#Molding Job Vacancy

[nearme-job]

Best Injection Molding Operator Jobs in Rajpur | Nearmejob

Looking for Injection Molding Operator jobs in Rajpur. Visit our site for updated listings, job details, and easy application instructions.

[armpirate]

Kalla | Choi San || Chapter 3

MASTERLIST Previous || Next

Pairings: CEO!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers.

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, voyeourism, use of sex toys, bondage, dirty talk, BDSM, exhibitionism, rough sex.

Summary: She was surprised by how fast her life went from the perfect fairytale to the destructive mess it had turned into. Dealing with a cheater ex boyfriend, having to move out to a different place because the house she lived in belonged to that man she once dreamed of spending the rest of her life with, while continuously being underappreciated at work... It was as if life was telling her to stop dreaming big, to go back to her small town, Bibury, and help her parents run the small farm her family had owned for decades.

At least until she received a call from her friend.

A sudden vacancy as an assistant showed up on one of her friend's system, having her being encouraged to take that big step and apply for it. She had no hopes for it. Mainly because she didn't have any experience on the field, and she didn't comply with most of the requirements that were added on the offer -and which most of them sounded ridiculous and exaggerated for the position, making her wonder who was the freak who needed so many guidelines in order to hire someone to pick up the phone and schedule events. 

Although that hotel she'd be working on was much more than anything she could've come up with. 

Choi San wasn't someone easy to deal with. After his previous assistant presented his resignation letter on his desk, he felt forced to start the whole selection process again -after merely two months. 

Sure that he was being way too strict, enough to find that anyone who applied for the position wasn't enough, he asked one of his friends to be in charge of the interviews and the selection of the most adequate candidate. 

Little did he know Wooyoung would hire the imperfectly perfect candidate for him, sure that she'd help him in many ways other than just in dealing with the responsibilities of his position. 

A new challenge will come their way as soon as she steps inside the hotel. 

Y/n will have to learn how to mold onto him and deal with all his small habits and requirements, and San will find himself trying to open up and let out all those same things that turned him into the person he was. 

The more she digs in Kalla and all of its secrets and exciting corners, the deeper she'll dive into San's heart and soul... Although, maybe, she won't be able to take it. 

Kalla opens its doors to you, sharing the vast amount of filthy and erotic plans it offers, and that you can join with a partner... Or maybe just by yourself. 

Hope you enjoy your stay.

Chapter duration: 12 minutes

The glass made a dry sound as she placed it back on the table after taking a long sip from it, feeling the ice against her lips as she just gulped the bitter drink.

—I shouldn't have gone —Y/n shook her head slowly, too hooked up on her own pity to care about the concerned looks her friends were giving her—. You should've seen the look on his face when he started speaking, and I looked dumb as fuck catching random words in the air. He probably wondered if I was stupid or something. Who'd apply to a job offer in a language you barely understand?

After pouting, Y/n hid her head between her arms folded over the table, hiding herself from the embarrassing environment that had been following her since she did the interview.

—I thought you said it'd cheer her up —Joanne accused.

—Yeah, after breaking up and getting rid of that asshole she should be feeling untouchable, not deeper in the bottom —Rosie murmured.

—I just wanted to give her hope —Lizzie excused herself—. I thought it'd help her to stop settling up for a shitty job and a dumb boyfriend, because there are way too many good chances out there for her.

—Liz —Y/n raised her head, supporting it on the palm of her hand—, shut up.

Her friend's full red lips disappeared inside her mouth as she pressed them tight, too scared of her younger friend to say a single word about the topic.

—Rose is right. I have a shitty job, I always end up crying on my way back home or on my way to the office, and I wasted four years of my life next to a douchebag. And now they also know I'm pathetic in Korea —she whined.

—Why did you have to say that? —Rosie scolded her.

—Well, since we're already in a depressed mood, I have something to say —Joanne interrupted—. I broke up with Chad.

Y/n's problems suddenly moved to a second place after her friend's announcement, having all of her friends looking at her concerned as they tried to read through her neutral expression.

—What happened? —Lizzie asked first.

—We haven't been doing well lately. And being offered a higher position in the company on the other side of the world didn't help either —she calmly answered, taking a sip of her glass.

—You were offered a higher position in your law firm? —Rosie asked.

—No, he was offered a higher position in his company, and expected me to follow right after him and leave it all behind —after the silence from her friends, she felt forced to continue—. I have everything here: my family, my job, my friends, my house… Giving everything up for someone I spent more time arguing with than fucking was a no.

—But… what if it got better in that other place? —Y/n softly asked— You've been together for three years —she tried to justify.

—Honey, it never gets better —Rosie answered—. I thought the same after I followed my ex-husband around from Ohio to London, after seven years together, and it only got worse until we divorced and I was left with nothing. Jo took the right decision.

She remembered how Joanne introduced Rosie to their group of friends shortly after meeting her in one of those weird workshops she used to attend to distract herself. Rosie had just divorced her ex-husband, she was in a pretty dark place, until she finally started getting her life back together to become the person she was in that moment. If there was someone who could give either of them good advice, that was Rosie.

Although her bright moment of wisdom only lasted until the sixth shot of tequila. At that point of the night, Lizzie and her were everywhere but at the table where they started.

Despite the loud music and the cheers on the dance floor, Y/n could still feel the silence and quietness coming from Joanne, who was left at their table while she looked at her glass with a sad look.

—Are you alright? —Y/n asked first.

—Of course. Look at them —Joanne giggled, pointing at their friends.

Her tongue clicked, aware of what her friend was trying to do before she sat next to her, instantly allowing her real feelings to break through.

—I'm okay —she assured her—. It's not the end of the world. This isn't my first break up, and I'm sure it won't be the last either.

The only difference is that she genuinely saw a future with Chad, opposite to what she thought she had with any of the other men she dated in the past.

—It hurts. Of course it does —she finally admitted, nodding—. He's the person I love the most, I really love our relationship. But that's exactly why we needed to go different ways —her lips slightly grimaced with that comment—. I'm sure he wouldn't have taken the promotion if I had insisted. We weren't doing okay, but there is still so much love that I was afraid he'd allow it to get on the way to his future —Y/n could see the way her eyes started to water as she spoke—. Love could fight it all right now, but would it be as useful in the future? When he looks back and realizes the opportunity he missed? He'd have been selfish if he had insisted on me to leave with him, and I didn't want to be the selfish one making him choose me over his dream. It just wasn't fair.

Y/n nodded silently, rubbing her friend's shoulder in an attempt to give her some comfort through her words filled with pain.

—Maybe right now isn't the time, but it could be that you'll meet again in a few years and come back stronger than ever.

As Joanne's eyes squinted immediately after she smiled at Y/n comment, a sneaky teardrop rolled down her cheek over her makeup.

—You will never change, won't you?

—I'm just hopeful your story is just going through one of those "wrong time" situations.

—You should stop reading so many rom-coms —Joanne squeezed her knee, shaking her head—. So closed to love, yet the first one encouraging others to believe in it. You're unbelievable.

Y/n smiled to the ground, trying to make her smile disappear when she sipped on her drink with the golden straw. She had said it, she had sentenced love to a dark place in her life she didn't want to know anything about. She had lost so much in those four years, that only now that she was free did she realize the level of conformism she had reached.

—What about you? Are you okay? —Joanne asked.

—Of course. Andy is the one missing the…

—You know what I'm asking for.

—Yes, I guess I'm okay —she shrugged—. I think I just got too ahead of myself. I knew they were going to give me a "No" before I started the interview, but still my hopes got up because I saw the chance to kick all the things that annoyed me away. I saw a new opportunity to start something new, and get the feeling that they actually wanted me there. So when I heard the answer I already knew, but didn't want to believe, my heart broke a bit —her breathing dropped for a second—. It was too good to be true, either way.

—You'll get a similar chance soon. I have a good feeling about this —Joanne kicked her arm playfully.

Her head raised among the pile of pillows, and her upper body emerged through Rosie's arms wrapping tight around her as if she were going to escape. She first woke up with the unfamiliar sound that came from somewhere in the room but, a few seconds later -and after getting some sense back from her sleep-, she was able to recognize her ringtone.

—Turn that off —Rosie complained.

Still with her eyes closed, and with eyesight a little bit too blurry to adapt to the new light in the room, she picked up the call.

—Hello? —she mumbled, falling back on the bed and feeling Rosie's arms holding her tight again.

—Good morning. Is this Y/n?

—Yeah —her mouth moved, trying to get rid of how pasty it felt—, who is it?

—Jung Wooyoung, we had an interview yesterday…

Y/n didn't need him to explain what he knew her from, she already knew by just hearing his name. She quickly got rid of her friend's grip, sitting back on the bed to pay more attention to the call, aware of how quickly her five senses activated with just those words.

—I promise I didn't mean to lie —she assured—. That resume was sent without my supervision, but the person who sent it had no ill intentions either. Please don't sue us.

She was drunk, but she could perfectly remember Rosie's words before she was too high to be aware of her surroundings. She didn't think lying in a resume could have such big consequences as being sued for fraud, until Joanne also confirmed it, remembering one case she worked on a few years back.

She spent the whole night hoping she wouldn't ever hear anything from Wooyoung or Kalla.

—Suing? For what? —Wooyoung interrupted.

—That's not why you called?

—No. I actually wanted to speak to you about the interview. Could we hold a meeting…?

—I can —she rushed to answer.

—Great —he cheered with a melodic smile—. I'll be waiting for you at the restaurant of my hotel at eleven.

Y/n said goodbye and assured she'd be there before hanging up, relaxed and taking some time to celebrate, only to realize she was only thirty minutes away from the time of the meeting.

A muted whine announced the sudden move of her body, hopping over Rosie to get to the floor, only to fall right after. When she dared to check, she could see Joanne curled up, covering her body with a random blanket.

—What are you doing there? —Y/n asked, suddenly getting up to pick up her shoes.

—Liz kicked me out of the sofa —she pouted—. And you both looked so cute while sleeping that I didn't want to wake you up.

—Have you been there all night? —Rosie lifted her head to look at their friend.

Joanne simply nodded, moving her head slightly.

—Come on here —she invited her—. Where are you going, by the way? —her eyes moved back to Y/n, who was battling to put her shoes on.

—They called me from the job interview —she answered with a shaky voice—. I don't know what it is about, but let's hope for the best.

—Of course. That's the spirit —Rosie slowly went back to lie on the bed—. Call us when you know more things.

Before Y/n could even say goodbye to the both of them, Rosie and Joanne were already cuddling to each other with their eyes closed.

Those thirty minutes had been the craziest -and most stressful- ones in her life. She managed to stop by Lizzie's place first, get a fast shower, get rid of all of her make up and dress with a pair of straight jeans and a white shirt before she got inside the taxi she called to get faster to the hotel.

The thin coat of sweat on her forehead made some of the locks of her head stick on it, as she walked quickly through the reception of the hotel, trying to guess where the restaurant was before she saw the golden sign.

Wooyoung was sitting in one of the tables in the middle, with his back lying over the backrest while one of his hands fell over his crossed leg.

—Hello —she greeted.

—Hey —he smiled, offering her the seat in front of him—. Five minutes early, but with the evidence of how much you struggled all over you.

Y/n frowned as she sat down, breathing through her parted lips. He was criticizing her, but he looked completely casual about it, to the point that she wondered if he indeed was analyzing her looks.

—Sweat, messy hair, wrinkled shirt… —he pointed out her flaws one by one—. Sometimes it's better to be on time, or five minutes late, looking your best and giving a good impression, than showing up early looking like you've just gotten out of a marathon.

—That's… a whole new perspective —she nodded—. I'll keep it in mind.

—You should —he seconded—. What I told you isn't the type of things I pay attention to. You were here on time, I called you all of a sudden, that's alright. But San is the one who pays close attention to those details. It's over if he ever has to point them out.

—Excuse me —she interrupted him—. Why are you even telling me this?

—I thought you did the interview to be his assistant —his eyebrows raised, while his lips puckered as he spoke—. If you want to start well with him, I should give you all the tips you could use.

Her heart started to race inside her chest when she thought she caught the meaning behind those words, hoping she wasn't projecting or daydreaming as usual.

—He keeps losing assistants. At this point, we'll run out of candidates —he shook his head.

—I don't think I'm understanding what's going on —she interrupted him again—. Yesterday you said my profile didn't adapt to what you're looking for.

—It'd be better if you were fluent in Korean —he replied back—, but it isn't something you can't work on eventually. Most of the clients are foreigners, and most of the suppliers as well. You'll be alright. Also you said you were a fast learner, didn't you? —he quickly called her out— It'll be easy for you.

