#tips for hiring the best employees

[fastlane-freedom]

A Must-Know Guide for Management and Hiring in the Real World

A Must-Know Guide for Management and Hiring in the Real World

A lot of development has been done in business schools of “scientific management” considering the need for educated & trained managers. In reality, you can’t learn to be a competent manager in a classroom—beyond a few simple principles. Management is simple, but not excessively simple. In principle, Management is the act of coordinating a group of people to achieve a specific goal while…

[clamsjams]

this might be an abnormal take but i consider youtubers tweeting about how they’re looking for people to work for them to be unprofessional at best and downright exploitative at worst

[artmall-ke]

Tips for Hiring Your First Gift Shop Employee (With Example Job Description)

As a new gift shop owner, you’ve no doubt been wearing every hat from buyer and merchandiser to marketer, accountant and customer service rep. But as your business grows, you’ll inevitably need an extra set of hands – a talented gift shop employee to help provide exceptional retail experiences. Making that first hire can feel daunting though. The right people are critical for representing your…

[bigwishes]

Was It Something You Ate?

Devon had always had it easy, born the son of a billionaire to one of the best pharmaceutical companies in the world he never truly had to work for anything. His dad had paid his way through all of his schooling turning Fs into As with nothing but a pen and a check book. University was even easier, Devon spent a majority of his time in other countries whilst or partying, it was only when he failed every class and was barred from graduation did his dad offer to build a new research facility for the school and suddenly Devon was graduating with honours. Devon never even experienced what it was to deal with shame, as an only child both his parents showered him with praise. Even when he got drunk and crashed the family boat his parents commended his bravery in such a frightening event. Life was easy as a gay man too, his family never cared and once his dad bought Devon his own house and allowed him to hire his own help he was constantly surrounded by masculine buff men who he paid extra to walk around shirtless.

Once Devon even went as far as to give his gardener a $4000 dollar tip just to let Devon film him drinking from the hose on his hands and knees. Of course Devon leaves out the part where he threatened to fire his gardener unless he allowed himself to be filmed.

A few months ago, Devon got the worst news of his life. His dad had told him he had to work for his weekly allowance of 1 million. If he didn't then his allowance would be slashed to a pitiful $400k. He couldn't bare to live like a peasant on such a pathetic amount of money so he agreed to his dad's outrageous terms. Devon had to work 1 hour a day for 4 days each week. Like some disgusting labour mule.

Devon had been working at the head office for 3 weeks and every day he called his dad begging to quit. A man like him wasn't meant for such things.

Devon stood on the stairs in front of the massive corporate building adjusting his suit readying for another day of hard labour. He checked his watch. 11:30am. Devon let out a tired sigh as he jogged up the stairs towards the door.

His dad had told him he had to come in any time before 12pm, Monday - Thursday. Devon had been given the role of "Team Motivator" and his job was to come in and hype up the employees.

Devon's elevator arrived at his office floor, already he needed his 15 minute break for the day, looking around seeing all these unattractive people. He never understood why the poor never took their looks more seriously or why there was always a terrible odour around people like them.

Devon stood in the elevator and raised his hand above his head. He swiped his hand down slowly and inch away from his face, he narrowed his tired eyes, cocked a toothy fuck boy smile and began to walk in-between the cubicles with the swagger only a rich fuck boy could have.

"hey hey hey team, how are those numbers looking? we got the advertisements out this morning? if not make sure you get it done by lunch, hey carol what's goin on with the boys in the lab? we got that new drug ready to roll out by friday"

A few people looked up from their desks at his peacocking and parading.

Devon clapped his hands together as he got closer to his office door. "Come on Come on people!! we got work to do, lets have a great day."

Devon slipped into his office and slammed the door shut. Inside he leant his back against it and let out an exhausted heavy sigh. He had no idea how he was going to go clubbing tonight after working so hard, but a wave of pride hit him as he heard the sounds of muttering out amongst the workers, he had done his job, inspired them.

Of course in reality Devon had done nothing at all. Most of the people on his floor had been working in the office since 7am and everyone ignored his morning speech as it was the exact same rehearsed scripted speech he had been saying each morning since his first day.

Numbers weren't part of their department,

There were no advertisements due this morning,

The boys in the lab didn't have any upcoming deadline,

There was no Carol.

Devon waltzed over to his break area at the back of his office. Originally meant for small intimate meetings, Devon had decked it out with a plasma screen TV and all his streaming services. Not that he got to use it much, he only got to be in his office for 45 minutes of his working day and that really only meant he got to watch an episode of something if he was lucky. Currently he was watching a new fitness challenge show where 20 jacked dudes were pitted against each other in different fitness challenges.

Devon threw himself back on the couch in a cocky man spread and rested his hand on his crotch. Whilst he respected the fact that he couldn't jerk off in the office, it didn't mean he couldn't enjoy how his dick felt hard whilst he watched a handful of jacked men compete for money.

30 minutes into his show and Devon saw a guy in a lab coat walking past his office window. The guy was wearing a blue button down shirt that was slightly loose in the front. He let out a loud sigh and got up from his couch walking over to his office door. Devon swung the door open and called out to the man in the lab coat before gesturing him to come into his officer by curling his index finger repeatedly.

The guy in the lab coat walked into Devon's office

"shut the door behind you bro,"

The man in the lab coat shut the door and turned to Devon all confused

"What is your name man?"

"John"

"Do you know what my job here is John?"

"Ill be honest with you Devon, nobody really knows what you do here" John replied with a cheeky smirk

Devon laughed loudly whilst slapping his desk with one hand,

"Ya know man, my dad had given me the important mantis of motivating our team"

"M-mantis? do you mean mantle?" John lowered his eyebrows confused at how this guy had somehow convinced his dad to give him the biggest office in the building.

"not important. my job is to make sure the people who work at our company are the best they can be"

The thought that maybe Devon did know what he was talking about entered John's mind, he thought maybe he was trained in motivation speaking and would talk to people one on one to help them better manage their work life balance

"look buddy, I can tell, with the way that shirt of yours is sagging in the front, your shoulders not filling out giving you that hot V shape, no pec cleavage on display and that ugly as fuck white coat, you are not living your best life" Devon gestured his hands either side with a big smirk on his face like he had seen his dad do when he was talking to other business men.

The benefit of the doubt dropped out of John's mind. "Nope, this guys a fucking moron" he thought to himself.

"Devon, I appreciate the concern, but I think I'm fine"

"I'll let you in on a little secret man, if a gay stud like me doesn't want to see you on your back, you're fat.."

"WOAH, DEVON THAT IS INSANELY NOT OKAY"

"bro, I'm just trying to be the nice guy and tell you what other people won't" Devon cockily dropped down into his nice leather chair behind his desk. "ya know, my pool guy had a kid and 2 weeks after his abs started to fade and do you know what I did?"

John wanted to say something clever but it would probably go over Devon's head, or worse, if he understood it he might lose his job.

"I fired him John, I don't want some fatty in a speedo working on my pool, and I don't want fat guys working here either"

John was too caught off guard by the first part of Devon's statement

"You make your staff work in speedo's? I think that might be illegal?"

"Look, dude, don't you wanna look like me I mean, check me out. biceps hugging my shirt, shoulders pulling it apart, my chest popping out catching everyone's attention, my abs so fucking tight you can see them through my shirt. I look HOT, you look FAT Johnny"

"Okay, I'm not even chubby though? I'm 6.2 and 85kg. I'm not exactly overweight"

"Buddy you still don't get it so let me spell it out for you, a fit body is hot, a 2 pack means you are fat, no abs showing at all? you're overweight!"

John fluttered his eyes, stunned by Devon's view of the world.

"I thank you for, whatever the hell this was Devon but I have a job to actually get back to"

John began to walk out of the office before Devon called out to him, a tone of desperation in his voice.

"WAIT....can you get me a coffee, almond milk, iced, NO WHIPPED CREAM, I want a drop that weighs exactly one quarter of a gram of caramel mixed in counter clock wise with a bamboo spoon. AND NO PLASTIC OR PAPER CUPS make sure you get it put in one of those little metal ones, no lid.

"No, Devon that isn't my job"

"You work for my dad, so if you want to keep working for my dad you'll do it"

John gritted his teeth. He unfortunately couldn't call out the rich boy on any of his bullshit without risking his entire career, But maybe there was something else he could do.

A few minutes past and John returned to Devon walking out of his office.

"Ah, great timing John, I'm just leaving"

Devon snatched the coffee out of John's hand and noticed something strange. A purple swirl drifting and dispersing into the coffee.

"What's this?" Devon said raising the corner of his lip in disgust.

"oh, its purple caramel, less calories" John quickly blurted out.

All concern dropped from Devon's mind as he took a sip of his drink.

"great call man, its that kind of intimidation we want to encourage here"

John had to stop himself from slamming the palm of his hand into his forehead, clearly Devon meant initiative.

"Ya know, man you might wanna switch to this low calorie caramel I told you about, because when I take over from my dad, first thing I'll do, anyone without a six pack is being let go"

John just gritted his teeth and smiled, "great idea, I'll have to give it a try"

Devon had already left before John could finish his sentence, but John didn't care, in fact he was hoping that coffee would keep Devon away for at least a few months.

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

Devon stepped out of his car throwing the metal coffee cup on the back seat behind him. He didn't even bother to say goodbye to his driver and he began jogging up the stone stairs to the front door of his mansion.

As Devon jogged up the stairs he felt something strange. His ass felt heavier, tighter against his carefully tailored pants. He felt it bounce and jiggle on his way up and once he got to his front door he had to stop and massage it briefly. It hurt worse than that time he was grounded and had to fly to take a 12 hour flight in business class.

He entered his house and instantly unbuttoned his pants, after a long hard day at the office he just wanted to get his work clothes off and wash the smell of poor people out of his hair. Devon undressed himself as he walked down the hallway, throwing his clothes on the ground behind him. Someone would be by to pick them up later, he was never sure of exactly who picked up his clothes but it was someone on his staff. He walked into his elegant bathroom covered in tiles and stone work imported all the way from Italy, his bathroom alone cost more than some peoples houses, of course when he moved out and had his house built his dad forked out for all the costs so he wasn't even sure how much everything really cost.

Devon pulled his hair out from his short pony tail and let it hang down. He flexed his broad shoulders in the mirror, his perfectly defined muscles. He wasn't a bodybuilder by any means but he still had a much better body than most people he came across.

His pecs were the main attraction and he often experienced men he brought home squeezing them as he bounced them. His flowing locks drove men wild, being a billionaire helped to prevent any thinning so often the men he slept with were not only turned on by his angelic looks but there was also a hint of jealousy when they ran their hands through his hair, which did nothing but turn Devon on more.

But something was different about him today, his abs were wrong. Normally a beautiful and cut six pack but now he was only seeing 4, and barely 4.

He felt his stomach, the bottom towards his pelvis felt like it was sticking out, ever so slightly.

"oh well, probably bloated from the caramel" he thought to himself

Devon pressed a button on the wall and instantly the water began to flow at the perfect temperature, no need to wait or pathetically dangle his hand in the water like a peasant, he just pressed a button and stepped in. As he went to step in the shower something else caught his eye, something behind him.

"Was my ass always this big?" he asked himself allowed.

Reaching down he grabbed handful of his own ass, it was still firm but it wasn't as hard as stone like he was used to, there was a new squeeze to it, like trying to work with cold clay. Devon took his finger and placed it under his ass cheek, flicking upwards he watched as his whole ass rippled and bounced more than he was used to.

*sigh* "maybe I'll only train legs once a week for a bit, don't want anyone thinking I'm a bottom"

Devon stepped into the water, instantly he felt relaxed as the warm water washed over his face and ran down his body. He squeezed out a decent amount of his tropical scented soap into the palm of his hand and began to work it over his entire body. Washing himself but also taking the time to feel himself. He got hard as he pictured his own perfection, his own brilliance.

Using the lotion he worked his way down to his pelvis, and then to his dick. Devon closed his eyes and bit his lip as he faced into the water, using both hands to rub and pleasure his 12 inches. He couldn't help it, he loved himself so much, he loved his body. He often fantasied about cloning himself just so he could have the experience so many others had been graced with, sleeping with the perfect man.

Devon moaned feeling the water on his lips and the pleasure he brought to himself. He was so close but something started to bother him. He felt hungry, which was unusual because he had such a strict diet routine and always ate at the perfect time every day. He tried to supress the feeling instead focusing on the building pleasure, but it became harder to do so the longer he lasted. The only downside to lasting an hour was it was easy for him to accidentally edge himself if he got too distracted. Unfortunately this was one of those time.

Devon's stomach let out a loud audible groan and he started to feel not just a little peckish, but he felt starved, like he had forgotten breakfast and all his morning snacks.

"uuugggh" He moaned as he let go of himself and turned his attention to finishing his shower routine.

He started pulling out small bottles from a small alcove build into the marble walls of his shower. Starting his multi-step face routine, ignoring the pain in his stomach. It was only when he started his hair routine that he all became a bit much and his stomach tenses letting out an audible grumble.

Devon's hands dropped from his hair to his stomach as he grabbed it from the hunger pains. It felt, almost plump as he rubbed it trying to soothe it. He quickly washed the conditioner out of his hair and got out of the shower.

Pressing a button on the wall an intense heat kicked in as the light above started radiating heat into the room instantly helping the water dry up on his skin. Devon closed his eyes and looked up at the roof letting the water droplets dry up, but the noises from his stomach didn't stop, it got worse. Every few seconds his stomach would let out a loud grumble.

"fuuuuckk, who knew one coffee would get me so bloated..."

Reaching into a small draw Devon pulled out a paid of white underwear which he slipped on. As he did he felt the back struggle to fit. Everything was perfectly tailored to his body to make him look his best but this pair felt weird on him. He felt his ass jiggle as the fabric slide over. He felt the meat of his ass cheeks spilling out of the sides and he could feel the fabric tightly stretch across his behind. As he took his first steps the underwear only felt more uncomfortable, like it was three sizes too small. He walked around the small corner in the bathroom back to the mirror so he could get a better look.

"WHAT THE FUCK" Devon screamed in shock as he stared at the reflection before him.

Devon stood there in shock as he looked at the chubby man before himself.

"I-I- OH GOD, I-I'M FAT"

His stomach loudly grumbled, almost like it was responding too him

"uuuuggghhh, oh god" Devon moaned as he grabbed his new chubby belly with both hands desperately hoping he could push it back in.

His body felt like it wasn't his. He could still feel all the muscle tone it was just buried under a layer of blubber. Taking a step forward he watched as his stomach jiggled. He grabbed his phone off the counter top as he started to panic. He sent out a mass message to everyone on his staff.

"EVERYONE GO HOME AND TAKE THE WEEK OFF, GOING ON MY TRIP EARLY"

Instantly Devon's stomach grumbled. He tossed his phone down on the bench, closed his eyes and grabbed his stomach as a reaction to the pain. The pain got worse as his stomach's grumbling turned to gurgling.

Devon began taking in deep breaths, with each breath his stomach expanded, and with each exhale it deflated, but not all the way. Devon began to itch all over. With on hand already on his stomach he took his one free and desperately began to itch his chest and arms.

He watched as his thin layer of hair darkened and grew longer, slowly making him look like he had never waxed in his life. After a few minutes the itchiness began to die down and Devon's second hand moved down to help massage his complaining gut.

"wh-what's happening to me" Devon cried out, tears starting to well in his eyes.

Suddenly his stomach let out an insatiably loud groan, followed by a noise he had never heard before.

"AAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGG"

Devon yelled out in pain and watched in the mirror as his chubby belly rapidly expanded into a big round gut within an instant. It took him a minute to recover and adjust to the pain. He thought his skin had surely just split open, but it hadn't, what he saw in the mirror was so much worse than anything he could have imagined.

Devon was greeted by a large hairy bouncing gut.

