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starseedfxofficial · 2 months ago

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The Secret EURCAD News Trading Tactics No One Tells You About You’re sipping your morning coffee, and suddenly, an economic release sends the EURCAD pair into a frenzy—a frenzy that might feel like a roller coaster, or perhaps more like buying a pair of neon green shoes you’ll never wear again. That is news trading in its essence—full of adrenaline, surprises, and decisions that can define your day. But unlike a regrettable shoe purchase, you can learn the nuances of news trading EURCAD with a few ninja-level tactics. Let’s dive deep into the secret sauce of EURCAD news trading, where advanced strategies meet witty analysis and unconventional approaches. News Trading: Not Just Hitting Buy or Sell When people hear “news trading,” they often assume it’s a simple game of waiting for a big headline and pressing that buy or sell button. If only it were that simple. News trading EURCAD is like watching a bad sitcom plot twist—except, with the right tactics, you can make it work for you rather than against you. Let’s shatter some of those myths. First, it's essential to understand the hidden patterns of EURCAD that reveal themselves during key news releases. Did you know that the EURCAD pair often reacts in a peculiar “double dip” pattern during major releases? It’s like seeing the market get second thoughts, dipping once and then retesting a critical level. These patterns happen due to market makers seeking liquidity—something often overlooked by retail traders. Hidden Patterns and Liquidity Zones One of the biggest mistakes in EURCAD news trading is ignoring liquidity zones—areas where market makers hunt for orders. Imagine the market as a giant whale—the whale needs to move in big waters without getting stuck on the beach. These waters are liquidity zones, and during news events, the EURCAD pair can behave like that whale, hunting for deeper zones before making a move. For example, a EURCAD trader can often anticipate a false breakout around news time. Think of it as the market giving you a fake smile—then flipping its mood just as you begin to trust it. It’s a deceptive move designed to trigger amateur traders' stop losses. This is where being patient and looking for confirmation comes into play—waiting for the market to show its true direction can often save you from falling for this whale’s grin. Market Psychology: Herd Mentality vs. Being a Maverick Ah, the herd mentality. We’ve all been there—following the market’s lead because everyone else is doing it. But news trading EURCAD is more about becoming the maverick than about following the herd. Take, for instance, the reaction of EURCAD to GDP reports. The crowd usually jumps in on the initial spike—either up or down—but the smart trader waits. Just like that long line outside a new ice cream shop, the initial frenzy rarely tells you anything about the quality of the product. Contrarian trading during these moments—waiting for the spike to retrace before making a calculated entry—can lead to exceptional opportunities. After all, once the initial panic subsides, the market often finds a more rational price point. Trading against the herd here is like sneaking into that ice cream shop once the line dies down—no rush, just the perfect scoop. Emerging Trends and Disruptive Insights Let’s talk about emerging trends in EURCAD news trading. Over the last few years, a key change has been the market’s sensitivity to not just the news itself but to how different central banks communicate. Central bank narratives have become far more nuanced, meaning a single sentence from the European Central Bank (ECB) or Bank of Canada can shift the EURCAD pair dramatically. Trading these moves requires not only understanding the statements themselves but interpreting the sentiment behind them. Advanced traders often turn to sentiment analysis tools, tracking language patterns used by central bankers. It’s almost like relationship advice—words matter, but tone and context matter even more. The same principle applies to news trading EURCAD; knowing how the ECB hints at future policy can be more powerful than just the headline numbers. Unheard-Of Strategies for EURCAD News Trading Ever heard of “piggybacking” institutional flows? It’s a little-known trick that can give you an edge when news trading EURCAD. Essentially, you’re looking for moments when institutional traders are positioning—often visible through unusual spikes in volume at odd hours. This is the institutional money quietly setting up for the news—you, my friend, want to ride along with them. Tracking volume spikes and price action during non-news hours can give you clues about the big players' intentions. Are they buying EURCAD when the Canadian CPI is looming? Why? These are the questions you want to answer, and piggybacking helps you see the early signs before the retail herd gets involved. Step-by-Step Guide: The Next-Level News Trading Tactic Want a step-by-step breakdown of a news trading strategy that could help you avoid typical pitfalls? Here’s how: - Pre-Release Analysis: Understand what’s expected—if consensus says Canadian unemployment is expected to improve, EURCAD will have a bias leading into the release. Note: Don’t just trade this bias. Instead, treat it like a heads-up for likely market sentiment. - Watch Liquidity Zones: Before the news hits, identify liquidity zones on the EURCAD chart. Are there obvious areas where the market may react? - Avoid the Initial Spike: When the news hits, avoid that first wild swing. The spike is like an unhinged roller coaster, and you want to wait for it to settle. Focus on the retracement, which is often the market’s way of “really” telling you its direction. - Confirmation Is King: Only enter once you get a confirmed break above or below the key levels. Remember—patience is key. You’re here for consistent profitability, not adrenaline spikes. - Set Realistic Targets: Define your exit before the release. It’s too easy to get lost in the heat of the moment. Setting a clear target ensures you capture profits before the market moves against you. Case Study: Piggybacking on Canadian CPI A successful case study involves last year’s Canadian CPI release. Most traders were focusing on the number, but the real move happened due to a subtle narrative change from the Bank of Canada’s policy statement earlier in the month. The smart money was already anticipating this change, evident through volume analysis a few days before the release. News Trading with Confidence News trading EURCAD doesn’t need to be a wild guess or a gamble. By understanding liquidity zones, avoiding herd mentality, and waiting for the right confirmations, you can turn what seems like an unpredictable storm into a calculated opportunity. Remember—you don’t need to be the first one into the market. You just need to be the one who understands what’s happening once the dust settles. Finally, if you’re looking for a community of traders who share real-time insights and advanced strategies, consider joining our StarseedFX Community. It’s full of like-minded traders who see the market not just as numbers, but as a symphony—one we can all play to our advantage with the right tools and knowledge. Now, what’s the funniest trade you’ve ever made during a news release? Maybe that time you confused “sell” and “buy” and ended up buying the metaphorical neon shoes? Let’s hear it in the comments below—after all, the market’s better with a little humor. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year ago