Before they could keep discussing the details about the interview, Wooyoung asked her to order something to drink or eat while they were there, going back to the main conversation as soon as she had her coffee in front of her.

—Can I ask why you changed your mind?

—I told you: I liked you as a candidate. Although you don't have direct experience in this position, I could tell you'd be a good hire by how you spoke. I also liked your honesty towards the end, probably it was what I enjoyed the most about your interview —he admitted—. Patience, empathy and honesty —she thought out loud, moving the spoon inside his macchiato—; I think the person you will assist could really get some benefits out of those traits.

—If this is a joke, it isn't funny —she warned him.

—I'm not laughing —his eyebrows moved up quickly, before he reached his cup to take a short sip—. But before we go on, I need to make sure with the type of hotel you'll be working at. I know you'll assist San, but he spends most of his day there.

—Will I have to see anything?

—No, no —he quickly shook his head—. San is really strict with that, but some people are uncomfortable with just working in that environment —he shrugged.

—What's the salary?

—Fifty million won per year.

Y/n stopped, not allowing herself to get fooled by that big number as she tried to make the math in her head.

—Almost forty thousand dollars.

—Shit —she breathed, almost choking on the air.

Wooyoung giggled at her comment, and how she quickly regretted it after being aware of it.

—We'll pay for your airplane ticket, we'll give you an accommodation at the hotel while you look for a place to stay in Seoul, and we'll help you with all the necessary documentation and visa permits you will need.

—Why does this sound like a scam? —she squinted her eyes— This sounds like the perfect trap to get me to an isolated place, and traffic with my organs.

—Honestly, it's the price he has to pay for being so exigent and annoying —Wooyoung admitted—. If he wasn't like this, probably he'd have ended up hiring someone from Korea. Just be happy I chose you —he suddenly attacked.

—I am happy. I'm just not used to such good things —she admitted—. It almost sounds too good to be true. By the way, what will happen when I get there? Will I just start straightaway?

—Hmm no —he lowly answered—. You'll meet the team you'll work with directly, you'll meet San, and Mingi will sit with you and teach you how everything works for a few days. He was one of San's assistants, before he applied for a different position —Wooyoung added—. Are you in? —he stretched his hand over the table and the cups, offering it to Y/n.

It didn't matter how bad Wooyoung was picturing her future boss. She could tell by the tone that he was probably just joking around because they both are close friends, she could almost bet San wouldn't be as bad.

—I'm in —she nodded, finally lifting her hand to stretch it with his.

[certoceanp]

Earn a Certification in Ethical Hacking to Advance Your Career in Cybersecurity

Cybersecurity has turned into a critical topic the world over in the modern digital age-Governments, corporations, and private citizens have become targets of assailants. The increase in cyberattacks has led to organizations concentrating on seeking competent professionals who can protect their systems and data from malicious threats. An Ethical-Hacking Certification is one of the best ways to convince the world that you are an authority in this area. The certification validates your skills as an Ethical Hacker and gives you access to lucrative job prospects in various organizations worldwide.

Ethical hacking: what is it?

In order to evaluate an organization's defenses, ethical hacking, sometimes referred to as penetration testing or white-hat hacking, entails getting into systems and gadgets lawfully. In contrast to malevolent hackers, ethical hackers use their expertise to find holes and flaws in systems, assisting companies in improving their security posture. In order to stop data breaches, monetary losses, and harm to one's reputation, ethical hackers are essential.

Why Pursue an Ethical Hacking Certification?

High Demand for Cybersecurity Professionals

The gap in the global cyber workforce is widening further with each passing day, with millions of vacancies left unfilled worldwide. Organizations are on the lookout for certified ethical hackers who can help them defend their digital assets. You are putting yourself as one of the most wanted professionals in this competitive field by getting one ethical hacking certification. 

Skill-Wise, an All-Inclusive Program

An ethical hacking certification consists of numerous subjects, such as network security, vulnerability assessment, malware analysis, and incident response, among others. These programs offer practical training context and reality scenarios, allowing you to gain real-world skills which you can apply to your job immediately. 

Acknowledged Recognition in the Industry

There are certifications like Certified Ethical Hacker (CEH), Offensive Security Certified Professional (OSCP), and CompTIA PenTest+, which are recognized and respected globally. They show your commitment to ethical hacking and the protection of organizations against cyber threats. 

Amazing Career Options 

Ethical hackers are some of the best-paid professionals in the IT industry. In recent surveys, certified ethical hackers have been reported to earn an average salary of 

90,000–90,000to120,000 annually, depending on experience and location. In addition, other career positions which are in high demand are penetration tester, security analyst, and cybersecurity consultant. 

Keep the Digital World Safer 

As an ethical hacker, you will be molding a secure internet. You are shielding sensitive data by locating and fixing security vulnerabilities, preventing cyberattacks, and protecting the privacy of people and organizations.

Popular Ethical Hacking Certifications

There are several prestigious certifications one could consider if thinking about a career in ethical hacking:

Certified Ethical Hacker (CEH)

Given by EC-Council CEH is the most famous certification for aspiring ethical hackers. Topics covered include footprinting, scanning, enumeration, and system hacking. 

Offensive Security Certified Professional (OSCP)

The OSCP certification is distinguished by its extremely difficult hands-on exam, which obliges candidates to exploit vulnerable machines successfully. This is excellent for the candidate proving their hands-on assessment skills on penetration testing.

CompTIA PenTest+

This is an intermediate-level cybersecurity certification that deals with planning, scoping, and management of penetration tests, along with result analysis.

GIAC Penetration Tester (GPEN)

GPEN is the certification from Global Information Assurance Certification(GIAC) that assesses that you are able to conduct penetration tests and exploit vulnerabilities.

How to Get Started

To get certified as an ethical hacker, you might follow these steps:

Build A Strong Foundation

Develop an understanding of networks, operating systems, and programming languages like Python and Bash. Get familiar with cybersecurity concepts and tools.

Choose the Better Certification

Do some research on the various certifications, and choose one that fits your career goals and the experience required.

Sign In for Training

Formal training or coursework is required by many certifications. Therefore, look for an accredited training provider in your area, and see what courses they offer on ethical hacking.

Practice, Practice, and Practice

Ethical hacking is a hands-on field: Build a lab where you can practice your skills and tools like Metasploit, Wireshark, and Nmap.

Pass the Certification Exam

Prepare for the certification exam with study materials, many practice tests, relevant online forums, or joining a study group.

Conclusion

An Ethical Hacking Certification is more than a credential; it is your entrance to a meaningful career in cybersecurity. With this certification under your belt, you will gain the know-how, skills, and importance to defend organizations against cyber threats and show them a difference in the digital world. Whether to be a fresher or to be sure of already grown into an IT professional, now is perhaps the best time to invest in your future and become a certified ethical hacker. So step forward today and give that extra thrust to your life in this fast-growing field.

[canichangemyblogname]

No, for real. What is your rent, then? I'm down here making just under that, and my rent is $1500/month alone. I have $100k in student loans from Champaign-Urbana, which is two hours north of me. Plus, with car payments, all the utilities, phone, and internet, I don't get me started on groceries and gas. I work a second job and skate barely over the finish line every month just to do it all over again. The articles saying Millennials are living without a safety net and having no savings because they're going on vacations make me scream. What vacation? Do you mean the week I stay home every year because I use or lose my PTO and binge-watch something because I paid for a month of Netflix? I don't think that's what they're talking about. I know people my age who have money, but that's because their parents paid for college or their house or SOMETHING mine could have never afforded.

When I lived in a two bedroom with 4 other adults in Waukegan, each of our rent was about $325 because we split it between all 4 of us. Average rent for a 2 bdrm there is about $1500+, which I *cannot* afford alone. We lived in a “not so nice” area (it was fine; this really means parking was a bitch), so rent was cheaper.

When my sister lived in Urbana-Champaign, her rent for what was essentially a studio was about $900/ mo in a nice place in a nice part of town. It was actually a crazy good deal, and we think the landlord marked it down to attract students, but because she still had so many vacancies and the semester had already started. There was nothing “wrong” with the apartment, either. (It was also probably because it was a 4 bedroom and she couldn’t rent it out as a full 4 bedroom, so she rented out each bedroom at $900/ea instead of a full 4 bdrm for $3600, which is on the expensive side in Champaign.)

Currently looking into moving, and most studios within Cook County cost around $1,200/ mo. (I saw one listed for $1800 in the SUBURBS a while back and thought: “Nah, you’re off your rocker. For a studio?”) I actually need to be closer to work, and I do not mind having very little space as I don’t have a lot of stuff and it’d be just me. $1,200 is stretching it for me, but the one time I found a place for $1,000, it had roaches and a mold problem, so… sometimes the little extra is worth it. There’s actually a place near-er my work that I put myself on a waitlist for where a 1 bdrm is $1,250 (and it doesn’t have a roach problem).

A lack of adequate housing stock is a national issue, and, as in every county, Cook County does struggle in this regard, don’t get me wrong. But you go just west to the Collar Counties, and some of those towns in there have next to no vacancy. Most of the available housing stock out there is also reserved for people 65+. So, there’s certainly something to be said about the benefits of recognizing a need for “young professional” housing, often 1 bdrm or studios within a simple commute to major business corridors or districts. The thing about Cook? They tax you up the ass, and the taxes aren’t progressive, so they’re taxing you obscenely on things like food and gasoline, which disproportionately hurts us.

[jithin-k]

INDIANA GLOBAL TEACHERS

Indiana is the culmination of teacher's mission to provide teachers with the best schools they wish to join. This portal will help them grow and succeed and make a long- lasting career in Teaching. Indiana has set a target to encourage a community of educators who cannot find their dream job. With an extensive database of teaching job vacancies from schools, colleges, and institutions nationwide, they serve as a one-stop destination for all your career aspirations. Indiana aims to transform education into entrepreneurship and prepare educators with the skills and confidence necessary to teach critical thinking skills to students.

Teachers who actively engage in problem-solving can mold future generations who are less apprehensive about thinking creatively. As a dedicated teacher job consultancy, we ensure that every educator's talent finds its ideal match in institutions across the nation. By providing teachers with proper training and motivation, we aim to help them excel in their teaching abilities and become teacher entrepreneurs. Working together, we're building a robust network of problem solvers.

[neenasujith]

Tackling Talent Acquisition: Strategies for Finding the Perfect Fit in a Busy World

Recruiters, you know the feeling, right? Studies reveal a staggering truth: recruiters invest a whopping 20 hours weekly just sifting through candidate profiles. That’s a considerable chunk of valuable time, ripe for better utilization in strategizing, interviewing, and forging connections with top-tier talent, especially in the fiercely competitive tech arena.

So, what’s causing this bottleneck? Let’s dissect the three major problems tormenting most recruiters:

The Pressure Cooker of Productivity: An endless sprint against time. Resumes flood your inbox, emails flood your screen, and hiring managers flood your notifications. The urgency to swiftly fill vacancies, particularly pivotal roles in burgeoning startups, often leads to prioritizing quantity over quality. This results in a heightened risk of recruiting mishaps, with ill-suited hires fleeing after a brief stint, further elongating the recruitment marathon.

The Velocity Game: Welcome to the whirlwind that is today’s job market, where candidates hold the reins. Especially for sought-after skills like cybersecurity or machine learning prowess, top-tier talent commands the stage. Manual screening methods leave candidates dangling, eagerly awaiting a response (or more likely, incessantly refreshing their inboxes). Delayed communication translates to missed opportunities, with the perfect match slipping away to embrace another offer before your outreach.

The Monster of Bias: Let’s face it, biases lurk within us all, and the realm of recruitment is no exception. Traditional screening techniques, such as keyword parsing or fixating on alma maters, often result in overlooking deserving candidates who don’t quite fit the mold. This not only stifles diversity initiatives but also hinders your quest for the ultimate candidate, irrespective of pedigree.

Navigating These Complex Challenges

Here are actionable strategies to unearth the perfect fit, even amidst the fiercest competition:

Craft Evocative Job Descriptions: Bid adieu to bland job postings. Craft narratives that paint vivid portraits of your company culture, the role’s impact, and the specific expertise you seek. Employ a conversational tone, flaunt enticing perks, and highlight benefits that set your organization apart.

Dive Deeper than the Resume: Resumes merely scratch the surface. Embrace skills assessments, coding challenges, or project-based interviews to unveil the true essence of a candidate’s capabilities. This approach unveils hidden gems with non-traditional backgrounds but requisite skill sets, such as freelancers with robust web development portfolios sans the computer science degree.

Harness the Social Media Sphere: Platforms like LinkedIn are treasure troves of talent. Engage in industry discourse, scour relevant groups, and employ targeted searches to unearth potential candidates. Consider forging connections with universities or coding boot camps renowned for nurturing talent in your domain.