"OH MY GOD, W-WHAT HAPPENED TO ME, I LOOK LIKE SOME FUCKING PIG"

Devon bounced his gut with his hands and watched it shake like jelly.

Within a matter of minutes, Devon had gone from sexy billionaire who was on magazines around the world, to a fat greasy pig.

He couldn't help but bounce his gelatinous belly in shock, he almost burst into tears at what a fat freak he had become. He was disgusted by himself, he couldn't go to work like this, he couldn't let his staff see him like this, but the worst part about becoming a fat pig.

He was starving.

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

Two weeks went by and Devon's mansion had started to become a mess after he sent all his staff away telling them he was off on his trip. His towels and clothes scattered all over the floor. Take out bags and food containers were all around his house. Without someone to pick up after him, Devon was disgusting.

He sat on his couch taking a multiple food containers out of two paper bags that had just been delivered to his door. His stomach loudly groaned. Devon picked up his phone off the coffee table and opened Instagram. The first post was that of a friend who had actually gone on the trip he had planned to take.

It was a photo of his friend Todd standing next to a tall black bodybuilder on a tropical island, with the caption 'I think I found love out here in the sun'

Devon's stomped his feet causing his meaty thighs to tremble.

"ITS NOT FAIIIRRRR, I SHOULD BE OUT THERE, THAT BIG HUNK OF MEAT SHOULD BE DATING ME, M E, NOT TODD"

tears started welling up in his eyes Devon flicked open a white food box on his coffee table revealing a beautifully decorated white chocolate mud cake which he instantly destroyed by digging his hands into it and stuffing it in his face.

between in monstrous and obnoxious chewing he stuff grabbing his belly and jiggling it with one hand.

"WHEN WILL YOU GO AWAY" Devon cried as he shovelled more expensive food in his mouth and washed it down with a bottle of lemonade like a spoilt pig.

BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP

sooner or later he'd realise if he wanted it gone, he was going to have to work for it...

---------

NOTE: hope you all enjoyed this, my inbox has a bunch of requests begging for a weight gain story and whilst I don't tend to write this sort of thing too often I thought I'd feed the hunger so to speak and write one for those wishing for one.

[motherofdogs1010]

Little Darling I (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Birmingham has received a new club, one that is showcasing a exotic type of dance that is drawing in crowds, but it is one particular dancer that catches Thomas Shelby's eye... one that goes by the stage name: Little Darling

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, stripper!reader, eventual smut, swearing, drinking, mentions of prostitution/ sex work, canon Peaky Blinders violence

😊 Dividers by @firefly-graphics 😊 Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Part II

A new club in Peaky Blinder territory was something that always raised Tommy's attention; usually, he would pay no mind when they first pop up, but it seemed like this club was different.

The Scarlet Letter was what it was called, Tommy had been sitting in his office at Shelby Company Ltd. when John and Arthur had come in to report about this club. Apparently, the club was showcasing a unique type of dance with its female employees, one that involved the use of a pole?

"A bloody pole?" Tommy had scoffed at the mention. "How the bloody hell are these women dancing with a pole?"

"Have to go check it out to see", Arthur had replied with a cheeky grin. "From what we've heard, this club had been making money. No ties to any gangs either."

It was a sight to see inside The Scarlet Letter, women adorned in expensive lingerie, their hair adorned in pinned curls and lips painted a deep red, but what was interesting was they work masks that concealed half their face. Literal poles were scattered throughout the place, a barmaid and bartender maned two bars on either side of the place, both busy; sofas and booth seats surrounded some of the poles, paritions in certain parts of the building.

He noticed a few heavy built men guarding certain areas, Tommy realizing they were hired help for the women.

"Mr. Thomas Shelby", a voice boomed. "What a surprise to be seeing the Peaky Blinders in my establishment!"

Y/N ran the red lipstick over her lips, smacking her lips together to get the the color saturated onto her lips. The eyelash extensions she had glued on for the evening tying the whole look together as she made sure to careful wipe away any excess around her mouth just as the boss came in.

"Ladies", she boomed, "We got some big customers outside. Make sure to put on your best performances!"

Cherry Johnson was their boss, she was a woman of a tall stature with a loud, booming voice that commanded respect. But she was a good boss, always fair to them and making sure they were safe, she only had them dance or perform lap dances, never forcing them to go any further.

Cherry came over to her as Y/N was about to fix the mask on, "Y/N, do you mind taking on a particular client here?"

"What client?" she asked as she adjusted the mask and tied the ribbon to secure it.

She saw Cherry grin in the mirror, "Thomas Shelby. Told him I'd send him only the best of my girls."

Everyone had heard of Thomas Shelby, of the Peaky Blinders so she looked at Cherry with a little frown, her lips curled a little.

"He's an obvious big tipper, darling", Cherry said, Y/N sighed.

"Fine", Y/N said as she adjusted her corset. "But he better know the rules."

Cherry grinned even bigger if that was even possible.

Y/N waited behind the curtain, pushing her hair behind her shoulders as she waited for her arrival to be announced. They switched dancers every hour or so, changing sets and outfits, working the floor and private dances. She noticed that her two other co-workers, Babydoll and Lovely, were up next with her on the big stage.

"Hey there, Little Darling", Lovely said with a grin. "Heard the boss gave you some big fish to entertain."

"I just hope he isn't stingy with the tips", Y/N said as she heard Cherry begin to announce them.

"Look alive, ladies", Babydoll teased, "it's showtime."

Tommy leaned back in the plush velvet chair that was in front of the large stage, Arthur and John on either side of him as he inspected the area. Cherry, the boss, had told him that she was sending one of her best girls to dance for them, the crowd favorite, but Cherry had told him the rules and the biggest one was 'no touching'.

"Next up we got Lovely, Babydoll and your favorite... Little Darling!" Cherry announced to the eager crowd.

Tommy put his cigarette between his lips as he noticed the anticipation in John and Arthur, the eagerness in their bodies; Tommy wondered where Esme thought John was as she came out, a intricate corset and stockings piece with a garter on one plush thigh adorned her body. Pinned curls framed her masked face with those blood red, plump lips and sultry, bedroom lidded eyes that were just calling to him.

He didn't even notice his brothers be captivated by her or the other two dancers as she approached the pole, a sensual dance performed in front of him as she moved in a way he had never witnessed before. He noticed other patrons throwing... pounds? at them, the women sensually grabbing the bills and stuffing them into the attire.

"C'mon Tommy", John said, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him a little. "Let loose a little already."

His brothers were throwing notes onto the stage, Little Darling making a show of grabbing them and stuffing them into the corset with a wink. She was like a seductress on the stage, moving with the music, performing acrobatic moves on the pole, it amazed him so as he light another cigarette and placed it in his mouth, he reached into his inner coat pocket, grabbing some bills into his hand.

Little Darling gave him a seductive smile, moving from the pole and getting to her knees, begin to crawl towards him till she reached the end of the stage where he was; she tilted her head a little before she leaned forward, making a show of grabbing his hand that held the bills and guiding it to stuffing the bills into the front of her corset where her tits were.

She winked at him before blowing him a kiss.

Y/N made a good amount of money from her dancing on the stage, counting the pounds that were thrown before passing it to Cherry to take her part.

"Good show out there, N/N", Cherry said, handing her back the money she earned. "You got a private dance with a Mr. Shelby."

Y/N nodded, rolling her shoulders back before making sure her makeup was still good before heading to one of the private rooms.

Walking into one of the private rooms, she saw him there; the dimly light room only seemed to work in the man's favor, adding to the feeling of danger that already existed in the room. He had his cap off, it resting on one of the side tables in the room as he blew out a smoke of nicotine from his lips.

"Cherry tells me you're called Little Darling", Tommy said as she closed the door behind her.

"I am", she answered as she slowly walked towards them.

"Quite the performance you put on."

She moved to straddle his lap, draping her arms his shoulders with a lazy grin on her face.

"I could see you enjoyed it, very much."

She stared into his piercing blue eyes, she could see the lust swirling in his eyes as she begun to move her hips.

[aurorawritestoescape]

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller

Tw: 18+ mdni smut, mfm, power imbalance (boss/employee), ‘sir’ kink, praise kink, tiniest bit of degradation, oral (f/m receiving), cum eating, unprotected piv (wrap it up obv), creampie, rimming, multiple orgasms, butt slapping (light), voyeurism, swearing, no use of y/n

Word count: 3,2k

A/n: thank you @noxturnalpascal 💖 for an amazing idea to write fics based on this PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW)

I added Tommy to the mix cos what’s better than one Miller boy? Yeah, two Miller boys😝

Other fics based on the prompt: Room 301 @milla-frenchy Dancing is a dangerous game @noxturnalpascal Webcam for beginners @iamasaddie

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

You’ve been doing stripping as a side job for a few months now. As a postgrad student you were broke and in debt. You needed money to help out with the tuition, which was unbearably high. On top of that your car broke down and you’ve been trying to save for a new one. One of your friends who’d done it told you that the money was good and the hours were flexible. So you decided to give it a shot.

The gig turned out to be great. You were often tipped generously and though the men were usually drunk and overly excited you’ve been lucky enough to be treated fairly well. They called you Diamond because of your sparkling silver costume and glittering boots.

Today you are shining at a birthday party. It’s a total sausage fest and everyone is excited about the headliner - you. The men are cheering you on as you’re giving your best lap dance to the man of the evening. The music is blaring while you are slowly taking off your sparking top before pushing your breasts together and swaying your hips seductively. You’re still wearing high silver boots and a tiny diamond-encrusted thong.

Everyone is already buzzed. Everyone except the birthday boy. He doesn’t seem to be drunk at all as his dark piercing eyes are sliding across your glitter-covered body with intent and hunger. Sometimes he gives his friends a little smile and laughs at their thirsty comments. But when his gaze returns to you his expression becomes focused and serious, one of a hunter whose unsuspecting prey is inching closer and closer, as he’s waiting for the right moment to strike. There is something hypnotizing about the man and you feel the magnetic pull every time your eyes meet.

You want him to want you. And judging by a big bulge in his jeans you’re doing great. You’re practically drooling over him as your hands are gliding over his broad shoulders, strong chest, running through his dark curly hair. After some time you see only him, and your heart flutters and core burns with desire.

You’re hovering over his lap, his face inches from your bouncing breasts as your hips move the way you’d ride him and your hands are holding onto his muscular shoulders. He wants to say something to you so you lean down bringing your ear to his plush lips. His breath tickles you and you giggle.

“Can I get a private dance?” he asks a little louder so you could hear him through the music. He tilts his head to the side to look into your eyes. He’s gorgeous. Older, just how you like them. A scent of whiskey and something sweet hits your nostrils and you feel yourself getting wet. Your pussy tingles and you both decide to give this guy whatever he wants tonight. You smile at him nodding your head, maybe a little too eager.

🪩🪩🪩

That’s how you end up on your knees in the VIP room, fully naked between his spread legs, his cock deep in your throat. You’ve never done anything like that with a client but you just couldn’t help yourself. You would be fired in a second if anyone found out but you feel that he’s not the one to kiss and tell. His body, his eyes, his confidence drive any rational thought away from your mind.

When you were sitting on his lap having discarded your thong and boots and framing his legs with yours, your pussy was throbbing so much for him it hurt. You rested your head on his shoulder, turned to him and whispered in his ear, “You can touch me if you want”.

He chuckled and asked if he was allowed to but his fingers were already caressing your glistening seam. A few moments later he was fucking you with his thick digits, his tongue licking into your mouth. He knew his way around a pussy and you came hard, making a mess of his jeans.

Now you are sucking on his ball rolling it in your mouth with your tongue and slowly jerking his cock. His jeans are opened and tugged down his hips, your hand is splayed on his lower belly covered with soft hair. He’s watching you with a soft smile, half lidded eyes blown and hazy. You’re enjoying yourself so much you feel you might come untouched just from sucking him off.

That’s when HE barges into the room apologizing for being late. You hear the gravelly voice and your heart drops into your stomach. You freeze glancing up at the birthday boy with horror on your face. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!!!! Fuck! You recognise that voice immediately. You raise your head before glancing back. Of course it’s him! The father of the girl you’ve been babysitting for a few weeks. You always loved kids so babysitting seemed like a great idea. Well, until now when two of your clients met.

Joel Miller was always kind and respectful yet a little grumpy. You never blamed him, a single parent who worked very hard to provide his daughter with the best life. He was a great father judging by how well adjusted and happy Sarah was.

He doesn’t look grumpy now. With his mouth agape, he’s staring at the two of you and mumbles, “Fuck, Tommy.” He raises one brow and runs a hand through his dark hair in a nervous gesture. His black T-shirt rides up showing a slither of his soft stomach and a happy trail. Suddenly you remember all the times he would come home sweaty and hot from working outside all day and you bite your lip.

You’re used to being naked in front of strangers so it takes you a minute to realize you need to cover yourself up.

“Oh my god, Mr Miller. Fuck.. I’m so sorry,” you get up looking around for anything to put on. Of course there’s nothing except your tiny thong and the boots so you just place your hands awkwardly on your mound and breasts and stand between Mr Miller and ‘Tommy’, whose cock is still out and hard. He’s not putting it away, just sits there proudly. Your eyes are darting between the two men.

“You’re interrupting, bro,” Tommy says with a nonchalance in his voice. Now it’s your time to be surprised cos the man looks almost bored.

Joel visibly collects himself and comes up to you.

“I see that,” he says, looking you up and down and then turning to his brother, “Do you know that you’re getting blown by my babysitter?”

Joel looks back to you and brushes your arm with his big warm hand. You shiver at the touch.

“No shit! Babysitter?” Tommy sits up, finally expressing some interest. Joel hums and his brother chuckles and leans back again, holding his still hard cock in his hand, “Got yourself a new one?”

“Yeah… and I seemed to hit the jackpot,” Joel replies with a little smile but his eyes on you are darker, hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. Your skin erupts in goosebumps and you feel yourself like a bunny circled by hungry wolves.

“Mmm.. Mr Miller, I can explain,” you stutter nervously standing there like a school girl being scolded by a headmaster. You want to tell him that you don’t usually walk around sucking your clients off but Joel interrupts you, “No need to explain anything, sweetheart. Work is work. You did nothing wrong.”

His deep smooth voice makes your clit twitch and you almost gasp when he cups your cheek and lowers his face closer to yours, “I know you’re a good girl.”

“And full of surprises,” Tommy adds with a smirk looking at you almost differently, with more intrigue in the gaze and his cock twitches in his hand.

You glance up at Joel and his eyes slide to your lips and yours do the same. Your mouths are so close you’re breathing each other's air. His thumb is rubbing your cheek. Suddenly you jerk when Tommy coughs interrupting whatever is happening between you and your employer. Joel straightens up and his hand leaves your face.

“Ya know what,” he says walking to the chair across the room, placing it a couple meters away from you and taking a seat, “Don’t stop on my account.”

Your jaw drops and you freeze, hardly believing your own ears.

“You heard him, baby. We don’t need to stop,” Tommy repeats his brother's words as your shock is being replaced by excitement.

You hesitate at first but the idea of sucking a guy off when his brother is watching is so filthy that the burning in your core reignites again and you feel yourself gush.

You drop your arms exposing yourself to the men, come up to Tommy again and retake your previous position on your knees between his legs. You take his cock from him and turn your head back to Joel. His legs are spread, big hand resting on his inner thigh as he’s watching you.

You swallow loudly and turn back to Tommy. He must have read the anxiety on your face as he takes your chin between his fingers and gives you a warm smile.

“Don’t be shy, baby. My brother just wanna watch. Let’s give him something to remember when you come babysit for him next time.”

You blush, biting your lip and dropping your head. It can’t be happening. It feels like a weird wet dream. But you see this gorgeous weeping cock in your hand and your mouth salivates. And you would be lying if you said that you didn’t fantasize about Mr Miller bending you over his kitchen counter after your shift and fucking you senseless. So you bend down and kitten-lick Tommy’s fat tip. The man shamelessly moans and your pussy tingles at the sound.