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A no-outbreak AU where Ellie and Sarah are not only best friends, but co-conspirators? One where Joel and Tommy’s relationship was never destroyed by what happened and what they did, and instead it’s allowed to flourish? For them to be successful? An AU where Joel lets himself be happy? AND IT’S CHRISTMAS?! Call Mariah. Get her to change the lyrics from “All I want for Christmas is you” to “all I want for Christmas is this fic in which the characters get to thrive and be happy”

Diving right in, I LOVE the way this opens. I love that Ellie and Sarah are this close, and the way that you framed it so that we know right away that Reader knows both girls (and Joel) closely was really well done. Working in retail around the holidays is actually hell- but if you have to do it, it helps to have your best friend there with you. And Ellie’s teaching Sarah to play guitar!! Do I sense that this is a surprise for Joel?? Either way, it makes me really happy to picture them practicing together while the shop is still quiet and empty, and the prospect of Joel and Sarah - and maybe Ellie, too - all playing together at some point is more than my sappy heart can take.

Reader having her me time and her little treat interrupted by Joel is an upgrade, actually. Joel time > me time. Joel’s presence > any little treat that could possibly be ordered on Uber Eats. And yes absolutely Joel. Take my coffee. Take my heart. Take whatever you want. Also? The image of Joel restringing his guitars and oiling the frets … I… 🥴. His hands. Doing capable things with delicate parts. 🥴🥴🥴.

Ellie & Sarah parent trapping Reader & Joel FOR THE WIN! Teenage girls really are a force to be reckoned with once they decide they’re going all in on something, and these two are pulling out all the stops - and the subtleties - to get R & J together. And I support them unconditionally. Ellie telling Reader her excuse was lame and then calling her out and then Reader hissing her name was PERFECT.