Champion Candidate Experience: Extend dignity to every candidate, irrespective of their stage in the process. Keep them apprised, maintain swift communication, and furnish clear timelines. A positive candidate journey not only secures your desired candidate but also burns your employer brand, easing future talent acquisition endeavors.

Cultivate Relationships: Recruitment isn’t merely about filling vacancies; it’s about cultivating a talent pipeline. Network persistently, even in the absence of current openings. Attend industry gatherings, forge digital connections, and extend informational interviews. Thus, when opportunity knocks, you’ll have a reservoir of qualified individuals at your fingertips, sparing precious time when the need for a critical hire arises.

Remember, as you evaluate candidates, they too evaluate you. By adopting these strategies, you can streamline your processes, allure top talent, and transform recruitment from a chore into a strategic asset that propels your organization toward triumph.

The impress.ai Advantage

Enter impress.ai, your ray of sunshine in a maze of recruitment complexities. We offer a potent AI-driven resume screening and matching solution, engineered to streamline your recruitment journey. Our sophisticated assessments and evaluations ensure the alignment of talent with both skills and culture, fortifying your organizational fabric.

By leveraging our technology, you’ll slash sourcing and screening timelines, neutralize unconscious biases through standardized evaluations, and amplify overall recruitment efficacy. Our AI recruiting assistant further elevates candidate engagement, furnishing an unparalleled recruiting experience that resonates with contemporary expectations.

Eager to revolutionize your recruitment process? Reach out to impress.ai today and let us shepherd you through the intricacies of modern recruitment with avant-garde solutions crafted for efficacy and excellence.

Originally Published By : https://impress.ai/

[anthonybialy]

Doubling Way Down

Intensity is the truest way to full living.  Ask liberals who demand more authority to fix the problems they caused by just not getting enough.  Cursing moderation is one approach to failures caused by middling indulgence.  Pacing during consumption surely works with meth.  Junkies need more of their fix in response to previous failures.  Quitters would’ve given up on ever making government work.  These addicts inflict consequences on everyone who doesn’t consume.

Trying what the Soviets did is bound to work this time.  The very moderate Chicago mayor’s totally original ideas to have comrades stand in line for a chance to obtain a glorious turnip will surely cure hunger.  Corporate greed must be why supermarkets won’t sell in areas with liberal policies.  Parasitic commercial pirates don’t want to cope with robbers stealing cash as shoplifters steal merchandise that’s too costly due to taxes and inflation.  Politicians that created circumstances for rottenness are surely skilled at maintaining fresh produce.

History dorks claim a few governments previously tried state-owned grocers.  I don’t believe them any more than I do that state ownership didn’t increase the East German chip selection.  Shoppers from all over will rush to Chicago to enjoy what will surely be the fullest shelves.  I can’t imagine prices will be as dreadful as the selection.  Noticing patterns is a stereotype, and we should avoid such intolerances.

Contemporary commies who don’t know about anything that happened before this morning should still have enough information to know their schemes fail.  They would be missing the wrong Berlin if they learned what the Cold War is.  Those born in the wrong time missed the chance to hop in the wrong direction.  There were way fewer people heading eastward.  Only capitalist lackeys want to deal with crowds.

Asking just why no companies will make money selling food in Chicago is for greed-mongers.  Scolding businesses for both their conduct while open and their fleeing upon getting fed up surely isn’t in conflict.  The precise policies that spur vacancies are used to justify more intense versions of them.  The wrong kind of options increase.

That’ll teach stores for selfishly wanting to make a little money in exchange for feeding everyone.  Taxing the stuffing out of anyone who dares enter a market is the opposite of openness.  Grocers aren’t helping the collective by doing anything like offering food and jobs.  Inventory is largely stuffed down pants of miscreants.  Legalizing crime somehow isn’t good for business.

You didn’t use enough napalm, which is why the fire rages.  What did you want to extinguish it with: water?  Unscientific amateurs don’t get to ride the truck.  Professional experts know just how to remedy everything, which is why they focus on winning elections in lieu of wasting their superior talents applying knowledge practically in the private sector. 

Our poor fragile economy needs more molding by gifted sculptors wearing oven mitts.  They sip Mad Dog 20/20 out of straws to keep that creative feeling stirring.  Demanding more income confiscation will surely spur more earning.  Oh: it’s like gun control.  And that makes it the same as every other tiresome proposal by those who claim they didn’t get the chance to fail hard enough.

Looking for slight improvement with each incremental implemented step is for quacks.  The truly compassionate want to run everything for you.  Won’t a lack of autonomy make your life just the easiest?

Decision-makers who are sick of yours crave a single-payer system.  Enemies of your independence truly think one of the steps will make health care more efficient.  Self-righteousness is not a cure, which is too bad.

College is the place for not learning what happens off campus.  Ducking student loans is undoubtedly good practice for being a grown-up.  Massive federal intervention didn’t help but actually harmed, which one might find useful as a lesson applied to every single attempt before or since.

Are you against learning?  You can’t ask followup questions, as standing against the way liberals frame the world means you oppose learning.  Political science majors must be subsidized by taxpayers lest society become communally ignorant.  Throwing money at the dean’s office somehow made tuition more expensive.  You’d think there might be a class that shows which attempted evasions lead to even more woe.  Take it pass/fail.

The solution is naturally more.  The unforgivable sin of forgiving student loans would make inflation even more preposterous.  The unfortunate liberal tendency to only see one side applies to failing to realize that lenders would get screwed over as badly as taxpayers.  Nothing will help the economy like avoiding paying off debt.

Your helpers will need just one more little bit of autonomy.  It’s not a request.  Don’t fret about consent, as that’s been rendered illegal through executive order.  You’ll appreciate the lack of decisions you have to make even more when there’s finally a breakthrough.

Sure, life get worse with every step of governmental bossiness, which amateur observers might think indicates it’s a bad idea.  But you must believe if you want to be rewarded.  The worst kind of prosperity faith is one where there’s never a reward.  The church of government offers the best example of the worst approach to living.  There is separation of church and state except when the state is the church.  Adherence to the one faith where there is absolutely zero chance of payoff means you’re truly devout.

[govtjosonlyin]

Apply PMC Recruitment 2023 for Various Vacancies Now

Don't let your future slip through your fingers – grasp it with PMC Recruitment 2023. Applying online has never been easier, thanks to Govt Jobs Only. Secure the chance to mold your career in the public sector by joining us. Start today and stay closely connected to your dream job, ensuring that you seize the opportunity to secure a successful government career. Your journey to a bright future begins here, with Govt Jobs Only.

Visit Us : https://govtjobsonly.com/pmc-recruitment-for-288-medical-officer-posts/

[boxyfont]

Embracing the Blank: Releasing Creativity with Blank Books | boxyfont

As writers, we frequently end up wrestling with the overwhelming undertaking of beginning another book. The blank page gazes back at us, loaded up with vast potential outcomes and the heaviness of our assumptions. It's a confusing blend of fervour and dread, as we long to make something extraordinary and convincing, yet battle to beat the apprehension about the unexplored world. In this blog, we will investigate the idea of "blank books" and how they can act as useful assets for opening our imaginations and uncovering exceptional stories.

A blank novel is a term used to depict a writerly work that starts with practically zero assumptions or plans. It is a solicitation to the essayist to leave on a writerly excursion without the bounds of construction or foreordained plotlines. Rather than fastidiously framing each section or character in circular segments, the writer embraces the vacancy and permits the story to naturally unfurl.

Embracing the Unexplored World:

One of the best difficulties for a writer is conquering the feeling of dread toward the unexplored world. We frequently wonder whether to begin composing since we need to have everything sorted out before we even put pen to paper. In any case, blank books urge us to go up against this dread head-on and embrace the inborn vulnerability that goes with the inventive strategy. By surrendering control and giving up to the vacancy, we allow ourselves to investigate unfamiliar domains and tap into our most profound creative minds.

Releasing Imagination:

Blank novel for writers offers a fruitful ground for innovative investigation. They give a chance to find interesting storylines, capricious characters, and unforeseen unexpected developments. At the point when we permit ourselves to compose without requirements, we open a wellspring of inventiveness that might have stayed undiscovered in any case. The shortfall of assumptions permits us to consider new ideas, push the limits of our creative minds, and shock ourselves with the enchanted that unfurls on the page.

Paying attention to the Characters:

In a blank novel, the characters take on an unmistakable overflow of energy. As a writer, your job is to tune in and take cues from them. By drenching yourself in their reality and mindfully noticing their activities, wants, and clashes, you become a course for their accounts to wake up. This course of revelation can unbelievably remunerate, as the characters progressively uncover themselves and guide you through their excursions, frequently prompting amazing and significant account advancements.

The Delight of Altering:

While the idea of blank books underscores composing without a predefined structure, it doesn't imply that altering is ignored. Truth be told, the altering stage turns even more critical in molding and refining the unrefined substance that rises out of the underlying imaginative burst. Altering permits you to distill the substance of your story, smooth out the account, and refine the characters and plot. It is the interaction where the clever starts to come to fruition and changes into a clean work fit to be imparted to the world.

End:

Blank books are a gallant dive into the profundities of inventiveness, offering a freeing experience for journalists. By embracing the vacancy, we free ourselves up to the chance of making uncommon stories, uncovering characters with profundity, and investigating accounts that rise above our assumptions. It's an encouragement to relinquish control, trust the inventive strategy, and leave on an excursion of self-disclosure. Thus, whenever you're confronted with a blank page, don't be apprehensive. Embrace the obscure and permit your creative mind to direct you toward unfamiliar writerly horizons. Cheerful writing! Buy the best blank novels for writers from Boxyfont. It is the best online store to get the best stationery sets and bundles. Scroll the website to know more.

Visit: https://boxyfont.com/collections/the-storybook-1

[armpirate]

Kalla | Choi San || Chapter 4

MASTERLIST Previous || Next

Pairings: CEO!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers.

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, voyeourism, use of sex toys, bondage, dirty talk, BDSM, exhibitionism, rough sex.

Summary: She was surprised by how fast her life went from the perfect fairytale to the destructive mess it had turned into. Dealing with a cheater ex boyfriend, having to move out to a different place because the house she lived in belonged to that man she once dreamed of spending the rest of her life with, while continuously being underappreciated at work... It was as if life was telling her to stop dreaming big, to go back to her small town, Bibury, and help her parents run the small farm her family had owned for decades.

At least until she received a call from her friend.

A sudden vacancy as an assistant showed up on one of her friend's system, having her being encouraged to take that big step and apply for it. She had no hopes for it. Mainly because she didn't have any experience on the field, and she didn't comply with most of the requirements that were added on the offer -and which most of them sounded ridiculous and exaggerated for the position, making her wonder who was the freak who needed so many guidelines in order to hire someone to pick up the phone and schedule events. 

Although that hotel she'd be working on was much more than anything she could've come up with. 

Choi San wasn't someone easy to deal with. After his previous assistant presented his resignation letter on his desk, he felt forced to start the whole selection process again -after merely two months. 

Sure that he was being way too strict, enough to find that anyone who applied for the position wasn't enough, he asked one of his friends to be in charge of the interviews and the selection of the most adequate candidate. 

Little did he know Wooyoung would hire the imperfectly perfect candidate for him, sure that she'd help him in many ways other than just in dealing with the responsibilities of his position. 

A new challenge will come their way as soon as she steps inside the hotel. 

Y/n will have to learn how to mold onto him and deal with all his small habits and requirements, and San will find himself trying to open up and let out all those same things that turned him into the person he was. 

The more she digs in Kalla and all of its secrets and exciting corners, the deeper she'll dive into San's heart and soul... Although, maybe, she won't be able to take it. 

Kalla opens its doors to you, sharing the vast amount of filthy and erotic plans it offers, and that you can join with a partner... Or maybe just by yourself. 

Hope you enjoy your stay.

Chapter duration: 13 minutes

The office felt different ever since she stepped inside that morning. It wasn't because of how quiet it was, or how Melanie went straight to her desk, instead of stopping at the Consulting company on the first floor, or how strangely friendly Ava was -she hardly ever greeted the rest of the people in the office, but that day she did. Suddenly, the place she had been working at for more than a year, and that had seemed like hell during the past six months, looked like the perfect workplace out of nowhere. She could even bet the space seemed brighter, even if the windows hadn't been cleaned for a month.

It almost made her feel bad for leaving, and it made her wonder if all the negative aspects were just details that were made up in her head. She, at some point, thought about the possibility of her taking things out of proportion just because she was too sensitive to her surroundings. Maybe she had been taking things out of proportion, maybe there was more than what she saw at first hand. She even felt tempted of rejecting the job position she had accepted, choosing Wooyoung's disappointment over her current boss'.

