#attendance machine price

[rayveneyed]

nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.

he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.

("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."

"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."

someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."

"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."

"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")

eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"

her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.

"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."

disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"

"well, actually..."

he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.

of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.

[smartsafetyindia]

Aadhaar Enabled Biometric Attendance System Delhi,Noida,Gurgaon

Introducing our Aadhaar-Enabled Biometric Attendance System for seamless attendance tracking in Delhi, Noida, and Gurgaon. Ensure accuracy, reduce manual errors, and enhance security with the power of Aadhaar verification. we are providing Aadhaar biometrics for all government organizations & Educational Institutes.

[fionayao2008]

Tripod Turnstile Overview Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and also Flap Turnstile( RS Security Co., Ltd: www.szrssecurity.com) are modern-day control devices for pedestrian flows. They are utilized in places where the entrance as well as leave of people require to be controlled, such as clever communities, canteens, resorts, galleries, gyms, clubs, subways, terminals, docks, and so on area. Using Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and also Flap Turnstile can make the flow of individuals orderly. Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, Flap Turnstile are made use of in combination with smart cards, finger prints, barcodes as well as other identification system tools to develop an intelligent accessibility control network control system; they are used in combination with computers, access control, attendance, charging administration, ticket systems and other software program to create a The intelligent Turnstile Gate thorough management system can realize functions such as access control, presence, consumption, ticketing, and also current restricting. This Turnstile Gate management system belongs to the "all-in-one card" as well as is set up at flows such as areas, manufacturing facilities, clever buildings, canteens, etc. It can complete numerous management functions such as worker card travel control, presence at get off job and also meals, as well as dining. Tripod Turnstile system functions Convenient and rapid: check out the card in and out with one swipe. Utilize the licensed IC card and wave it before the smart Tripod Turnstile visitor to finish the Tripod Turnstile gate opening as well as charge recording job. The card reading is non-directional as well as the reading and also composing time is 0.1 secs, which is rapid and also practical. Safety and discretion: Use background or regional verification, accredited issuance, and unique identity, that is, the card can only be utilized in this system, and also it is personal as well as secure. Reliability: Card superhigh frequency induction, steady and also trustworthy, with the capacity to court as well as assume. Versatility: The system can flexibly establish entrance and exit control workers approvals, time period control, cardholder validity and also blacklist loss coverage, adding cards as well as various other functions. Versatility: Through authorization, the user card can be utilized for "one-card" monitoring such as car parking, presence, gain access to control, patrol, usage, and so on, making it easy to recognize multiple uses one card. Simplicity: Easy to mount, easy to connect, the software has a Chinese interface and is easy to run. Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and also Flap Turnstile( RS Security Co., Ltd: www.szrssecurity.com) are modern control tools for pedestrian flows. The use of Tripod Turnstile, Swing Turnstile, and Flap Turnstile can make the flow of individuals orderly. Utilize the licensed IC card as well as wave it in front of the smart Tripod Turnstile viewers to finish the Tripod Turnstile gate opening and also cost recording job.

[muniimyg]

♡ 02: how you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things

series m.list // taglist

note: ahh !!! thank u all for all the love with pt 1 :) drama begins in pt 3 !!! enj their good moments while it lasts (aka this pt) lmk what u think of their dynamic & if u have any predictions for whats to cum ;) HAHAH mwaaa

also !! happy birthday @jkslvsnella 🌟 thank u for always reading and loving my work 💛

warnings: mean!jk exposes oc (she's a virgin) ,, banter

//

the dim neon lights of the arcade cast a playful glow over the group as they gather by the bar. laughter and overlapping chatter fill the air, but jungkook’s eyes dart toward the entrance, scanning every face that walks in.

he blinks, trying to recenter himself.

why the fuck is he waiting for you?

“do you guys want to play a hoop shoot round?” yoongi suggests, leaning lazily against the counter. “loser buys the next round.”

the guys snicker but agree. without much discussion, they begin heading toward the games, but jungkook lingers behind, hesitating to speak.

there’s a weird feeling that stirs inside him.

he wants to stay and wait for you—wants everyone to stay and wait for you (though he knows how ridiculous that sounds).

his mouth opens, about to call them back, when—

“___!” jimin’s voice cuts through the noise. “over here! great timing!”

jungkook stiffens, tilting his head and clearing his throat as he notices you walking in.

you weave through the scattered crowd, waving casually to the group. your jacket hangs lazily off one shoulder, your hair is slightly windswept, and your lips are parted, like you’re already preparing some half-assed excuse.

“you’re late,” jungkook mutters, his tone sharp as you greet the others with warm hugs and him with a smug smile.

“no shit, mr. know-it-all,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes before awkwardly shifting closer to him for a quick, half-hearted hug.

he doesn’t even unfold his arms, patting your back stiffly—once, twice, three times.

“whatever.”

“didn’t know you took attendance. god, what don’t you do?”

“be late,” he quips, voice clipped.

you scoff, pulling away and swatting his chest. “nerdy of you, but whatever. we all have to accept our flaws one day. acknowledging them is the first step, or so they say.”

“it’s courtesy to show up on time,” he snaps, leaning casually against a nearby pinball machine. his eyes rake over you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he’s losing patience for. “figured you’d get lost or trip over your own feet.”

“oh, bite me,” you retort, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “maybe find something better to do than waiting for me, hmm? something better to do than—”

before you can finish, a rowdy group stumbles toward the air hockey table behind you, shoving their way through the already cramped space.

jungkook moves without thinking, his hands firm on your waist as he pulls you aside and switches places with you.

“move,” he says bluntly, his grip barely lingering before he steps away again.

you freeze, your words dying in your throat. the touch—the casual way he did it, the way his hands fit so naturally—throws you off. your heart stutters for reasons you can’t quite name.

“what are you—”

“you’re in the way,” he interrupts, already back to leaning against the pinball machine like nothing happened.

“shit, jungkook,” you manage, trying to sound unaffected. “you can’t just move me like that. i almost thought you cared about me.”

“would you rather get knocked into the air hockey table?” he says flatly. “didn’t think so.”

you narrow your eyes at him, brushing past whatever just passed between you.

“fine,” you say with exaggerated calm, stepping away. “thank you… i guess.”

“what was that?”

“i said what i said.”

“say it again.”

“no.”

“don’t make me beg for something i deserve,” he groans, his tone a mix of mock irritation and teasing.

you roll your eyes. “sure… i’ll say it again—for the right price.”

“oh?” his brow lifts, and he’s already following after you. “how much are you charging these days?”

you turn back to glare at him, making a face as he smirks.

what you don’t see, what no one else notices, is how closely jungkook walks behind you as you move through the crowd. his hand hesitates near your waist again before he drops it, settling instead for angling his body, subtly shielding you from the chaos of the arcade.

it’s instinctive, unconscious—a quiet sort of care that he’d never admit to. but it’s just how jungkook is when you aren’t looking.

the air buzzes with the sounds of arcade games—buzzers, dings, and conversation on top of conversation. by now, the group has gravitated towards the hoop-shoot machines, their competitive banter echoing as they took turns missing shots.

when nam joon’s ball bounces dramatically off the rim, nearly taking out jimin, they all collapse into laughter.

"okay, okay!" taehyung claps his hands. "before anyone gets concussed, let's take a group photo!"

everyone gathers in front of the machines, huddling close together. you find yourself standing beside jungkook, his towering figure crowding your space as the guys shuffle to fit into the frame.

“move in,” jin calls out, holding up his phone. “no dead space.”

before you can step away, taehyung and yoongi each grab one of your shoulders, pushing you into jungkook’s side. his arm brushes yours, and when you glance up, he’s already rolling his eyes.

"stop squirming," he mutters.

"stop breathing down my neck," you bite back, earning a stifled laugh from yoongi.

“not my fault you’re short as fuck.”

“what about me do you not have a problem with, nerd?”

just as jungkook is about to tell you off, hobi hits his stomach and hisses at him. 

“shut the fuck up, smile, and—”

hobi bumps his hip with jungkook’s, causing him to lean closer to you. your head tilts and so does his. he clears his throat as he regains his balance. you continue to smile, pretending not to notice him looking at you. 

as the group poses, jin snaps several photos before pulling the phone down to review the shots. as everyone leans in to check the screen, a chorus of teasing begins.

"aw, look at that!" taehyung says, his grin spreading like wildfire as he leans closer to the phone screen. "this is a moment for the scrapbook. you two look so cute together."

the corner of jimin’s mouth twitches as he leans over taehyung’s shoulder, squinting at the photo before letting out a dramatic gasp.

“wait, is this… is this our it couple debuting right here? how did we miss this? it’s always those fucking enemies to lovers stories that hit… this could be it. oh my god!"

yoongi, not one to miss a beat, smirks from the side. 

“don't need to start. pretty sure the fanbase already exists.”

jin snorts. “don’t expose our late night conversations, bro. that’s our special bonding time.”

yoongi hisses at jin, smacking the back of his head for saying it so weird. 

"someone call dispatch," nam joon adds, cackling. "they're going viral as we speak."

"you’re joking,” you groan, face already warming as the guys snicker. “stop acting like it’s some movie poster. it’s just a group picture and—look at that! jungkook is looking at me like i’m stinky.”

“you are stinky.” jungkook scoffs.

you shove him playfully. “shut up.”

“oh no, it’s definitely poster-worthy,” jimin chimes in, nudging jungkook’s arm as he grins like a proud parent. "you can practically feel the sparks flying. jungkook’s over there pretending to hate it, but look at his hand. hovering like it’s meant to be."

"right?” hobi quips. “look at the way he’s leaning into her—”

jungkook glares. “hyung, you pushed me—”

“—bro’s living the rom-com life and doesn’t even know it.” hobi finishes. 

"yeah," yoongi deadpans, his lip curling in a mock-serious expression as he gestures vaguely at the photo. "what trope are you guys?”

"trope?" you snort, shooting a glance at Jungkook. “that’s going too far. i can’t be associated with him to that point. even angels like me have limits..”

"awh, don't ruin it," jimin teases. “you two look like you were made to stand next to each other. it’s fate, ___.”

"fate?" jungkook finally chimes in, his brow quirking as he scoffs. “more like bad luck. uglyass picture, by the way. jump-scare. trigger-warning. photoshop her out, please.”

his words are sharp, but the teasing rolls on, taehyung clapping jungkook on the back as he leans in closer. 

“don’t fight it, man. just admit it—you’re glowing.”

“you’re drunk.” jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms.

but even as he tries to brush it off, you catch the way his jaw ticks, the way his ears turn a faint shade of red. it almost makes you want to keep the teasing going.

almost.

you stretch over and take a proper look. 

your shoulders are pressed against jungkook’s, his hand awkwardly hovering near your back as if unsure where to put it. it’s ridiculous, but you decide to lean into the joke.

“awh,” you say, nudging him with a smirk. “wait. we do look cute together. look at you—nerdy boy finally getting close to the pretty girl. must be the highlight of your life.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might just let it slide. But then, his eyes narrow, and the smugness in his tone cuts deeper than you expect.

“yeah?” he says, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “because the pretty girl who’s still a virgin at twenty-four is such a catch, right? must be fun carrying the weight of no guy ever wanting that kind of pressure.”

the air stills.

“what?” jungkook asks, unsure of why everyone’s mood suddenly shifted. “guys, we don’t need to hold ___’s hand for this. her situationships aren’t real. no guy wants her and it’s because of all her fucking issues… so don’t tease me about shit like that. why would i want her? she’s too fucked up.”

your heart sinks as the laughter dies around you, the guys exchanging awkward glances. you force a tight smile, shrugging as if the jab didn’t just land in the worst way possible.

“ha… ha… yeah. sure. what he said,” you mutter, slipping out of the group without looking back.

you weave through the crowd, the din of the arcade becoming background noise to the rush of your thoughts. yoongi and nam joon sigh and excuse themselves to follow you. 

“fuck,” taehyung groans at jungkook. “for a nerd, you aren’t that smart."

jungkook throws his head back.

"okay, fine. i went too far."

taehyung forces a laugh and pats jungkook's shoulder. "i just... i don't why do you always shit the bed when it comes to ___. would it kill you consider her feelings once in a while?"

"she started it—"

"we started it," taehyung corrects him. "you fuck it up and then we have to fix it. why can't we start it and you figure it out?"

"what's there to figure out?"

taehyung sighs.

"seriously, what's there to figure out?" jungkook repeats, his voice rough with frustration, though there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s trying to keep himself in check.

taehyung runs a hand through his hair like he’s had this conversation a million times before. “you overthink everything, man. just… talk to her. it’s not that hard.”

jungkook scoffs. "i talk to her."

"yeah right," taehyung shoots back, now leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull. is it that hard to show that you care for her? even just a little bit? you can even fake it for all we care... just... stop doing this. stop fucking it up."

jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but then he just...

doesn’t.

he falls silent, his gaze drifting over to where you’re standing, still laughing with yoongi, oblivious to the conversation happening behind her. his expression softens for a moment, but the tension doesn’t fully leave his shoulders.

“... i don’t know what to say to her,” jungkook mutters after a long pause, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

taehyung rolls his eyes, his voice taking on a teasing edge again.

"i'm not asking you to be perfect," taehyung says, his tone suddenly serious. "i just want you to try.”

jungkook's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue.

he knows taehyung’s right.

and the idea of trying—really trying—is both terrifying and somehow comforting. it’s just a matter of taking the first step.

"alright, alright. i get it." jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. "but if i mess it up again…"

“you will,” taehyung says with a grin, smacking him on the back. “and when you do, we’ll be here to clean up your mess.”

jungkook groans. "great. thanks. god, you guys are impossible."

taehyung just laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

"that’s what friends are for."

“that one’s cute,” you say softly, pointing to a pastel plushie trapped inside the glass case. “but aren’t these things rigged?” 

yoongi glances at the plushie, then back at you, offering a faint smile. “hello kitty? can’t you just buy it in store?”