And boy oh boy they NEED the girls’ intervention, because these two are rusty in the flirting department. Joel asking her to go and her assuming he only means as friends and then him being like “yeah… that’s… no, yeah that’s what I meant 👍🏻” … they’d be hopeless if not for the tornado that is Sarah and Ellie.

The fact that Ellie called Sarah right away to straighten this out - the image of Sarah going up to Joel like “Dad, come ON!” and then Joel calling Reader … he’s such a precious man. He’s a big strong burly masculine guy that is just one global crisis away from becoming a murder machine. But fuck if he’s not also the most precious man on earth.

BRINGING HER A COFFEE GIFT CARD AS AN EXCUSE TO PROPERLY ASK HER OUT ON A DATE?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! And not only is it a date but it’s a FANCY date at a FANCY hotel he worked on - and they’re staying the night?! Amazing. Joel all dressed up? Getting all dressed up to go out with him? Getting to know one another for real without their meddling kids? Merry Christmas indeed!

From the moment I started reading this story all the way through its current chapter, I’ve just been smiling. This story just makes me so damn happy and I’m so glad you decided to stick it out and take it all the way because it’s truly fantastic and I’m going to have MUCH more to say about it in future reblogs. Thank you for sharing your immense talent and your gift for storytelling with all of us. ❤️💚❤️💚

Snow and Mistletoe - Part 1

A PedroStories Secret Santa gift fic

This is my submission for @pedrostories annual holiday event, and it's for @burntheedges. I was so excited to get you as a giftee, Kate, because your requests align with the way I tend to write my stories... and this one took on a life of its own. As you can see, this is only part 1. I tried to incorporate some (a lot) of the things that you said you enjoyed into this, and I think (hope) you'll be happy with how they're scattered throughout.

This is a no-outbreak AU, and while it doesn't quite follow canon, you're going to see a fair bit sprinkled in- because I can't help it and I've wanted to write more in depth for Joel and Sarah for a LONG time, so I really enjoyed this a lot.

Thank you so much for all that you've contributed to the Pedro fandom, and for sharing your writing with us. I hope you have a very Merry Christmas.

I plan on posting the other 2 parts + the epilogue throughout the day today and tomorrow, but part 1 can be read as a standalone if you'd like.

---

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

No Outbreak AU.

Word Count: 5,166

Rating: M - as a whole for language and innuendo, but this chapter is very tame.

Summary: You own a music shop in Austin, and both your niece and Sarah are employees. As a former classmate - and the father of your employee - Joel Miller has been a part of your life for many years.

But circumstances have never been exactly right for the two of you to get to know each other better ... until now, when outside intervention pushes you together just in time for the holidays.

“Ellie, go unlock the front door.” You looked up from what you were doing, pointing with one finger. “She’s going to be here any minute.”

‘I’m kind of busy at the moment.” At her tone, you turned your head sharply, watching as she came around the corner with a stack of boxes in her arms. “You do it. Please?” When she peeked around the cardboard, she actually looked apologetic, so you agreed, hurrying toward the front entrance of your store.

You were just in time, watching as a dark colored pick up pulled to the curb and the teenager hopped out, leaning her head back inside for a few seconds before waving and heading to where you stood.

Pushing the glass door open, you grinned, holding it with one hand. “Morning, Sarah. How’s it going?”

“Good.” Looking back over her shoulder, she nodded. “Really good.”

You saw him in the truck, the man ducking his head and turning to look in your direction, giving you a view of his entire face. The windows were closed, so instead of saying anything, you lifted your hand and gave him a wave like you did every time he dropped her off - Joel nodding in return before he sat back up again and pulled back into traffic, beeping the horn once.

You stared after him for a few seconds and then took a breath, your attention moving to the girl, still standing beside you. But she had a curious look in her face, her lips set into a tiny frown. “What?” Letting the door shut, you backed up and into the shop. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m … not?” She blinked, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Is Ellie here?”