It could be that there was some future in Youth, and she was just too eager to wait for it to come.

—Meeting in five —Adelaide told everyone, from the door frame of her office—. Y/n, could you bring your computer? I need you to take some notes.

Usually, when those meetings were held, Adelaide gave the team a whole new schedule or called them out for one of the projects not having the results that were expected. So it was no surprise the whole team was nervous since she announced the meeting, until they all took the different seats around the white oval table inside one of the rooms.

—Good morning, everyone —Adelaide greeted, with a serious look while she held up her cup of coffee—. Hope you're having a good Monday.

—Well, we're on it —Brian mumbled, sinking deeper in his seat.

—I love how much enthusiasm you all have within you —her boss faked excitement and happiness, lifting one of her fists in the air.

—What's the meeting about? —Clarisse wondered, moving one of her black locks away from her eyes.

—First of all, I need your presentation done by the end of tomorrow —Adelaide pointed at her—. The client has already asked me a few times, and it seems like they want to bring the meeting forward. So, please.

—Alright, tomorrow will be done.

—The cosmetics project is still going on, I have no news in regards to that restaurant... —Adelaide thought out loud— There should be a new project coming up, so I'd like to know if there are any volunteers to take over it.

Y/n almost felt encouraged to raise her hand, but Ava did it first. She was so greedy, she barely could handle the current project to be taking over another one.

—Oh, since you've raised your hand, I want to forward the client's congratulations after finishing the scrubbing on time.

Y/n's fingers, which had been marking the compass of the whole meeting with each click on the keyboard, suddenly stopped moving when her boss pronounced those words.

It couldn't be. She probably was overthinking it again.

—What scrubbing? —Y/n asked.

—The one with all the surveys from the past week —Adelaide answered as if it was obvious.

—You did it? —Y/n accused Ava.

The sudden accusation, with the upset look, made her gulp thick, slowly feeling the rest of the eyes in the room fall on her.

—Well, you helped her —Adelaide interrupted.

—And isn't it just fair that I receive the same recognition? —Y/n asked— There were ten thousand leads, I did six thousand in these three days, which means she didn't even do half of the work. I even worked at home to assure the client would receive the results this morning. And you still acknowledged her for it and not me?

Her eyes quickly fell on a confused Ava, taken aback by that new attitude coming from Y/n. They all were so used to having her nodding and letting go of things, that having her speak up and clap back was like seeing a unicorn carrying an elf on its loin.

—Ah, right —Y/n nodded—, because having clients seeing you let an inept whiny bitch take over their projects would give a bad look for the company. Especially for you, because the big boss would love seeing how you praise and give visibility to only those who laugh at your jokes —she slammed the upper part of the computer as she closed it—. I've always thought the problem was me. I was convinced I was the one who should improve, because you told me I was still unaware of how things work. I ate it up even if I did all the scrubbings, redacted all the reports and finished most of the presentations. Only because it was convenient for you to keep me like this, to assure yourself the work from everyone would be done. But you know what? Let's see how you all deal with it when I'm gone.

The chair squeaking on the floor as she got up worked as a pistol shot for all the mumbles among them to start.

—But I'm not a bitch —Ava whined.

—You are —Y/n responded, stopping in front of her door—. But don't worry, you'll have all the spotlight to yourself again. And, you know what? You'll get the merit just now, unless you aren't able to finish up the work, which is the most plausible —before opening the door, Y/n turned to her colleagues again—. This is the worst team someone could ever work with. Neither of you know shit about work, but it's not like you need to worry. And obviously, hope you know this is all your fault —she referred to Adelaide, pointing at the table—. You're such a useless and bad boss that I'm surprised you even got the position. Fuck you all, it was horrible working with you —and she topped her goodbye speech with a middle finger as she crossed the door.

The relief she felt in her body as she went back to her desk, only to pick up the few things she had left, multiplied that superation sensation that she felt when she was first hired. It was like all the things that were killing her slowly, all the complaints and rants that she'd only let out in her head, finally found a way out and allowed her to find some peace.

There was nothing that could compare to that.

Slowly, she was getting rid of all the things that had been taking a toll on her self-esteem. First her ex boyfriend, and later her job where she felt she had no future in. It was as if she had entered a whole new era in her life, without even being aware of it.

She knew in the next few weeks everything would be chaos and stress, besides how relaxed she felt in the moment, but she didn't care. She was ready to take it all and take herself towards the next level.

Her fingers waved in the air as she wondered what was the best way to tell her parents. On one hand, she was sure they'd be supportive of her -and even encourage her to take that huge step-, but on the other hand... it was so far away that she wasn't ready to see the sadness on their faces when she told them.

It was even worse when her brother and Rachel showed up half an hour later with the kids, adding that energetic boost that maybe she needed to go on with those news.

—You're so quiet, dear —Rachel approached her after fifteen minutes, placing her hand on her lower arm—. Is everything alright at home?

She wasn't a friend on the same level as Liz, Rosie or Joanne, but she had always been there whenever she needed someone to vent, or when she needed some type of advice -even if shortly after she ended up connecting it to her current life. Which, in some sense, was even better in a matter of perspective, because it added the consequences to back up what she was saying.

—It's good. It's great —Y/n nodded—. Actually, I have news. But I think it'd be better to tell them after we're done having lunch.

Mainly, because she'd rather eat first, and deal with their reactions later. She didn't know what the answer would be, so at the sight of the minimum problem, Y/n tried to opt for the best chance.

—Why later? —her mother approached them— If they're good, it's better to let us know.

—Yeah, give us something good to hear —her father seconded.

—To hear what? —Sullivan appeared after his father, still chewing on something.

—What are you eating? —their father's attention shortly shifted to her older brother— That was still raw.

Except for the few sighs from the ladies in front and next to her, all eyes and attention were back on her, almost surrounding the chair she was sitting on on the porch.

—Good news first: I got a new job —she celebrated.

—Really? —her father's eyes instantly shined in excitement.

—Bad news: It's in Seoul.

His smile quickly dropped when he heard the location, while his wife exchanged a nervous gaze with him before she looked somewhere else to sit.

—But that's on the other side of the world —her mother lamented.

—You'll be all by yourself there —her father continued—. What about your job now? Maybe you could continue there.

—Bad news: I left, and not in the best of conditions —she nervously giggled.

Just like her mother, her father also looked for a place to sit after he was hit with those news.

—It's a change for the better —she assured them—. I was starting to feel burned out, I didn't like what I did. And I got no recognition for the work that I've been doing. It felt like a waste of time —her shoulder shrugged, as she tried to convince her parents that it was a good decision—. The salary doubles the one that I have now, I'll be working directly with the CEO, and I'll be doing exactly what I studied for.

After she had to give up her figure skating career due to an injury on her ankle, she was left with little to no other choices. She didn't want to study, she refused to dedicate four to six years of her life to something that she didn't like. So she ended up doing an Associate's Degree on Secretariat, to at least have something to work with.

She knew that opportunity wouldn't show up twice in her life. That position would put her on a whole different level if she ever had to come back to England.

—Yeah, and how obsessed you're over those Korean boys has zero to do with it.

She liked everything related to Korea, that was true -and it mainly was because of how she slowly got into the kpop and kdrama world. But even if that opportunity had shown up anywhere else, she'd have taken it with no second thoughts.

—I think you chose well —Rachel congratulated her—. She's not attached to anything nor anyone, she's young and smart, and a hard worker. She'll do great in Seoul. Honestly, I really admire you. If I were in your position, I'd have made the exact same decision. Do all of that while you can.

—Rachel —Y/n mumbled with a thin voice, touched by the sweet words of her sister-in-law.

—What? —she continued, looking at the people around her—. Am I not right? We should be supporting her, instead of making her feel like her decision isn't good.

But it didn't seem like her father agreed to what Rachel was saying. While her mother tried to agree with her, her father simply stood up and sneaked inside the house without saying a single word.

And if she thought she'd manage to speak to him for the rest of the day, she was wrong, because he didn't show up in front of her for the rest of the day. Not even to have his lunch. It made her feel like she was doing something wrong, and she was the one who made him upset. The way he seemed to be unreachable was making it harder for her to deal with that situation.

At least until later.

Unable to sleep, she walked downstairs to the kitchen, finding her father sitting behind the aisle in the darkness.

It would've surprised her if it weren't a common habit of his. It was usual finding him there when she got ready to prepare herself her third coffee through the night to keep studying for an exam. He was the one who knew better how hard it was for her to get that degree, and keep her focus and passion on it.

—Look who's back to her roots —he joked quietly, moving the stool next to him so she'd sit—. I'm sorry for reacting that way.

—It's okay. I understand —she answered, taking the spot next to him.

—I want you to succeed, and do what your heart asks you to do —he started to explain himself—. It just hurts to see you go. It was so hard already when you left for London, and I thought that was the furthest you'd ever go —he sadly smiled—. And now you're leaving to the other side of the world, and I'm finally realizing how you're not my little girl anymore. You're this young brave woman that's facing life, and taking decisions.

—It's really important to me to have your support on this —she whispered, laying her head on his shoulder—. I want to know if you're okay with what I'm about to do.

—Of course I am —he nodded—. Everything that helps your future, and that makes you happy, will always have my full support. But I want you to hear me clearly: if things start to go wrong, you'll tell me. Don't keep it to yourself like you've done the past few months. Just like we're here to support you for the good, we're here to support you for the bad. We're your parents, we're supposed to be worried for you constantly. Hell, I'm worried even when you say you're fine because your tone didn't sound convincing enough.

—I will tell you. I promise —she giggled, wrapping his arm with hers.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle jab on her side, finding her father throwing her a side smile before he spoke.

—What about one last hot chocolate and one last piece of advice in this house? For the old times.

He tried to be as careful as possible preparing the drinks, avoiding waking someone up by the noise -especially the kids-, moving his hands slowly on her side to place the cup in front of her.

—What about the advice? —she reminded him.

He puckered his lips, lifting his gaze to the ceiling while he thought what the advice would be.

—Take this experience like a lemon you need to squeeze to the last drop. Get all that knowledge you're seeking for, and don't be scared to use them when you need it. And please, be happy. Not for others, but for yourself. Be happy being yourself.

Completely ignoring the hot chocolate that still had small waves of mist covering it up, Y/n hugged her father tight, hiding her face on his shoulder.

2 weeks later

Wooyoung was surprised by the amount of people that went to the airport to say goodbye to her. Although he was able to understand it. It was a big change, and she was flying quite far from home, they wouldn't see her in probably a long while, it was understandable they wanted to see her right before she left.

—Did you pack everything? —her mother asked.

—Yeah, everything's in the bags —that were already on their way to the airplane.

—Okay... —she nodded— I'll send the rest of the things via mail when you have a permanent place to live. Will you eat a lot? Please, eat a lot.

Y/n squeezed her mother's chin, trying to calm her down before she hugged her tight one last time, before she moved to her brother and the little kids.

—I made you this —George, the oldest of the two, raised the drawing to her.

It was a malformed version of herself, with an coloured version of her two nephews, in a garden. It was such a small thing, but so meaningful, that she had to fight hard her instincts to tear up.

—Come here.

Holding the two brothers, she squeezed George and John in a big hug, while she made them promise they'd behave well while she was away.

—And you need to bring us sweets —John added.

—I will.

The hug later went to Sullivan, and shortly after to Rachel, who patted her bag while kept insisting on how she was able to deal with anything she proposed herself to.

—The baby of the group —Lizzie pouted when Y/n first stepped in their direction.

Their group hug was filled with promises that they'd text each other every day and keep one another updated on everything that happened in their lives. It was a hug that assured the four of them their friendship would go on, it didn't matter where one of them was.

Although Y/n's eyes didn't start to actually tear up until she saw her father's eyes water, looking glistening under the bright light of the airport. He hugged her like he didn't want to let her go, and it'd be a lie if he ever had said it wasn't his intention as he held her for the last time in a long while.

—You'll do great —he assured her, stepping back only to wipe her tears away with his thumbs—. And you look after her —he warned Wooyoung.

—Dad —she weakly laughed.

It was a painful and sad goodbye, that she knew she had to go through to step into the that new part of her life

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

It Was You (Part Four)

A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

Read Part one, part two, and part three here (masterlist forthcoming)

A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo​​. This chapter and others will fill the square of ‘fake dating’. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 3446

Series Warnings: cursing, angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

Jensen woke to his cell buzzing on his nightstand, reaching blindly to silence the pestering noise. Lying on his back, he quickly peered through one half opened eye to see what all the fuss was about. Seeing it was Stacy, he hit the side button to reject her call, vowing he’d return it after ten more minutes of sleep. As he rested his head back on the pillow, you stretched slightly and rolled to face him as you slept, reminding him of how he’d carried you to his bed last night. You reached for him and pulled yourself under his arm to cuddle against him, throwing a leg over his as he laid on his back. He loved waking up next to you, no matter where it was. You’d shared a bed multiple times in your long friendship and he’d never felt as rested as when you were next to him, even if the vacancy was filled by someone else.