“it’s different.”

“how so?”

“winning it is better. means more.”

he laughs at you. ruffling your hair, he asks; “think you can win it?”

“probably not,” you admit with a dry laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “i suck at these things.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook has followed, lingering a few steps behind. 

he watches quietly as you and yoongi chat, his arms folded across his chest, his usual cocky posture softened just enough to give off a more contemplative vibe. his gaze shifts to the hello kitty plushie you pointed out, taking in every detail—the soft pastel fabric, the little bow. 

his jaw tightens.

for a second, he looks almost… distant. something flickers across his face—a mix of regret, maybe? or determination? it’s hard to tell, and he’s quick to push the thought aside. he can’t figure out why this damn hello kitty plushie is bothering him, but it does.

his hands shift in his pockets, fingers brushing against the cool edges of his arcade card. the sound of you and yoongi laughing lightly as you move on to a different machine pulls him out of his trance. 

he’s still standing there, staring at the claw machine, his mind reeling.

get it together, he tells himself. it's a stupid fucking hello kitty plushie.

but as the two of you move further away, jungkook finds his feet taking him toward the claw machine. his body moves on its own, a subtle, almost unconscious determination settling into his posture. he steps up to the machine, his heart thumping a little louder than usual.

with a quick flick of his wrist, he taps the arcade card to the screen, paying for a round. The soft beep of the machine filling the air is oddly satisfying. he glances at the claw, watches it shift slightly in the plastic case, and his mind sharpens. the whole world narrows down to this one moment—the claw, the plushie, and the stupid, ridiculous thought that maybe, just maybe, it would mean something.

he leans in a little closer to the machine, his focus narrowing as his fingers hover just over the controls. his chest tightens, just a little.

but there’s something about this—about trying—that feels...

new.

almost like he's playing for something that’s not just a game.

as the arcade starts to empty out, the night comes to an end.

the group begins to break into separate plans. some were heading out for more drinks, the usual late-night crowd craving more chaos, while others, like you and jungkook, were heading home. yoongi, standing beside you both, clapped jungkook on the shoulder and offered a casual “see you later,” his eyes lingering a moment too long on the tension that still hung between you two.

by now, jungkook had tried to apologize multiple times throughout the night. too many times to count—but each time, you’d brushed him off, walking away before he could finish his words.

it was the same pattern that had played out earlier, with him following close behind, trying to make up for whatever had gone wrong, but you’d always managed to slip out of his reach, words left unsaid and apologies unacknowledged.

as you stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of neon signs casting faint colors over the sidewalk, you took a deep breath. the cool wind ruffled your hair, and you tucked a stray strand behind your ear, eyes darting to the ground, avoiding jungkook’s gaze.

“my hinge crush of the week wants to meet up… so, bye!” jimin called out, adjusting his jacket as he moved toward the waiting uber.

the others offered their farewells, the air filled with laughs and promises to meet again soon.

jungkook is quiet, his eyes still on you, a knot of frustration building in his stomach.

as you’re about to turn away, he finally speaks. his voice is soft but firm.

“can i drive you home?”

you don’t even look at him, a slight shake of your head as you took a step back.

“i’m good. thanks for the offer.”

he takes a slow step forward, determination flashing in his eyes.

“shit, ___. come on, don’t be like that. it’s late. i’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“i’m fine,” you reassure him again, taking another step away. “they’re all gone. you can stop pretending you care—w-whoa—“

but as you turn to leave, the way you step gets caught on a loose patch of pavement, and before you can stop yourself, you stumble forward. your heart lurches in your chest as your body lurches toward the ground. 

but a strong and steady hand grips your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“fuck, watch your step—” jungkook mutters, his voice lower now, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place in it. his grip tightened just enough to keep you from stumbling again.

you freeze for a second, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your side, his body warm against yours. the shock of his touch sent a strange shiver down your spine, but before you could react, his voice comes again, this time with a soft but unmistakable smirk.

“you’re all out of choices now.”

his words hang in the air as he takes your waist, gently but firmly guiding you toward his car. the playful edge in his voice made your stomach flip.

he doesn’t wait for a response.

he pulls you closer as you walk together. 

you want to pull away. 

you want to protest, but something about the way he holds you—steady, unwavering—makes it impossible to do anything but follow. 

so, you give in. 

you slide into the passenger seat of jungkook’s car, the leather cold against your legs as you settle in. the familiar scent of his cologne fills the small space, mixing with the faint scent of his car’s interior. before you can even close the door, jungkook is already moving to the driver’s side, slipping in next to you with practiced ease.

he turns the key, the engine rumbling to life, and immediately, he leans over to help you with your seatbelt. his hand brushes against yours, sending a strange flutter through your chest as his fingers fumble with the latch, and you try not to think too much about how gentle his touch is.

“thanks,” you mumble, turning your head toward the window, avoiding his gaze. 

the tension between you two still lingers, thick and heavy, but neither of you says anything, and soon the quiet hum of the engine fills the air instead.

the drive starts out like most others, the city lights blinking past the windows as jungkook takes a turn, his hands steady on the wheel. but then, as the cool night air seeps in through the slightly cracked window, you suddenly feel the chill of the evening air hit your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

you don’t even have to say anything. without a word, jungkook pulls off his jacket, glancing over at you. 

“you cold?” he asks, his voice low, almost concerned, but his eyes are still focused on the road.

before you can respond, his white jacket is draped over your shoulders like a blanket. 

it’s warm, soft—still holding the faint trace of his warmth—and for a moment, you find yourself frozen, not sure whether you should pull it off or accept the comfort. but it’s his gesture, the way he’s silently taking care of you, and the faint thought that maybe he’s not such an ass after all, that makes you just pull the jacket tighter around yourself, not saying anything.

the silence stretches on, with only the sound of his car’s engine and the soft tunes filling the air, low music that drowns out everything else.

it’s a little uncomfortable. 

a little too close. 

and yet, somehow, you don’t mind it.

minutes pass, and you can’t help but notice how the buildings are getting fewer, how the city streets are slipping behind, and suddenly, it hits you—he’s not turning into your neighborhood.

“wait,” you finally speak up, your voice sounding strangely foreign in the quiet car. “you just passed my place.”

he doesn’t even glance over at you, just keeps driving, his eyes focused on the road ahead. 

“i know.”

“then where are you going?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but a flicker of annoyance laces your tone. “jungkook, what the hell?”

“the only way for you to talk to me,” he says, his voice calm but with a touch of something else beneath it. 

something you can’t quite place.

“what?” you blink, confusion clouding your thoughts. “this is considered kidnapping.”

jungkook chuckles, the sound low and almost playful.

“only way for you to talk to me, like i said.”

you narrow your eyes at him, a mix of frustration and something else building inside you. 

“you’re seriously driving me around for what, exactly? to waste gas? to waste your time?”

“to wait for you.”

“oh my god,” you stress. “you and your fucking words.”

he smirks. “are they working?”

you gulp. 

“come on, ___. act like a bitch all night, i don’t care… but you’re gonna talk to me.”

you’re quiet for a moment, staring out the window, watching the city blur past. the absurdity of the situation sinks in, but it’s also hard to ignore the fact that you’re starting to feel a strange sense of... comfort in his presence.

“fine,” you finally say, voice quiet but sharp. “what do you want me to say, huh? you’ve been apologizing all night and i’ve been brushing you off. you said what you said. it’s done.”

jungkook shifts in his seat, and for the first time, you notice how his grip tightens on the wheel, how his jaw clenches ever so slightly. 

“keep talking.”

“i’m done.”

“no,” he insists. “i don’t care what you say… i just need you to talk to me, ___. that’s all.”

you don’t respond right away, not sure how to react to that admission, or if it’s even true. but the way his words hang in the air, the sincerity behind them, makes you want to crack open. 

makes you want to say something—anything—but the walls are still up.

“do you want me to fuck you or something?” 

your eyes widen and your throat goes dry. 

what the fuck did he just say?

“excuse me?” 

jungkook then pulls over, parking his car at some random street. his car lights and the lamppost nearby are the only light sources… but that doesn’t stop you from knowing how close he is to you. you don’t need much light—you feel it. you feel his presence. 

“is that why your panties are in a twist? you need dick or something? you’ve been acting weird since you overheard me fucking—”

“i don’t want to know her name.” 

jungkook blinks at you. 

“... so you are bothered by her.”

you pause. 

“n-no. no, i’m not. it’s just… weird. i don’t want to know because i don’t want to know.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “can i know something then?”

you hesitate. 

“do you forgive me yet? i… i fucked up. i’m sorry, __. seriously. that wasn’t cool of me.” 

you take a breath in. 

“i forgive you,” you admit. “but be honest with me. did you mean it?”

jungkook shakes his head profusely. 

“no,” he confesses. “no, i didn’t mean it. i think it’s cute that you’re a virgin—”

“stop!” you cry, throwing your hands to cover your face. “shut up.”

he laughs, finding your panic a little cute. 

“what? you never get horny?” 

you drop your hands, completely dumbfounded at how this conversation has unfolded in a matter of minutes. 

“i do,” you tell him. 

“with what? with who?” 

you tilt your head and squint at him. 

“curious?”

“disgusted, actually.” he mocks you. 

you can’t help but let out a laugh.  

then, a silence falls upon you two. 

but… it’s an okay kind. the kind where you two aren’t mad at each other and everything is truly lighthearted. it’s a rare kind of atmosphere for you two share. 

the tension that had once been suffocating now feels more like a slow burn, simmering quietly in the space between you. it’s strange, this shift. but it’s also... comforting.

in a way, it’s like stepping onto solid ground after floating in the middle of an ocean for too long.

you glance over at jungkook, his profile soft in the dim light from the streetlamps. his fingers are gripping the steering wheel lightly, his knuckles slightly pale, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded too. he’s not saying anything, but his presence is loud. in some ways, that’s all you need. 

that he’s here. 

that you’re both here, together, after all the back and forth, all the words exchanged, the small cracks and the moments of silence.

the question comes out before you can stop it, and you almost want to take it back the second it leaves your mouth. 

but you’re already committed. 

"think i could do it?" you say, voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable than you meant.

jungkook shifts in his seat slightly, his eyes flicking toward you.

“do what?"

"get you to want me?"

for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. 

jungkook is quiet for a long time, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. it’s like he’s weighing the question, figuring out if you mean it. if it’s just some fleeting thought, or if you’re really standing here, raw and honest, in the middle of it all.

and then he speaks, his voice low but steady, a hint of something in it that you can’t quite place.

“why would you want that?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. but then you think about it, really think about it. 

"i don’t know."

the vulnerability is almost too much, too raw. 

it feels like every inch of you is laid bare, exposed in a way you weren’t sure you could handle. you stare at your hands, anything to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but it’s there, lingering in the quiet air between you. it fills the space, like you can feel every word left unsaid pressing against your chest.

jungkook doesn’t say anything right away, the silence stretching long enough that you start to wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing. maybe you pushed too far, too fast.

but then, he speaks.

"wanna find out?"

his voice is low, almost teasing, but there's something else there too—something that makes your heart skip a beat. 

you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his again, and you realize in that moment that this is where it all comes together. the question, the hesitation, the rawness of it all. 

he’s not pulling away, not like you expected.

he’s waiting…

for you.

[plushtechnologies]

K40 Pro is an advanced Time Attendance & Access Control Terminal with a 2.8-inch TFT screen display. It contains a TCP/IP client and USB host for communication and effective data transfer along with the integrated backup battery for uninterrupted performance in case of a power outage. In addition, it has interfaces for third-party electric lock and exit buttons. The smart features and sleek design make it unique and highly reliable. Features • 2.8” TFT Screen Display • Integrated Battery Backup • Economical Time Attendance Solution • Interfaces for 3rd Party Electric Lock & Exit Button • Communication: TCP/IP & USB Host • Multi-Language Supported.

[lovifie]

Messy Eaters

Smut | 416 words | Masterlist

The 141 have to attend a gala dinner.

Really fancy, with lots of protocols, too many forks and too little time.

That's you give them a speed-up masterclass on etiquette.

With Gaz and Price, it goes by in a blur, both men are perfectly attentive, making sure to ask any question and thanking you once it is done.

With Ghost and Soap? You wish you could sink the fish fork in his eyes.

"Which one is for meat again?" "The one with two spikes"

"Which one do you use for chips?" "There won't be chips."

"What's this one for?" "That's a toothpick, you brought it here"

"Why are there so many glasses?" "For all the different drinks."

"Where is the pint glass?" "There are no pint glasses on this dinner."

"You seem stressed" "You reckon?"

It's not your fault that they are both such messy eaters, but deep down you love it.

Especially when they start to take turns to go down on you, the sloppiest head of your life.

They have you laid on your back, mock glasses and places thrown out of the way. Your legs on each side of his head, resting on his shoulders, while he sits on his chair eating your cunt like it was the main dish.

Slurping up your juices, face buried deep between your folds, the nose from the broken nose rubbing against your clit making your legs spasm as his hands grab your thighs keeping you in place.

He wishes he could hear your pretty moans if it wasn't for the mutt making out with you. You can't help but open your mouth when Simon's tongue moves deeper into your gummy walls, and Johnny dives into your mouth with his tongue.

Such a nasty and disgusting kiss that has your head feeling fuzzy, there is spit running down your cheek, his tongue deep I'm your mouth checking every single tooth on it, sucking your tongue onto his mouth, moaning into you as if he was the one getting head, his hand resting over your breast massaging it continuously like a machine.

You have lost count of how many times you have cum around Simon tongue, the little mat under your body soaked with your juices and saliva, and you think they will finally take pity on you. Until Simon pats your thigh before standing up, looking at Soap and motioning to the chair with his head.

"C'mon, Johnny. Your turn, we need to practice for the dinner."