You hear Joel’s groan as he must have a great view of your ass and pussy. The depravity of this situation makes your mind hazy and you arch your back wiggling your ass a little as you’re aching to be touched again. Your hand leaves Tommy’s balls which you were caressing and snakes down to your naked mound. You rub yourself there and then dip your fingers between your wet folds. A pathetic whimper escapes your lips muffled by Tommy’s cock and he twitches against your tongue stimulated by the vibrations.

“I think my naughty babysitter needs some attention, little brother,” Joel rumbles behind you and you hear a creak of the chair and his steps.

Parting from Tommy’s cock with a pop you turn your head and see Joel getting down on one knee next to you. You’re leaning on Tommys thighs, your elbows on his knees.

“You’ve been so good for my brother, sweetheart,” Joel says in a gentle voice, putting his hand on your back. You feel his calloused palm sliding down to your ass and then coming back up to your shoulder blades. “Has he made you come, baby?”

You nod your head staring up at him with slightly parted mouth. You still can’t believe you’re naked in front of the man you’re babysitting for and his brother. With the latter's precum on your lips.

“I’m a gentleman, Joel,” Tommy chimes in sounding offended. He glides his fingers along your neck, “Ladies always come first.”

Joel smirks and leans closer to your face not minding the stiff length of his brother just inches from you both and whispers in your ear, “Ya want another one?”

He presses his lips to your cheek and kisses you before traveling down to your jaw and neck. He grabs a fistful of your hair and holds you in place as he starts sucking a hickey into the delicate skin of your neck. You shut your eyes with a set of moans and tilt your head back for him.

“Don’t damage the goods, Joel”, Tommy jokes and the degrading remark sends you further into the depths of arousal.

“Please, make me come, Mr Miller,” you plead and both brothers seem to love it. Joel’s groaning against your neck while Tommy takes his cock from you and begins jerking his shaft.

Joel parts from you and you feel him gently pushing your head down. You follow his wordless command, lowering your face to his brother's crotch.

Joel guides you and when you open your lips he impales your mouth on Tommy’s cock.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck on it, sweetie, give my brother the best birthday present.”

Joel brushes the hair away from your face and watches you work Tommy’s cock for some time. His eyes are glued to your every move, every bob of your head, every swipe of your tongue around Tommy’s tip. The younger brother is holding your head on the other side and rhythmically raising his hips slowly fucking your mouth.

All this time Joel’s touch doesn’t leave you, he caresses your head, rubs your back and sides, until his hand snakes to your front and he grabs your breast and twitches your nipple. Your slick is dripping down your legs now and you can’t take it anymore.

With your lips still wrapped around Tommy’s cock you turn slightly to Joel and glance up at him. He’s panting and his half lidded eyes are clouded with arousal. He reads your expression and not being able to control himself any longer too, he orders, “Get up, sweetheart. But keep sucking.”

You do as you’re told placing your feet on the floor and standing up still keeping Tommy in your mouth. Joel gets up with a groan and walks behind you.

“Mr Miller’s gonna take good care of you, baby,” Tommy promises with a smirk and holds your arm to keep you steady in a new position. “Make sure she moans around my dick, bro,” he says louder and Joel hums in response.

“I know how to take care of a girl, little brother, don’t worry,” Joel quips, standing behind you as his clothed hard-on is pressed to your ass. You feel his fingers squeeze your cheeks and he gives you a light slap. You jerk and Tommy flinches, as your mouth moves on his cock a little too roughly. Joel chuckles and Tommy scolds him him,

“Be gentle, Joel, she’s got a mouth full of my cock.”

Joel laughs a little but his next movements are careful and soft. His big hands glide along your sides and down to your bottom again, rubbing your skin and making you clench around nothing. You wiggle your ass a little in invitation and he reads your signal.

“Look at her, Tommy. Can’t wait to be fucked by my fat cock while sucking on another dick… ahh..she’s gonna get a glowing recommendation from me.”

Both men laugh and you feel your pussy ache even more when they’re talking about you as if you’re not there and you place your feet further apart. “Ya wanna come on my cock, sweetheart, or my mouth?” Joel asks and you hastily part from Tommy and breathe out, “Cock, sir.”

“Fuck, baby,” Joel rumbles and you hear him unbuckling his belt and discarding it on the floor. You expect him to pierce you with his member any second now but you hear shuffling and then his warm lips kiss your pussy from behind. You gasp and Tommy smiles, gently pressing your head back down, “She’s like a little doe, so easy to spook.”

You lick the underside of the younger brother’s cock while Joel is behind you, peppering your pussy with open mouth kisses. Then his tongue slips between your folds and travels from your clit to your entrance. He spreads your pussy with his thumbs and your core burns with desire. You’re completely exposed, and you whine remembering that it’s Joel Miller who is about to make you fall apart while you’re blowing his brother. Joel’s movements are sure and effective and very soon your belly and thighs are trembling with an upcoming orgasm.

Mr Miller surprises you again when his tongue glides up to your asshole and he gives it a kiss after spreading your cheeks. You moan loudly not being afraid to be heard as the music is still blaring behind the closed door.

Tommy and Joel hear you well though and the oldest brother parts from your ass to lightly slap your cheek, getting your attention, “Ya like it, sweetheart? Will you let Mr Miller fuck your asshole with his tongue?”

“Yeah,” your whine, the sound muffled by cock. You roll your eyes in ecstasy and Tommy lifts your head by the hair a little to see the results of his brother’s actions on your face. Meanwhile Joel is licking your tight ring as his fingers rub circles on your throbbing clit. When he points his tongue at your little hole and starts poking it moving it deeper little by little you almost sob from the pleasure and lose your rhythm. You can’t concentrate on sucking any longer so Tommy pulls you off his cock.

“Hold it wide for me, baby” he commands, keeping you face above his red swollen tip and you do as you’re told, darting out your tongue. Your whimpers and moans fill the room accompanied by the squelching sounds of Tommy jerking his cock and Joel’s slurping on your tight hole.

Tommy’s eyebrows are furrowed and his gaze runs over your face, breasts and then your ass, being eaten out by his brother. The view takes him over the edge and he shoots his cum on your chin, lips and tongue. You close your mouth around his tip and drink everything he’s giving you. When Tommy pats your hand, you part from him and rest your head on his thigh, inches from his semi hard cock.

Joel gets up with a grunt and you finally feel his tip nudging at your dripping entrance. He impales you on his cock in one swift move and you scream when his tip hits your cervix. He’s big and your pussy aches trying to accommodate his thick length. You close your eyes and focus on the way his cock is gliding inside you, rubbing your sweet spot. A couple more thrusts and your whole body is shaking, ecstasy coursing through your veins, clit twitching and walls contracting. Your juices flow around Joel’s cock and he groans, “Yeah, good girl.. Fuck, squeeze Mr Miller’s cock.”

He begins thrusting into you vigorously and Tommy keeps you in place holding you tight while his brother starts pumping you full of his hot cum. Joel’s rough hands are gripping your hips leaving handprints on your skin while his cock is squirting seed deep into your pussy.

“Doing so good, baby,” Tommy coos at you, while you're nothing but a trembling shaking mess. He’s watching you both unravel and his cock twitches.

When your climax subsides and Joel stills and pulls out you fall on your knees between Tommys legs.

Both men help you up and Joel puts you like a rag doll on Tommy’s lap. You feel Joel’s cum leak out of you on his brother’s jeans.

You lean on the chest of the birthday boy resting your head on his broad shoulder, completely spent, drunk on endorphins and the depravity of what you’ve just done. Tommy lights up a cigarette as Joel gathers your clothes and boots and comes up to the two of you. He hands them to you and then caresses your cheek with a thumb giving you a warm smile,

“I’ll see you on Monday, sweetheart. Bring your costume.”

You smile back with a nod and he leaves.

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!💖

Tag list: @missannwinchester @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @nervousmumbling

I’d love to rec the fics that have been feeding my obsession with the Miller brothers combo! Check them out if you haven’t yet!♥️🥵

The Wrong Way @romana-after-dark

Leopard Print @toxicanonymity

Stuffing @toxicanonymity

At the Table @toxicanonymity

Liquid Gold @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Two Hands to Hold @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Too Depraved 4 TV @bonezone44

Smack My B*tch Up @milla-frenchy

[chatterbox-73]

Simptember 2024.

Day 13 - Eyes on you.

Gojo Satoru x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story for simptember, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for simptember and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

A/N: this is an edited report of a one-shot from my old account.

Summary: you babysit Megumi and Tsumiki, however over the time you’ve spent watching over them, it’s seems their guardian has been watching you. Until one night you and Gojo play a very risky game.

Word count: 1k

CW: NSFW and adult content, swearing, biting, babysitter!reader, fingering, against the wall, cocky!Gojo, employer/employee, slight breast play.

“Mr. Gojo, that tickles” you giggle as you try to pushed the white haired man back, Gojo let’s out a deep chuckle as he only pulls you closer and licked the shell of your ear, “best not be too loud, the children will wake… though I don’t really care, but you might” he whispered in your ear and held you again the wall.

God this was dangerous, a man as handsome and charming as Gojo Satoru, touching you so intimately, working you towards such delightfully devious acts, what god had to pleased to be given such attention, to not only have Gojo watching you but now he was moments away from fucking you.

Gojo slipped his hand down the front of your pants and circled his fingers over your clit, you swallow any sounds begging to slip out, as your fingers grip at Gojo’s shirt, “let go to the room please” you whispered between soft gasps as Gojo nibbles on your ear, “you know I’ve been watching you since I hired you, I’ve been longing for the day I get to complete you” he whispered as he lowered his glasses and looked you dead in the eye, before turning you around and pressing your face against the wall, all while keeping his fingers in your pants, however now he was working his long slender fingers into your cunt.

“I never knew how pretty your eyes were, Mr. Gojo” you hummed and Gojo chuckled, “how naive” he held your waist in his free hand before grinding his stiff cock into your ass, you let out a squeak and pushed your ass back into him, the force of his hips caused a delicious pressure in his fingers and hand that was trapped between your cunt and the wall. Gojo slipped your pants off in a swift motion, that had to be even more impressive considering one of his hands were knuckle deep in your cunt, Gojo unzipped and opened the front of his pants, “Mr. Gojo, we can’t do it out here” you whispered and Gojo spilled his fingers out, before he pulled your panties aside, “so wet” Gojo whistled as he pulled his member out of his pants and rubbed his tip through your folds, Gojo grabbed a condom out of his pocket and teared the packet open with his teeth before rolling it on with one hand, as the other held your panties out of the way.

Gojo groaned as he pushed inside you and stayed there for a moment waiting for you to settle down, because if you both woke the kids up and they caught the both of you he’d have to fire you, which he really didn’t want to do. “Please move Mr. Gojo, I’m desperate” you quietly whimper and you try pushing yourself back into him, “I can feel that… oh also, while I’m in you, call me by my given name” he hummed as he began trusting slowly, you hummed, as you dug your nails into the wall and bit your lip to silence yourself. Gojo was bigger then what you were use to and quite sensual, his thrusts were deep and hard, you could feel the air being knocked out of your lungs with each thrust, “it’s so good, Mr. Go- I mean Satoru” you gasped and looked back to see Gojo grinning as he rolled his hip upwards. You let out a particularly loud moan before covering your mouth, “please, let go to the bedroom… my legs are weak and I can’t stay quiet for much longer” you whined and Gojo clicked his tongue and he held your waist tightly, he began walking to his bedroom, while keeping himself inside you. You fumbled slightly as you struggled to keep up with Gojo’s long strides, on the way to the room you and Gojo knock over a couple of indoor pot plants and a vase, “depending on how well you take my cock, replacements may not come out of your paycheque” Gojo chuckled as he swung his bedroom door and pushed you onto his bed before shutting the door.

You laid naked on you back as Gojo held your hips up off the bed and thrusted quickly into you, “oh Satoru, I can’t take much more” you cried out as you ran your fingers up Gojo’s chest, “yeah I know… just a little longer, I’m… I’m almost there” he sighed as he throw his head back, Gojo moved his hands up your body to your breasts before squeezing them, he leant down to bite your neck. “I’m gonna-“ you gasped as you tightly hugged around his neck, Gojo grunted as his came and grabbed a hand full of you hair before kissing you, Gojo hummed as his tongue flicked around in your mouth, before he collapsed on top of you.

There was a soft knock at Gojo’s door and he quickly got up and wrapped a blanket around his waist as he covered you with a sheet, before opening the door the find Megumi and Tsumiki standing at the door, “what’s wrong?” He sighed as he blocked there view into the room, “we heard weird noises and then Y/n made a sound like she was hurt, then there was some crashing sounds…” Tsumiki said in a slight panic, “…yeah, and when we were to Y/n’s room she wasn’t in there, maybe a bad man took her” Megumi frowned and Gojo only chuckled, “Y/n’s not in any trouble, she went out to get me some medicine because I had a little too much to drink… now go to bed, I’ll tell her to come see you when she get back” he waved the kids off and went back into the room, “you baby them too much, you know that” Gojo watch as you start pulling your clothes on, “that’s what you hired me for, to make sure the kids have a stable parental figure in there life” you walked past Gojo to the door and he caught your wrists.

“After you’re done, come back here I haven’t had my fill of you yet” Gojo kissed your wrists before licking up your wrists to your finger tip.

Simptember Masterlist (Coming soon)

Day 12 - Itachi Uchiha: Gifts.

Day 14 - Levi Ackerman: Autumn breeze.

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part twenty-four

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three

-

There are few things you learn very quickly after joining the SOLDIER program.

One, mind your own business. If it looks like it's above your paygrade, it is, and no amount of curiosity or bluster will be enough to fend off the Turks. Though, honestly, that's just common sense for any employee of Shinra Electric Power Company…

Two, mind your own. You see another SOLDIER struggling, you give them a hand, you put your shoulder out there for them to lean on, and you don't make note of it. They all come out of their first Mako injections, spewing their guts out. If someone acts a bit crazy, you give them a hand, you give them a moment, and you move on.

And three, there is no such thing as too much training. In all honesty, none of them get enough training, with the enhancements they get. They're always playing catch up with the Mako, trying to match skill and control to raw power - which only grows greater with each injection. They rarely even get the time to get adjusted to their latest batch of Mako. It was a waste of time!

Shinra didn't hire them to train them to be Elite SOLDIERs, no. That's what the injections were for, after all - they were an instant shortcut to a capability that normally took up to twenty years of hard training to achieve. SOLDIER were given raw power, relentless endurance and seemingly unstoppable speed at the point of a needle and then… then they were given work.

A lot of SOLDIER Third Classes delighted in that, taking full advantage of the powers given and going to town, not paying much mind to technical skill. What is skill when you can outrun, outlift and outlast every other human out there? Lot of Thirds let it get to their heads.

A lot of SOLDIER Thirds never made it to Seconds.

The ones that made it to Seconds knew better, usually. The only way to get there was to rise above Thirds, and the only way to do that is by training. Which they often had to beg, borrow, bribe and steal for. Martial art manuals from Wutai, physical training from athletes, actual one on one sessions with older and more experienced warriors… even spars against each other, all worth their weight in materia in the SOLDIER program.

And training from a SOLDIER First Class…? Priceless.

Angeal Hewley was the best for it - he liked training with Seconds and sometimes even Thirds. He was a good teacher too, he took personal interest, he kept up with progress, he gave challenges. You could really feel yourself improving, under Angeal's hand.

Genesis Rhapsodos was… also good, if you needed tutoring in Materia. There was no better Spellcaster in Shinra then Genesis, and you could tell that he was always striving to get better. Unfortunately he gave up on his students if he felt they weren't putting in enough effort. Which was, sooner or later, all of them.

But Sephiroth…

"Good," the First says, still with that absolutely deranged smile on his face as he walks through their ranks, checking their stances. "Now again, from the beginning - one, two, three…" He actually claps a beat, and the SOLDIERs go through the poses in sequence, sifting in time with his claps. 