Jensen let his mind wander to what it would be like to wake up to you every morning, to take your friendship and turn it into something more. He would be lying if he said Y/n hadn’t been the first person that came to his mind when Stacy mentioned him settling down, and almost choked on his coffee when she agreed to be his pretend girlfriend. When he was young, he’d always just seen you as his best friend, but when he left for L.A. after his eighteenth birthday, the absence made him realize how much he’d loved you for so many years. It was a fondness that grew out of the shared intimacy and a longing bloomed within him, and it was no secret to him why it hadn’t worked out with anyone else. They weren’t you – they didn’t laugh like you. They didn’t touch him like you. They didn’t care for him in the way you did.

Since you’d moved to Vancouver, each time he’d get the nerve to bring his feelings up to you, you’d either be seeing someone or mention once again how much you valued his friendship. There were moments when he thought you may feel something for him to, between the lingering touches and occasional yearning gaze. When the time came, though, he’d always let his fears of losing you get in the way.

As you moved against him, trying to get closer to him in your dreaming slumber, his grip tightened around you to bring you to the spot no one else could seem to fill. You threw an arm around his waist and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your warmth seeping through him as your breath fanned across the tender skin. Jensen buried his face in your hair, inhaling a mixture of you and the floral scent of your shampoo, content to savor the moment where he could pretend that it was real, that maybe you wouldn’t scurry away when you woke to find yourself there.

You began to stir, breathing deeply and opening your eyes. You pushed against him slightly, just enough to peer up at him through your lashes.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Jensen whispered, searching your eyes for a long moment. He could have sworn he saw it, that fleeting passion that he could have sworn was intended for him. His eyes flitted to your lips, plush and full and slightly agape. It would be a dream to mold his mouth to yours and feel you let go. Your skin would feel like silk beneath his fingertips and he would savor every touch.

You seemed to study him, almost searching your brain for some sort of recognition.

You were in a blissful fantasy before you woke, wrapped in Jensen’s arms as he pinned you beneath him, nipping and licking at the exposed skin of your neck. In your hazed mind, you could still feel his delicious weight on top of you as he ground against you, and the burn of his scruff still tingled across your chest as he kissed down your body. His touch still ghosted across your skin but left no trace as your eyes opened slowly to be met with his emerald ones. It took your foggy, drowsy mind a moment to realize that you were no longer dreaming, but the fire in your core was still lit ablaze.

His eyes were filled with fondness as he looked down at you. Finding yourself in his arms as you woke still felt like a dream as your heartbeat rapidly sounded in your chest, until he began drawing patterns on your upper arm with his thumb. Your head rested against the swell of his shoulder and you could feel his stomach rising and falling with breath beneath your arm. He shifted a bit and you realized that your leg was tangled with his as your hips and body angled towards him.

“Y/n? You okay?” Jensen breathed, flitting his eyes between your eyes and lips as you stared at him, still playing catchup in your brain. He sucked in a breath when you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, still silently searching his features. He could do it – he could kiss you. He could feel every curve in his hands and feel every breath if he took the chance, and the way you were looking at him, eyes darkened with want, he began to lean forward, slowly and tentatively.

Jensen’s tongue ran across his plump lips and continued to trace small circles on your exposed skin before moving his hand to your hair. This wasn’t for show, and the weight of the intimacy bared down on you as he moved towards you, aiming for your lips.

As soon as your eyes fluttered closed, Jensen’s phone began to ring. His eyes snapped open with annoyance as he stared into yours. He didn’t want to pick up – whoever it was could go to hell right now, but when you smiled and told him to, he sighed heavily and grabbed his cell, seeing that it was Stacy once again.

She could usually take a hint, so this must’ve been important. Jensen gave you a sympathetic smile and pressed the button to answer.

“Hello?”

“Jensen? Good morning, it’s Stacy.”

“Yeah, how are you?”

“I’m great. Have you gotten the chance to check social media this morning? There’s some great stuff floating around about you and Y/n already. Apparently some paps got some photos of you two in town yesterday so gossip is buzzing.”

“Oh, that’s… good?”

“It sure is!” Stacy exclaimed, which you could hear from your spot, still tucked beneath Jensen’s shoulder as his grip on you never loosened. “Great job, you two. This is going well already. Keep up the social media stuff, but I wanted to warn you before you guys headed to the airport that there would probably some cameras around.”

Jensen’s eyes went wide, “The airport… right.”

“Yeah, I wanted to catch you before you got in. Are you about to leave? Your flight is in 3 hours.”

He snapped his head to face you as you realized what that meant, looking at him with a panicked expression. You needed to get your ass up and go.

“We’re about to leave soon. Cliff should be here in, uh,” Fuck, it’s 9:00. “20 minutes to get us.” He said, more to you than Stacy as he grabbed his watch from his nightstand when you rolled off of him.

“Alright, well you guys have a safe trip. I’ll be in touch soon!” her chipper voice echoed through his receiver before it clicked and ended the call. You were dashing around the room, gathering your sweater, shoes, keys, and phone before you had to run to your apartment to change and grab your packed suitcase, allowing Jensen to do the same. As you made your way to the door, Jensen called to you, still in his pajama pants and tight v-neck with his hair was gloriously tousled.

“We’ll continue this later?” He proposed, his voice deep and smooth.

You paused in the doorframe to respond, arms laden with your belongings. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and grinned, “I’d like that.”

He sighed a breath of relief through his smile before rushing to the adjacent bathroom to take a quick shower.

It was December 22nd, and the airport was going to be insanely packed, but between Jensen’s security needs and first-class tickets for the two of you to Austin, you were able to get priority registration and pre-checks.

You hurried quickly to your apartment, pausing momentarily when you shut your door to run your fingertips through your hair and calm your swirling thoughts. There was no question that he was going to kiss you, at least from your perspective. Could this really be happening? With a smile and a pounding heart, you ran to your bathroom to brush your teeth, freshen up, and change, opting for black leggings and a thick shawl. You threw some last-minute items in your makeup bag and slung it over your waiting suitcase, grabbing your scarf, sunglasses, and purse and you were ready to meet Jensen outside.

Cliff and Jensen met you at the waiting SUV and loaded your luggage into the trunk, Jensen sliding in beside you in the back seat. It was a short ride to the airport and was mostly spent with Cliff briefing Jensen of the security protocols he would be taking once you arrived. He was already prepared for the possibility of paparazzi being present and would be sure you had a clear path to the entrance.

With about five minutes until you arrived, Jensen leaned in to whisper, “Would you be alright with holding my hand? You know, when we go in? F-for the cameras?” he asked, his eyes hopeful and nervous.

Your smile faltered as he said the last bit, worried that maybe the arrangement was still at the forefront of his mind. Until he added, “Or, if you just wanted to.”

His features softened as the smile returned to your face and you agreed. “I mean, ya know… I’d be alright with it.” He said in a teasing fashion, puffing his chest as you giggled. Sliding his hand across the leather seat, he brushed his fingers across yours before entwining a few. Your cheeks began to tingle and your heart swelled within your chest, a feeling present that you’d never experienced before.

Jensen couldn’t get the image of you from this morning out of his head. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw you beneath him, biting your lower lip. It was driving him mad and he was more than sure you were going to kiss him back. Now, though, he was kicking himself for answering that phone call. He was kicking himself for not pulling you into his arms as soon as he hung up.

A short moment later and you were pulling up at the entrance, not entirely surprised to see a few people lingering around the pillars with cameras in their hands. It was a popular spot for folks in their profession, hoping to snap a few shots of celebrities boarding their flights and since the movie and television studios had just recently shut down production for the holidays, their odds increased of getting a good photo to sell.

“You ready?” Jensen asked, squeezing your hand as you stared out towards the building.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, “Yeah.”

“Hey,” he urged, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, alright? Cliff and I will be right here.”

You gave him a small smile, but deep down it wasn’t only safety you were concerned about. You knew that once photos surfaced of you and Jensen, the rumors would spread fast. Now, though, there would be some truth to them, or so it seemed.

Cliff exited the car and grabbed both yours and Jensen’s suitcase from the trunk before opening the passenger’s side rear door, allowing Jensen to step out. As soon as he did, loud clicks and a whirl of footsteps could be heard, with people surrounding the vehicle quickly. Cliff stood like an intimidating brick wall and bellowed at them, which made a few of them move back a few steps.

When Jensen turned and offered his hand, you put your sunglasses on and grabbed your bag, hearing the furry of camera shutters increase rapidly. Clearly, they were very interested in who Jensen was bringing with him.

You slid across the seat and took his extended hand in yours. When he helped you shuffle out of the vehicle, he laced a few of his fingers loosely with yours once again and made his way through the crowd of shouts and flashing lights, each of you pulling your suitcases as Cliff led the way. One reporter asked Jensen who his guest was, which made you laugh a bit. Another asked where you were headed, but those were the only few that you could make out in the chorus of questions. He waved graciously as he pushed passed them, continuously checking beside him to make sure you were alright. Jensen’s hand tightened around yours and he looked at you through his darkened glasses, giving you a grin. When you returned his smile, you realized that it may be for show, but he never dropped your hand even after the cameras were behind you.

Cliff said his goodbyes when he ensured that you made it safely to the TSA pre-check. He would be heading home soon also, but his flight was a red eye that night so he would have time to pack himself. He gave you a fleeting, knowing look as his eyes casted down to yours and Jensen’s entwined hands, the tiniest smile adorning his lips.

After going through the security check, you and Jensen explored the shops at the airport and grabbed a coffee before taking a seat at your gate with fifteen minutes to spare before they began boarding. A few fans approached him and asked for an autograph or photo and he was polite and chatted with each of them as you smiled from the sidelines. He was always so gracious with the people he met, and it made you a bit proud. It was just another way that he’d proven to stay true to who he was even now that he was recognized almost everywhere he went. It had taken a bit of getting used to when it began and now his fans were calling you by name. When he and Jared were together, there was no stopping the barrage of passersby.

The few people gave you a wave as you sat next to him and you offered to take their photo for them before they ran to their own flights that were departing soon.

Jensen beamed as he waved them goodbye before turning to you, “You know, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over that.”

Laughing, you commented, “Well, I can’t blame them. They get excited seeing you in the ‘wild’.” You joked.

He sat back and stifled a yawn before taking a sip of his coffee, “You okay? Are you tired?” you questioned.

“Oh, yeah. I’m good. I’ll be fine once we get on the plane.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ll be asleep before we reach the end of the tarmac.”

You were jealous of his ability to sleep on planes, but since he began traveling so much he learned to get some shut eye where he could and now the whirl of the jet engines was a lullaby to him, almost putting him to sleep instantly.

“Well, if you snuggle with me, I’ll be a goner, for sure.”

He gave you a suggestive look and wiggled his eyebrows. Before you could respond, the attendant began to call rows for boarding, meaning you and Jensen were some of the first needed to get in line.

He stowed both of your bags in the compartments when you found your seats, opting to give you the window and asking for an extra pillow or two from the attendant. When you sat, Jensen leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Two o’clock.”

You turned to view what he was talking about, knowing that he was signaling you to look in a specific direction. Sure enough, in the row directly behind you to the left, there was someone with a phone pointed in your direction, seemingly hoping to get a photo of Jensen. This meant the two of you couldn’t necessarily talk freely during the flight, especially about what happened that morning, as many people were in earshot.

Giving you a small smile, he reached for your hand after he’d buckled in, clasping it in his as the plane roared down the freeway and took off towards Austin.

Sure enough, Jensen fell asleep against your shoulder about a half an hour into the flight, so you quietly ordered a drink and a snack and caught up on some Netflix on your phone, gently plugging your headphones in your ears so that you wouldn’t wake him.

You were lucky to have a direct flight into Austin, and Jensen woke up about an hour before you landed. You laughed and chatted about random things, just passing the time until the wheels touched down. He held your hand once again as you exited the airport, his fingers searching out yours expectantly and gripping them tight. He began to scan the crowd for Jared, who smiled widely and waved frantically when he caught sight of you as he towered above everyone else in his surroundings.

As he drove you through the streets of Austin to his home, he caught you up on the details of the party tonight, “Gen decided she wanted to do an ugly Christmas sweater themed party, so she grabbed you both one to wear. Don’t blame me, she and the boys picked them out.”

“Oh goodness…” you commented. “I hope Gen looked out for me a little.”

Jared threw his head back in laughter as Jensen looked at you from the passenger’s seat, turning his head to shoot you a look of yeah right as you sat in the back.