[lethalchiralium]

Waiting Room | Happiness Series

a/n: yes, i’m posting twice in the same month! crazy lol (always thanking my lovely @as-is-above-so-below for editing)

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, medical stuff, injuries, simon spiraling

The ICU is bare at this time of night. There are no alarms for nurses to attend to, and the lights are dimmed. The doors shut, and meal trays were taken away hours ago. Triangle lights above the doors are filled in with red or green lights. The only sound in the corridor is of boots thumping against the floor.

Calloused hands gripped the nurse’s counter. Your name prattled quickly off his tongue with a question of where you were. A room named off, and he was already out of sight, running and escaping the nurse calling him to come back. When he reached your room, his hand didn’t tremble as it did the whole way to the hospital. He calmly and slowly pushed the door open.

All he saw was no bed, and John Price sitting on the couch below the window, hunched over and murmuring into the phone against his ear. He looked up and ended the call, standing quickly to walk towards him.

“Simon-”

“Where is she?”

“Still in surgery.”

“What the fuck happened?”

Price stiffened slightly, and the air between them suddenly stifled. Simon’s dry eyes stared him down, and Price could feel his failure crushing him. He promised to keep them safe and sound, yet here they were, barely thirty minutes into emergency surgery before your husband arrived.

“According to Laswell, she made them take Winnie to the park–her and Roach. She was home with Mel and König when they were ambushed.hey shot him, and took the girls.” He looked down at his phone, then pulled up the pictures of the damage to his front entrance–showing them to Simon. “…Your father took them to a cabin in the Lakes District witht he intention of selling her and Melody to traffickers, in a bid to exploit you for money.”

His heart began to race, hard, like a hammer against museum glass. Shattering it into his ribcage, the thumps of his lungs against his liver and spine like an out-of-control wave.

“She escaped with Melody, and uh… well.” Price swiped, and Simon was met with a caved-in face. But, he picked out the silvery scars on his father’s forehead from when he beat him himself, many years ago. “She beat the shit out of him.”

“Is he dead?”

“He is.”

Pride would be the word he was looking for, if not for how intense the injuries were to his father’s face. Your hands must be mush. “Good.”

“She was found in a valley. She tucked Melody in a dense fir tree; she has some scrapes and bruises, and was freezing to the touch, but we found her. She was calling for your wife.” Price slid the phone into his pocket, settling back on his heels. “Only reason we found them was because she was crying. She’s upstairs in the NICU; Laswell and Roach are there with Winnie, whenever you’re ready to see them.”

“Okay.”

Yet, he made no hurry to move from his spot, hovering in the center of the near-empty ICU room, the space left for your bed, the machines that would be attached to you, and the fear that would radiate off of you and permeate the silence like no other sound. Could he leave this spot to check on his children? Could he escape the betrayal he indirectly caused when he failed to protect you? Would he be able to pretend that he isn’t full of rage for his superiors, barring him from keeping his promise? But, should he be able to stay upset with Price, his closest friend, in finding and saving his wife and child?

Could, would, should. All words with no meaning without action.

Simon’s eyes met John’s, and a brief silence fell upon them.

“Go see the girls, Simon.”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation, “I can’t.”

John didn’t even breathe before speaking again, “Then stay. I will go sit with them.” He quickly ushered Simon into the chair he had occupied only moments before. Simon practically collapsed into it. His head in his hands, heart torn into shreds of silken fabric, drowning in a sea of despair. The thin plastic chair would do nothing to soothe his aching bones, his body a fresh arrival from London to base an hour ago. Never did he imagine he would have to rush home, in the midst of a panic attack over losing you the way he lost Grace, losing another unborn baby, and his infant. He didn’t dare pretend like he could hold this weight, the fear, the panic, the imagination of the sound of your screams.

There, in the white chair after thirty-six hours of being awake, he watched John leave him alone. And there, leaned over his knees, he let out whimpers that sounded much like the ones that escaped him as a child.

He didn’t wake again until he heard a collection of clicking. His arms tightened across his chest as he heard footsteps fade away. He rolled his head up before opening his eyes - all he saw was the hospital bed, and your figure covered by thick blankets, nodes pressed onto your forehead like thorns on a rose, a breathing tube taped to your chapped lips, and a level of calm on your face that he’d seen only a few times. The sound of the chair screeching across the floor, closer to the bed, closer to the iodine smell that permeated the room from you. His hand slipped under the warming blankets, lifting it to seek out your arm, gazing at the wrapping on your hand before he settled his own on the undamaged skin of your forearm. Covering you again, he silently thanked the nurse for keeping the bed rail tucked away. He leaned forward and settled his head against his arm - listening to the soft wheeze of the breathing machine.

His mind was void of words, but his tongue spoke from the root of his pain, just a gentle, “I failed you.”

In the dim light from above the bed, Simon’s thumb traced warm circles on your lukewarm skin, and he closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember before he left for the hospital, couldn’t remember the mission, only…emptiness. An overwhelming urge to vomit ichor into his lap as he sped through red lights. A softened part inside his stone-cold heart rotted, black like tar, gooey and burning every inch of his injured rib cage.

His lungs filling with warm breaths, fighting to ignore the iodine stench only found him asleep again, body hunched over as if to find some solace in protecting you now - when the void of his betrayal burned harsher than the dance of bourbon on his tongue.

Simon doesn’t greet your brother, and doesn’t dare move his temple from the blanket tucked beside his head, eyes glued to the TV in the dusty corner of the room. Below it hung a whiteboard detailing your name, age, gender, and nurses. Following that was a rotation with the times they would be by for checks, medication, replacing the cold blankets with warm ones, and moving you so bed sores don’t grow on your already fragile skin. The BBC show wasn’t anything interesting, not his favorite but something to do that wasn’t throwing up what little breakfast he had into the trash can.

He’d been visiting Mellie the morning before, brought in by Price after she was discharged. Her one-day hospital stay was officially over, and he had finally seen her - but guilt nestled in his esophagus as he pressed his nose into her scalp, her little body curled as far as it could into his chest. He would have been a better father to tend to her first, but the thought of losing you was more apocalyptic than he ever imagined. He couldn’t leave this room, could barely piss in the bathroom without the door open to keep an eye on you, and barely spoke to anyone who came in; whether it be a nurse or the task force, they were all given silence in exchange for their pleas for him to go home, take a shower, get a fresh set of clothes.

���You smell like shit, dude.”

Jake, your older brother, moved a chair beside Simon on his right, his hand gently patting your ankle as he sat. Your husband may have snapped at him if he wasn't absent from his mind. Simon was nestled in a deep corner of his consciousness, only pretending to be human for his friends and children as he rotted beside you.

He didn’t answer his brother-in-law, eyes flickering from character to character on the screen, as if that was a good-enough distraction from his painful thoughts.

“That Soap guy said you haven’t showered in four days. You smell like it, go take a shower.”

Simon huffed out a humorless chuckle. “Not leavin’ her.”

Jake paused for a moment, pensive for just a millisecond. “The bathroom is right there. Yes, she’s protected at all times with you here, but she’s safe when I’m here too. So go. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to smell your ass when she wakes up.”

“Fuck off, Jake.”

“You have to at least wipe down if I’m going to sit next to you. You reek.”

“Then don’t.”

“Not a chance, bud.”

A gentle but firm hand settled on Simon’s shoulder, and he barely reacted, only a rumble of disapproval from his throat. He wanted to wretch his shoulder backwards, get Jake’s hand off, scream at him, ask him what makes him think he’s right. Ask what made him think he truly knew the answer to Simon’s mistake, miscalculation, the broken promise that lay like glass at his feet. What makes him think that Simon could accept his help at all?

He would’ve fought his brother-in-law off if there was any point, but he had been sitting at your bedside for two days straight and you hadn’t woken up yet - even when they shined lights in your pupils, checked your wounded hand, adjusted nodes on your forehead, checked the back of your head. So Simon found himself standing, Jake’s hands ushering him to the bathroom, but he slammed his hand against the door when Jake tried to close it.

“Leave it open. Wanna see her.”

Jake didn’t make a sound, just gave an understanding nod. “Try to use the curtain. I’d like to avoid seeing your dick, and I’m sure the nurses would appreciate it.”

Simon doesn’t even remember keeping the curtain open, getting under the hot spray, and just… standing there. The water hit the crown of his head, spilling down and over his face, his chest, his stomach - his body ached from the lowest muscles in his calves to the tenderness nestled in the nape of his neck, yet he could feel nothing in between. No tremor of his lungs, no twitch in his bad knee, no rumble of his heartbeat. Even as the scalding water cascaded over his lips, eyes, and cheeks, he felt nothing. No prick in his eye to cry, as if he had already cried everything out and had nothing left to give.

There was nothing in this hospital room shower, just a shell of a man who wanted nothing more than to switch places with you.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Mess with her hair.”

The wrapping around your head was changed this morning, leaving more of your hair visible, and Jake was combing it with the shitty brush he bought down at the gift shop. “She always had a thing for her hair to be untangled. It bothered her a lot as a kid.” He set the brush down by your side, his fingers quickly remembering the braiding motion as he continued to speak softly, “Learned how to braid on her dolls so I could braid her hair for her. She didn’t like Mom or Dad doing it, only me.”

Simon rested his head on his arm again, watching the morning news. “Looks like shit.”

“I’m out of practice. Like you could do any better.”

“I have two daughters. I can do better.”

Jake could only half chuckle, almost lifeless. For a few moments, the only sounds were the breathing machine, the rustle of your hair, and footsteps approaching the door. Simon raised his head, watching over you like a hawk as the door creaked open; his hackles relaxed instantly as Winnie bounded in, followed by Price, who held Mellie. Simon was quick to sit back, allow his child to climb into his lap, and bury her face in his neck - he cradled Winnie close, kissing her hair and reclining back.

Her hair was in a messy ponytail, curls unruly and Simon felt acidic bile creep up his throat when she started crying.

She couldn’t say a word; neither could he, when he truly needed to. He needed to comfort his daughters, tell them that everything would be okay, that the doctors are taking care of Mama. He should be taking accountability with his children for failing to uphold his promises, yet, he kept his lips pressed to his eldest’s hair. His hand rubbed light circles on her shoulder blade, his eyes flickering to his brother-in-law and then his brother-in-arms. His infant was curled identically into Price’s chest, her little fists grabbing at the worn Metallica shirt, curls finger-brushed, onesie covered by a thick coat. Simon’s eyes fell back to you, the braid settled against your shoulder as Jake moved to the side, gently rubbing your bicep for a moment.

“You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to take care of her hair,” Jake mumbled. Simon didn’t miss the tears that rimmed the man’s eyes.

Simon didn’t make a sound, listening to his daughter’s sniffling as Price spoke, “She’s been taking care of everyone but herself, and we will keep taking care of her.”

Winnie whimpered; Simon kissed her hair again, keeping her close for as long as she’d let him.

12:39 am. Simon could barely make the time out from across the room. The heel of his hand rubbed into his eye, and he flipped up his phone, squinting to see the date. Four days. Four days since you were rushed here, four days since he hasn’t left you alone. A sigh settled deep in his bones as he let his phone fall, his tingling hand gently rubbing your forearm before he leaned up, wiping his face. He flicked the crust from his eye away, turning to look at you before laying his head down again.

His eyes fluttered closed, his stomach churning just a little before he settled again. His chest weighed like a bell, his heart laying limp in the comfort of his cushioning lungs, his mind wandering, pondering whether he would ever see your eyes again-

He sat up instantly; your eyes were staring at him, wide, almost painful. The look made his stomach roar, his hackles raised, eyebrow furrowed, eyes full of tears and concern.

“Sweetheart, it’s me, it’s okay-”

An alarm blared from your heart monitor, and the call button you rapidly pressed with your less injured hand. Simon’s heart clenched as your tears mirrored his, and the sound of you choking on the breathing tube made his stomach acid toss like salad dressing. He stood, and you flinched; he knew what was happening. He scrambled away, found the switch for the blinding overhead light, and flipped it before he moved to you again. The flood of tears in his eyes made it hard to see you recognize him, but you did. You reached for him as the door burst open - making you jerk again, a whine-like cry escaping your throat.

You thought he was Lloyd.

Simon couldn’t blame you. He spent years breaking mirrors because he looked like his father, his abuser.

He stumbled back, his wrist to his nose as nurses flooded your bedside, his eyes never leaving you. The nurse closest to him helped remove the breathing tube while the other injected something into your IV, and the last furiously typed on the computer. Simon could only keep himself a few steps away, listening to the sound of your whimpers and watching your weak attempts to move away from the help. His nails met his teeth, the quick already bloodied as he had chewed them down two nights ago. The emptiness in his chest had surged as if it was a flood, knocking his respiratory system around like a ping-pong ball against his ribcage. He couldn’t breathe, his heart felt as if it was beating so fast that it would catch fire, the tears leaking into his mouth were like acid.

Of course, you would think he’s Lloyd, the man humorlessly chuckling in his clouded head. Simon looked so much like him that they could be considered brothers, not father and son.

A deep part of him knew this would happen. The one thing Simon fought the hardest to protect was an easy domino to fall, the most direct way to get Simon’s attention, hit him where it could and would hurt the most. He’s kneeling and bleeding, his heart pouring blood as he has to watch his wife cry out when a nurse even grazes her skin.

Simon would be lying if he said he could handle this.

He doesn’t get frustrated with you when you turn your face a little to the left when he brings the spoon to your lips. He put it back into the ceramic bowl as he softly sighed to himself. You’ve barely eaten all morning since they took out the breathing tube, visiting hours are almost starting and Jake would be here, asking a million questions that Simon would need to answer. If the best you could do was five half spoonfuls of broth, it would have to do. He pushed the rolling table away, moving the blankets farther up on your abdomen and tucking it close to your body. Your gaze felt like knives on him, he was barely strong enough to look at your face when the profound sense of guilt only seemed to take his words. He refused to be upset with you when your hand touched his, even though he felt like he needed to rip his skin off.