Kunsel's knees are shaking, and he can feel strain in muscles he used to be absolutely sure he'd trained enough. His grip on his sword is white-knuckled, and he can feel the way the tip is quivering radiating down the blade, into his hands, his wrists, his arms. He barely dares to breathe.

At Sephiroth's call, he shifts with everyone else to the next pose - feet shifting and then back firmly in the ground.

No one dares to breathe too loudly, and no one has said a word - no one wants to break whatever has come over Sephiroth. 

In his mind, Kunsel is desperately trying to memorise everything so that the moment it ends he could write it all down.

"Knee," Sephiroth says to someone, and there's a shift of a boot as someone shifts their position. "Good. Lower your left elbow. Very good. You there, relax your grip, breathe."

Kunsel's heart skips a beat as Sephiroth speaks to him, as the First approaches him. "No need to have such a death grip. It's better to lose your sword than your fingers," the First says, smiling, smiling, green eyes glowing.

Kunsel almost drops the whole sword as Sephiroth touches his hand to urge him to relax. His breath escapes in a wooshy exhale and Sephiroth, SOLDIER First Class, chuckles at him.

"There, that's much better, isn't it?" And before Kunsel can do more than gape at him, the First is moving forward. "Good! Now, is everyone ready?" Sephiroth asks, sauntering up to stand in front of them.

"Yes, sir!" comes the instant answer from about a dozen SOLDIERs.

"So obedient," Sephiroth purrs. "Good. Now swing!"

Dozen sword beams launch in unison at the First, who watches them come with a smug little smile, before swiping them away with a single easy swing of his sword.

"There, everyone got it, very good," Sephiroth says, watching them like he wants to eat them all. "You have done this master very proud. That ends today's lesson - I want all of you to practise these moves, but without activating your Qi. Do not tempt Qi-deviation."

Like with most things Sephiroth has said during the lesson, none of them have any idea what he's saying, but they agree nonetheless. "Yes, sir!"

"Good. Go on then," Sephiroth says with a little wave and still with that smile. "Shoo!"

Sephiroth just shoo'd them.

On still shaking knees, Kunsel stumbles with the rest of the Thirds and Seconds out of the destroyed training room. They're all just about equally shell-shocked as they quietly meet with the SOLDIERs who hadn't been able to fit in the lesson, but who had all been watching, avidly, as it progressed.

There's a sense of shock and awe in the air - like they'd all just gone through a bombing run together, and it has been equal parts amazing and horrifying.

"None of this gets off this floor," a voice says quietly from the back. One of the older Seconds, whose name Kunsel doesn't know. "Got it? Anyone asks, you say nothing about this. As far as anyone outside this floor is concerned, nothing happened."

"Sephiroth, is he…?"

"He calmed down after Professor Hojo and the technicians left," the older SOLDIER whispers very firmly. "And that. Is. All."

Kunsel swallows and looks back through the malfunctioning, still open automatic doors.

Sephiroth has taken seat on the floor in the middle of the devastation with Masamune held upon his crossed legs. He's meditating.

"I think I'd die for him," someone breathes out fervently.

Kunsel clears his throat before he can do something silly like agree. "Should we, um… call Director Deusericus, give the all clear? There's bound to be, um… cleanup, and such."

The other SOLDIERs consider this, looking conflicted. 

"I say give it a moment," someone sighs, shakily sitting down on the floor. Whether intentionally or not, he's mirroring Sephiroth's pose. "I, for one, need a moment."

He is not the only one, and they're all trying to look into the training room, to catch a glimpse of the SOLDIER First Class.

After a moment just standing there without a thought in his head, Kunsel joins them. "So, um. Does anyone know anything about mediation?"

They don't, but that doesn't stop them from trying. 

-

Disciples aquired.

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Okay i have to write this down. I have had a very specific fic idea sitting in my pumpkin of a head, rent free.

Draco gets a job - absolutely nothing important or fancy - as some kind of paperwork/paper pushing clerk at the Ministry right after his trial (some sort of reformation program for acquitted death eaters). Fast forward 8 or 9 years and draco still has the same job except he's kind of irreplaceable now because nobody can keep track of all the bajillion bullshit documents that get processed every fucking day - except draco. He sits in an office only slightly larger than a toilet cubicle and has stacks of parchment floor to ceiling ALL AROUND him and it's a bit dizzying honestly, but draco? You ask him for a specific document from december of 1999 and he'll find it in under ten seconds flat.

All this is not even the best part. The best part (in my head) is that draco is the biggest most terrifying GROUCH. Glasses perched on the tip of his nose, hair always rumpled (we know why but we get there later), draco sits at his tiny overflowing desk and barks and snaps at all the people who nervously stop by because they need their paperwork done and the Ministry has literally not bothered to hire anyone else. He doesn't report to anybody, he has no direct boss, they never sorted that shit out. It's something of a rite of passage for new ministry employees to get past draco. He's bony and pale and resembles an infuriated bowtruckle at any given point in the day. He sits there quill in hand, desk in impeccable order and just scolds every single person he meets.

"These are all in the wrong order," he snarls, shoving a sheaf of parchment at a young woman, somebody's new secretary. "Go rearrange them and maybe then I'll stamp and process them."

"Can you not see I'm already talking to somebody here?! Don't stick your head into my office when I'm already occupied. Get out and wait your turn."

"Shut the bloody door, can't you read the sign on it?!"

Occasionally though? He's a gem: "All right, okay, you need a letter from a parent or guardian since you're not of age yet. Didn't they tell you that when you applied for the summer internship? All right, why don't you dart through the Floos downstairs and fetch a letter from home? I'll be here until 5:30. Dry your eyes now, go on. I'll wait."

The whole ministry is terrified of draco and his temper and he speaks to nobody outside of work and nobody knows where he lives or whom he goes home to.

You know whom he goes home to, though, right? 👨🏿‍❤️‍👨🏼

[aloeverified]

au where marinette's parents own a small, struggling, but community-loved bakery outside of paris. she works after school and on weekends since her parents can't currently afford to hire any other employees, but she enjoys getting to know everyone in her neighborhood and uses her tip money to fund her sewing projects.

as the end of her junior high days approach, marinette is encouraged by her parents to apply to her dream high school, fran��oise dupont lycée of the arts, as a fashion student. she doesn't expect to actually get accepted, but knows her parents are right when they say there's no hurt in trying. after submitting her online store portfolio, where she does commissions and launches small projects like accessories, she receives feedback that the school board was beyond impressed with her work and would like to offer her a full-ride scholarship.

although it's hard for her to part from her parents for the first time in her life, they refuse to let her turn down the opportunity and practically pack her bags for her. after a very long and painful goodbye with lots of promises to call every single day, marinette leaves for paris.

she meets alya, her roommate and first friend at her new school. she's the daughter of a successful chef and is a promising journalist and creative writing student, she and marinette share many of their core subjects not relating to their majors.

marinette also meets chloé, the daughter of the mayor of france and alya's life-long enemy. the two go way back, with alya's mother being an old friend of chloe's father and having worked at his hotel restaurant before. the hate each other, and by association, chloé hates marinette — especially after finding out marinette is a fellow fashion major whose work scored much higher than her own.

then she meets adrien. adrien is a fellow fashion and modeling student who was eagerly accepted into the school despite his very late application. however, the principal was thrilled at the idea of having such a beloved model joining the student body, and didn't want to deal with chloé's threats of action if adrien was denied, so he was accepted with open arms.

adrien didn't exactly choose his majors, but rather just went along with what was expected of him. he already had a successful modeling career, so he took the classes despite there being little he didn't already know and have mastered. he was encouraged to join fashion classes as well, both by adults who assumed he was going to take after his father and by his best friend who wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

adrien is easily impressed with just about every design marinette crafts and marinette admits it's a bit endearing the way adrien struggles to figure out where the sewing machine's on switch is. his father is equally impressed, if not even more so, and marinette is asked to become a paid intern upon winning a contest judged by gabriel agreste.

not to mention the kind old man she befriends, an older chinese man who owns a tea shop in petite asie. marinette admits to feeling a bit alienated without her mother, worried her classmates will look at her funny for cooking guangxi rice in the dorm kitchen or having late night gossip sessions on the phone in mandarin. he tells marinette she will always have a friend while in paris and that she's more connected to the city than she thinks.

eventually, marinette even finds herself befriending almost all of her classmates, and even one of her classmate's brothers. juleka couffaine is a modeling major and a fellow scholarship student, something she and marinette bond over. luka is just as sweet as his sister, and almost as quiet if you ignore his constant humming and guitar strumming.

he also applied to be a music major at françoise dupont, but was rejected. after a year of struggling and being bullied in public school, he dropped out to focus on working and supporting his family — taking some of the burden away from his single mother and making sure juleka never has to go without. throughout the course of their relationship, marinette is eventually able to discover the ridiculous reasons why luka wasn't accepted and encourages him to go back to school, as well as accept that he can't support his family if he doesn't let them support him as well (a lesson she also had to learn).

[finniestoncrane]

Sitting my ass down in the front row for this sci-fi movie. Yeah, can I get me a uh- bubble tea, sweet popcorn, and uh- Slater it in pickles. My date's Cooper Howard, yeah he's not here willingly. Don't worry about it.

god what i wouldn't give to be his to do what he wanted with so we are on the same page here ;-; 💚🩷 cw: posessiveness, dubcon-ish, master/servant dynamics kinda, humiliation, degradation, boot licking 🔞minors dni🔞 send a request • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2k (to follow or to block)

You stood before him, infamous bounty hunter Cooper Howard, more legend than man at this point. Your entire body trembled, mind racing in confusion as he tried to clarify what he had just asked of you.

"Well, now don't be embarrassed, darlin'. It happens to the best of us out here."

Raising an eyebrow, you kept your vision on him as he paced in front of you.

"Just one of those things you get accustomed to over time, but everyone's fallen for it. You're desperate for something. Money, food. You take on a job out of necessity, don't ask what it might entail, and then you find out it's a lot more than you were ready for."

Cooper stopped, a smile gathering in his dry, ridged cheeks as he watched your pupils widen when caught in his gaze.

"I wouldn't have hired you if I didn't think you were up to it, though."

Still shocked at what he'd asked you to do, a definite line-crosed between employer and employee, you were unable to argue much, which meant Cooper held the floor.

"But, you will note that the contract I had you sign stated that you were mine for the duration, and that you will do as instructed by me, or else..."

His thumb tapped the barrel of the shotgun on his right leg and he winked to you.

"... I'd hate for it to come to that."

You considered the many opportunities he had up until now to pull that trigger, each little mistake you made. And as though he could read your thoughts, he decided himself to highlight this.

"Besides, you've proved that you're not worth much more than that slit between your legs, so spread 'em wide and start doing whatever it takes to get yourself in the mood."

Rattled by his unshakeable confidence and his answer for questions you hand't even asked, you did as you were told, easing your hand down the front of your pants and beginning to rub between your already thick, swollen lips, spreading your embarrassingly copious slick around as he watched you.

"Good girl. You get nice and wet, or I'm going in rough and dry. Your choise."

As your breath hitched, he chuckled.

"Yeah, I thought as much. You strike me as the weak-willed and desperate type. I can read you like a book, darlin'."

Cooper's hand was under your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes could meet his.

"Now, so I know you're ready to obey my instructions, I want you to get down there and lick my boot, girly. Show me you know your place."

With a slight grimace, a tension in your stomach you couldn't place as either arousal or irritation, you found yourself sinking to your knees regardless. One long, slow swipe of your tongue over the tip of his boot, the dust and grime of the wasteland tingling your tastebuds, and you lifted your head back up quickly.

"That's it. Now keep that mouth open, and try not to think about how embarrasing this might be for you."

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Just a Broken Ankle?

Hi there!  This is my first post ever…and it’s not proofread because I knew I’d go back and completely change everything, so I’m just throwing it on here.  This one is for all my Steve girlies, and it’s loosely inspired by my current obsession with Grey’s Anatomy.  Please take all the medical talk in here with a grain of salt…I know nothing!

18+ – MINORS DNI

pairing: fiance!steve x florist!reader

summary: you rush to hospital when you find out steve’s been taken into surgery for an unknown reason…

contains: fluff, fluff, more fluff, stress, mentions of surgery and injury

word count:  3.7k

You lean back against the desk behind you with a huff.  The tips of your fingers ache after being poked and prodded by the thorns of the many, many red rose bouquets you’ve just finished putting together.  Your back and neck are sore from your position over the last few hours, and you can feel a dull throb starting in your feet.  

Owning the best flower shop in Hawkins around Valentine’s Day was doing wonders for your business, but damn what you wouldn’t give for a hot bath to soak in right about now.  

Your angel of an employee, Phoebe, has been manning the register and some smaller orders all day long while you worked in the back, answering phone calls and chipping away at the massive order for twenty dozen assorted roses.  The two of you have been doing a great job at keeping up with the business since you opened two years ago, but you’ve been considering hiring her girlfriend for some extra hands around the shop.

“Hey Boss?” Phoebe calls from the front register.

“What’s up?” You drag yourself from the back area of your shop to the front register while stretching your sore muscles.

“I’m finishing up on these corsages and boutonnieres for the nursing home order, they’ll be labeled and ready to go for the pickup tomorrow morning in a minute,”  Phoebe steps aside to let you see her handiwork.  Her attention to detail is really what makes her the love of your life, aside from your fiancee Steve of course.  She’s arranged red and white roses with baby’s breath so beautifully, you’re positive the people at the nursing home will be tickled pink this Valentine’s Day.  “I was wondering if I could maybe cut out a bit early after I’m done.  Ally is planning this romantic dinner and I wanted to go pick up some wine to surprise her on my way home.”

You give her a warm smile and reach out to place a hand on her shoulder.  “Anything for my favorite employee.  You did a beautiful job on these!”

“I’m your only employee, Boss.  Thank you!”  Phoebe chuckles and turns back to finish up her labels.

You turn to go back and add some finishing touches to the rose order.  “What would I do without – “

You’re cut off by the shrill ring of the shop’s phone.  “I’ve got it!”  You skip over to the phone to answer.  “Hi, thank you for calling Lavender Lane!  How can I help you?”

“Hello, may I speak to (Y/N) (L/N) please?”

You feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach.  “Uh - yes, this is she.”

The woman on the other line clears her throat.  “Hello, ma’am.  I’m an ER nurse here at Hawkins Memorial and I’m calling in regards to Steven Harrington…”

You hear your blood rushing in your ears as the nurse's words start to fade out.  All of a sudden it becomes exceedingly difficult to breathe normally.  The only words you’re able to catch are “...ambulance…surgery…emergency contact…”

You feel Phoebe’s hand on your shoulder, and you think you can hear her ask if you’re alright, but you’re too busy trying to figure out whether your heart is still beating inside of your chest.  Steve?  Your Steve?  In the hospital?  You feel yourself beginning to panic as you drop the phone and run to grab your purse and keys.  

Phoebe struggles to keep up with you as you flitter around the back in search of your keys.  “What’s wrong?  Who was on the phone?”

You’re throwing papers around frantically, looking for your keys in the mess on your desk.  “Uh, Steve is – Steve is i-in the….the h-hospital.  Have to get there..have to get to him.”  It’s becoming harder to see, you can’t figure out why your vision is suddenly so blurred until you realize that you’re crying.  You’re terrified. 

Phoebe takes a firm hold of your shoulders and spins you to face her.  She shoves your keys into your hands and looks you dead in the eye.  “Take a deep breath.”  You follow her breathing as she inhales deeply, then exhales.  “Good.  Now keep doing that, I don’t want you driving if you’re going to freak out the whole time.”  You nod shakily and hurry to the front.

As you reach the door, you remember that Phoebe wanted to leave early.  You turn to apologize but she beats you to it.

