we're met with comments suggesting that we deserve this lesser quality of life because we didn't go to college, because I don't have a job, because we are on foodstamps and public healthcare, because we aren't trying hard enough.

But we don't have a choice. There's only so hard I can try before I actually, literally, and actionably end my life. There are only so many hours that my partner can work while coping with her own disabilities and personal problems. There is only so much we can do. And predominant social structures would suggest that if we really aren't capable of doing more, than we deserve to fill all of our idle time with suffering. It's just such bullshit.

[duel-king]

Hearth's Rising 2023 - A Drabble (LOL I suck at titles maybe i'll come up w/ one later)

Seto Kaiba is not fond of the winter season. He's not fond of many things, let's be real here, but this time of year is especially irksome to him.

It's early evening and he's home, idly waiting for his phone to charge. As the sun sets, Arcanus City outside his window begins to light up with shades of red and green and gold. People really don't waste any time in putting up holiday decorations. Obnoxious, he thinks as he strides to the window curtains to block out the view.

Then, what do you know, a gentle snow steadily begins to fall. Despite himself, he remains at the window quietly watching, a long-forgotten memory coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Big brother?" Mokuba asks as he unzips his puffy winter coat. He's still a little out of breath; he and Seto had rushed to get one last ride down the hill on their sled before being called inside for the evening. "Yeah?" Seto is stomping the snow from his boots at the welcome mat, then shrugs off his coat and removes his gloves. "You said Santa's not real, right?" Mokuba lifts himself up onto a stool, waiting for his brother to help get him out of his puffy prison of snow gear. "Right." Seto is now kneeling in front of Mokuba as he unlaces his boots. With a little wiggle, he's able to pull each one of them off and tosses them to the side. "Then how does everyone get their presents on Christmas morning?" The little brother asks, stretching and wiggling his free toes. He doesn't think before blurting out an answer- "Kids' parents buy the stuff, wrap it up and put it under the tree while they're asleep. Santa's just a silly story. Pretend." "What about kids like us? ...Who don't have parents?" Mokuba sniffles. His little button nose is red and runny. Seto regrets telling him that now. Should have just let the kid keep believing in Santa. He hears his baby brother start to whimper, and shushes him gently before the little one can get himself too worked up. "It's okay, Mokuba. We'll still have Christmas here..." It's not working. Tears begin to fall from Mokuba's eyes as he tries and fails to stifle little sobs. He was hoping to be out of this place by now. "Mokuba..." Seto sighs. He's tired. So tired. Nevertheless, he grasps at some comforting words. "Our parents may not be with us anymore, but you and me are still a family. Even if we don't get any presents this year, I'm so happy that I still have you. I'll take that over any gift."

Seto absentmindedly reaches for something at his chest as he's lost in this memory, but it's not there. This realization brings him back to the here and now. Alone. An uneasy feeling washes over him. Rather than sit there with it, he dons his coat and goes for a walk downtown to clear his head.

Arcanus City University is alight with festivities. Not that Seto wants to actually partake; for some reason he just feels like being around other people right now (even if he's just being a fly on the wall) might ease this dread threatening to overcome him. He's just walking along in no direction in particular, people watching, taking in the snowy scenery, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. He sees a couple of young women (maybe students?) sitting at a booth, rubbing their hands together for warmth. He overhears one of them griping about needing to put in all these volunteer hours...

"Oh, hello sir!" She very quickly changes her tone when she notices him looking. "Would you be willing to make a donation to St. Azalea's orphanage to help children and families in need this holiday season?" She's clearly just rattling off the pitch she was given in her best attempt at a customer service voice. Seto's not impressed, but...

"…Sure." He agrees. He needs no further details. He doubts she'd be willing and able to explain more if he asked. Doesn't matter. He reaches into his pocket and hands the girl a... not insignificant amount of keys. He knows this is as much as he can spare; he and Mimi had met and gone over the budget earlier today.

"Thank you so much for your generosity!! That's very kind of you, sir," she replies, shocked.

"Mhm." Seto is already turning his back to her.

"Happy Hearth's Rising to you and your family!" She calls out to him as he's walking away.

"...You too."

[weienw]

Book Notes: How to Win Friends & Influence People (HTWF&IP)

How to Win Friends & Influence People, by Dale Carnegie

I saw this book hanging around when I visited my parents' house. It’s so famous, but I’ve never read it. I cracked it open somewhere in the middle and found that I couldn’t stop reading. Carnegie’s style just sucks you in. And then there’s historical tidbits everywhere, plus the book itself is basically a historical artifact, so you feel like you’re reading a management book that belongs in a museum.

The afterword in my version talks about how before this book (1936), there basically weren’t any books on people management. So Carnegie kinda blew everyone’s minds with this stuff.

1. Major Themes

Don’t criticize or argue or say they’re wrong.

Praise a lot. Be really friendly.

Figure out what people are interested in, leverage that. Let them do the talking. Ask questions.

Smile/say their name/be a good listener.

These seem obvious but also counterintuitive because today’s corporate culture is much more into FEEDBACK (e.g. Radical Candor). Carnegie’s not that into Feedback. He’s much more into judo moves that somehow “inception” other people toward desired behavior.

Instead of directing or arguing, you ask questions about the person to draw out the deepest kernel of who they really are and then, voila, inception, they realize what they should’ve done all along about their big problem and you never had to fight them on it. You “let the other person feel that the idea was his or hers.” Hmm...

In contrast, later in the book, Carnegie advocates for starting with praise before critical feedback (which is super unpopular nowadays), and also says to “Call attention to people’s mistakes indirectly.” But everyone today’s beggin' for direct feedback! Makes me wonder. Do they really want direct feedback? Who’s right here?

2. Stuff I Dog-Eared

On page 164 Carnegie talks about admitting that you’re wrong – but in such an emphatic way that the other person ends up defending you. “…[W]hen I began to condemn myself, the only way he could nourish his self-esteem was to take the magnanimous attitude of showing mercy.” I’m into it.

Page 185: I didn’t realize that the Socratic method is not simply “ask a lot of questions,” but – “ask questions that the other person will answer with ‘yes’.” Socrates “asked questions with which his opponent would have to agree. He kept on winning one admission after another until he had an armful of yeses. He kept on asking questions until finally, almost without realizing it, his opponents found themselves embracing a conclusion they would have bitterly denied a few minutes previously.” JUDO MOVE

Page 216: There’s this crazy story where customers aren’t paying bills on their car mechanic servicing. “I made it clear that, until I had heard the customer’s story, I had no opinion to offer… I told him… that he knew more about his car than anyone else in the world; that he was the authority on the subject… I let him talk…” and so on, until they let the customer decide what to do with the bill. The end result – they paid their bills and became ever-more loyal customers. JUDO MOVE but also, seriously? This works?? (This chapter ends with: “Appeal to the nobler motives.” Basically, assume the other person is “sincere, honest, truthful,” etc…).

3. Summary

I think what’s most powerful about Carnegie’s advice is what’s hardest to practice. It’s resisting your own ego. You can’t do all of the above without first quashing the desire to appear smart/helpful/wise/right. Try being a competitive wrong-admitter and still hang onto your pride! It can’t be done. So, the way of HTWF&IP is, like many classics, simple but not easy!

Bonus: A Couple Pages That I Scanned for Later

I ended up adapting these “Questions for Myself” into my work journal, to help me think about what I did well/not well each week.

I love thinking about this trait – whether or not someone likes people. It’s something I look for in interviews but I never thought to put it this way.