Your thumb brushed over his bruised knuckles as he kept his hand settled on your hip, staring at the minute gesture that meant so much before, but now… felt bitter. Simon would have thrown up again, recognizing the way your comfort now felt painful.

“You gotta eat more later.” He mumbled, hunched over your bed, wanting to rip his hand from yours but also needing it to stay there. “You need to sleep too, you have to be tired- Ow!”

He looked up at your face, ignoring the dark bruise on your throat, to see just a little smirk. You had pinched his hand, and he furrowed his brows, confused.

“Was that funny?”

A tiny movement like a nod, and he huffed out a flat laugh. His free hand raised a little, in your vision, before slowly moving to settle on your face. He hovered his thumb along the bruise on your cheekbone, his fingers cradled your jaw like porcelain. Your head only moved into him, eyes never moving from him. He wasn’t sure you’d ever be able to look at him like Simon again, after your reaction a couple hours ago. He wouldn’t blame you at all if you couldn’t. He wouldn’t blame you if you left him after this, take the girls and move far, far away from him and everything that came with him - enemies, lies, pain. He wasn’t even sure how safe you were now and that killed him, destroyed his sense of safety and replaced it with so much fear.

“Mel…ody.”

Simon snapped back into reality where your eyes were narrowed slightly staring at him, and he instantly answered. ���She’s safe. Just some bruising, she’s home with Jake and Price and Soap.”

Relief washed over your face, your head settled back on the pillow as your gaze finally moved to the ceiling. It’s at times like this where he wished he struggled to know what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. But, he could read you like an open book.

“You did good,” He spoke, your name escaping like the prayer he needed days ago, “Our baby is safe. Mellie’s okay.”

You pinched him again before you looked back at him, and he let his thumb lightly graze your bruise, you didn’t even flinch.

“New one’s okay too.”

A whine escaped your throat, tears instantly falling from your face as relief washed over it. He patted your hip.

“You did good, Mama. Did really fuckin’ good.”

[doeidawn]

doeidawn's kinkmas day eight ❆ spanking

KINKMAS 2024 | PREVIOUS DAY | NEXT DAY

a little mishap at the company christmas party has you subjected to punishment—directly from the hand of your boss. 2.9k

❆ pairing: boss!price x assistant!fem!reader

❆ tags: MDNI/18+; inappropriate workplace conduct; slight dom/sub dynamic (use of "sir"); spanking (obviously); fingering

Working as the assistant to the head of one of the biggest companies in England invited stress that few could understand. Add in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, and that stress increased tenfold. Then add in a Christmas party that said corporate head expects you to both organize and attend on top of your regular holiday duties, and the stress might give you a heart attack before the week ends.

It was a miracle that the whole thing managed to go as smoothly as it did. The decorations turned out good, everyone was pleasantly surprised by the secret Santa turnout, and the food was nice. Even the most introverted interns stopped by to chat. By all measures, it was a success. Which meant your boss would happily wear the success and (hopefully) give you a nice bonus for all the hard work.

Until the celebration started to wind down and you spilled nearly half of your wine onto him. Onto his very nice and no-doubt-expensive dress shirt—a white one, at that. You could hear the notice of termination being typed up as soon as you realized who you had bumped into. 

Ever the charmer, he took it like a champ in front of the gaggle of people. Not for your own sake, you imagine; the man had to save face in front of his employees whether it was your fault or not. Still, that didn’t stop you from feeling positively mortified. Cursing yourself for even pouring a drink when you should’ve been making sure everything stayed perfect. So much for a little alcohol to alleviate the mountain of stress on your shoulders.

Everyone else seemed to forget about it rather quickly. And as the festivities died down and people started to filter out, there was no unwanted attention brought your way. But, seeing as the party was your responsibility in the first place, you knew you’d have to stay after and clean up. The few moments alone would’ve been nice…if only you truly were alone.

You couldn’t be mad at John for being a good boss. He stayed over nearly every damn day, worked later than most just to make sure things turned out right. He showed up to the office party because he cared about his employees. Surely you couldn’t damn him for that. But when he sidled past you with a quick “can I see you in my office real quick?” in your ear, you wished he were the careless type to leave early and forget that you even existed. 

You wasted as much time as possible just to avoid seeing him. Mingled with every last person who hung around until they had no excuse left to stay. You tidied up counters and swept the floor best you could. You figured maybe you could walk someone to their car and get yourself out of a reprimand that way. Alas, you realized that it wouldn’t be a good look if the assistant didn’t fulfill all of her boss’s requests. 

You stand outside the door to his office for a good minute, just staring at the wood before you. You’re fully prepared to be scolded. To be ridiculed and belittled and insulted. Not that John had ever done that before—he wasn’t the type to act that way—but you felt so worthless that you figured he might as well.  

Mustering the last of your courage and a hint of apathy, you knock on the door. When you hear his voice invite you in, you hesitate before turning the knob and slinking in. It wasn’t a conscious choice to move slow; it was like you wanted to make yourself seem small and meek as if it’d convince him to take pity on you.

There he was at his desk, pushing a paper to the side in favor of looking your way. The blotch of red wine staining his shirt was painfully obvious. You silently prayed for whatever washing machine would get overworked trying to clean it out.

“You look terrified.” John’s voice cuts through the silence and nearly startles you. You hadn’t even realized how tense your shoulders were. “Everythin’ alright?”

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. “I…I dunno, sir. Is everything alright?”

“Just fine. The party was nice. Very well done.” He leans back in his chair and you cringe when more of that wine stain comes into view. It almost felt like he was taunting you with it. “Though I shouldn’t expect anythin’ less from you.”

You nod, more out of relief than agreement with his statement. Muttering a small “thank you”, you shift awkwardly on your feet. You expected a scolding, but he was pleasantly warm. There was no anger or upset in his eyes. He didn’t even seem disappointed. 

“What’s wrong?”

The question is surprising, but it’s the tone of sincere curiosity that bewilders you. Not annoyance, or inconvenience. He wanted to know what was wrong, wholeheartedly. It takes you a minute to swallow your pride and give him a half-assed shrug.

“Nothing, sir. Just…stressed, is all.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was probably the mildest way to say you were frustrated and tense and angry and just about every other feasible human emotion.

John makes a sound at that. He shifts in his chair, inching it back from his desk. “‘Course you are. You poor thing…I’ve asked a lot of you lately, haven’t I?” You didn’t know if the smart thing was to agree or deny, but you wanted to sigh with relief that he finally seemed to notice. “That's not very fair of me, huh?”

Did he want you to agree? You decide not to chance it. Instead, you stare at your feet like they’ve become the most interesting thing in the world. Anything felt better than looking him in the eye right now. 

“So, what do you do with all that stress? How d’you manage it, I mean?”

It was a miracle he thought you handled it at all. If you came off well-put together, it certainly didn’t reflect the worry that consumed your private life. “I…don’t, really. I just sort of deal with it, I suppose.”

He snorts, an amused shake of his head. “Well, that’s not very healthy, is it?” Definitely not. But he didn’t know the half of it. “Someone ought to help you manage that stress. I can’t have my assistant on edge all the time.”

Unless he planned on including therapy in your benefits, you didn’t see that working out any time soon. You give him a tight-lipped smile, awkwardly nodding along. Was this what he wanted to talk about..? Scolding you for being stressed was certainly preferable to bringing up your blunder at the party, but that didn’t mean you felt comfortable with it. 

“C’mere,” he beckons you closer with a gesture and a cock of his head. You take a few hesitant steps towards his desk, but he grumbles and gestures again. “Closer. Get over here.”

You freeze for a moment before complying. Why John could possibly want you so close was unknown to you, and your slow steps betrayed your hesitance. You stopped when you stood just before him, mere inches away from his body. It wasn’t unlike him to get close—he seemed to like crowding you—but it felt different this time. 

“Listen,” he starts, reaching out to rest a hand on your waist. “I need you at your best. Your job is very important, and I can’t accept anything less than perfect.” You don’t even notice the slight nod of your head. It was a reflexive response to agree with him, even if it meant agreeing to your own faults. His heavy palm slides down to your hip, squeezing you gently. “And if you don’t give me your best, consequences are in order.”

Your heart sinks. You expect him to dock your pay or pile on ten extra responsibilities to your work load—something that’ll make you feel even worse, no doubt. But when he looks up at you, there’s no sincerity or disappointment in his eyes. Instead, there’s something…eager. Almost like he’s excited when he starts to speak again.

“Seein’ as you’re my assistant, I think a heavy handed approach should suffice.” He squeezes your hip to further his emphasis as he leans forward. He’s so close you can feel his breath against your waist, his lips nearly brushing against you. “Somethin’ a little more personal.”

Oh.

You swallow thickly, your heart beating so hard you fear it might burst out of your chest. Too many emotions conflicted with each other—relief that he wasn’t angry, worried about the implications, excited that he’s propositioned you. It wasn’t rare that you got a little excited thinking about John. He was an attractive man, and the authority only added to the appeal.

HR be damned, you’d think yourself a fool if you never took the offer. “Whatever you think is best, sir.” You didn’t intend for your voice to sound so breathy and coy, but you didn’t fight it. You rest a hand on his shoulder, gripping his shirt tight when his hand suddenly moves to grope your ass. 

“Oh, I know what’s best for my assistant." He leans back, his hands falling away from your body in a movement that almost makes you whine at the loss. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt before patting his thigh invitingly. “She needs bent over and taught about consequences, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out in a squeak before you can stop yourself. One last look in his eyes and you were ready to give him whatever he wanted.

Taking his implication as your instruction, you bend yourself over his lap, bracing your hands on his thigh once you’re in place. You can hear your own heartbeat, pounding in your head and mingling with every thought telling you this is a bad idea. But then you hear him groan and feel a heavy palm skirt along your back and every doubtful thought is drowned by something much more desperate. 

“This is my favorite skirt of yours, you know that?” John mutters while splaying his thick fingers along your backside. Of course you knew he liked this one—he was never very subtle about it. It’s why you wore it to the party in the first place, only now you wish you’d wore something more flattering than a Christmas sweater to go with it. 

He tugs your skirt up and over your ass without ceremony, scrunching it at your waist until you’re fully exposed. He runs a hand over your soft, pliant skin, squeezing just enough to see the fat spill over his fingers. You gasp at the rough touch but make no effort to move away. If anything, you find yourself arching into the needy movements. 

Then, his hand pulls back and comes down in a sharp smack that takes your breath away. He groans again, watching your body recoil. “Yeah, this’ll do just fine.” He punctuates the thought with another spank. “We’ll see how many you can take before you learn your lesson.”

Another sharp smack of his palm makes you whine. You nod in agreement, but you don’t think he’s much concerned with your input at this point. Two more harsh spanks hit and you hiss when he runs his palm over the spot of impact. The dull sting already throbs under your flushed skin, aching more when he gropes your ass in a tight squeeze. The next spank draws a moan from your lips, the sharp impact sending an unexpected wave of pleasure directly between your legs.

John hooks a finger under the seam of your panties, pulling the fabric to expose more of your flushed skin. “You’re doin’ good, takin’ it well.”

You pause, waiting for a spank that never comes. “Thank you, sir,” you manage to stumble out.

Smack! You jerk at that, biting your lip to stifle a pathetic sound. “You know I’m not mad at you, right?” His movements are as soft as his voice, gently massaging the welt forming on your sensitive skin. “I can buy a hundred more shirts, but I can’t replace you. Certainly not when you’ve shown me how well you can take what I give you.” You whimper at the next sudden spank. “Such a good assistant for me, and I haven’t given you the break you deserve have I?”

You’re not quite sure what the right answer is, but you hesitantly shake your head. The next strike motivates you to verbalize your answer. “No, sir. I haven’t gotten a break.”

“You poor thing…” You barely notice the movement of his hand as it slides off of your battered skin. It’s not until he slides his fingers over the center of your panties that you react, gasping at the sudden (and much needed) pressure. You hadn’t even realized how wet you’d gotten, and judging by his excited groan, neither had he. “You need a break from all that stress, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Pulling the sodden fabric to the side, John exposes your wet cunt and hums in satisfaction when he sees the slick glistening on your sensitive flesh. He grabs you on either side, using his fingers to spread you apart. One hand pulls back to spank your ass a final time, and he watches you clench at the impact. Two thick fingers run up and down your slit, gathering your wet arousal, before prodding at your entrance.

He sinks in with a groan and the sudden fullness takes your breath away. You curse and arch your back, rocking your hips onto his fingers. Your nails dig into his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to pay it much attention. He buries his fingers to the knuckle before pumping them in and out in a steady pace that makes your knees weak. 

“Christ, love, you are tense. This cunt’s fuckin’ squeezin’ me.” His fingers press deep on each thrust, curled and angled just right to make you push against his intrusion. “Is this what you needed? Someone to stuff this pussy full?”

You hum a soft “mm-hmm” and nod your head. But John isn’t satisfied with that; his free hand comes down in a sharp spank that forces a surprised yelp from your lips. “Fuck—yes, sir,” you sputter.

“Yeah, you just need a proper fuck to keep you goin’ huh?” His free hand moves to cup your jaw, tilting your head back until he could see your face. “Fuck, I’ll keep you late every day, bend you over my desk and fuck you as much as you need. Is that what you want?”

Hearing him say it was one thing, but seeing those filthy words come from your boss’s mouth made you clench around his fingers. “Yes…yes, sir,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading as you look up at him. “W-want you to fuck me.”

“Fuckin’ hell…”

Your head lolls forward when he releases your jaw. His hand fucks into you rougher, quick and sharp pumps that make you keen, almost like he’s too impatient to keep going slow. He bullies that sensitive spot inside you until you start to tense and quiver on his lap. His heavy palm brushes over your welted skin, kneading your ass just to hear the whimpers it draws from you. 