“Don’t even think about it, Ally’s wine can wait.  I’ll take care of everything here, you go check on your man.”

You nod as tears run down your face.  The bell on the door rings as you push it open and sprint to your car.  You can hear Phoebe shouting at you to drive safely, but all you can focus on now is Steve, Steve, Steve. 

Your engine revs and your tiles squeal as you peel out of your parking lot and onto the main road.  You drive way too fast, thinking all the while about all of the possible situations that await you.

Was there an accident?  Did someone try to rob the house?  Was he shot?  Stabbed? 

What if he’s dead?

You shake your head to expel such a dark thought, and push down even harder on the gas pedal.

Break

You don’t remember much about your journey to the hospital, but you realize that you’ve probably parked very illegally as you run inside to the desk.   The poor nurse sitting behind it looks at you with wide, scared eyes as she takes you in.  Your mascara is running, you’re sweating and trying to catch your breath as you unload your panic onto her.

“S-someone called me about my fiance.  Steve, S-Steve Harrington,  where is he?!  Where is he, please, I need to see him.  I need to know if he’s alive I-”

Your panic-induced rant is interrupted when an older man with a kind face, who most definitely could be a doctor, approaches where you’re bent over the front desk.  You figure maybe he knows something about Steve’s condition and rush towards him. 

“H-Hello, my name is (Y/N) and my fiance is here and I just want to know what’s going on please.”  The feeling of helplessness starts to creep up on you, and you feel hot tears stream down your cheeks.

The man introduces himself as Dr. Prichard and assures you that Steve is being well taken care of.  They’re in the middle of his surgery right now and he has to get back to the operating room, but he’ll come out with an update for you as soon as he’s able.  

You feel like there’s cotton where your brain should be as you watch him retreat back to the double doors he came from.  How were you just supposed to wait?  What is even happening right now?  You look to the nurse behind the desk, hoping to get some answers out of her, but she immediately ducks her head down before catching your eye.  You let out a sigh of defeat and trudge over to the waiting room.

As you sit down in a chair for the first time all day, you couldn’t feel any farther from relaxed.  Your head swims with possible outcomes and what ifs, and your shoulders start to shake from the force of your cries.  You drop your face into your hands and cry quietly for what feels like an hour, but was probably much shorter than that.  You sit up and take a deep breath as you lean back in the surprisingly comfortable chair, looking around at the room.  

You see an elderly couple walking the halls of the hospital, the woman assisting the man in a hospital gown as he uses a walker.  He stops to peck her on the cheek, and they carry on.  You can’t help but to picture you and Steve at their age one day, and you think about how magical your engagement to Steve has been thus far.  He’s the love of your life, your absolute, without-a-doubt soulmate, and you couldn’t wait to marry him.  You would’ve gone down to the courthouse to get it down the moment after he dropped to one knee, but he insisted on giving you the wedding of your dreams.  Money wasn’t a problem, thanks to Steve’s fancy marketing job and his trust fund, and he’s made sure to do his fair share of the wedding planning.  Together you’ve picked out the perfect venue, tried all of the cakes (much to Steve’s delight) and of course arranged for all of the flowers you could dream of (though Steve let you take the lead on that one).  Now all that was left was to walk down the aisle in three short months, say I do, and start the rest of your lives together.  

You feel yourself begin to cry again.  What if those plans have to change?  What if you don’t have as much time left as you thought?  You’d marry Steve Harrington right here in this goddamn hospital if you had to.  Screw a big white wedding, you’d do anything to be bound to Steve in as many ways as possible. 

You decide to stand and pace, maybe some movement could help calm your nerves, you want to be as level headed as possible when the doctor comes out with an update.  

Your mind races as you think of all the plans you had with Steve.  All the things you still had to do together.  You still had to get married, honeymoon in Italy, buy a house, get a dog, have kids, grow old and senile together until you eventually die in eachothers’ arms at the old age of 100.  It’s been the plan all along, and what if everything is about to change?  What if your entire life is about to get flipped upside down?  What if -

“Miss (L/N)?”

You whip around and see Dr. Prichard, the same doctor you spoke to earlier.  He has a vague expression on his face, and you’re terrified yet eager to hear what he has to say.  You walk towards him slowly, almost in a daze.

“...Harrington…” you say shakily under your breath as you approach him.

Dr. Prichard leans forward, having not quite heard what you mumbled,  “I’m sorry?”

You stand a bit straighter.  “My name, i-it’s Mrs. Harrington.”

Dr. Prichard then looks at you with a warm smile.  “Of course it is, Mrs. Harrington.  Walk with me.”  He gently holds your elbow as he leads you through double doors, towards Steve.

Break

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Dr. Prichard chuckles at your disbelief, after telling you that Steve is in fact just fine.  “Not at all, ma’am.”

You open and close your mouth like a fish, unable to find the words.  “B-but…they told me about an ambulance…and the surgery!”

“Yes ma’am, Steve was brought to us by ambulance, but that’s because it would’ve been unsafe to drive himself here.  We were told that an older woman, Ms. Gertrude, I believe, called 911 for him.”

You’ll thank Jesus every day for your nosey 71-year-old next door neighbor Gertie.  “And the surgery?”

Dr. Prichard sighs and you prepare yourself for the worst. “I’m terribly sorry if our nursing staff led you to believe anything extreme,” Dr. Prichard leans in closer as though he’s sharing a secret ,”Just between you and I, the nurses here have the people skills of pre-teens.”  He chuckles while you give him a look that says tell me already!!! 

 “Steve’s surgery was to repair a broken ankle.  We had to go in and place a few plates and screws to get everything back where it’s supposed to be.  Other than a couple bruised ribs on his left side, your fiance is okay.”

You could feel the stress melt off your body as you pull Dr. Prichard in for a bear hug.   He laughs, startled by your sudden affection.  “Oh my god.  Thank you.”  You want to cry, laugh and sleep all at the same time.

Dr. Prichard rubs your back as you begin to finally calm down.  “There, there.  Everything is A-OK.  His room is just up ahead if  you’d like to see him now.”

You release the older man from your bone-crushing hug.  “Yes, yeah, of course.”  He leads you up the hall a bit further until reaching a room and knocking softly with one knuckle.  

Dr. Prichard turns to you before opening the door.  “He should be awake by now, we put him under for the surgery and he might be a bit loopy still from the drugs.”  

You nod eagerly, just excited to see Steve for yourself and make sure he was alright.  

As Dr. Prichard opens the door, you hear girlish giggles coming from within the room, followed by the deep, hearty chuckle that could only belong to one man.  You trail behind Dr. Prichard as he enters the room.  “You have a visitor, Mr. Harrington.”

You emerge from behind Dr. Prichard and see Steve’s face light up entirely.  

“There she is!  My beautiful wife!” he yells, quite loudly.  You discover where all the giggles were coming from as you see two middle-aged nurses laughing at Steve’s antics.  “Just look at her ladies, isn’t she gorgeous?  I told you she was gorgeous!”  You look down trying to suppress your own girly giggles as you feel your cheeks heat up.  “My god, honey.  You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“And you’re higher than a kite right now, Steve.”  You don’t think you’ve ever been happier to see him as you approach his hospital bed.  You take in his heavily wrapped left ankle that’s elevated off the bed, and you survey the rest of his body for other injuries.  He has some small scratches on his arms and one just above his left eyebrow, but nothing major catches your attention.  He really is okay.  Your heart stops as your eyes meet his.  He’s giving you that smile, the one that scored him a second date all those years ago.  God, he’s so handsome.  

“The only thing I’m high on is love, baby.”  You laugh at this and sigh as you turn to look back at Dr. Prichard, who is also chuckling. 

“You sure weren’t lying about him feeling loopy.”

“He’ll be back to normal before you know it.”  Dr. Prichard puts a hand over his mouth and whispers “, Your guy is quite the character.  He’s got all the nurses on this floor charmed half to death and giggling like school girls in the halls.”  

You both turn to look at the nurses, who are failing to conceal their blush after a flirty wink from Steve.  You shake your head and laugh, “Typical.”  

“We’ll give you two some time.” He says as he ushers the nurses out of the room along with him. 

You turn back to Steve, doing your best impression of his ‘angry mom’ pose and fixing him with a stern look.

He looks right back at you with round eyes, “What?” he whines.  

“Don’t ‘what’ me Steven!”  He winces at the use of his full name.  “Do you mean to tell me that I was losing it out in that waiting room scared out of my mind while you were in here flirting with nurses?!”  Steve’s mouth opens but no words come out.  You’re not actually mad of course, how could you be when he still manages to look sexy in a hospital gown?  You felt obliged to give him a hard time after you cried for hours over what turned out to be a broken ankle.  

“Baby I – how else was I supposed to get the good Jello?”  Steve nods towards the discarded tray next to his bed where you were able to count five empty Jello containers.  You laugh incredulously and sit next to him on the bed.  

“Unbelievable.” You find it hard to muster even the slightest bit of annoyance towards him when he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.  Steve wraps his arms around your waist to the best of his ability and squeezes.  You lean down to brush some hair out of his face and you rest your hand on his cheek.  He feels warm, a little prickly from his stubble, and alive.  You take a deep breath, relieved that everything is going to be okay, and he leans into your touch.  

“I love you…so much.” 

Steve sighs dreamily, “I love you more.”

You slide your hand to grip his chin, squishing his cheeks together playfully as you lean in for a little peck.  As you pull away, Steve whines, “Aw come on, what was that?”  You laugh and look at him, confused as he yells,  “I just survived a major surgery, baby!  That deserves a real kiss!”

You throw your head back and laugh loudly.

“C’mon woman, plant one on me!” 

You’re still giggling at his slightly slurred words as you lean back down to press your lips to his.  He reaches up to hold your face with both hands as he slips his tongue between your lips.  You make a surprised sound at the welcome intrusion, and to this Steve lets out a loud, borderline pornographic moan.  The kiss is passionate and messy as your tongues mingle together and you both smile through it.  You can’t help but to laugh as he kisses you dirtily in his hospital bed, high off his pain meds.  He breaks apart from you with a loud “mwah!” and falls back onto his pillow with a shit eating grin on his face.  

“You’re so beautiful, baby.  C’mere.” Steve holds his arms open to you, and you lie down with him.  The blanket he covers the two of you with is surprisingly soft.  Maybe all of his flirting actually paid off.  You make sure to rest your ear over his heart, to ensure that it’s beating as it should be.  

You’re quiet, and Steve notices because he notices everything.  “I’m okay, baby.”  He rubs circles onto your back soothingly, as if you were the one who got hurt.

You lean on an elbow to look down at him with tears in your eyes.  He winces, the thing Steve hates most in the world is to see you in any sort of pain.  “I know.  I know that.”  You reach up to toy with the gold chain that lays against his collarbone.  “It’s just…it was just really scary Steve.”  A few tears slip out as you recall how terrified you were just hours before.  “All I knew is that you were in surgery a-and no one would tell me anything else and I…I was just so afraid to lose you, Steve.”  You were full on crying now, and Steve held you tightly to him as he rocked the two of you back and forth.  

He smooths your hair down and presses a kiss to your hairline.  “I’m so sorry, baby.  That must’ve been so scary.  I know if I were you I would’ve torn this place apart brick by brick until I got some answers.”  You laugh wetly into his chest.  “So, good on you for not turning into Godzilla.”  Steve pats your back and this only makes you laugh more.

You lean up on an elbow again to look at him. “You gonna tell me what even happened?”

Steve throws his head back and groans dramatically.  You can see a blush start to creep up his neck and onto his ears, so it must be embarrassing.  You poke him in the cheek to spur him on.

“Okay, okay.”  He looks at you and takes a deep breath, readying himself.  “You know those trees we have out front?”

“...Yes?”

Steve squints, like it pains him to say this.  “Well, I was just lookin’ at ‘em and lookin’ at ‘em and I said to myself, ‘Steve, you’re a man.  You should be able to take care of your own yard.’ you know?”  You try to hold back a laugh, knowing where this is going already.  “And so I thought, why would a man, such as myself, have to hire someone to take care of his very own yard?”

“--Oh my god, Steve.”  You put your head in your hand, shaking it in disbelief. 

Steve laughs through his next words as he continues on, “And then, I remembered that I’ve seen Mr. Sanders – you know, the man who lives a few doors down from us – I’ve seen him trimming his trees before.  So I walked on down there and asked him to borrow his gear, and he said yes!”

You’re struggling to hold back your laughs as you listen to Steve’s storytelling.  Steve is also holding himself back from bursting into laughter, which makes the whole thing that much funnier.

“He did offer to help me out, but he was on his way out to run some errands and I didn’t want to bother him of course, so I told him not to worry about it.”

You gaze at him fondly as he tells his story with animated hands and facial expressions.

“And then, y’know, I started out alright.  But then I was trying to reach the higher branches and I guess I just lost my balance or something because the next thing I knew I was flat on my back staring up at the sky, babe!”

“That sounds crazy, honey,”  You slide your hand into his hair to scratch your nails along his scalp.

Steve moans, he loves when you do this.  You see his eyes start to get heavy and his head falls back a bit.  He’s so adorable when he gets all sleepy.

“It was sooo crazy.  Then Gertie was there and then the ambulance guys were there and then I went to sleep and now I’m here,”  You push up on the bed so that he can lay on your shoulder.  Steve snuggles in as best as he can while not disturbing his wrapped up leg or bruised ribs. “Do you think it’s okay if I sleep for a little bit?  I’m kinda tired.”

His eyes begin to flutter closed, and he feels heavier on your shoulder as he falls deeper and deeper into sleep.  “Yeah baby, get some sleep.”

Steve grumbles a bit, just on the cusp of his impending nap ,”Mmm…I love you so much.”

You squeeze him tighter against you and lean your head back to try and get some rest as well.

“I love you more.” 

[totowlff]

break the rules

➝ you're there for business and that's all. however, after your presentation, you meet a mysterious man who makes you question all your convictions.

➝ word count: 3,8k

➝ warnings: strip club environment, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut

➝ author’s note: this was an idea that appeared suddenly and that was stored for some time in my drafts. after finishing my last one shot, i took the courage to finish this story. definitely not my best, but I still find it interesting and, in a way, mysterious.

The wind whipped your hair against your face as you walked down the narrow street. Winter hadn't officially arrived in Vienna, but that didn't stop you from feeling a bone-chilling cold under the thick coat and red scarf you had chosen to leave the house that late afternoon.

The movement at that time of day in the Innere Stadt was intense, cars roaming the alleys near St. Stephen's Cathedral, sharing the tight space with buses, bicycles, motorbikes and pedestrians, many pedestrians. Residents and tourists, adults and children, all mixed together, heading to their homes, apartments and hotel rooms to rest after a long day in the City of Dreams. Walking in the opposite direction, however, you weren't going home or to the hotel, like them.

You were going to work.

The fact that you had a night job was not surprising, considering that that was a city that had tourism as its main economic asset. There were countless bars, restaurants and cafes that were open, waiting anxiously for customers, especially after a complicated period related to the Covid-19 pandemic.

But the surprising part of your job was that you weren't a waitress, a cook, or a bartender, even though you'd served countless flutes of champagne and glasses of whiskey, with and without ice.

You were a stripper.

It wasn't the most conventional job there was in Vienna, especially considering the city's nightlife. However, it was the only one that, in addition to paying well enough to cover the expenses of the PhD in psychology you were doing, was flexible with the timing of the workshops and seminars you needed to attend, as well as making it possible for you to work on your dissertation during the week.

Your family didn't know, let alone your classmates or teachers. The official version was that you worked in a high-end bar and received some generous tips from customers. Nobody needed to know what you did or said for them to pay you so well.

Stopping briefly to see an interesting shoe that was in the Midanis window, you headed towards the brown door next to the gold tiled wall where the club's name was placed. Stopping in front of the intercom, you quickly typed in the employee passcode, a simple sequence that caused the lock to squeak open.