You were met with hugs from the Gen and the littlest Padaleckis as soon as the car pulled in the driveway and Tom whisked you away to show you the drawings he’d made for you and Uncle Jensen.

“Hi to you too!” Jensen shouted as they ran inside, pulling you by your hands to follow as you turned to stick your tongue out at him. They loved him, truly, but he was all but forgotten when you were there with him. He waved you off and rounded the car to grab your bags, Jared popping the trunk and helping.

Jared clicked his tongue and pressed, “So… Things are… different?”

“What do you mean, man?” Jensen retorted, feigning innocence.

“You and Y/n. There’s something there that wasn’t there before.”

Jensen sighed, but couldn’t help the smile that bloomed against his cheeks as he ran his hand along the scruff of his jaw.

“Or,” Jared interjected. “Or maybe it’s something that’s always been there?”

Jensen looked at his best friend with a bit of worry in his eyes, feeling as though he’d just been caught. Jared had always known how much you cared about each other and had his suspicions that you each had more feelings than you were letting on, but Jensen had never confessed it to him in all the years he’d known him. It was the one thing they didn’t share, partially because Jensen knew he’d never hear the end of it and Jared would try some sort of scheme to get them together. If it happened, he wanted it to happen organically, not because of the meddling of his 6’4 goofy-puppy co-star. The truth was, though, Jensen was still afraid of ruining your friendship. He never wanted to lose you, ever.

Jared noticed the energy his friend was giving off and tried to offer him a bit of solace, “Hey, man. Not to worry. You two have always been together, just not together. This may have started as an arrangement, but maybe it’s just the open door you both need to explore your feelings? Maybe this is the way you two stop dancing around each other. Maybe this is the push you needed.” He clasped his hand on Jensen’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile, his lips curling on one side before he shut the door to the garage.

Jensen thought about his friend’s words, a new sense of courage blossoming within him and making his heart stammer and swell.

“Yeah, maybe.”

To be continued...

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Tags below (if your tag is strikethrough, it wouldn’t let me use it):

It was you

@440mxs-wife​​ @cookiechipdough​​ @greenarrowhead​ @peaches007​ @transparentparadiseglitterzombie​ @thevelvetseries​​  @urmbecky​​

Forevers:

@acortez82​​ @adoptdontshoppets​​ @akshi8278​ @atc74​  @berrygutz @blackcherrywhiskey​​ @busybee612​ @caitsymichelle13​ @daydreamingintheimpalareturns @deansbabymomma​​ @deansenwackles​​ @deanssweetheart23​​ @deanwinchesterswitch​​ @empyreanwritings​​ @geeksareunique​​ @gh0stgurl​​ @heyitscam99​​ @hhiggs​​ @huntersbunker @jackburtonsays​​ @janicho88​​ @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @jfrank1048​​ @jotink78​ @maddiepants​​ @mogaruke​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @nerdstackular​​ @nerdysandwichqueen​​  @okay-okay18​ @our-jensen-ackles-love​​ @prompt-and-circumstances​​  @samsgirl93​ @sandlee44​​ @sister-winchesters99​​ @snffbeebee​​ @spnbaby-67​ @supernatural3002​ @titty-teetee​​ @topthis808​ @tardis-is-mine​​ @torn-and-frayed​  @tranquility-or-chaos​ @weepingwillowphoenix​​ @winchester-writes​​  @wwaywardwinchester​​ @xtina2191​

Jensen Only

@mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​​

[gardengirl-18]

Freeing Her- Obi-Wan Kenobi Smut

Not my gif, credit to the owner.

Warnings: Smut. Female reader. Talks about slavery. Obi-Wan and reader are of age. I would say 19.

Summary: While visiting Tatoonie. Padawan!Obi-Wan saves a girl in slavery and she repays him.

The hot suns of Tatoonie beat down on Obi-Wans neck. His Master, Qui-Gon Jinn spoke quietly with one of the locals. The local gestured to some cantina telling Qui-Gon Jinn it was a cheap place to get food and water and maybe somewhere to rest for night, if the locals were kind and the Jedi were lucky.

Qui-Gon beckoned his padawan to follow him towards the cantina. Loud music and chatting could be heard outside the building. Obi-Wan and his master walked through the busy cantina, people eyeing them suspiciously as they walked past. Finding an empty table, they sat and ordered some food and something to drink. They softly talked about their mission and how they were going to find somewhere to stay for the night.

Deciding upon walking the streets to find somewhere to stay was their best option. After leaving the cantina, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon walked the sandy streets of Anchorhead. Deep in the quiet alleyways of Anchorhead lie a sinister system. Slaves. Not the usual working slaves. Women enslaved for their beauty. Most of the slaves were Twi'lek, but some were humans.

“Stay here Obi-Wan, I’ll see if this boarding house has an vacancy.” Obi-Wan stood outside of the boarding house, he picked at his nails and smoothed down his robes.

“Hey, you there!” Obi-Wan turned to a man a bit down an alley way and pointed to himself. “Yes you.” Obi-Wan walked closer, remembering he had his saber with him and to keep calm. “What is it sir?” Obi-Wan asked. “I have something you may be interested in.” Obi-Wan have the man a strange look. The man stepped aside and revealed a young girl, around Obi-Wan’s age. Her attire left little to be imagined, and the chains around her neck and hands seemed to be irritating her skin. “She’s new. Never been used yet.” The girl struggled against her chains and her slaver pulled harshly on the chain locked around her neck, pulling her forward, closer to the padawan. Despite her chained wrists she attempted to reach for her sore neck. Her slaver grabbed her by her long braided hair, her throat on full display, she knew he had a blade and would most definitely kill her.

Obi-Wan could see the fear in her eyes. He thought for a moment. “You will give her to me and never come back.” Obi-Wan said, waving his hand at the slaver. The slaver dropped her chains, “I will give her to you and never come back.” The slaver walked away from the girl. Obi-Wan was shocked, this was the first time he had used the force this way and it worked. He stepped forward and the girl flinched. “It’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you. Let me take off your chains.” Obi-Wan gently pulled the chains off her neck and wrists.

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan nodded. He looked at her attire, giving himself a mental reminder to cleanse himself after this mission. He hesitated before taking off his deep brown robe and handing it to the girl. She took it and wrapped it around herself.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon called. Obi-Wan turned back to the girl, he held his hand out, “That’s my Master, I’ll take you with me. We will keep you safe.” The girl hesitated before taking Obi-Wan’s hand and leading her towards his master.

Qui-Gon was puzzled to see his padawan with a girl who was wearing his robes. “Master, I saved this girl from slavery and I wish to help her.” Qui-Gon nodded and smiled at the girl. “I found an opening at the boarding house, I’ll send you two up to the room while I try and find something suitable for her to wear.” Said Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan and the mysterious girl got into the room Qui-Gon had found. The girl sat on the bed, Obi-Wan’s robes still wrapped tightly around her. “What’s your name?” Asked Obi. “Y/N.” The girl replied.

“Nice to meet you, my name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He held his hand out to shake and the girls small, shaky hand took his. “Do you have a family?” Asked Obi-Wan. “Yes, but they were the ones who sold me to the slaver for credits.” Y/N replied. Obi-Wan sat next to the girl, giving her plenty of space since she did seem timid.

“Thank you for saving me from him. I would die if I had to do another dance for creepy criminals.” Y/N’s grip on Obi-Wan’s robes loosened and they opened slightly to reveal her skintight, small outfit underneath. Obi-Wan tried to keep his eyes on her face, but as the robe opened more it was hard to focus. The girl turned to look at him, his red face caused her to smile.

Her hand reached up to brush his cheekbone slightly. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.” Obi-Wan shrugged, “You don’t have to, it’s my pleasure and my job.” “Oh, but I must.”

Obi-Wan’s hands snaked down to touch her waist as she leaned in. Their lips touched for a moment but before they could do anything else Obi-Wan sensed his Master. He pulled away and moved to the other side of the room and Y/N closed the robe. Qui-Gon entered the room, tossing some clothes into her bed for the girl. “Thank you.” She said. Getting up and walking to the bathroom to change.

“While I was out, I asked the owner if there was another room. I’ll be staying on the floor above you. Will you be fine here with the girl?” Obi-Wan nodded. Qui-Gon Jinn bid his padawan goodnight and left to go to his own room.

The door to the bathroom opened. Y/N walked out, wearing some earthy toned clothing that covered her more modestly than the shabby ‘uniform’ her slaver forced her to wear. Her long hair was still in a braid, cascading down her back and Obi-Wan swore he had never seen anyone as beautiful as she. She handed Obi-Wan back his robe and gave him a smile, silently thanking him. Her hand reached out to touch his long Padawan braid. Her fingers gently touched the beads woven in. “You’re just a Padawan.” Y/N made eye contact with Obi, her hands still on his braid. Touching his braid shouldn’t have been as intimate as it was at the moment.

“Yes, training to be a Jedi Master.” Y/N’s hands left Obi-Wan’s braid as she walked toward the bed, “Where will you be sleeping? I think it would be rude of me to make you sleep on the couch, especially after you rescued me.” Said Y/N.

“Nonsense. I will be fine on the couch. You take the bed, it’s probably better than whatever skin you’ve been sleeping in for the past few days.” Y/N laid down on the bed, facing the direction of the couch Obi-Wan was walking over to. He laid down, and Y/N shut off the lights. The howling of the wind outside was all that could be heard and the occasional yelling from the cantina down the street.

Obi-Wan could hear the girl tossing and turning. He looked in her direction, her back was turned to him but she saw how she curled in a ball. He wondered what it was like, being sold into sex slavery by your own family, just for a few credits. The girl rolled over again, facing Obi-Wan. “Will you come lay with me?” He voice was soft in the dark. Obi-Wan knee it was wrong, but nevertheless, he got up and walked towards the bed, laying down. He faced the girl and her eyes bore into his. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep. It’s just it feels so lonely.” Obi-Wan nodded. Her small hand reached out to hold his hand.

Obi-Wan’s eyes trailed down to her lips. He would surely have to meditate when he got back to the temple. Y/N leaned forward, connecting their lips again, in a sweet kiss. Obi-Wan’s hand coming up to hold her cheek. The kiss was gentle, and inexperienced. Obi-Wan cursed himself for craving this so much, to be kissed, to be held, to be loved.

Y/N pulled away slightly to begin to unbutton her top. Obi-Wan looked at her with curiosity. Y/N unbuttoned the too completely, and pulled it off, leaving her top half bare. Obi-Wan gulped, trying to find control. Y/N’s lips settled near Obi-Wan’s ear, “Let me repay you Obi-Wan.” He shivered in delight as she kissed his jaw. Obi-Wan found his own hands undoing the many layers of his robes, the room become too hot for that many layers. Once stripped of his upper half, Y/N kissed down his neck, careful not to leave a mark.

Obi-Wan felt alive. The passion, the fire that burned inside him longed for more. Y/N’s fingers made work of his trousers as well as her own, leaving them bare. Obi-Wan has never seen a woman bare, let alone this up close. His oath to celibacy was hanging on a thin thread. Y/N gently ran her hands down his horse and she moved to straddle him. Obi-Wan’s breath quickened.

He flipped them over, his self control gone. His lips attacked her collar bone and her whimpers encouraged him. He reached between them, lining himself up with her. He pushed in, watching in awe as the girl below him threw her head back. He too was in ecstasy, never feeling anything like this.

Obi-Wan rocked his hips back and forth, his neck dropping to Y/N’s shoulder, he groaned into her sweet skin. Y/N on the other hand was in heaven. He wasn’t her first, but he was definitely the best she ever had. She had only danced for her slaver, never used in this way, but she had been an adventurous teen.

He hit a spot inside of her that made her lose it. One hand dug her nails into his shoulder, the other hand scratching down his back. Obi-Wan increased his speed, groaning and moaning. Y/N’s eyes rolled back into her head, her body perfectly molding with his.

Obi-Wan felt a buzzing feeling in his stomach, and the way her walls clenched around him he assumed she was close too. “I can’t last much longer Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan nodded and that’s when it hit. The buzzing in his stomach tightened into a coil and then it snapped. He pulled out, coating Y/N’s stomach in his warm seed. Y/N orgasm came as soon as she saw his face contort. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths.

Obi-Wan collapsed beside her on the bed, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat and his chest heaving. “That was definitely against the code.”

[thermie]

For the meme! Norwegian Angelica, Pincushion, Pink, Primrose, Sunflower

Heyo! :)) Thanks for asking, and so many! I like sunflowers! And don't recognize any other flowers here! :D Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom.