You hold onto his thigh, nails digging into his pants as you try to hold yourself steady. “J-John, m’gonna…fuck…” It’s near impossible to squeak out the words with the constant pressure filling your cunt. 

“I know, love. You’re gonna cum for your boss, aren’t you?” 

“Mm-hmm—”

“Yeah, gonna soak my fuckin’ lap with it? Make another mess on me?”

It sounded filthy when he put it like that. And while getting reminded of your embarrassing blunder at the Christmas party was the last thing you wanted to think about right now, you couldn’t deny that it certainly motivated you to make another mess. Especially when he was so eager for this one.

You couldn’t even form the words to properly warn him. You were sure he could tell by the tight pull of your slick walls around his fingers that you were toppling over that edge fast. Between his encouragement and the perfect fit of his digits, he was coaxing out all of your pent-up energy. And it hit you hard.

You were a quivering, dripping mess on his lap. Gushing around his fingers, clenching tight like you were trying to suck him in deeper. Your knees were so weak you weren’t sure you could stand back up. John slid his fingers out and delivered one final spank to your flushed skin. You think he mutters a soft ‘good girl’, but you find it hard to hear him properly as you catch your breath.

Raising off of his lap, you adjust your clothes and pull your skirt back into its proper position. Your legs are weak and your ass stings with every movement. You aren’t sure whether to thank him or apologize—so you settle for neither. The silence sits heavy in the room as you trudge to the door to take your leave. You could worry about facing him next week when you were alone, in the comfort of your home, and thinking straight.

Then, you hear him call out your name as soon as your hand touches the doorknob. You turn just enough to see his figure in your peripheral. Still sat with his legs spread and his sleeves rolled up, but now with a rather obvious hand palming himself through his pants. If you had any less restraint, you might’ve walked yourself back over to him. 

“I’ll see you Monday, yeah?” You nod at the sound of his gruff voice. “Do me a favor n’ wear that skirt again, sweetheart.”

You smile, mainly to yourself. “Yes, sir.”

[ryuki-blogs]

Don't worry, Erik, the color is in fashion this season!

The washing machine incident that lead to the duel was actually red socks George forgot to take out in Erik's whites, who used the laundry room immediately after him.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Dec 3rd

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1. I’m looking for a specific fic. It’s was on ao3. It’s book cannon compliant but from LWJ perspective. It’s less than 15 chapters (I think 11 is the number but I’m only 60% sure on that) (unless they’ve added more for the special chapters).

Thank you for the work you do ❤️💙 @smnthncl

FOUND? 🔒 The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide) might be this one, although it has more chapters than mentioned

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2. Hi! I recently noticed one of the fics I had bookmarked has been deleted and I, foolishly, had not downloaded it! I suppose i was hopeful someone might have a copy, if the author is okay with it. (Though if I recall, it was either an orphaned work or by Anonymous, so not sure how that would work!)

It was a fic where wwx is an artist and lwj is a famous musician. He commissions art from wwx for his album and then hires wwx to give his son, lan yuan, art lessons at his home on this huge CR compound kind of thing. They cook for each other and lwj writes a song for him and they fall in love! (I think there was a small sequel about food too.)

The name of the fic is escaping me entirely! If anyone has copies they are willing to share, I would much appreciate it. @annerbhp

FOUND? I believe #2 might be 'light travels faster than sound' (Anonymous). It's been deleted but it's on the wayback machine (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27328495?view_full_work=true&view_adult=true) The sequel about food's also there too (https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110269?view_adult=true&view_full_work=true)

Number 2 is definitely “light travels faster than sound” by Fruitys (now deleted) - I dl’d it when I read it but if you would like options that have the same vibes I can recommend: “paint smears on sunny days” tho lwj is not a musician, and “Sonata, Acrylic on Canvas” in which LWJ is a music student & WWX is an art student

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3. looking for a fic i read a while ago where wei wuxian is a voice actor/barista living in a little new england town and lan wangji is an author looking for inspiration who moves to the town with his little son lan yuan, and wei wuxian is disabled after an accident on a movie set when he was 16/17

FOUND? Ornaments Under the Stars by trippednfell (M, 62k, wangxian, Modern, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, the wangxian Hallmark Movie AU no one asked for, plot and title were randomly generated, Kidfic, Disabled Character, debilitating injury as substitute for missing golden core, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guest starring Lan Zhan’s sky blue coat, The Coat deserves its own tag, disordered eating habits - not a major plot point, WIP)

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4. Hi! This is fic finder. A little warning, this fic is R-18. There was a war between the wen and lan (i dont remember if its with lan only or with other clan too). WWX is the wen general. Because of him, LXC's golden core gets crushed by WZL. That makes LWJ hates WWX. And then WRH died and WC (I dont remember if its WX or WC) send WWX and others as a "bed warmer" (Sex slave) to lan. But only WWX that are treated worse because he was suspected as WRH killer. LXC tells LWJ to be kind to WWX, but LWJ is consumed by his hatred did not kind to WWX. WWX is sent to the lan, bounded with talisman and some object insertion locked with talisman. I dont remember how, but the jin sent someone to lan to "teach" WWX to became a good bed warmer. It was cruel. At first LWJ ignored the cruelness because of his ignorance but after he knows, he put stop of that. I think the wen invite the lans ro attend something to qishan. Thats all i think. I honestly dont remember what tag i used to find this fic in the past. Thanks @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND!🔒Captive Prince by Aquadrazi (E, 19k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Angst, Slow Burn, Implied Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Torture, Accidental Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Public Sex, Sexual Slavery, Bondage, Dom/sub, Top JGY, Top LWJ, Bottom LXC, Bottom WWX, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Crack, Not Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe, Smut, Shameless Smut, Sex Magic, Orgasm Denial, Forced Orgasm, WangXian Endgame, Hurt/Comfort)

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5. Hi! Can you help find this fic for me? All i remember is a scene, lan zhan is wandering the world and when he arrives back home, lan xichen is waiting at the gates and lz thinking something like ' my brother has aged' he has white hairs etc. But lan zhan didn't change, didn't age a day, may be immortal?

Thank you so much💙

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6. Hey if you really don't mind, I have a favor to ask! Some trying ro fina a banger fic tht I cannot remember the name of foe the life of me. O read a lot of fics so it's a struggle. It's about Wei Wuxian being disowned by the Jiangs in the modern day bc he started dating lwj on a bet (jc bet that lwj would say yes if he asked him out and wwx was like "no way" And so he did and lwj said yes ofc) they then turn into boyfriends and jin zixun reveals to lwj that wwx only started dating him on a bet. This severely hurts lwj and angers everyone around him, to the point that madame yu just disowned wwx, leaving him no contact with anyone anymore. He becomes homeless and struggles a lot (including a traumatic dick sucking for money) and ends up being adopted by the Wens at a cafe. He stays there for 13 years, (while also attending classes I think) until lwj (who is now a famous musician) comes in for a tea 13 years later. They meet up, fall back in love, and clear up a lot of things and jc and jyl reconnect with wwx via lwj. It was a really sweet fic with feels and I need it in my veins.

FOUND? 💖 love wakes me by dea_liberty (E, 46k, WangXian, Happy Ending, Angst, Childhood Sweethearts, Misunderstandings, Famous LWJ, Coffee Shop Owner WWX, Finding each other again, Found Families, lots and lots of feelings, so many feelings, Stupid Grand Romantic Gestures)

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7. Hi! This is for the fic finder.

I'm looking for a modern au. It started in lxc's pov. Lxc & lwj were having dinner with lqr and they are supposed to not use their phone but lwj is getting constant calls which he doesn't receive and then lxc gets a call and it turns out to be wwx. He receives it and it turns out that wwx is at some sort of club where he was drugged and and he's stuck in the washroom while some man is banging at the door to try assault him. Lxc and lwj go to the club and I think lwj punches the the dude. Lxc also makes wwx puke up the drug by inducing vomiting with his fingers. Hope it helps @aristocraticteacup

FOUND! Please Let Me Take Care of You by incidentallyWangxian (G, 9k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Sexual Assault, ish, kinda assault, drugged WWX, big brother LXC, Nightmares, the horrifying ordeal of being known, Modern, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt WWX, crying WWX)

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8. looking for help finding a fic!

wangxian based on a tumblr post (a witch offers a challenge to retrieve a key from her cat's neck, only one person tries to make friends with the cat, the cat is the witch)

the yiling laozu has offered a challenge to retrieve a bell from a pet crow and become his partner/husband(?). lwj is in the area to look for something and makes friends with this crow. eventually the crow offers the bell, and lwj must decline because he's in love with wwx. eventually he takes the bell and the crow is revealed to be wwx.

FOUND? ❤️ chasing you by jaws_3 (T, 10k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, WWX isn't found au, Shapeshifting, Pining, Identity Porn)

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9. This is so helpful! I'm looking for a long modern AU oneshot where Wei Wuxian is a doctor, and he's just gotten off shift when he witnesses a car accident. Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi were in the car (LSZ's arm is broken, but they're both okay). WWX has been away for 10(?) years and has recently moved back to the area to work at the local hospital. I'm not sure if I've forgotten to bookmark it, or if it has been disappeared. Thank you!

FOUND! plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by fleurdeliser (E, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, Car Accidents, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Non-Explicit References to Injuries and Death, References to Addiction, Doctors & Physicians, Falling In Love, soft romance, background 3zun, [Podfic of] plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by knight_tracer, [Podfic of] plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by exmanhater)

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10. Hello, hope you're all having a good day and thank you for your time and this iniciative.

For the fic finder: I lost sight of a fic a long time ago, set during the study arc.

In the morning the disciples wake up to find their swords have been stolen and they blame Wei Wuxian for it since he is missing. Later, though, they find Wei Wuxian in the forest where he has been badly hurt by someone (YLLZ Wei Wuxian, I believe?).

FOUND? For the Dust and the Dirt by Nyxelestia (M, 63k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time travel Fix-It, Cloud recesses study Arc, It gets worse before it gets better, WWX Whump, Hurt/comfort, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending)

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11. i am looking for a fic that i can’t find. it’s been a while since i read it but basically i remember wwx sends jiang chang on his way against his will so he can kill wen chao. the whole murder is very graphic and brutal but it was written very beautifully and it takes a lot out of wwx @sunshinepkjm-blog

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12. Hi I've been looking for two fics that should be on ao3

A) First has deity wangxian but they got seperated, WWX get captured by the Wens which maybe starts the Sunshot Campaign? and Jin Ling is like a spirit demigod thing that picked Jin Zixuan to be his father. I think Wen Popo and Wen Ning were also deities or some kind of nonhuman being and Wen Ning had something about eyes

B) Second one I only remember had a scene where WWX rides on his sword broomstick witch style and gets teased about it?

Thanks if you can find them <3 @nyankokoko

Hi hi I'm #12 from the Dec 3rd fic finder

Just letting you know that someone has found A)!! It was Black Jadeite by Tysis

I'm still looking for B) but I've realised that it have been a twitter/X thread fic so who knows where someone will stumble upon it but my search shall continue on!

Thank you mods and community members for all the help! <3

12A)

FOUND! Black Jadeite by Tysis (G, 27k, WangXian, JYL/WQ, 3zun, JC/NHS, Immortality, Fix-It of Sorts, LWJ Will Cause Problems On Purpose, Qishan Wen Catches a God, Patron God AU, LWJ Will Also Solve Problems On Accident, Non-Chronological, Everyone Lives, If it looks like character death, just wait a few hundred word and they’ll get better)

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13. Hiya! I have a ask for a finder! I'll try my best but I switched hyperfixations for a year so it is lost to my mind palace and before I was able to make a account on AO3. It's a fic that gives Firefly feels. Wwx is a consultant for looking at Resenment in ships and meets Lwj while he's supposed to go around in hiding.

The main thing I remember the most, stupidly enough, is the fact that the chapters open up with verses from songs. The song, as I started to listen to it religiously, was Follow Me by Written By Wolves in one of the chapters. "You've spent your whole life living by every rule they gave you. Don't you think it's time that you cut out all the lies, boy" <- That was the lyrics. I know that the first part is complete, but it was going to be a series, and now I can't find it. I humbly ask for help!. @skylar-lei1634

FOUND! Follow Me by unbirthdaydance (T, 37k, WangXian, Science Fiction & Fantasy, magic cats, Ghost Hunters, Supernatural Elements, Secret Identity, Emperor LWJ, Royalty, Necromancy, Magic, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, Spaceships, Flirting, Awkward Flirting, Familiars, Worst Fanboy XY)

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14. Love this blog! Usually my bookmarks don't fail me, but it has this time. Help! I'm trying to find a (very well known, I'm certain) Yilling Wei fic where wangxian build traditions and rituals of their own, and Yuan comes up with spinning as a symbol of turning a new leaf. The scene wangxian get married has everyone invited, including Zewu-jun and other sect leaders, spinning and all find it adorable. I know this is a really well-loved one but my search-fu is failing. Thank you in advance!!!

FOUND? Hi! 14 is 🔒 Ceremony by scifigeek13, the last story in the series 🔒 The Yiling Wei Clan by scifigeek14 (G, 45k, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, JYL/JZX, JC/WQ, Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited ,Happy Ending, Living Together, Families of Choice, Yílíng Wèi Sect, Epistolary, Not Canon Compliant, Letters, Family Feels, Everyone Lives, POV Child, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Crush, Politics, Exposition, Mud, Alcohol, Weddings, Marriage, Children, Family)

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15. Hello! I'm looking for a fic, it came out a while ago(over 2 years).