Descending the stairs leading to the lounge, you came across one of the security guards, who was smartly dressed in a well-tailored suit.

— Good evening, Layla.

— Good evening, Marc — you replied, smiling.

That wasn't your real name. As soon as you were hired by the club, you were given a new name, of Arabic origin, in order to protect your privacy and offer more security against clients who wanted to cross the line that was firmly delimited in your contract. Unlike other girls, you had refused to join the club's list of available escorts.

You were there to dance, and only to dance.

As you entered the main hall, you found the place being carefully prepared for the night. Two female employees were bent over tables, wiping them down, while the bartender arranged drinks on the bar. Greeting them with a smile, you crossed the room towards a door at the back of the room, which led to the dressing rooms.

As she opened the door, your nostrils were filled with the scent of hairspray, women's perfume, and nail polish remover. In the speakers, a lively beat mingled with the conversations and laughter of the other women who worked there, who were already getting ready for the night.

— Good evening, Layla — a blonde girl, who was modeling a curl with a curling iron, greeted you.

— Good evening, Fatin — you answered, as you went towards the lockers and opened yours to put your purse in — Curls today?

— Aisha heard that there is a big table reserved tonight — Fatin replied, letting go of the strand she'd just styled and picking up another one — Looks like it's a big guy's birthday party. And you know what it means, right?

— Tips? — you replied, looking over your shoulder as you removed the coat you were wearing, revealing the black top you were wearing underneath. Then it was the turn of the jeans to slide down your legs, revealing your panties in the same color.

— Exactly — she smiled, releasing another curl — And the good ones. The kind ones that pay bills.

— I hope so, I still have to pay my apartment’s rent this week — you chuckled, as you folded your coat and put it in your locker. Then you pulled the black tulle top and shorts out of your bag, putting them on right there. There was no point in feigning modesty considering the women there were dressed even less discreetly than you. Finally, you put on your favorite heels, with transparent and vertiginous platforms, perfect for the choreography you would be doing that night.

Sitting in front of the mirror, you were just finishing gluing on your false eyelashes when Theresia, the club manager, walked into the dressing room with a wide smile on her face.

— Good evening, girls — she said, receiving a chorus of positive responses — Today we are hosting a large group for a birthday celebration, so I ask that you put your all into your choreographies and be nice to them.

— Do you have the setlists? — one of the girls, a brunette whose name there was Huda, asked.

— You start, Huda, followed by Iman, Layla, Malika and Karima closes the first round — the woman replied, making you release the air that was trapped in your throat. You hated being the first one to perform, as your choreography was more rhythmic, and generally, the audience appreciated more lively opening numbers — Any other questions? No? Great. Girls who want to go to the bar are free to do so.

Theresia walked out with a few girls behind her. However, you remained seated, staring at your own shoes.

— Layla? — someone called you. You looked up to find Fatin standing in front of you with a smile on his red lips — Are you going to stick around?

— Yeah. I want to stretch and concentrate for the performance.

— Want me to take a look at the guys to give you a preview?

You smiled.

— I do.

— Okay, I'm going there and I'll be right back, okay?

Fatin left the dressing room towards the club’s bar, while you remained seated, staring at your own reflection. You were wearing strong makeup, your eyes lined with eyeliner, almost cat-like. A perfect parallel with the choreography you had chosen for that night, which had something wild and mysterious about it.

As you mentally recalled the steps, following the beat of the music in your head, you imagined how your movements would look to the eyes of the men who should be walking into the club at that hour, ordering their drinks and talking about business and other banal things before enjoying the women who would walk onstage and make them put their hands in their wallets and pockets.

Still thinking about one of the moves you would make, your eyes met Fatin's, who was returning to the room with a wide smile on her face.

— Did you like what you saw? — you asked, stifling a laugh.

— There are some interesting guys out there. Apparently they're here to celebrate the 50th birthday of one of them. But if you ask me, they don't look 50 years old...

— Did you ask their age?

— No, but, you know, these guys always have friends the same age.

You laughed.

— Everyone from here?

— Doesn’t look like it, as they're speaking English. There must be foreigners with them.

— Americans?

— Don't think so. Too handsome to be 50-year-old guys from America.

— There are 50-year-old guys from America who are handsome.

— But those are too handsome, Layla. And, let's face it, the only good looking guy in America at that age must be Ben Affleck and I'm pretty sure he's not out there.

— Of course he’s not, he got married this year.

— Married? — Fatin asked, incredulous.

— Yeah, with Jennifer Lopez — you replied. It wasn't like you followed celebrity news, in fact, you found out after a customer commented on your butt being similar to the singer's and lamented for long minutes about her marriage.

— Shit — she muttered, taking a seat in a chair beside her, facing the mirror.

— Don't worry, you'll find your Ben soon, Fatin.

The two of you continued talking, commenting about the choreography you were working on and the song you were dancing to that night. When showing a video that you had made in a rehearsal, your colleague gave a mischievous smile.

— The guys out there are going to love it.

— You think so?

— I'm sure — she replied, as you caught sight of Theresia's face in the dressing room doorway, a slightly worried expression on her face.

— Layla, you’re up.

— Why?

— Iman's with a client and the guy paid for an hour with her. I can't get her out of there now.

You sighed, getting up from your chair.

— The show must go on — you said, pushing past Fatin and heading for the door.

The way to the stage was always a moment of introspection for you. It was as if you stripped yourself of all the labels you occupied in the lives of the people around you. You abandoned your daughter, granddaughter, friend, student, psychologist and future doctor to become just Layla. Your sensual and confident alter-ego, who looked each of those men in the eye and made them feel much more than sexually desired, but understood and welcomed as well.

Standing at the entrance to the stage, you took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching your hands, relaxing the muscles in your shoulders. “It's showtime”, you thought, before looking up and wiggling your feet to check that your shoes were securely fastened to your feet.

And then you entered the stage, slowly.

The room seemed to quieten as you walked to the center of the stage, the voices becoming whispers inside your head. Leaning your back against the pole, you waited for the woman's voice to come through the speakers before looking up. The club was full, men and women mixed up, liquor bottles, champagne flutes and whiskey glasses strewn across the tables.

The soft beat guided your movements. Lifting one leg a few times, soon you were pulling yourself up onto the pole, spinning as your body slid down. Your muscle memory took you through the music as if it were something natural that you had done hundreds of times. Every step came naturally, every sigh, every lust-filled gaze you directed at the audience.

After a few steps on the ground and spinning around the pole to get up again, you finished the choreography looking back at the audience, while the song ended in a whisper from the interpreter. The silence that followed made the corners of your lips curl. The mission had been accomplished.

Taking a deep breath, you waited for the spotlight that illuminated you to go out so that you left the stage in quick steps, hurrying to make room for the next girl who would perform there. At the backstage door, Fatin was waiting for you with a wide smile on her face.

— Another perfect performance, Layla — she said, as she escorted you back to the dressing room — The guys were completely mesmerized.

— I hope you didn't notice that I missed one of the footprints on the pole — you replied, walking back into the dressing room.

— Honestly, I didn't even notice — Fatin murmured, while you took one of the small glasses of water and took a long drink — Now drink this and let's go back to the hall.

After a quick look in the mirror to confirm that your hair was still acceptable and that your makeup still looked fresh, you followed Fatin to the bar, which was, indeed, very busy. Smiling, you waved towards the bar, where the bartender, Farah, was making another Old Fashioned for one of the men sitting across from her.

— Layla — you heard Theresia call out to you from a corner of the hall, near the hallway that led to the private rooms. Giving Fatin's shoulder a knowing squeeze, you walked over to the manager with a smile on your face.

— Yeah?

— There's a guy waiting for you inside.

You blinked.

— Who?

— Does it matter?

— Well, it's just that I haven't talked to anyone yet...

— And you don't even have to, just move that ass of yours and these guys are happy — she said sharply — Now go, he's in room three.

Nodding, somewhat resigned, you entered the hallway in silence. Taking a deep breath, you were concentrating on putting the mask back on, on being the mysterious, seductive woman that man had seen onstage. “Focus”, you thought, before exhaling and putting your hand on the doorknob.

The private rooms always had the same layout, with a pole placed in the center of the room while a large black velvet sofa took up three of the walls of the room. Sitting right in the middle of it, tugging at the sleeves of his white shirt, was the man who had requested your presence.

He had dark hair and eyes, as well as a strong jaw. His shoulders were broad and, even sitting down, he looked very tall. Upon noticing his presence, he straightened his posture, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

— Good night — you said, slowly approaching the pole in the middle of the room, your eyes locked on his.

— Good night — he replied, his deep voice running through your body like a caress and a shiver — Layla, isn't it?

— Yeah — you said, placing a hand on the cold metal, leaning almost nonchalantly, even though you were feeling just the opposite. However, the rule was clear: it didn't matter to you who he was. It only mattered that he was willing to pay to have you for his eyes alone, if only for a few minutes.

— I liked your performance — he said, resting his elbows on his thighs — Have you been dancing long?

— A few years already — you replied, as you walked around the pole, your fingers slipping along it.

— And you like it, I presume.

— Well, yes — you said, smiling as you practiced a few laps on the pole — It pays my bills, so I can't complain.

The corners of his lips curled up as he leaned back on the couch.

— I guess I can say the same about my work.

— What do you do? — you asked, before mentally condemning yourself. It didn't matter to you what he did, you were just there to be a pleasant sight and nothing more. However, your curiosity did not anger the man in front of you.

— A curious girl, I see — he murmured, giving her a small smile.

— Someone needs to be — you hesitated, after all, you didn't know his name. And, realizing this, he hastened to complete.

— You can call me Torger.

A strong name. Powerful. Unusual. Something tingled on his skin.

— And what do you do for a living, Torger?

— Business — he replied, punctually.

— That we all do, don't we? — you returned, leaning against the pole.

— Indeed. But in my case, it's real business. Finance.

— Banker? Or investor?

— Neither of them. I own a business.

You snorted, looking unimpressed.

— Ah, crypto, eh? — you said — I hope you're not thinking of paying me that way, I won't accept it.

Your comment made Torger chuckle, throwing his head back. Stopping suddenly, your heart was pounding in your chest as something warm spread through your body.

— No, no, I've learned my lesson regarding cryptocurrency, I don't even want to think about putting money into that.

— Did you already try and lose money?

— Enough for me to regret thinking it would work — the man replied, running a hand through his hair — The point is, my job is related to finance, and before you ask, it's not illegal at all.

— I'm relieved — you murmured, allowing yourself to hook one leg over the pole for a quick spin.

— And you?

— What about me?

— What do you do? — Torger asked.

— You see what I do — you answered — I dance.

— I'm asking out of here. Do you work with something else? Study?

You pressed your lips together as you put your feet back on the ground. The moment you stepped there, Y/N didn't exist, the woman who was fighting for a postdoctoral degree didn't exist, neither the daughter, or the sister or the granddaughter that you were.

There was only Layla. And only she could be there, inside that room.

— I can't say anything.

— Why not? — he asked, raising an eyebrow.

— Because it's in the rules — you said, leaning against the pole again.

That was an outright lie. There were no rules within the club regarding what you could and could not say about yourself to the customers. The choice was entirely yours and you always chose not to say it so as to protect yourself from potential stalkers. Yet even following your own directive, something told you that you could trust Torger.

— Rules?

— From the club. I can't say anything about myself.

— Anything?

— Anything.

— Not even if I want to know more?

— Not if I wanted to tell you more — you said, stopping in front of the pole. Staring at you, Torger had the shadow of a smile on his face, as if he sensed that you wanted to say more. “Am I that transparent?”, you asked yourself as you took careful steps towards him.

— And are there any other rules here that you need to follow?

— Well, there are some — you murmured.

— Do you mind telling me?

You took a few seconds to think as you allowed your back to slide down the pole, coming to a stop on your knees in front of it.

— I can't use my real name or any information that identifies me, and I can't drink or smoke during working hours.

— Layla isn't your name then?

— No — you replied with a smile, as you slowly rose from the ground — And I didn't even mention the rules you have to follow…

— Are you serious?

You chuckled as you walked to the front of him.

— Yeah. You can't pressure me for information about her private life, not even take me out of the club during working hours... And you can't, under any circumstances, make physical contact.

— You mean I can't touch you? — he asked, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

— No, you can't — you replied, looking down at his hands. They were big, with long fingers and not a ring in sight. Perfect to touch you.

— Not even if I asked?

— No.

— No one would know.

— They would.

— Only if you tell — he returned, in a mischievous tone.

Moving closer, you crouched down in front of him, your eyes wandering over his expression, trying to unravel what was behind the mischievous smile and curious look. He was completely magnetic, drawing you into his orbit in an almost natural way.

— And you want to touch me? — you finally asked.

— Yes, I do.

Looking into his dark eyes, you took a deep breath before taking his hand and bringing it to his face, your fingers lightly touching his skin. You felt as if your entire body was pulsing, heat spreading inside your chest. The feeling of doing it for the first time was both frightening and delicious.

— You're beautiful — Torger murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

— You're rather handsome yourself — you replied, making him chuckle.

— Thanks, I don’t hear that often.

— Seriously?

— Yeah. I've never been successful with girls.

— I don’t believe you.

— Why not?

— Because you're making me want to break all of my rules — you replied, instinctively bringing your face closer to his — And I never break rules.

— But you're breaking them now.

— For you.

— I guess I should feel special.

— Maybe you are — you whispered, your face close enough that your nose was brushing his. His touch on your face made anticipation swell below your navel — Maybe you are that much more than special…

You knew the moment you kissed him, you were lost. This was your last chance to back off, to avoid doing something you would bitterly regret. But at the same time, you wanted to jump into that abyss, you wanted to do that.

And when you kissed him, it was glorious.

It was a chaste, subtle touch. It was the first time you'd kissed a customer, and in a way, you wanted it to be the last. You wanted to kiss that man forever if that was possible. You wanted to taste him, wanted to feel his skin under your fingers. I wanted to feel his strength and delicacy mixing with his desire between the sheets.

— Torger — you whispered as he pulled away slightly. However, the answer came through his hands, which helped you up and placed you on one of his legs. Wrapping one of his arms around his neck, he didn't wait to bring your lips together again, this time in a more intense kiss.

It was strange to be in that position, completely surrendered to a customer, tasting alcohol on his tongue and his fingers squeezing your thigh. But, it was a good-type stranger. A stranger who made you understand why other girls had their favorite customers, who they offered more than attention and affection.

— I've never seen a woman like you — he growled, nibbling her neck, the hand that was on her thigh slowly moving up her body, burning you with desire — So beautiful, so perfect...

Your fingers dug into his dark hair, pressing his face against your skin, as if it could give you a crumb of pleasure. And, considering the path his lips made towards your breasts, you were pretty sure it was close.

Until the lights in the room turned white, and the music suddenly stopped.

That change in the environment had him looking up at you as sadness invaded your chest, your lips pressed into a thin line.

— What happened?

— Your time is up — you muttered.

— But… If I want, I can request more time, right?

You sighed, getting up from his lap. It was like waking up from a really good dream and realizing it never really happened. You couldn't have a guy like him all to yourself, you never could. You could never have more of him, however much you wanted.

— No, Torger. The limit is 30 minutes per girl, per night.

— Shit — he said quietly, running a hand over his face.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, not to say painful. You didn't want to go, but you knew you needed to get on with your night, just like he did.

But how to continue working after that?

“The show must go on”, you said to yourself mentally, before sighing and turning towards the door. However, something wrapped around your wrist, preventing you from following. Turning your face, you found Torger's dark eyes fixed on yours.

— Are you going to be here tomorrow?

— Yeah. I perform every night here.

— So I'll see you tomorrow, okay?

— Okay — you replied with a little smile — See you tomorrow, Torger.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he placed a kiss on your knuckles.

— See you tomorrow, Layla.