Hmm, it's hard to be concise as I've had a complicated relationship with her to say the least. But I'm sort of trying to reach out intermittently (once in a couple months hah) again so that's something. But my mother is someone very in touch with nature and animals, she grew up in the countryside and is still very much a country girl as she now keeps goats, ducks, chickens, turkeys etc. She has told me that she has no need for antidepressants because she can just go to the forest, for example, which, well, shows both her medicine-hate and nature-love hah. She used to be very hardworking - she almost got a PhD in chemistry like my father but three kids and the house and a business was a bit too much to also write a thesis. Because of this and other things, she's.... currently I'd best describe her as horribly burnt out and depressed and self-depreciative. But she is easy to talk to, she will carry the conversation and she will tell her side eagerly and at least listen to yours - she both is probably lonely and has this need to be always presentable and talk to her family a bit like we're business partners she needs to convince which I used to hate, and she will tell you about how horrible she has it at the drop of the hat. When in a room with others, she will most often stay silent and listen, however, she used to say that she liked to just listen when me and siblings would talk. She has her own, mostly non-explicit ways of showing she cares, and you know, hey I managed to write a p alright summary that wasn't just unprocessed anger, yay for me. Pincushion: How do you deal with pain?

Mm, I assume this deals with physical pain. I've been quite lucky thus far and have no chronic pains except the normal millenial achy knees sometimes. Since I already mentioned above that I grew up in a pretty anti-medicine household, I didn't use an ibumetin or paracetamol for anything not mirstamā kaite (dying sickness) until I was like... 19. So I just kinda, uh, waited it out I guess? Which is largely still the mode of action for me nowadays, though now I usually take ibumetin, that's about it. I always thought I deal with pain p well and have a high tolerance and I definitely am quite good at pushing myself through it when needed but really I'd rather I didn't have to feel that toothache while having to focus on the paper or smth. I actually had pretty strong period cramps a week or so ago that I usually don't get and then I just... took one ibumetin, finished off the research paper, took another ibumetin because holy shit, complained to friends, played assassins creed until the pain faded a bit and got back to studying :D Also re: mental pain, well, I've had 2 years of therapy to sort of help with that, and I find the thing that works most reliably to me is the schema therapy caring parent/vulnerable child thing, I just sorta. Listen to the pain and hear it and then console it. Be your own parent 2kforever.

Pink: Where is home?

Here!

It's quite a cozy flat in an... hm, middle class neighborhood, the owner never shows up and we just pay the rent in his debit card, he's chill with us paying it late and when our stove sort of implodes he comes and buys a new one! I also live with sis which is p great, since, as my therapist pointed out, we've been negotiating how to live in each other's spaces literally since birth so we know how to co-exist (I like my space perhaps more than others - I don't particularly enjoy having friends over and I like that we have sort of come to an arrangement of kitchen is talk space and our rooms are less so). I used to think I didn't get attached to places but now with potential talks of moving that didn't end up anywhere I got so afraid of losing this sense of stability, a place to jump from that I didn't have as solid before. It's my gremlin cave and yes there's mold growing in places that we're too lazy/tired to try to deal with, and sometimes we play chicken about who will cave and wash the dishes or take out the trash, but hey, it's my gremlin cave.

Primrose: Describe your ideal life.

Hah, I've actually been on and off daydreaming about winning a million euros in lottery (a pal's gotta dream, alright :D). And then the scenario goes a bit like buy a house with a garden that me and sis and poosssibly my friends would live in, get a car and driving license, travel a bit, stop working at my current job and just vibe for a bit before either moving to the deep countryside and being a farmer or working in businesses as an anthropologist for sense of accomplishement. In the 99.99% case I do not win the lottery, however, I think working in a place where I can both excercise my brain and feel smart and appreciated about doing it would be great, I'm lowkey considering working as an anthropologist if I can wrangle a vacancy in some place. I think I'd like to either continue my slow, slow ventures into writing, or, since I've realized I'm pretty fucking amazing at realizing other's mistakes instead of my own and giving constructive criticism :D go into editing work. But who knows. I mostly want to get enough money to have a bit of property and a garden and be able to sometimes travel, and then a nice job is a luxury. Still sometimes thinking of moving just deep deep into the countryside and buying chickens. But I won't really make much money that way alas. Sunflower: What is something you don’t want to imagine life without? Mm, well the obvious basics of a roof over my head and food in my tummy tum tum, but besides that, I'd probably say my friends. Be weird old people together. Even if I do move or somehow lose my current friends, I still want to make connections with close friends bc well I find them neat. I don't make a great lonely person.

[face-turn]

All the Flowers (turn to face the sun)

Pairing: Gen; the Shield and its brotherly homoeroticism notwithstanding Words: 1.3k Rating: PG, for Dean’s mouth A/N: While this is technically not complete, I don’t know where else it’s going, so I’m setting it free. Also I’ve been gone for two years what of it. 

The safehouse this time is barely more than a shoebox, a single bedroom with an alleyway window opening up into a tiny living room and a galley kitchen. They never really expect comfort-- they pay for security, for secrecy, not for luxury-- but even Dean has to admit this is a little sad. 

Except. On the windowsill of that tiny little window, a pot of ivy creeps halfheartedly up the screen. It’s just a little one, maybe some kinda ornamental thing, but Dean is fucking fascinated. They’ve never been here before, because somehow Rollins has matched and surpassed Dean’s paranoia, but nonetheless Dean is compelled to carefully water it, to weed the little thing and to turn it a little to help it catch what meagre sunlight peeks over the sharp shadows of the neighboring building. 

“It’s just a weed,” Reigns says, and he says it like he’s an expert on weeds and not-weeds and hey, Dean, have you ever considered being a person with a working brain for once? 

Well. He doesn’t say that last part. Dean infers it. 

“Yeah?” Dean says, focusing on picking tiny blades of grass out of the pot and flicking them into Reigns’ hair when he’s not looking. “Well, s’lasted this long on its own. Think maybe I was a weed in another life?” 

Reigns looks at him with his startling grey eyes. “Yeah,” He says. “Well, you’re like some kind of weird mold now, so I guess it’s not too--” 

Their ensuing scuffle is interrupted by Rollins coming back, slipping into the back door like a shadow. The look on his face says trouble, which means a job, which means Dean flicks one last piece of dirt into Reigns’ hair and stands up, brushing his hands off on his pants.

When they come back, month and change later, the plant is gone. That’s okay. Dean is used to things that don’t last. 

--

The motel’s on the very outskirts of town, vacancy sign flickering dolefully in the foggy dark. They’re outside of Atlanta-- or Aurora, or Akron, or Augusta. Dean’s lost track of all the places they’ve paced through, hackles up and snarling. They blur together when you never stop and someone else pays the bills.

The pool out front’s been drained and there’s only a couple of cars out front, but the lights are on and this is the address Punk gave them. Rollins is dozing on his feet, swaying into Dean’s shoulder every so often, and Reigns is tweaked out of his mind on Modafinil, muscles shivering ever-so-slightly with barely restrained get-up-and-go. 

Dean’s always had a better stomach for uppers, already has most of the side effects wired into his biology and doesn’t get ‘em better or worse when he’s on stims. He’s the one who bundles them out of the car, drags them staggering into the lobby to pick up a room key. He assures the man at the desk that no, sir, he’s certainly Mr. Punk, sir, yes that is his birth name, yes he certainly can produce an I.D., if you’ll give him just a moment. 

There’s only one bed, because C.M. Punk is some kinda penny pinching motherfucker when he’s not paying their fees, but it doesn’t matter. Dean’s slept on worse than dirty carpets, and at least there’s a roof. He hefts Rollins-- Seth, he guesses, because it’s hard to keep it casual when you’re unlacing a guy’s boots-- onto the bed while Reigns mumbles something incoherent and stumbles off, possibly to die in the shower. 

Dean’s still got the urge to move shoving at him. He drapes his dog tags across the old alarm clock-- Reigns will get it or he won’t-- and secures the room as best he can before slipping out the door. It’s gone from foggy to rainy, drops bouncing off cracked asphalt and turning the whole place into a shitty, muddy slip-n-slide. A cluster of pretty girls are gathered around the Coke machine, short shirts and shorter skirts and the kind of high-pitched laughter that’ll kill a man’s confidence at a hundred paces. 

It’s too rainy to walk, Dean guesses. 

“Hey mister,” One calls, kind of sarcastic, and her friends break back down into laughter. She’s wearing a flower in her hair, rain-dropped and vibrant even under the shitty fluorescent lights. 

“Evening ma’am,” Dean replies, doffing an invisible cap. He doesn’t approach, because he’s not interested or capable of buying what they’re selling. 

They don’t seem too put out about it. Dean’s looking kind of rough, he admits, five days unshaved and hands still wrapped to the wrist. He definitely wouldn’t wanna see himself in a dark alley, that’s for fuckin’ sure. 

“You looking for anything?” The girl with the flower asks, cocking her hip in defiance of the weather and his distance. 

“Only the ice machine,” He demurs, and they laugh at him again. He smiles, so he’s in on the joke. 

There’s no ice machine, they all cheerfully inform him, which is okay because Dean didn’t really need ice anyway, just something to do with his hands until the mania steps back a little and lets forty sleepless hours take the reins. 

It takes a lap or two of the complex to settle down. He scopes out all the easy exits on the first go around, because he can’t help it, and then the harder exits, because his mind still needs something to work on. 

It’s late-late by the time he trudges back up to the door, instead of just late. He taps the door softly, pattern set in his bones after all this time practicing. It’s a minute before the return knock comes, a password and response that’s as familiar as breathing. When the door swings open for Dean to slip inside, Reigns is there, sleepy and still damp from his shower. 

He also looks hilariously pissed off. 

“No hot water?” Dean guesses, and is immediately rewarded with a snarl that would make a tiger jealous. He slips the travel lock back into place, locks and double locks and bolts the door behind him, kicks the door stop into place and slides the safety lock in, too. It won’t keep out someone who’s desperate to get in, but it’ll give them a little bit of time to wake up. 

“Seth’s gonna bitch so much,” Reigns says, squeezing out his hair and starting on his nightly ritual untangling. “Boy’s like a lapdog.” 

Dean makes a noise of agreement, watching Seth’s back rise and fall with his slow breaths. Something about him just screams that he was made to be pampered. Maybe the sly hints of a good family life. 

“We’re gonna let him find out on his own.” Dean says, settling onto the foot of the bed and fighting against the weight of his eyelids. 

“Yessir,” Reigns says, plaiting his hair up quick and laying one hand, still cool from his cold shower, onto Dean’s forehead. “C’mon, babe, get up and brush your teeth. We got a spare.” 

Dean hoists himself up, because of course now he’s tired. Brushing his teeth and splashing his face with water is a blur, and when he finally passes out he doesn’t even remember that there’s only one bed, after all. 

When they leave the next day, Seth bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from his surprisingly chilly wakeup shower, the girl’s flower is in a puddle by the soda machine, pretty and only a little bit stepped on. Dean wavers before stooping to pick it up, fragile and wet and almost weightless. 

Reigns looks back over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow up in that stoically judgmental way that he has, but doesn’t say anything to Dean, just keeps bullying Seth’s salty ass back to the car. Dean pets at the petals one more time before letting the flower fall back into its puddle, where it floats and spins endlessly in a reflection of the star-speckled dawn.

[lu-undy]

Chapter 11 - SBT

Here it is!

The Frenchman hit the hotel after his lunch with Victoria. He left the car to the parking valet and shot to the lift where he found Bastian.

“Which floor, Sir?”

“Cinquième.”

[Fifth.]

“Right, Sir.” The young man felt it. His client felt under the weather somehow. He wasn’t his same confident self. Of course, Bastian stayed away from questioning it or trying anything. He kept to his job and politely obliged.

When the lift stopped and the bell rang, the doors opening wide, Lucien resolutely exited without adding a word. As the doors closed again, Bastian put his hands in his pockets. 

“Oh?”

When his hand emerged out of it, a few coins shone in the palm of his white gloved hand. He smiled.

Meanwhile, Lucien had slammed the door shut as he entered his suite. He went straight to his bathroom. He opened the taps fully and let the water flow in a violent and loud stream. He removed his expensive shoes, put them out next to the front door and started stripping naked in front of the bathtub. His eyes were riveted on the water, the chaotic stream creating and destroying bubbles. 

His tie, jacket and vest flew out of the way quickly and he stayed bare-chested, crouched down, his chin and his arms on the edge of the bathtub, staring emptily at the water level rise. He couldn't hear his own thoughts if he had wanted to, the bath was too loud. Perfect, that was absolutely the point. Lucien wanted to smother and drown the voices in his head which repeated what Victoria had said. 

Bullshit! It's impossible to not feel lonely!