In it, the lans the nies and the jin (well, lxc nmj and jgy)are all united and LWJ is the emperor. They r at war with the jiang and WWX is one of the generals for the jiangs. He's really smart and clever and LWJ fell in love with him across the battle field bc of how he kept outsmarting his generals (the polycule). LWJ and WWX only met one time on the battle field and LWJ had his face hidden even though he was present as The Emperor.

Sometime down the line LWJ sends over a peace treaty saying they'd cease hostilities(or something like that) with the Jiang in exchange for wwx to come to the capital. Everyone assumes including wwx that this means hed be like a political prisoner and wwx decided he's just gonna go bc even though he's a super awesome general with several victories , the situation at lotus pier is still shitty with madam yu still hating his guts. So he accepts the proposal and heads out in the dead of night only there's factions(?) Of people that keep trying to kill him to prevent him from meeting up where he's supposed to(the letter said to be by a specific bridge by a certain date).

Little does he know that LWJ actually wants to marry him and make wwx his empress, so bc he's a simp he left to go wait at the bridge in disguise(reg lwj not emperor lwj) and he brought a lot of stuff that could be used to make wwx s trip to the capital easier(like a tea pot etc). Lwj sees fire in the distance and rightly assumes somethings gone wrong and goes to investigate.

Its people who r using wwxs battle strategies against him(I think it was called the gauntlet or something) but in the fic it was really funny bc the ambushers set the forest on fire and wwx and some of his troops who followed him in secret to help him bc loyalty keep being like "but its raining?!?!"

I think wwx gets shot at one point and his troops hand him off to lwj to get him outta there bc they r all exhausted from running around trying to avoid dying.

Lwj is all mushy on the inside bc he gets to hold wwx, but wwx doesn't know who he is(I think he thinks lwj is like, the emperors personal guard sent to retrieve wwx?) and they r trying to get back over to lan territory to avoid getting killed and wwx is like "I doubt it'll stop once we cross the border, it's probably people on both sides who want to keep the war going and to do that they will want to sabotage me getting to the emperor who's just gonna hold me hostage." And lwj is like "the emperor wouldn't do that" and wwx is like "well ofcourse you'd say that u swore loyalty to him."

I remember early in the fic nmj was talking about how awesome wwx was bc nmj had these elephants he set onto the field and wwx just ordered his troops to spread out so they'd go in between the space between the war elephants. And nmj was like "that was some cool shit no lie"

Any and all help is appreciated with finding this fic, thank u so much!! @hilariousseagoat

FOUND! Veil by a_single_step (Not Rated, 96k, WangXian, WIP, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, War, General WWX, Emperor LWJ, Romance, Angst, Falling In Love, Pining LWJ, Misunderstandings, WWX doing his best, Sweet, Fluff and Humor) sounds like this fic especially the elephant part. It hasn’t updated in four year tho (´；ω；`)

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16. Hi! I am looking for two stories:

A) The first is a modern AU, no magic. WWX is in the process of adopting A-Yuan and never mentions this to any coworkers, so come time for the summer company picnic, he decides (maybe prompted by NHS??) that the only thing to do is gas light all his coworkers that he has absolutely had a child all along. LWJ then returns the favor by speed running ‘pining from a distance’ to ‘in a committed relationship, next Tuesday is our wedding anniversary.’

B) The second is much less clearly remembered. AU of canon. LWJ meets WWX on a night hunt (I think on a farm??). LWJ was too young to have participated in the war and therefore doesn’t know WWX is the Yiling Patriarch, since LXC was the Lan who fought the war. The Burial Mounds Settlement is more established when the fic starts.

Thanks for all your hard work!!! @agedsolarwhisk

16A)

FOUND! Let’s Play Pretend and Live Our Lives by Tassos (E, 50k, WangXian, Modern, On Purpose Baby Aquisition, Accidental Husband Aquisition, Idiots in Love, WWX Has Self Esteem Issues, Domestic Fluff, Kid Fic, Light Angst, the Lans and Jiangs make an appearance, NHS Gives Great Advice, Pining, Getting Together)

16B)

NOT FOUND! Awaiting Your Return by Karmiya (E, 126k, WangXian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, the opposite of slow burn, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, discussions of wwx's canonical abusive childhood)

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17. Hiii. Thank you so much for your time. So i definitely have this fic downloaded but I’ve lost it amidst hundreds of downloaded books. So all I remember is that LWJ is an omega, he has to look for a mate. WWX is the demon? If yiling Patriarch and the two are close as in he came in for tea lan Zhan pours him tea etc think WWX is dark in this fic, all i remember is him pushing lan Zhan against a tree and taking a bit if advantage and lan Zhan obviously liked it. He says marry me somewhere as well @ruyipavillion

FOUND? Sanctuary by lunarvelle (E, 153k, WangXian, WIP, A/B/O, Bottom LWJ, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Demon WWX, Intersex LWJ, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Feminization, Pack Dynamics, Genderfluid Character, Genderqueer Character, Breastfeeding, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink) maybe? it's been a while since i've read it, so i'm not sure, but it sounds similar

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18. Hi! This is for fic finder. Its omega wwx. Set in burual settlement days. WQ is omega too. There are pregnant wen remnant. She, WWX, and WQ bonding together. She asked wwx that if she didnt survive he will raised the child. There are childbirth but the woman not survived. That baby is a-yuan. WQ and WWX takes turn taking care a yuan. Between the two, WWX produced milk that WQ says an omega sympathy if i remember correctly. Thats all i can remember. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! The Unrestrained Love by orphan_account (T, 60k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Alpha LXC, Omega JGY, Alpha LXC)

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19. Hi! My gosh I've never done this before so I hope I'm doing it right but I am desperate?? I'm searching for a very specific wangxian fic that had Wangxian as established couple, married even I think, and Wwx was contemplating what to wear to some sort of event (i think it was a conference of some sort) and because he wasn't happy with his own robes he chose to wear lwjs robes and when he went in lwj had heart eyes and it was all really cute and incredibly well written (also it wasn't the one where lwj gave him his own gusu robes, I know that one!!) Pls pls help?

Much thanks for being a lifesaver anyway! @yes-i-guess-nevertheless

FOUND! Lord of Joyous Flowers by stiltonbasket (G, 2k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, Wardrobe malfunctions, or the one where WWX has a closet full of clothes but nothing to wear, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, Parenthood, Introspection, Happy Ending)

~*~

20. im looking for a modern fic where wwx and a-yuan move in next ro lwj. wwx is running from the wens and goes by mo xuanyu. pretty sure that jiang cheng/wen qing is a side pairing, wq is working at a hispital and jc is looking for wwx?

FOUND? Stop and Stay by Fantazy_Eyeland7 (M, 98k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/JGY, SL/XXC, WIP, Blood and Violence, Hurt WWX, Kidnapping, Torture, WWX discovering weighted blankets, Pining LWJ, Modern, FBI Agent NMJ, Protective LWJ, Emotional Manipulation, Toxic JGY, not JGY friendly, LWJ learning how to communicate, WangXian have competence kinks, adopting children, Bad Parent YZY, Protective JYL, Protective JC, Protective NMJ, Past Child Abuse, Precious LSZ, Baby LJY, Warning: XY, Blind Character, slaps top of WWX: This bad boy can fit so much trauma inside, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Everyone is ending up in well-needed therapy, Child Abandonment, Genius WWX, Obsessive XY, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Eventual Smut, Bad Parent JFM, Junior Quartet Dynamics, (As Babies!), Implied/Referenced Suicide, sort of a slow burn, but not really, because they KNOW, they just can’t, Good Uncle LQR, eventually)

~*~

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Professional Kisses

Summary: The invitation to the exclusive Vee's New Year's Eve party told you you were wanted at the hottest party in all of Pride Ring. What it didn't tell you was why and if this was some sort of prank.

CW: way too many references to Stephen King's Carrie

You sat, looking at the invitation in your hand as if it would somehow change. The delivery had to be a mistake. There was no way the invitation wasn’t delivered to you in error. For the hundredth time, you picked up the envelope and checked the address on the front. 

In perfect, neat lettering on the front of the heavy white envelope was your name and address. It was the same as the last hundred times you checked it. Somehow, that had to be a mistake. The glossy card reflected the dim light in your apartment dining room as you flipped it over, looking at the back for what surely was the two hundredth time. 

Yep, it was still your name printed on the back followed by, “You are hereby invited to the Vee’s exclusive New Year’s Eve Party!” 

You checked the envelope for the hundred and first time. Yep. Still your address. Still your name. The card in your hand still had your name, neatly printed in long swooping letters. 

“This has to be a mistake.” The words died in the dingy apartment, lost with no one to hear them. It had to be a mistake, because what else could it be? There was no one that you could think of that would or could secure you an invitation to the hottest, most exclusive New Year’s Eve party in town. 

The invitations came directly from the Vees. One of them had to have noticed you, wanted you to be there, and remembered your name well enough to actually send this to you. 

Or, of course, it could be fraudulent. It could be a joke. Perhaps it was legit, but for less than honorable reasons. There was a chance that what you were going to be walking into was some fucked up Carrie situation. 

Your boss, Vox, wasn’t the harshest man you ever worked for, but Velvette? It was easy to imagine Velvette inviting someone less than fashion forward to the party and dumping a vat of blood on them. 

Hell, maybe Valentino was the architect of the invitation. While Velvette could have invited you to humiliate you, Valentino would have far darker reasons, surely. The reality was, if he was the source, you were looking at a far more strenuous way to be humiliated in front of a crowd. 

“Fuck it, I’m going.” The empty apartment offered no commentary back, reassurance or warning. 

You spent way too much time trying on dresses, most of which you couldn’t afford. After spending the days bringing reports to Vox, who said nothing about the invitation, you spent your evenings crisscrossing the city, VoxTek issued company boots splashing in the acid slush as you went. 

You tried on dress after dress, discarding them just as quickly as you selected them. Most of the dresses had price tags far higher than what you could afford. The reality dawned on you that you’d be going into debt for a dress for this party. 

Again, just not going floated across your mind. It was surely a joke anyway, or there was some other motive for your attendance. It would be better, easier to just save yourself the shame of going. 

What even happened at the party? You knew it was a place to be and that the guest list was micro small for a Vee event. Every year there were pictures of the hosts and a few of the guests, but the rest of the party details were kept hush-hush. 

“Fuck it.” With every cell in your body, you willed yourself to feel those two words in your soul as you pulled out the credit card you so badly didn’t want to use. 

You could feel your heartbeat in your temples as you handed the card over. The interest rate was frankly offensively high. The payments for this dress were surely going to give you nightmares. It was a predatory interest rate, even for hell.

Regret filled you as the machine spat out the receipt. The imp keeping shop tucked it into the bag and wished you a hellish evening. 

Oh, you would be having one, alright. Anxiety and regret clawed at you as you walked home. You could have taken a taxi or the bus, but you were unwilling to drop any more money today than you wanted. There was no way you’d be spending about ten dollars on bus fare or worse, seventy on a taxi. 

Public transportation prices in Pentagram city were criminal, even for hell. 

For three days after buying the dress, you packed it back into the fancy bag and carried it out of your apartment, down the many flights of stairs, and almost left the building with it. You wanted to return it. You needed to return it. You couldn’t afford it. You couldn’t afford to attend this stupid party where you were sure to be a part of the entertainment. 

Against all of your better judgment, you wanted to attend the party. You wanted to indulge in the fantasy that Vox, your boss and one of the most successful men in all of hell regardless of class or social status, noticed you and wanted your company at his new year’s party. 

It was asking a lot. Frankly, it was delusional. It was okay to be a little delusional, a little bit, at least that’s what you told yourself as you clipped the tag off the dress.

The light in your bedroom flickered, threatening to die. You had replaced the bulb recently, but for whatever reason; it seemed the fixture burned through them faster than you could afford to replace them. 

For a moment, you stood, standing in just your panties in your bedroom, holding the dress. It cost almost as much as you paid for a month of rent and you were getting ready to put it on your body, cover it with a shitty coat and hope no acid slush splashed it before you got to the party. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” you told your reflection as you stepped into the dress.

Smooth, silky fabric shimmered as you pulled it up your body. The dress seemed to have glitter somehow woven into the very threads and yet it was soft to the touch. You tied the straps around your neck.

Once the front of the dress hung, dangling between your breasts before spreading out at your hips where the fabric finally hugged your body. It felt like you’d pop your shoulder out of the socket as you reached behind you, fishing for the ends of the two cords. 

“Fucking got you,” you cheered to the empty room as you snagged them.

Pulling them tight, the dress slowly pulled over your body. The front seemed to smoothe over your skin like butter. The caress of the cold fabric over sensitive skin sent a shiver down your spine. 

Once the dress was tied in place, grabbed your heels- also new for the party- and started downstairs. Your car would be there in a few short minutes, assuming that wasn’t a part of the joke either. 

You were shocked to find the sleek black car parked out front. The driver stood, wearing a neat back suit, waiting or you. As you stepped closer, you realized it was Tony, one of the sharks from Envy that worked for Vox.

“Do you know what I can expect?” you asked as he opened the door for you. 

“Not a clue,” he said as you slipped into the back seat. “I don’t get invited to things like this with the boss.” 

“Neither do I,” you whined as he shut the door. 

You failed to relax in during the drive across the city. If anything, you only grew more anxious as the dingy city gave way to the polished, neat city streets of the entertainment and tech districts. 

Okay, the car wasn’t a joke, but surely the rest of the invitation was. Something was surely wrong.

Your heart beat wildly as the car pulled up in front of Vee tower. You went here five to seven days a week, but never did you get out at the grand entrance. That was for the Vees and esteemed guests, especially while the red carpet was out. 

“This can’t be right?” The words came out as a hiss as Tony opened the door for you. “This is wrong.” 

“It’s not.” He rolled his eyes at you as he stood off to the side, offering his hand to aid you in getting out of the car. “All the party guests are coming in this way.” 