[little-pondhead]

Eyes Of The Past - OLD CH. 2

Part 1

[TW: swearing, mentions of death, sickness, and general spookiness]

The Batfamily was in turmoil. Something was wrong with the city; they could feel it. There was a heaviness in the air, which wasn’t there before. Clouds hung low over the skyline, heavy with rain that refused to fall. Citizens didn’t bother to wander the streets, even during the day. The buildings seemed to curl in on themselves like the city was trying to form a shield between her streets and whatever was to come. Even the criminals were staying quiet! Joker hadn’t made a peep in days.

So, needless to say, tensions were high.

“How’d the raid on the Lounge go last night?” Tim rubbed his face as Bruce entered the Batcave. They’d all been running themselves ragged, trying to find the source of their unease.

Bruce grunted. “Hn.”

“He was busted.” Barbara filled him in from over their loudspeakers. She pulled up footage of the previous night on the Batcomputer, letting Tim examine every pixel of the interactions. “One of the workers spotted him during the stakeout and warned the Penguin. Hood was there, too.”

“Red Hood?” Tim sipped his coffee, clicking through the fuzzy videos. “I wasn’t aware he was up for collaborations right now.”

“He was there for a business deal,” Bruce muttered, obviously sulking.

“Bruce got yelled at for ruining the whole setup.” Barbara snickered. She opened up a short, thirty-second clip of Red Hood chewing Batman out in the middle of some dark alleyway, a grumpy-looking woman in the Lounge uniform standing in cuffs next to them. “The woman is Tamia Brone, the supervisor on shift for the evening. She was seen with the employee who tipped off the Penguin. She’s being held at Gotham PD right now, but will probably be released this afternoon since she’s not affiliated with the underground part of the business.”

“So the bust was useless?” Tim summarized.

“Hnn,” Bruce grunted again. The big bat was still sulking, fiddling with his belt’s equipment. Tim sighed. Bruce always got like this when Jason got angry with him. He was all solemn and sulky and resorted to one-syllable words for communication. He wanted to look something up on the Batcomputer, Tim could tell. He was just waiting for Tim to be done.

“Fine.” Tim spun the chair fully around and popped out of the seat as gracefully as he could. “Take the chair, Bruce. What do you want to find?”

Bruce practically teleported to the chair, fingers flying over the keyboard as he cleared the cam footage except for the stuff that came from his own bodysuit. He zoomed in on the moment the employee spotted him, using a program to clean up the stray pixels for a clear face of the boy’s face.

Tim leaned over Bruce’s shoulder, watching him work. “Oh, shit,” he realized. “That’s a kid! What is the Penguin doing, hiring minors?”

Furious keyboard sounds were heard over their intercom. “There are no minors in his employee database. But there is one recent hire; Danny Nightingale, age 18. No middle name.” Barbara recited. “He fits the description of the kid there, but there’s not much on his file. It’s most likely a fake name.”

“He’s a busboy.” Bruce finally spoke up. “Here’s the conversation with his supervisor.” He typed a few last words into the computer, and the audio started to play.

“-and the boy. Who is he?”

“Boy? What the hell are you talking about, Bats.”

“The one by the dumpster.”

“Danny? Hey, don’t you even think about bringing him into this! He’s a good kid; the best busboy I’ve ever had. If you scare him off imma beat you six ways to Sunday, you hear?? I don’t care what your stabby sidekick says about it!”

“He’s not in trouble, I just-”

“Like fucking hell I’d believe that! He was the one who tipped off the boss, everyone in the building knows that! But that poor boy is just trying to do his job. That kid risked his own health and safety to warn his boss against someone who, in his eyes, threatened his livelihood.”

“Health?”

“What? You didn’t notice the poor kid had gotten sick? Some detective you are.”

“He shouldn’t be working if he’s sick.”

“Like I’d tell him that. Danny’s parents kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen. He needs money, Bats. Gotham ain’t kind to kids like him, you know this. If he was really sick, I’d’ve sent him home.”

“So he wasn’t sick?”

“Don’t twist my words, bastard. He had gotten sick, not he was sick. Poor kid has some nasty allergies. One of the boss’ associates was wearing something that didn’t agree with him, and he threw up."

“Hn.”

“Don’t grunt at me, mister! It’s a legitimate allergy! Are discriminating against allergens now??”

“No-”

“Oracle! Hey! Don’t glare at me, I know they’re real-Oracle! Make sure to save this clip in case Big Broody over here gets his head stuck up his ass again. Maybe seeing how he’s treating a sick kid will burst his bubble sometime.”

“Will do, Miss Brone.”

“AHA! I knew they were real! You’re a real one, Oracle!”

“I’m taking you down to the station.”

“If I’m not let out before my next shift, I’m letting Poison Ivy know that Robin stores extra weapons in the park!”

As the audio faded out, Barbara giggled and Tim sighed again. “Who on earth is this woman?” He asked, draining the rest of his mug in a single gulp.

“I took some night classes with her, a couple of years ago,” Barbara answered, pulling up Tamia’s personal file. A strong-faced woman stared back at them. “She’s a spitfire, but a good person. Danny probably reminds her of her younger siblings. They died a while back, and ever since, she’s been super protective of young kids who are on their own. Volunteers at the library on the weekends for kid events, helps out at the Mystery Elf Program every year for Christmas, and stuff like that.”

“How did she know about my weapons?”

Tim swore and jumped, turning on his heel. Damian, the little monster, had snuck up behind them again. Bruce just spared him a glance and went back to sifting through their files.

“Kids tell her things.” They couldn’t see her, but they could tell Barbara just shrugged at their inquiries. “Robin has a small cult following among the younger kids in Gotham, so Tamia basically has eyes and ears everywhere.”

“So we should investigate her.” Tim mused.

“No-”

A roar of a motorcycle interrupted them. Jason peeled into the Batcave on his motorcycle, barely coming to a complete stop before he jumped off and sped to the computer. 

“Move, old man.” Jason snarled, practically hauling Bruce out of the seat to take his place.

“How dare you, Todd!”

“Shut up, Demon Brat!” Jason growled again, never looking away from the monitor as his fingers flew across the keyboard. 

Tim flinched. He knew, without having to look, that Jason’s eyes were glowing bright green right now. He was on the verge of a Pit episode. Usually, this meant he’d hole up in his many safe houses and drop off the grid for a while. The only reason he’d be in the Batcave right now was if he needed to find someone. Someone to kill. 

“Oh, good.” Jason leaned back. “You already started researching him.” Everyone looked on in dawning horror as Danny Nightingale’s exhausted and startled face looked at them, the screenshot taken from Batman’s body suit camera. 

“Jason…” Bruce started. 

But Jason wasn’t listening. “No one is allowed to go after him.” He simply announced. “I have questions for this kid, you ain’t getting in the way of that.”

“You can’t kill a civilian, Todd.” Damian challenged.  

Jason stood. Green light leaked from his mask, and his muscles were tensed like he either wanted to run for his life or throw hands. Tim took a step back. “That,” he ground out, pointing at Danny’s picture. “Is not a civilian. That is a threat.”

…

Danny felt like shit. 

It’s been two days since he frantically tipped off the Penguin to the Bat’s presence, and ever since, the Lounge has been shut down for unforeseen reasons. He didn’t know why, he was just a busboy. His boss had taken the news in stride, ordering him to book it out the back with some of the other servers. Tamia was on his heels the entire time, directing them all down a side alley with ease before getting snatched by Batman herself. Danny had screeched to a halt, intending to go back for her, but one of the bartenders had gripped his arm and hadn’t let go, hissing, “She’ll be fine! You’re the one who needs to get out of here!” Reluctantly, Danny complied, no matter how horrible he felt after. 

When everyone had split up, the bartender told him to only return to work when the boss told him to. Then, they all went their separate ways, and Danny woke up the next morning with an extra $3k in his bank account. 

To be honest, he spent that first day anxiously sneaking around the city, checking in on all his coworkers that were present that night. Everyone was okay, for the most part. The bartender who had dragged him was passed out on a shitty couch, beer bottle in hand, and one of the waiters was being yelled at by her boyfriend for having her shift cut short. Danny’s core ached at the sight. So when forgotten cans of coke in the back of their fridge exploded from a random spike of cold and cut the argument short, he hoped she didn’t mind his interference too much. 

Tamia, however, took longer to track down. To his horror, she was sitting like a grumpy cat deep within Gotham’s police station, glaring at any officer that tried to approach her. He was forced to tap into his invisibility, but he eventually snuck past security and over to her holding cell. He waited until she was alone, before letting out a tiny, almost inaudible rumble from his core, slipping through the bars with intangibility. The two shades at Tamia’s neck perked up, instantly zeroing in on him. While the older woman couldn’t see the shades, she must have felt something as well. She stiffened, glancing around subtly. 

“Who’s there?” She hissed. 

Danny shifted. He was…uncomfortable. But Tamia had done so much for him. “It’s me.” He whispered back, stepping closer and leaning close to her ear. Tamia flinched back, eyes darting to his face. He was still invisible, thank the Ancients. 

“Danny??” Tamia regained control of her expression and went back to her brooding look for the cameras. “What the fuck???”

“Sorry, Tam.” He apologized. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Danny. How are you here?”

“Uh…” He didn’t know how to answer that, so he just told her the truth. “I snuck in.”

Tamia gave his general location a side-eye. “You know Batman doesn’t like metas in his city.” 

And that was a tipping point, wasn’t it? Danny’s core buzzed in his ears with anxiety as his voice shook. “Are you going to report me?”

Tamia snorted, covering it up with a cough as a cop passed by. “Hell no. You’re a good kid, Danny. I’d never turn you in, even to the Joker.” 

“Ah,” he said awkwardly. “Thanks. Uh, do you want me to get you out of here?”

Tamia tilted her head. Her hair had come loose from its bun, with strands of curly hair falling into her eyes. “No,” she decided. “The boss has plans in place for things like that. I’m a legal employee and a good one he won’t leave to rot. I’ll be out of here by the end of the day. I’ll be alright.”

He sighed. “If you’re sure…”

“I am. Go home, Casper. Get some sleep.”

Danny’s face twisted at the name, but he nevertheless bade his supervisor and the two shades goodbye and walked back out the front doors of Gotham PD, not bothering to fly. Flying meant he had to go ghost, and that meant he had to deal with…other things. 

He decided to sleep the rest of the day, extremely spent from all the extra energy he had used up. Danny didn’t rise again till noon the next day, at which his stomach finally made itself known, demanding he seek out food. He lay on his bed for an extra hour, trying to desperately ignore the grumbles in his belly, but finally gave in, grabbing some cash to stuff in his pockets and making his way out of the shitty apartment building he lived in. Two kids threw rocks at his face as he passed through the front doors, but he just sidestepped and ignored them, letting the stones shatter the glass doors instead. 

The clouds are low. The Knights are away. Shades whispered and writhed at the edges of his vision. The Lady is sick.

Leave me alone. Danny groaned and rubbed his forehead. These days, the words of the dead seemed to pound at his head like a sledgehammer, relentless. An uncomfortable heat was building in his head. He ignored it. 

Danny rounded a corner and entered a gas station. “Hello!” The cashier greeted him, too cheery for the job they were working. “Let me know if you need anything!” He waved in acknowledgment and shuffled between aisles, staring blankly at the brightly colored packages of cheap food. His eyes couldn’t focus on the labels, so he just grabbed something with a cheetah on it. Danny then shuffled to the next aisle over and snatched a large bottle of something pink and bright. The cashier gave him an impeccable customer service smile, which he tried to return. 

“Personally, I like the smell of the blue flavor.” They scanned his items, and he had to nod and pretend he knew what they were talking about. “Here you go, that’ll be $6.27. Would you like a bag?”

“No,” Danny shook his head. “Thank you.”

“Have a nice day!” The bell rang over the sound of the cashier as Danny left. He was too tired and hungry to give them a proper response. 

Gotham’s skies were still dark and cloudy, which for once, Danny was thankful for. Sunlight would probably make his growing headache worse. He wandered around for a long while, just taking in the sights of the city. He didn’t know why, but less and less people had been on the streets these days, giving him a slight break from the relentless stares and whispers. He just had to avoid certain areas that were clouded with death, and he was good to go! He was free to walk around aimlessly all he wanted. 

Today, it seemed, his wanderings took him to a small, silent park. He pushed open the tiny gate and snuck inside. It was quiet as a cemetery, and looked like one, too. Hell, if Danny was in his right mind, he would have realized it was a cemetery. He’d argue later that there were no spirits around, so how could he have known? There was just a profound sense of emptiness that was suffocating the whole area, but Danny was so fed up with the rest of the city, he barely noticed. 

Instead, he simply made himself at home on a stone bench off to the side and tore open his feast, not tasting anything as he chowed down on the chips. A faint tingle on his tongue told him the chips were spicy, but how was he supposed to taste anything when his tastebuds were dead? Soon, the chips were gone, bag and all. (The only perk of being dead was that he acted as his own personal trashcan. Nothing was littered with him around!) Cracking open his heavy drink, Danny took a sip and stared at the sky. Just thinking about nothing as the day passed and the evening set. 

It’d been a long day. 

…

Jason jerked. Shivers ran up his spine, and the green in his vision got stronger. He was in the depths of a pit episode, some part of his brain told him. No one had been hurt yet. 

But someone was about to be. 

Jason jerked again and lunged for his front door, ripping off the lock Tim had put on it (trying to cage him like an animal) with his bare hands. He had no shoes, no helmet, no mask, nothing. But he bolted out the front door in a blind rage. His world was greengreengreen. 

A snarl ripped itself out of his throat as he jumped the last two stories from the main staircase to the ground level. His landing left a small indent on the tile. (How did he do that?) The front doors were already wide open, he’d left it that way. Jason tore down the street, silently thankful there was no one on the streets. 

Someone was going to die tonight. Someone had walked over his grave. 

Jason’s chest heaved as he bolted through alleyways, taking shortcuts to get to the one place he always refused to visit. There was a Bat following him now. Which one? Probably Nightwing. It didn’t matter. His hands were curled and his footsteps were loud. His heart pounded in his head, egging on the Pit. Phantom fingers ran down his arms, pushing his shoulders so he’d go faster. The city bent in on itself. Streets seemed to straighten out, letting him have a clear shot toward his target. 

He burst from the alleyways in a sudden rush, and Jason skidded to a stop to get his bearings. His feet were bleeding, he could tell. Whatever. His green eyes were glued to the tiny, limp figure of Danny Nightingale resting on a stone bench not five feet away from Jason’s grave. The one he was buried in. The one he crawled out of. The kid had walked on his grave. 

Jason rushed forward with a roar. 

“What the FUCK?!” Danny startled upright at the sound, quickly spotting Jason and scrambling to his feet. He had a half-filled bottle of pink Fabuloso cleaner in his hand but dropped that quickly when Jason lunged for him. 

“Jason!” Someone yelled, trying to grab at his shoulders. But Jason was too far gone in the pit rage, now. He was almost animalistic, growling and clawing at the kid’s retreating figure. Blood was getting smeared over the dead grass, with bits of glass from the alleyway being pushed farther into his skin. 

“Shit, man! I didn’t know this was your Haunt!” Danny’s eyes were filled with fear and worry, but his gaze was fixed solidly on a spot above Jason’s head. 

“This was my grave!” Jason managed to screech. He got a lucky hit in, and the kid tumbled away, clutching his shoulder where a bruise was already forming through his thin clothes. 

“I didn’t know!” Danny yelled again. He made no move to fight back. 

“THIS WAS OUR GRAVE!” 

Something is wrong. A sudden, clear thought entered Jason’s head. It was like cold water had splashed him awake. These were not his words. These were not his actions. Jason was not in control of his body. 

Something else was speaking for him. 

A wail ripped itself out of his throat. Danny rolled to the side, avoiding his lunge. Jason could only watch helplessly as the kid was backed into a corner. For every step Jason took forward, Danny took two steps back. The kid was too used to this. He moved with too much ease, avoiding Jason’s wild swings like he could predict every movement. 