He frowned. Of course it was! That was how he had managed to survive! He had managed to embrace his loneliness and accept it! Victoria was young… Oui, too young to understand, no doubt. And of course such a sacrifice comes at a price! It is far from easy! But he had made it, he had succeeded in ridding himself of that feeling, the impression of a vacancy in his heart where a human should be...

The Frenchman sighed and stopped the water from running. The bath was full. He looked at the bottles standing at the edge of it and found some bubbling gel. He poured some in and mixed it until a thick foam formed at the surface. Lucien finished stripping naked and slipped in.

He let himself sink in slowly, until his back rested against the bathtub. He laid his head back and let his eyelids fall on his eyes. 

"Mon Dieu…" 

[My God…]

His lips hardly moved and the words slipped between them in a thin thread of air. 

Now what?

Well, now there was no loud water to deafen the voices in his head, no walking hard and fast to escape them either. Non, he had to face it all.

Fine.

Oui. Victoria was right, but only partly. Only very partly. There were a few times where he could still feel it, feel that he missed someone. Who? Well, that woman obviously, who else? Well…

Lucien frowned, his eyes still closed. 

Now if he was being honest, he was over her. He had put her in that tin box that was under the ground in a parisian park. She didn’t exist anymore. She was long gone. But he couldn’t help it. Each time he felt that feeling of emptiness creep up on him, he would think of her. It wasn’t because he missed her per se, but rather because he had no one to think about and associate that longing to.

Longing.

Oui, sometimes, very rarely though, the Frenchman longed for someone. Someone to hold, or to be held by. Someone to share his days with, someone to make sure his dreams were peaceful.

"Mon Dieu…"

His jaw relaxed. 

He thought back of these countless times he had someone to warm his bed. Those were surely happier times. But for some reason, he did not miss those the most, even though they did bring some kind of satisfaction… 

"Pfff…" 

He sighed. Enough for the bath. He felt himself spiralling down to useless thoughts. The Frenchman washed himself and exited his bathroom, wearing his bathrobe. In his bedroom, he chose a shirt and trousers and put them on. Lucien went to face the tall mirror next to the entrance to fix his cuffs and tie. 

He stared at himself, his hair disorganised and still damp. He hated his grey, lifeless eyes and frowned, focusing on the tie.

"Bien…" 

[Well…]

He punctuated, as if to turn the page of his mind. He thought back on his mission. 

"The target makes himself rare in public, hm? So be it, but I hope I will be able to at least catch a glimpse of him at The Queen Victoria. To that end, I need Richard's suit… I hope he will be fast. The sooner I go to that place, the better. Actually, maybe I can work on its layout first….? Oui, I shall ask Maurice for a map of the building and maybe a list of frequent clients."

He finished with his tie and went to grab his file. The Frenchman then put everything on the coffee table and sat down on the black leather sofa in front of it. He raised his head to see if there were any clocks on the wall to see the time when-

"Oh…" 

He hadn't realised it but his living room was massive. It was much more spacious than what he had caught a glimpse of as he had entered his suite the first time. Moreover, one side of it was entirely windowed and he could see a good part of the city from it. The view cut his breath short for a moment. But that wasn't what caught his attention first and foremost. Non. 

He stood up and walked to what had caught his eye. 

"Very nice…"

He let the tips of his finger delicately brush the black varnished wood before pulling the stool and sitting down. He opened the long black varnished lid and set his fingers on the keys. 

A piano was sitting in the middle of his living room and he hadn't noticed it for days… 

He looked at his fingers on the white keys. Last time he had seen them like that, the skin was smoother and he could see everything but the age on them. Now of course, it was much different.

What should he play? 

What key to press? What hammer should hit the strings of silence? 

He knew. And started playing.

{To the reader: Listen to Bard by Brad Meldhau on Youtube!}

The first few notes were shy, he didn't dare push the silence away too hard. He just wanted to fill the void, have the melody and the slightly dissonant harmonies talk to him in a way that words couldn't, even in his mother tongue. 

For there are ideas that simply cannot be put into words, they can't be molded into letters and put together into a string like the pearls of a necklace that passes from one to the next. Non. Some ideas cannot be expressed in words but…

But tones, sounds, melodies, harmonies. Those could render those invisible colours of the soul. Non. Music was the only vehicle to take these emotions from within himself and gently blow them out, like he would a fluffy dandelion. Music was the only one who could guide those wordless primitive waves of his insides into the air. 

And at what cost did it all come? As usual and as they say in French 'La fin justifie les moyens' : the end justifies the means. 

Lucien did not care that he would probably sit there for hours on end, he did not care that the sky went from blue, to pink, to orange, to dark as he still sat there, hunched over the ivory keys that hit him repeatedly. Neither did he mind that his back would not forgive him for this. The strain that he put onto his shoulders and his spine, he ignored. Those could wait and be cured easily with some aspirin. For the pain he was easing now with all this, there was no prescription. 

He played relentlessly and it lasted for hours until he could barely see the keys in the darkness of the night. He raised his nose off the keyboard and saw the night city, the buildings standing like black silhouettes only punctuated by yellow-lit windows here and there. 

Lucien took a deep breath and sighed before straightening his back and stretching his shoulders. Now he could feel the back pain. But at least his mind and spirit were empty. He could face life again. So he decided on a late night coffee. He would go on foot too, no need to get the Panthera out for that. 

The Frenchman took his jacket and exited his dark suite.  On his way out he met with Bastian. He signaled him to get closer. 

"Va voir Maurice et demande-lui les plans complets de l'intérieur du Queen Victoria pour moi s'il te plaît." 

[Tell Maurice I need the complete plans of the layout for the Queen Victoria, please.]

The young man nodded. 

"Sure, Sir."

"Thanks."

As he walked out of the hotel, Lucien realised that the city was still pretty busy. Nightclubbers and young people were the faces that he mostly saw as the night was rarely for families with children. 

He stopped at a crossway and lit a cigarette, waiting for the cars to stop passing and let him through. 

He crossed the road and continued, a cigarette between his lips. His feet were choosing the path, he was merely following until he found himself in front of a shop. The neon light at the entrance was blinking in blue and pink. 

Joe's

He pushed the door and the jingle of a bell rang. Lucien could hear the static noise of a radio further in the narrow shop but it wasn't music, no, the background noise covering the voice was too loud for it. It was sports, some match or competition of some sort.

"Look, who it is, eh? Came back for another map?" 

Joe emerged from nowhere. 

"Ah, good evening. Non, I am just…"

Lucien had no idea what he was doing. 

"Just havin' a look, eh? It's fine, take yer time, I'll just be at the radio, we're playin' New Zealand, see?" 

Joe turned his slender silhouette and started walking away. 

"Wait."

He stopped. 

"Can I ask you something, Joe?" 

"O'course, son. What d'you need?" 

"We can go at the counter if you'd prefer to have a seat." Lucien suggested. 

"Oh, long story time, eh? Roight, follow me." 

Given how small the shop was, it only took them a few seconds to arrive at their destination. Joe walked behind the counter and hopped on his tall stool. 

"So, tell me." 

"I would like to ask you what Victoria likes." 

Joe's bushy eyebrows jumped. 

"What?" 

"Does she have any passions? Is there anything she likes to do outside of her working hours?" 

Joe lowered the volume on his radio until it was but a whisper, and pointed an accusative finger at the Frenchman. 

"Oi there, listen. You don't touch my little girl Vicky, alroight?"

"Pardon?" Lucien asked in his native language. 

"Ya heard me alroight. You lay a finger on her hair and I'll find ya! By God, she's half your age, son! You could be her dad! Go find yerself someone who’s really for you!”

“Joe, non, you misunderstood me, I - oh mon Dieu! I hope she isn’t under that impression too… I just… Argh.."

Lucien sighed and put a hand on his brow. 

"Vicky's a good girl."

"I know." The Frenchman answered. "Which is why I am asking you this. I might have offended her and I want to make it up to her."

"What did you do?" 

"She said something that was too true for me to hear. So I left her without adding a word."

"Not exactly well mannered comin' from a posh fellow like you, eh?"

He nodded. 

"Alroight. Tell you what. She's got a collection of comics that she likes. Here's the next issue." 

Joe put a magazine on the counter. 

"Get that to her and apologise."

"Merci."

"T's'alright."

"How much do I owe you?" Lucien asked. 

"Not a cent. You're doin' it for her, which is enough for me. Now go and I hope she'll forgive you."

Lucien took the comics book and raised an eyebrow to Joe. 

"Why?" He asked. 

"'Cause she likes you, the poor thing. She's never had friends to have lunch with before, y'know."

"How do you know about our lunch?" 

"She came here before you did. Brought me me pills. And she talked. But she's back home now. If you wanna see her, you'll have to wait for tomorrow."

"I see. Many thanks, Joe."

"See ya." 

And with the same jingle of the bells, the Frenchman went through the door. On his way back to the hotel, he looked through the window of the restaurant where Victoria worked. The lights were off and it was lifeless. Only the jukebox still shone in a corner of the room.

Lucien went on until he found himself back in the hotel. 

"Evening, Sir." 

He turned and saw Bastian. 

"Bonsoir, Bastien." He answered. 

[Good evening Bastian.]

The young man went to the lift and entered right before the Frenchman slipped in.

"Fifth floor, Sir?" 

"Oui, s'il te plaît."

[Yes, please.]

The doors of the lift slowly slid shut and they both felt it take off the ground floor. 

"Bastien?"

"Yes, Sir?" 

"You can call me just L." 

"Ah, alright, thanks L."

"Tell me, is there anyone who has the rooms around my own?" 

The young man raised an eyebrow at the weird question. 

"I don't think so. And in any case, suite 504 is one of the biggest that we have. It occupies almost a third of the floor. The other rooms are much smaller." 

"I see. Could you double check for me please?" 

"Of course, Sir." 

"Merci bien." 

[Thank you very much.]

The doors of the lift slid open and the Frenchman stepped off.

"I will be waiting for your answer in my room."

"Alright L, I'll just be a minute."

The Frenchman nodded and followed the corridor to his suite. He entered and removed his jacket and shoes. He flipped one of the switches just to have barely enough light to see. He headed straight to the bar where he found a bottle of what looked like wine. He opened it and poured himself a glass.

Ha, wine. 

You can’t call it wine when the cap is a plastic lid that you have to unscrew. Non. Proper wine came in a glass bottle too dark to see the subtle beverage, like black tights on a woman’s slim legs. Barely enough to see its content but more than enough to see its shapes. He drank it and it stung the back of his throat. 

He coughed a few times. He hadn’t expected it to be that acidic. What château was that?! Ah, yes, a local cheap one.  

There was a knock at the door. Lucien went and opened it.

“Ah, Bastien, alors?”

[Ah, Bastian, so?]

“They are all empty and the house will keep them so for you.”

“Parfait. Thank you very much.”

[Perfect.]

“You’re welcome, Sir.”

“Oh, and Bastien?”

“Yes?”

The Frenchman took a step forward, stepping out of his suite, his feet in direct contact with the carpet of the corridor. He adjusted the young man’s tie and his hat.

“There. That is better. If you want to make it, you have to pay attention to the details, mon petit.”

[My little one.]

“Oh, uh, thank you very much, Sir.”

“L.” Lucien corrected him.

“Ah yes, L.”

“Now, good night.”

“G’night, L!”

Lucien watched as the young man walked as light as a feather back to the lift. He smiled to himself and got back inside his suite. 

Without a second thought, he grabbed his glass of wi--whatever that dark, acidic beverage was and went to the piano again. He brought an ashtray and lit a cigarette. 

The Frenchman didn't feel like sleeping despite the late hour of the night. Instead, he repeated some pieces that he knew again and again. And now that he knew he had no neighbours, he didn't hold back his fingers. 

He loosened his tie and gulping down more of the bitter wine, he drummed his fingers on the ivory keys more aggressively, more passionately. 

Non, he wasn't going to sleep that night and God had given him a finely tuned piano. He wasn't going to waste the opportunity. 

His fingers slithered, glided and slammed rhythmically as his bare foot crushed the pedal repeatedly. 

Soon he closed his eyes. He had tamed the keys, they would come under his fingers when he needed them without him even having to ask in any way or another. He shook his head left and right, his cigarette between his lips. 

He had spent minutes that transformed into hours playing. The tie had been thrown away and the shirt had three buttons open as the sweat beaded and rolled down his brow, his eyes still screwed shut. His hair flew after him as his shoulders were jumping in sync with the tempo. The grey and black, wet locks now stuck to his brow or slammed it repeatedly. 

And he didn't know it but the sun was rising and the birds were chirping. 

Lucien rolled the sleeve of his left arm as it was still playing and then did the same to his right hand. 

The sun was rising but his eyes were still closed. The Frenchman would start his day only when his ears and soul would have been nourished enough.