“This is insane,” you whisper-yelled the words as you allowed him to assist you out. “This is some fairy tale ass shit.” 

“It’s hell,” Tony whispered back as you stood, pulling the short hem of the dress down your legs. “There are no fairy tales.” 

“I know,” you turned, taking a moment longer to speak to Tony before braving entering the tower. “I know.” 

Cameras flashed as you walked down the long, red carpet toward the doors. There was no acid slush here. In anticipation of the event, the Vees had the ground cleared and dried. The Vees ensured that for their guests, there wouldn’t be a speck of acid to eat through thier fine shoes or clothes. 

As you walked through the tower doors, you cringed and prepared for some vat of blood or acid or something to dump on you. Nothing happened. Seconds passed before you opened your eyes, finding the after hours receptionist looking at you from where she sat behind the desk, terribly bored. 

“The elevator is to the left,” she said, pointing as if you were too dumb to know which way was left. Considering some citizens of hell, perhaps her gesture wasn’t wholly misplaced, but it offended you just the same. “Press P and it’ll take you to the top.” 

You expected there to be more people in the lobby, but it was deserted. There was no one in the elevator as it took you up, higher and higher. You passed the floor you worked on and continued up. Never had you been as high in the tower as you were now, and yet the elevator kept going. 

Looking out the window, the distance to the ground sent your stomach right into your throat. It was better to not look there; you decided as you stepped closer to the solid wall with the door. 

You nearly stumbled into someone as you rushed out the moment the doors slid open. “I’m sorry, excuse me.” 

“Doll!” Vox’s voice carried easily over the space as he stood from the couch. 

Music was loud enough to remind you it was a party, but it was clearly a more intimate occasion. You had expected something more like what the clubs down in the city were holding. 

People milled about, drinks in their hands. There was a hum of conversation as high-level executives, fashion designers and in demand porn stars in little groups, some instead dancing.

Looking up, you searched for the bucket of blood or paint or whatever it was that you were sure would dump on your head. This was when it happened, wasn’t it? When the girl who didn’t belong at the party walked through the doors, thinking for a second that maybe she belonged.

Nothing fell from the ceiling. There was no bucket hanging from some rafter. All that there was hanging from the ceiling were glittering snowflakes, reflecting spotlights of light out into the room. 

“You made it.” Vox held his arms out in welcome as he crossed the remainder of the room. 

“Of course,” you said, because there wasn’t a way possible for you to tell your boss that you almost didn’t come. 

“You look,” Vox made a show of running his digitized eyes up and down your body, “Magnificent.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” Your eyes again flicked up to the ceiling, waiting for some panel to open and a bucket to pour out. 

“What are you looking for?” Vox tilted his screen up, peering at the ceiling himself. 

“Nothing,” you answered quickly, allowing him to guide you deeper into the room. 

Before you knew it, you were sitting next to Vox, on your third or fourth drink as the music floated through the air. You laughed at some joke that Vox said, though you wouldn’t remember it come morning. 

“Are you enjoying the party?” Vox asked, leaning into you. The ice clanked in his glass as his hand shifted. 

“I am,” you said, smiling softly at him. Vox had been attentive to you all night, rarely leaving you for more than a few minutes. “What time is it?” 

“Almost midnight,” Vox said, resting his large clawed hand on your knee. 

“What happens at midnight?” Part of you was still waiting for that bucket of blood to show up, pour from the ceiling. Surely, you couldn’t honestly have all of Vox’s attention on you for a legitimate reason. The alcohol in your system had your tongue looser, and the words flowed easily from your lips. “Is that when the bucket comes out?”

“The bucket?” Vox laughed as he offered you his hand, pulling you from your seat. 

“Yeah,” you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips as Vox pulled you into his arms. “The bucket in the ceiling.” 

“You’re drunk,” Vox laughed as he danced with you, taking you closer and closer to the large windows that overlooked the city. 

“I am.” Your laugh came louder now. “Is this where the bucket is?”

“What bucket?” Vox laughed as he checked the countdown projected on the wall. 

“The one- like in the book.” You said as if that would answer Vox’s question better. “The one with the blood.” 

“There’s no bucket of blood. Why would there be a bucket of blood?” 

“Because,” your voice was light as you spun away from Vox, dress shimmering over your curves, light reflecting off where the slick fabric hugged the pebbled buds of your nipples and hugging your hips. “I don’t belong here.” 

“You were invited, were you not?” Vox wrapped you in his arms as seconds ticked down, the final moments of the year running through his fingers like sand. 

“I was.” You braved wrapping your arm around his neck, letting your body slither up against his. “But so was Carrie. It’s all a joke, isn’t it?” 

“Cinderella didn’t belong at the ball either,” Vox countered. “That didn’t stop her from going and meeting her prince charming.” 

Your brows furrowed. “Wasn’t she though? All the single young women could attend because the prince was looking for his princess to be.” 

“Who says the prince of VoxTek isn’t looking for his princess?” Vox’s smile grew softer as he checked his internal clocks. 

“You’re a prince now?” Oh, how Vox loved your smile and the musical sound of your laugh. 

“If you’ll be my princess,” Vox answered, pulling you closer as the speakers announced the last few seconds of the year. “Will you be my princess?” 

You nodded timidly as Vox, your boss and hell’s most eligible bachelor’s screen slowly descended on your lips. Static buzzed through your lips as you melted into the kiss. 

“Happy New Year!” People called out around you. Party poppers exploded, sending confetti and streamers through the air. Outside, fireworks shot into the dark red skies of hell, lighting up the landscape in bright colors. 

“Happy New Year,” Vox’s voice buzzed as his screen flashed slightly. “My princess.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[smartsafetyindia]

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[the-universal-sun]

Is it okay if we got something about Dr Mittens needing a fix? I'm sure Dr Lee could help!

I hope head canons are okay for this!

Thank you so much for your ask, and I’m so sorry it took so long to get to it! I hope you’re still here! I had a lot of fun writing these headcanons out, I loved your idea, anon! I hope you’re staying safe and warm this winter! Drink some hot tea or hot cocoa! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

As always, I’m open to helpful comments and critiques

Sending all of you all the love in the world!

XX

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-The incident that injured Dr Mittens was probably during one of Little Ford’s safe for kids experiments, maybe some safety scissors hot handled wrong or the plush got drenched in some “lava” from a baking soda volcano. Either way, Ford’s immediately wailing and calling for Stanley

-He’s inconsolable and feeling incredibly guilty, Dr Mittens, his precious Lab Partner, is injured and he feels like it’s his fault, he won’t accept otherwise. He should have been more careful about his friend, ensured proper lab safety! (He’s not thinking about the incident with Stan at all) He’s weepy and hiccuping, cradling Dr Mittens in his arms as he explains the state of the injury to Stanley through his blubbering

-Stan knows that a small tear or some baking soda lava isn’t enough for permanently ruin or mess up the toy, but Ford’s feeling some really Big Emotions right now, and it’s his job as Ford’s Caregiver and Buddy to help him through it. So he’ll have both himself and Ford suit up in gloves and masks before he attends to Dr Mittens with Ford as his Co-Doctor

-Stan wanted to cal him “Sous-Doctor” at first but Ford insisted that wasn’t right, but neither could think of the term to describe Ford’s position in this operation, so Co-Doctor it was

-If the cat plush is stained from baking soda Lava, Stan will gently wipe him off and take off the lab coat and sweater to be machine washed and will gently clean the toy with fabric soap and a wet washcloth, being careful, at Ford’s urging not to submerge the toy in water

-Ford towel dries him off will his special cat hoodie towel, whispering teary apologies and promises never to hurt him again all the while. Soft kisses are peppered on the cats face, too

-If it’s a small tear of some sort, Stan let’s Ford hold Dr Mittens’ hand as be gently stuff and stuffing that fell out, after some general “anesthesia” first, just a mask over the plush cats face, and tries his best to steadily sew the tear back up

-The thread isn’t the color of Dr Mittens’ fur, which upsets Ford but Stan just insists it’s his scar, and every cool cat has one. Ford warms up to the idea because both him and his Buddy have scars, and they’re both super cool cats. Dr Mittens is just matchy matchy with them

-The “incision” gets thoroughly wrapped, Stan lets Ford do that while he holds him, and several kisses before Stan deems Dr Mittens’ surgery to be over and the plush to be on a steady road to recovery. He gives Ford instructions of how to care for Dr Mittens (no bathes or sharp objects around the toy for the foreseeable future) and orders Ford to give his friend 10 kisses a day to help the recovery

-His payment is a week of cuddles and no arguing during nap time. It’s a steep price, but this was a major operation here and Stan’s not running a charity

-Ford begrudgingly agrees, grateful for his Buddy’s help with fixing Dr Mittens, he only groans and whines a little when it comes to nap time for the next week. But no promises afterwards

-Ford does get lectured about lab safety from Stan, ironically, about how he should make sure both him and Dr Mittens are far enough away from any explosions that may happen, no matter if the chemicals aren’t deadly, and no more use of sharp objects with Stan’s supervision

-Ford wants to argue about that last one, but seeing the bandage around his Lab Partner’s arm or the still drying fur makes him agree, not wanting a repeat incident

-Stan knows Ford needs some comfort after this, so he burritos him in his weighted blanket and sits him in his lap, in Ford’s napping tent, rocking him and humming a scratchy tune to calm his Little Buddy’s anxieties about this. It works somewhat, Ford’s breathing and heart slowing down. He’ll still be upset for the rest of the day, but Stan’s glad he’s not crying

-During this, Ford will whisper “Thank you, Buddy” to Stan every 10 minutes or so, just so he knows how grateful he is. Stan whispers back “Of course, Bud” every time, not once getting annoyed from the repetition, he knows repeating stuff helps Ford calm down

-Ford doesn’t go anywhere without Dr Mittens in his grasp for the next week, when he’s feeling Big, too, to keep an eye on his Lab Partner and make sure he doesn’t get hurt again. Nobody says anything about it, they know he needs this

-Every experiment from now on has Dr Mittens observing notes at least 20 feet away and sometimes from another room, Ford isn’t going to have another incident on his hands. No siree

[kitschycritter]

5 Ways to Support Your Local Library

Get a library card. I know this might seem obvious, but simply being a cardholder is a huge way to support your local library. Prices vary, but many people are able to get a library card for free, depending on their location in relation to the library. Check with your local library for more precise pricing. 

Check out books. Any books circulating through the library’s system is good - however, I will make the recommendation to check out educational, history, and craft books, for your own benefit. Something to remember: The more a certain type of book circulates, the more likely books of that ilk will be ordered in the future. 

Attend programs. Programs are the backbone of a library, but unfortunately, many libraries struggle with attendance. Look for your library’s calendar, find something that interests you, then go to that program. This not only shows support for your library, but opens up opportunities for you to get to know other like-minded people in your community.

Volunteer. Many libraries need volunteers to help handle some of the important organizational tasks that the library staff does not have time for. Many of these tasks are neurodivergent-friendly, such as shelf-reading. Volunteering is not only a good way to support your library, but it may help your mental health and socialization.

Donate. Libraries everywhere are struggling, with many laws going into place in various places that could defund them. If you are unable to donate money, then see if your library accepts donations of other sorts, such as books. Many libraries partner with Friends of the Library groups in order to sell books that are donated to them. Many libraries also have a “Library of Things” where items that have been donated can be checked out by patrons (for example, my Library of Things has an air fryer, a ukulele, a snow cone machine, etc.).

There are many other things that you can do to support your local library, but for now, I leave you here. Be safe out there, and remember: USE YOUR LIBRARY.

[niefics]

Coffe shop — PSH & FEM!Y/N

Warnings : Cursing, fluff, smut, Reader is 22, sunghoon is 25, public sex, unprotected sex

Synopsis : F/N L/N started a summer job for extra money during their break at a coffee shop, and falls for their boss Sunghoon.

Word count : 2872, I’m so sorry this took me so long idk

— A tired groan leaves your body as you hear the noise of your alarm going off. Sitting up and turning it off to see what time it was. You fought going back to sleep, but you knew you had work that day.

You got up, walking into your bathroom and got into the shower trying to wake your tired self up. After getting out the shower you got ready for the day, getting ready in just enough time to get there on time.

“Good morning Y/N.” A deep calm voice said as you opened the door. “Morning, sunghoon.” You spoke to your boss. You were on the hunt for a job for a while especially for summer to save up for things that financial aid wouldn’t be paying for, you walked into the break room and put your stuff away grabbing a clean apron and wrapping it sound your figure. “So what year of collage are you in ?” He asked, trying to make casual conversation. “I’m going into my 3rd year sir.” You spoke. You normally keep your conversations very casual and work related, there’s really not a reason but you just chose to.

“Y/n, can you please set out those baked goods out on the display before the shop opens ? I made a new batch this morning.” He spoke you nodded, walking to the the case taking anything old out and throwing it away, cleaning it and everything. You added the new foods and and started working on making sure the floor was good before opening for the day. “Everything should be ready for the day to start, I’ll go open the door.” You spoke unlocking it, and going to the back of the counter setting up the register, and relaxing for a moment till costumers showed up.

After about 20 minutes, you hear a door open making you look up, you see a mom and her child walk in. “Hi, what can I get you this morning ?” You spoke giving them both a calm smile. “Uhm yes, can I get a hot chocolate, and a ice latte please ?” She spoke, she looked at her child one more time before saying that’s all with her order. “Can I get a cake pop ?” Her child asked. She nodded, and asked for one pink cake pop. You nodded, putting her order in and giving her the total, the price seemed bigger then what it normally was before you told her so you checked everything before realizing that the machine put 2 of everything down when you only did one. “Uhm one second please?” You spoke going to get your boss Sunghoon.

He was in the back on the computer ordering things the shop needed. “Sunghoon sir, the machine is glitching, do you think you could fix it please ?” He looked up at you lifting a brow, “What ? Why would the machine be down.” He spoke getting up and attending to the problem.