“Dammit, JASON!” Two pairs of hands gripped at his shoulders this time, forcing him to turn. Nightwing and Orphan (when had she gotten here?) tried their best to wrestle him down, heaving with the effort. 

“No! Don’t!” Danny bolted forward, right as Jason lunged for his own family in a haze of green. Time seemed to slow, and logically, Jason knew there was no way in hell Danny would have made it in time to do anything. Jason knew he was about to hurt his family, badly. He was about to break bones and claw at vulnerable skin. He was about to look his sibling in their eyes and see their hearts shatter. Jason was bout to break apart their family. Again. 

Then Danny screamed something, there was a flash of light, and suddenly there was a wall of fucking fire separating Jason from his siblings. From the outside world. 

Jason barely managed to avoid the flames, tucking himself into a sharp roll and popping up with his teeth bared. 

His brain tried to process what had just happened. 

His body screamed in rage.

His prey had disappeared. 

In Danny’s place floated a young boy. His eyes were as green as Jason’s. An iron crown wreathed in flames was set upon his head upside down, the sharp points causing rivers of green blood to run down from his hairline. Iron shackles chained his hands together. Pieces of charred armor clung to his body by thin straps. There was a chill in the air, and despite the fire, ice was starting to grow from the ground in a ring around the boy, curving and sharp, like it was trying to trap him in.

The boy looked at him, and Jason saw that he was crying.

...

[oOoOoO cliffhanger~]

[solecize]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐃 | 𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘.  as  you  attempt  to  claw  away  at  keeping  your  title  as  the  nation's  sweetheart  following  a  dispatch  scandal  that  put  a  pause  on  your  career  for  a  nearly  year  long  hiatus,  everyone  in  your  circle  and  your  company  seems  to  tip-toe  around  you.  you're  a  monster,  a  diva,  an  explosion  waiting  to  be  set  off.  they  go  on  to  release  the  staff  around  with  NDAs  regarding  your  dating  leak  and  hire  a  new  team  altogether  out  of  necessity.  amongst  them  is  the  straight-faced  irene,  the  quiet  stylist  with  a  mastermind  that  vows  to  help  you  in  your  return  every  step  of  the  way.  she  guides  you  through  the  next  chapter  of  your  career,  becoming  your  bravery  when  you  couldn't  be  your  own.     𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. irene x idol!reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 2.0k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.  this is probably the first piece of fiction i’ve written in 2 years so its a lil rough sorry lol anyway this is gonna be a short series, probably around 5 parts or so maybe less idk 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  PART 01/05.

she always asked what you were giggling about - seemingly every time she painted lip gloss across your smile, you were holding back a laugh. it was mostly to her own exasperation, as the crease that formed between her brows was supposed to show just how much harder you were making her job for her. irene didn’t actually ever mind, though. it was you, how could she? 

after returning to your group to take part in the preparations for your fourth mini album comeback, it was made evident to you that management was taking each step with caution. not in regards to your wellbeing, no, it wasn’t definitely not that. it was the way it seemed as though the world began walking on eggshells around you after your forced hiatus. it was also the way the world seemed to be constantly giving you a side eye, going over all the variants of the word ‘diva’ in their heads.

not irene, though.

since pre-debut, you were used to certain personalities from idol staff. there were all sorts - from the older, stricter company employees that scrutinized your every move, the staff that were too scared to even speak directly to you, the staff that were big fans and did everything in their power to please you. some of the long term faces that stuck by your group for the past few years had even become your friends. 

when irene came along, you nearly picked a fight with her for no reason. frustrated and on your first day back from “vacation,” you were met with the stunning irene and immediately grew territorial. who was this beautiful stranger and why was she taking up space in the middle of your trailer? she, of course, looked back at you with a blank face and proceeded to tell you to strip without any hi or introduction.

“strip,” irene commanded, as she rifled through the rack of clothes in front of her. 

her hands swiped between flashes of different shades of purple - the theme for the first couple of scenes of the music video .  you were left speechless for a second, tongue tumbling on any form of introduction, which irene had promptly skipped over. she met your eyes, making you snap out of your stutter, and her pointed look towards your left showed that your other members were already getting their video shoot clothes on.

“um, i’m y/n. what happened to cha - “

“i don’t know and i don’t really care. take off your jewelry, too.” in the middle of buttoning your jeans down, you saw that irene had quickly laid out what you would be wearing on camera. an off the shoulder lilac gingham piece that would brush against your ankles with puff sleeves, paired with freshwater pearls. it screamed sweet and loving “girl next door” all over - although, in your eyes, it was the perfect “please forgive me” look to your fanbase following the dating scandal that halted your career for multiple months. irene knew what she was doing.

you were able to get a good look at irene for the first time - or at least, the best you could with the way she moved so quickly. she was definitely around your age and definitely gave the impression of an idol herself. she was naturally beautiful, maybe one of the most beautiful girls you’d ever seen, and even in her work clothes of a simple long sleeve and jeans, irene looked like a model herself. her long black hair was pulled into a low ponytail, with a few strands of hair framing her face. you noticed her identification lanyard was decorated with hello kitty stickers.

your shoes were finally off, but you were still stunned silent. your group mate, sohye, glanced over at you with a puzzled expression. you noticed she was already in her dress and you hurriedly grabbed your own to hop your feet in. she was still staring at you, as her own stylist began doing as well. however, the latter seemed to be fighting a smirk. 

“what?”

sohye met eyes with her stylist and mirrored the same devious look. “nothing! you’re just really quiet, y/n....”

it was true. you were the fire cracker of the group, the one who’s laughter rung throughout the entire venue alone. boisterous and proud, you were made silent at the unique nature of the group’s newest staff member. this caught the attention of a few others in the room, a bit confused, as you were often the loudest voice in the room. you would at least be cracking some good-hearted jokes about your time off or practicing runs with sohye. you still weren’t sure why she was smirking at you and irene, though. 

“...met her match....”

“ladies! can we get a move on? mio, you still have to get your extensions in! bora, are you taking those pics for instagram? fantastic! and...y/n, you’re still getting your outfit on?” it was your manager, also known as the second loudest voice in the room. he seemed to take on a permanently frantic state across your group’s life span, as he dashed in the room out of nowhere, murmuring things at the appearance of his idols and scribbling things on a clipboard. 

he sighed, looking over at irene. “she’s not giving you a hard time, is she?”

“hey!”

“no, she’s been fine,” was irene’s reply, as she plugged in a curling iron on the pastel pink vanity in front of the two of you, not missing a beat. your manager looked at you, then back at irene, and simply shrugged and continued rambling about your group’s schedule for the next two hours. 

you let out a deep sigh that went unnoticed by the others in the room, except irene who raised an eyebrow at you, while simultaneously ushering you to the makeup chair. it really should have been you looking at her like that, as you were taken aback by how on her feet she was - in multiple ways. irene moved like a machine, weaving back and forth in the small space allocated to the both of you at the speed of light. she called over some assistant makeup artists to begin their work on you, as she ignored you in favour for directing the look that they were going for on you. irene was also on her feet against your group’s manager, the head honcho that typically leaves staff members unnerved. she was swift and she was direct. that was the first thing you ever noticed about her.

bora sauntered over and peered at you with a frown. “hey. why does y/n get the nicest set?” between the three other members, it was clear that bora still wasn’t over the fact that you got caught with a dating scandal. it looked bad on all of them as a group and you had apologized profusely to them for being a hinderance, but she was still showing the same level of disdain she had before. you two were never the closest in particular and now, it seemed like your friendship, or even profession relationship at  the least, was beyond repair.

you rolled your eyes at her. “go back to your own space, damn.” 

“well, you’re the one that messed up, i just don’t see why the company gave you irene. she’s the best of the best and my stylist is dressing me up like dora the explorer,” she grumbled the last part under her breath, returning her attention to her phone screen, where she was undoubtedly scrolling through social media to see what the fans were posting about her. 

it was technically your first day back. you and the girls quickly recorded your album in under a month and were thrown into the wolves that were better known as a kpop comeback. it was a record, basically unheard of in your company. however, plans changed following the scrapped debut of what was supposed to be a new boy group and a slot was left wide open for your group. everything had been a whirlwind so far and there was definitely an air of extra pressure following your hiatus, the need to prove yourself almost. it was your first day back and nearly everyone around you was giving you shit and you were exhausted. 

“it’s my first day, too. i’m taking it easy,” irene’s velvety voice chimed in out of nowhere, lowered to a volume that could only heard between the two of you, as she gently wrapped a section of hair around the curling wand, “and you should also, especially after everything.”

you were taken aback by the sudden words of wisdom, but realized fast that she was right. “you have a point, um, irene.” 

at this point, she had yet to introduce herself and you caught her name from bora, who seemed to already be acquainted with irene’s good reputation as a stylist. the name fumbled a bit off your tongue in your vulnerable state, a bit anxious for a variety of reasons. to your surprise, irene frowned a bit, which was her first display of any emotion the entire time.

“i’ll admit, i had to look into the group that i was going to work for,” irene began and you were prepared to wince at her opinion of the whole hiatus mess, “and i’ve seen you. you’re really strong-minded, why are you letting them get to you?”

“you’ve seen me?” that was the only thing you really focused on for a second, ignoring a flutter in your stomach. flattery was what you thought it was, as you wondered what irene thought of you and your talents.

this conversation was happening as you let the other two assistant makeup artists continuously flicked and dabbed with brushes and sponges on your face in silence. you noticed they didn’t even look at you in the eye, something you had seen many times before in the past. however, this time, you felt as though it wasn’t out of shyness or being starstruck. everyone had been continuously giving you a certain look after your return from hiatus and you only assumed the artists were participating in this cold-shoulder fest, between your manager to netizens to even your own group member. their opinion of you, though, wasn’t as important to you as irene’s opinion.

you caught yourself and cleared your throat. “i mean - well...i don’t know what you’re talking about.” it was a lie right through your teeth.

“chin up,” she commanded once again and you immediately did so, as she approached you with a beautiful strawberry-coloured lip pencil. 

you met her eyes as she began carefully carving out the outline of your lips with careful movements. something in you was glad that you got a new stylist and especially more so that she was in charge of you and only you. despite this feeling of welcomeness, you remained confused as to what irene was getting to.

“don’t let them give you shit,” irene replied, as she finished the last touches of your lip liner and had reached over for a matching lipgloss. she leaned over and resume her place right in front of you, still decorating your features with the gentlest of moves. 

that was the second thing you ever noticed about irene. from the moment you walked in and met her, you saw that she took absolutely no shit from anyone. that included you, your manager, and anyone else who dared. she stood her ground and did so gracefully. you were instantly envious of the way she held herself.

however, she saw that you could do the same. you smiled a bit and while irene also cracked a bit of a smile, just nearly tugging on the corner of her lips, it quickly turned into a sterner look.

“okay, but i didn’t say move. stop smiling or laughing or whatever.” 

time was ticking, as the camera crew wanted to get the good shots in before the forecasted rain began later in the afternoon. everyone was engaged in the hustle and bustle of the day ahead, but for the first time that entire day, you were able to breathe freely and smile. well, smile as much as you could until irene tsked you because you were moving and ruining her vision. this would be the first of many iconic looks that irene would craft for you for the comeback ahead. more importantly, it was the first time you became her muse and she became your rock.

[stardewremixed]

More Gus Headcanons

has a specialized knife with his initials from back in his army days

doesn't like guns even though his has his dad's old hunting rifle

has wicked chopping skills

can expertly gut a fish

worked as a cook during his time in the military - and his unit appreciated it and his ability to get rare spices and make their rations taste 1000% better

this inspired him to attend culinary school on his military benefits.

really embraces the "gentle giant" persona

gives the best bear hugs

never had kids of his own, but spoils his nieces and nephews when they come to town

he would make a fantastic dad, though (I just know this!)

is a champion bowler and drives to the next town over once a month to bowl with his old army buddies

makes hand-churned butter that would make anyone melt with happiness (the absolute best addition to his freshly baked pastries)

hates glasses because they get in the way of his day-to-day life so he wears contacts instead

his hand-rolled dough for pizza is legendary - and a favorite of Shane's, Sam's, and Alex's

writes a thank you note by hand after receiving a gift; his penmanship is a bit messy, but it's the thought that counts

has a hefty handshake

is pretty handy - he can do basic plumbing repairs, patch a roof, re-caulk a bathtub, etc. but most of the time, he hires someone to do the work since he doesn't have as much time with running his business, though he did install a railing outside on his steps for his older patrons (like Evelyn)

asked Robin to help him put in a ramp for George so the man can wheel inside himself

could wipe the floor with ya in cards and has the best poker face

could write the book on homestyle cooking (and he might someday, if he works up the courage to share his recipes with the world)

hates cooking shows because he's his own worst critic

is a hairy guy - face, arms, legs, chest, abs, but he draws the line at his back (and so he goes to get it waxed twice a year)

uses an all-natural wax to get his moustache to sit just perfectly

doesn't mind slipping into the spa for a hot soak after being on his feet for most of the day - it's a great way to unwind

was a wrestler in college and briefly thought about going pro

might still challenge someone to an arm wrestling contest at the Stardew Fair in the fall just for fun

his nose is a little crooked from when he intervened in an incident involving a purse-snatcher (though most people think it's from his wrestling or army days)

has very rounded ears, rather petite, for the large man he is

always hires extra help for the festival days, pays well above average, and lets all his employees keep the tips

has a thing for Hercule Poirot in Agatha Christie mysteries - it's gotta be the moustache, right? Hee... hee...

always keeps a book by his nightstand for a little late night reading before he dozes off

has a freakishly good immune system and rarely gets a cold (all those oranges he must be eating)

likes spicy food - but it must have a good blend of flavor and heat!

has a pair of diamond earrings he inherited from his mother and always thought about getting his ears pierced to wear them, but he's afraid of needles

the man is terrified of getting blood drawn and can be a big baby - Harvey always has to ask for extra help from Maru

keeps the doctor's office stocked in homemade candies

brings you a coffee on a blustery day just because

still has a corded phone in the back kitchen

played handbells at church when he was a kid and might... just... might... be persuaded to play at the Feast of the WInter Star

sometimes does ax throwing to blow off some steam (always safely and with proper equipment)

can sew on patches in a pinch, but usually just asks Emily for help

puts mustard on his hot dogs and pretzels and hamburgers

writes a grocery list and then forgets to bring it with him to the General Store, but he's got a decent memory

always pays his taxes on time, if not early

can whistle really loudly

can spike a beach volleyball like nobody's business

has a stamps collection - of little critters and farm animals

Romance Headcanons

took ballroom dance lessons as a young man and was quite popular with all of his partners back in the day

spends most of his evenings tending bar and talking with patrons and cooking, but he might bust a move every once in a while, if persuaded, but he doesn't like to show off so if you join him, he feels less self-conscious

When he's nervous, his hands shake a little, but he calms down if you reach out and squeeze his hands

never wears rings on his fingers because of cooking but he would wear one around his neck if he ever gets married

has a pair of leopard print handcuffs that he got as a joke in Zuzu City one time with an ex and he'll blush up a storm if you ask him about it

would absolutely carry you on his shoulders just so you can reach the best fruits in the orchard

totally has a thing for maid costumes (not in a perverted way, but if you dressed up for him in the bedroom, he wouldn't complain)

is extremely neat in general, speaking of maids, and would expect you to keep your things tidy if you leave stuff at his place

likes building a rip roaring fire on chilly winter nights and cuddle with you on the couch

doesn't think of himself as an uber-attractive guy, but he has a healthy self-esteem and figures he's got a bit of that handsome older gentleman look going

would absolutely hold all your bags if you went on a shopping spree at the mall (and he wouldn't complain about it)

Presses wildflowers between pages in a book - like the bouquet you gave him when you asked him to date you

Would hand write all your wedding invitations - would want to keep the ceremony small and intimate - just good friends and family

This list grew much longer than expected!