“Good morning!” He spoke to the customers before going to help you with the issue you had. “Ahh, I see the problem, Y/n you forgot to clear the amount on the cash register it’s glitching.” He spoke. “Just move to this one and I’ll redo your order okay? And we’ll make that cake pop free, since you had to wait on something we did wrong.” He spoke giving the child a smile. You pressed your lips together in frustration cleaning the cash register, and fixing the glitch.

You went and made their order swiftly and called it. “I’m so sorry for the wait!” You spoke giving them a smile. “No problem.” She gave a reassuring smile and left. Today was a pretty calm and slow day. It was break time, and so you decided to try and make yourself latte, since that’s one of the harder drinks for you. Sunghoon noticed and came over to help you. “I’ve noticed how hard it is for you to make lattes, can I give you some pointers?” He asked you, you nodded, since it was best to learn from your boss.

“Give my your hand, I’ll show you.” He spoke, it was 20 minutes before he had enough of watching you struggle realizing just telling you how wasn’t gonna work. He placed his chest firmly behind you, his calm scent engulfing you, “Watch and listen for me okay ?” He asked looking at you. You nodded shyly as he grabbed your hand and told you how to do things in such a calm tone. “Look at you, you’re doing so much better already y/n.” He spoke, the tone doing something to you. You tried to keep calm but the fact that he was so close made you week in the knees just thinking about it. “Okay, we’re finished.” He moved from behind you, the cool air of the coffee shop hitting you, making you kinda sad he moved. “Now with my help that way you did really well.” He spoke, you smiled about to speak before you heard the door open. “I’ll take these orders.” He spoke standing at the register.

— Closing shift has finally came, it was just you and him there, getting ready to close. You were counting the registers, making sure everything was all good whilst sunghoon mopped the floors and put the chairs up. To let the floor dry.

“So, how was your 2nd year in collage ?” He asked you breaking the silence. “Uhm, it stressful. I’m supposed to not have a roommate this year so I’m excited for the most part.” You spoke. “That’s good, I always wanted to go to collage.” He spoke, I looked up at him. “You’ve never went ?” You asked, and he nodded. “After high school, I started taking care of my friend coffee shop when she got sick, so there was no time for collage for me.” He spoke. You looked up at him, putting your hands down that were full of money onto the counter looking at him. “So.. if you don’t mind me-“ he cut me off quickly and in a calm dry tone spoke. “She passed last year.” His lips were pressed together as he mopped, the dimly litted coffee shop beaming on his face. The room felt a bit sadder now then before I asked. “Oh .. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have..” you spoke feeling extremely sorry for his lost. He stopped mopping putting the mop back in the bucket. “No.. no it’s fine, you can go home early if you like okay?” He spoke giving you a small smile. “You sure .. I mean the back is still a little messy, I don’t mind staying a little-“ he quickly shook his head. “Trust me it’s fine, I can handle it myself. Enjoy your off day tomorrow. I’ll have some new people working soon so please enjoy your day off.” He spoke, you sighed biting you lip finishing counting the money in the register, going back into the break room and changing out of the apron.

You got into you car driving off into the dark night, feeling bad about asking about his friend no knowing she was dead .. or sick enough to die.

Walking into your current living situation with your friend in their spare bedroom in your hometown till you moved back into your dorms. You went to bed tired from the day.

— As your off day went by it felt off, thinking about how close you and your boss where that day. The way he held your hands to guide you stirred something into you. You couldn’t deny how good looking he was, he was always so calm and understanding even when there were quite rude costumers. He had such a charming smile to you, and customers could definitely agree. Teenage girls making their rounds to the coffee shop during early mornings just to hope that he’d be able to make their coffee or give them their breakfast sandwiches.

You couldn’t deny how funny it was either, the way their expressions changed when they saw that he wasn’t there at that moment made you laugh. Snickering every time a disappointed look grew on their face when you popped up from the back to take their orders which was most of the time, you couldn’t deny those things made you day a little bit better.

There were even times where older women hit on him as he took their order, but somehow they always end up surprised that he’s just 26 it never to make you snicker once more.

You spent the majority of your off day sleeping in, and hanging with your friend on her off day too. Having casual conversations but random thoughts about your boss invaded your brain. Wondering how he made himself look so nice and presentable even when he spilt something. Or how soft his hands felt as he helped you with learning how to make lattes, it and much more thoughts .. but before you knew it. It was time to get ready to go to work the next day.

— The sight of new recruits didn’t fail to surprise you. “Oh I totally forgot we were getting recruits.” You spoke walking into the break room. “Yeah, and I need to ask you something too.” He spoke walking over to you giving you two enough space, for it to not be too close. Especially after the other day .. even though you wouldn’t mind it happening again, you softly hummed to him having a question, crossing your arms and resting your back on the entry way of the door. He moved a little he closer not too though, his hands in his apron pockets before speaking. “Can you help train the second trainee, he’s coming later today and I have something really important later.” He spoke, you looked at him your eyes big and dough like .. it was unintentional, but somehow stirred something in Sunghoon. “I’ll make it up to you later okay ? I’ll help you clean up during the closing shift so don’t worry.” He spoke at you in a way that made you feel some way, yes you found him extremely attractive but could this mean something more ? You shook your head yes kind of eager to find out what he would do to make it up later.

“Thank you, I’m sorry this came so sudden but trust me .. I will make this up to you okay?” He spoke moving a bit closer looking you deeply in your eyes making a promise. “Okay.” You spoke looking at him, watching him as he swiftly leaves to the front to help with the first new worker of the day.

You watched as he left, soon after he left the new recruit came as the other left as well. You help the new recruit with things teaching them how to make simple things and the basic training stuff that you learned. Soon the sun had set and as the coffee shop began to get read to close you got a text from Sunghoon. Your phone vibrating in your pocket.

“Send them home early, I’ll help you clean up.” He texted me, you liked the message shortly after telling the recruit to head home early. Watching them leave made you very anxious in a way, especially when you saw a car pull up in front of the door to see Sunghoon getting out. The door opened and closes soon after him locking in since it was well over closing. “Sorry traffic was busy.” He spoke, walking behind the counter stopping just in front of you. “Mm, how was the new recruit?” He asked, you looked at him still a bit nervous. “They were fine, was a fast learner so it wasn’t too stressful.” You spoke, “I already counted all the cash registers so we can just spend most of the closing time mopping and taking care of the back.” You said walking away from him to the back.

He followed for some reason wanting to talk more then usual. “Listen Y/n thank you for the help really.” He spoke, you turned around looking at him, his nice eyes looking at you, a small smile showed from you. “No problem, it’s the most I could do.” You spoke. He sighed glancing at the door leading to the front of the coffee shop before going in for a soft kiss, it was gentle yet passionate, your hands slowly grabbing his face as you kissed back. He pulled back looking down at you, noticing how cute you looked with your sudden surprised looked. Your look didn’t last long, grabbing his face pulling him in for more. His hands moved to your waist but not for long, he soon moved higher almost too your breast as it became deeper, but self control took over for him pulling back from the kiss, nothing but swollen lips and a string of saliva is left.

“I- I’m sorry .. I don’t want to do things like this, let me take you to dinner or something okay ?” You looked at him, your eyebrows scrunched. “Dinner ?” You repeated, hearing a soft hun from him, his eyes on you. “Mhm, we can clean up quickly and..” His sentence ended sooner then expected by another kiss by you. “I don’t think I can wait till after dinner.” You spoke after kissing him, taking his hand and following him to the break room. The change is demeanor definitely shocked sunghoon, you couldn’t deny you were surprised by yourself too.

— Your hands sat on the table as he kissed you deeply. You were sitting on one of the tables in the break room, legs parted due to Sunghoon taking up the space with his body. His hands shifted from the side of your to gently rubbing the inside of your thigh, inching his way closer to your clothes core. Gently rubbing it before quickly unbuttoning your pants. Finally breaking the longing kiss, breath heavy and lips swollen. “Can I ?” He asked looking at you with the purest eyes. You nodded as you tried to catch your breath.

He smirks attractively as he goes in kissing your neck softly, as his hand slid into your jeans rubbing your folds with his cold hands, you tilted your head back softly moaning until his hands moved causing you to softly whine unintentionally. You lifted your head as you looked down to see him pull down your pants and underwear leaving them on your ankles.

The sudden shift of positions surprised you, his slight manhandling of you, mad your arousal more prominent. You were now bent over the table him right behind you. He rubbed your core slowly with his tip causing you to gasp, the feeling of him slowly pushing into you made you want to cry from the pain. Missionary would’ve been the best position at this moment in time but the way he pestered you with soft kisses on you neck and cheek made you hold your pain back and finally he was in. “Are you okay ..?” He ask softly, you nodded giving him the green light to thrust.

The paste quickens at the same time as his hands squeezing your waist causing you to let out pornographic moans. Your pants surprisingly slipped off your ankles and foot causing sunghoon to noticing giving him the opportunity to make the pleasure so much better and his change to go deeper in you. He grabbed your thigh, roughly thrusting into you making his once quiet groans louder and the squelching noises sound more messy as his paste quickens again. “Fuck! Fuck .. you’re clenching like a fucking virgin.” He spoke, the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, you wanted to say something but but nothing came out but moans and pleads to slow down. “Wait- fuck .. slow down s-sung.. hoon.”

“Mm why? You were practically begging to be fucked, ditching my dinner dates to take my dick.” He spoke in a raspy tone, the change in act made you clench harder. “You’re so- so big..” you whined out causing sunghoon to smirk. “Can’t take my dick can you ? Wipe those pretty little tears and take it okay ?” Your vision became blurry as you felt him bully into you, you felt like you were seeing stars and the room was spinning and it felt like it all came to fast, you cried as you tiredly tried to get him to slow down.

Your hand hitting his abdomen, “I’m gonna cum- fuck!” His hand snaked around your waist as he rubbed your clit causing you to squint tightly as you came messily on him. You rode out your high feeling him get sloppy with his thrust soon pulling out, turning you over pulling you back on the table as he thrust back into you again. The fucked out look prominent as he kissed you one last time before quickly pulling out onto your stomach. You rested on your elbows as you tiredly tried to catch your breath, him leaving to grab a random clean towel cleaning you off.

“Let me take you to dinner, especially after all of this.” Dinner still on your mind. “What about cleaning the-“ “let’s worry about it tomorrow.”

[dallasgallant]

Time period post : Buses and public transport

This one extends a bit off of my post on car culture, as I’ll cover motorlodges but also public transportation! As usual this is sort of an introduction or crash course to the topic, I do encourage you to go looking if you want to learn more!

Public transport-

In the 60’s flying was still fairly expensive and formal, it was a really nice trip or more for business men or other upper middle or outright rich people. There was a matter of price but popularity and access also played a part, most people would likely prefer to drive or take a bus or maybe even a train!

Trains were still a huge part of transportation up until following WW2, after all there were huge efforts like the transcontinental railway in the 1860s to connect the country. They were still fairly popular long form travel up through the 40s and 50s (old movies can be evidenced to that) but as car culture began to rise and interstate highway were built - people shifted their focus to individual passenger vehicles and the freedom of control. The rail system was much more in tact than the remains today but was on the decline.

Busses on the other hand? Huge, especially in small towns (some may even still have trolly systems!) they’d be kept neat and relatively on time — it was also a way to travel! Some who either couldn’t afford or didn’t want to drive a long distance themselves could take a longer bus ride/charter busses and travel the country! Greyhound absolutely ruled the roost in this regard and is still sort of synonymous!

Similar to trains there were bus terminals alongside regular street side stops, it’d be returned to on its regular run or a place to hop onto the next one going a city or so over. Some big and nice stations had little tv chairs that I am obsessed with:

Ash trays and shoe shine stands, news stands and vending machines (hot drinks, candy, cigarettes.) and brochure stands are some other notable features. Yes people used to actually man shoe shine stations… I feel in modern day they’re the stand equivalent to a mall that’s somehow still standing.

Most buses you’d pay a few cents or dollars (depending, likely cents) wherever you’re picked up. But if you’re going a considerable distance. Like Tulsa to Detroit you’d buy a ticket and then show that, you wouldn’t just hop on.

This isn’t to say there aren’t still busses in America, but our towns are larger, cars are the main focus and busses have become a bit dirty and less reliable. Isn’t to say they aren’t still a thing, similar to trains.

“Milk run” - this is an interesting bit of slang I’ve heard from my grandmother to refer to a bus going on its complete route stopping at every small town along the way.

She took a bus by herself from one town to another that were a few hours apart from eachother… about 15 in the 60s and got stranded at a bus station. (Needless her dad chewed out the attendant.)

That story highlights the detail of kids traveling on their own! It was safe* enough if they were aware and knew things well, this would be more contained to a town. Not small children either more 8+ and teens.

Motor lodges-

For a good portion of their existence, Hotels were dedicated to long term stays and located in cities, usually bachelors or businessmen etc. or sometimes renting a room at an older woman’s home.

Motor lodges became the place for the average vacationer. “Motels.” It was more common to see independently owned ones but chains did arise, like Howard Johnsons. An absolute staple of the 60s and roadside Americana… it cannot be understated just how huge these places were- sometimes their restaurants would stand alone! They were nice, fun and amenity filled place, honestly almost a toned down resort of sorts.

Most motels you’ll see beds, shower, perhaps a tv etc. they’d be clean and comfortable.

A nicer motel you’d be set! A color tv, refrigerated air (ac), a heated pool , a cafe next door.

Motor lodges rose alongside automobiles, existing all the way back in the 30s in a slightly different form. They began to kick off in gimmick and style in the real height of the Route 66 tourism era.

The view of Flying and hotels also began to change by the end of the decade, flying became cheaper and incentivized. Hotels began to spring up and offer more amenities and push out some motels, these happening simultaneously.