“She is.” You pointed, the stack of boxes that the other teenager had carried in already sitting on the countertop, though she was nowhere in sight. “She’s probably back in one of the lesson rooms, if you want to go back there.” Sarah’s grin nearly split her face in half, her curls bouncing when she turned to head in the direction you’d suggested. “You guys have half an hour, alright? Store opens early this month because of Christmas, and -”

“We know!” Ellie’s head popped out of one of the rooms down the hall, her smile wide, too. “That’s why I’m already set up. C’mon Sarah. Hope you’re ready.”

You watched as she headed for the hallway, both girls talking excitedly for a few seconds before they disappeared. “Alright.” Nodding to yourself, you looked around the showroom, letting out a breath. “Let’s get ready to open.”

—

Six and a half hours later, you were standing outside of the front doors, drinking a coffee that you’d had delivered.

You rarely took an actual lunch while you worked. But, Ellie and Sarah were more than capable of handling the few customers you’d had that afternoon, and the closing crew would be in to take over within the hour. And I deserve this.

Sipping the drink, you closed your eyes and were surprised a few seconds later by a deep voice on your right. “Did’ya order one of those for me, too?”

“No, but you can have a sip of this one as long as you don’t just want plain coffee.” Holding the cup out, you smiled as Joel took the final few steps, reaching out with one hand to take the coffee from you. “You got done early today, hmm?”

“I did.” Raising your coffee to his lips, he look a long drink, humming at the taste. “Shit that’s good.” He held it back out to you but you shook your head, motioning for him to keep it. “I can’t, I -”

“You need it more than me.” He opened his mouth to argue but then decided against it, swallowing another mouthful. “Sarah’s off in a few minutes, do you want to go inside and wait for her?”

“I’m actually here for a couple new sets of strings.” He swiped at the back of his head with one hand, jutting his chin out toward the door. “Figured it’s a good time to change ‘em, and Sarah told me you guys are having a sale.”

“We are.” You pulled the door open, gesturing for him to walk in ahead of you. “I’d offer to point you in the right direction, but you’ve been coming in here longer than I’ve owned it, so…”

“If I need anything, I’ll be sure to come an’ find you.” He smiled, raising the cup again. “Thank you for this.” You turned away from him first, going over to the counter and slipping back behind it. Ellie was leaning there, her elbows resting on the glass.

“Joel’s here early.” She looked up at you, raising a brow. “What were you two talking about?”

“Guitar strings.” She opened her mouth but before she could say anything, you held up a hand. “Not another word, Elanor.” She snorted, standing straight up and tapping her fingers against the countertop.

“Alright. I’ll go into the back where you won’t hear anything else I have to say.” She looked between you and the showroom floor, her eyes bright. “But Sarah’s another story.” She beelined it around the counter and then toward the hallway, calling out a hello to Joel as she sped past. He grinned at her, saying hi back. There wasn’t time for anything else before she’d disappeared, leaving the two of you - and an older man who was looking at keyboards - alone.

You could have stared at him for hours, but instead of letting your inner thoughts win, you busied yourself with menial tasks behind the counter, not looking up until someone cleared their throat to get your attention.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t Joel waiting to check out. Instead the other customer was in front of you, three songbooks in his hands. “Which one of these should I buy for my grandson?” He set them down, fanning them out. “His parents got him a keyboard for his birthday last month, but he can’t play anything yet.”

“I wouldn’t choose any of these.” You answered honestly, looking between the three options. “These are all for intermediate players, and if he just got the keyboard, it sounds like -”

“But the ones that are easier are all nursery rhymes.” He scowled at you, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. “Kevin is fifteen. He’s too old for nursery rhymes.”

“If I could cut in…” You looked up to find Joel standing just behind the man, a few sets of guitar strings held between the fingers of one hand. “He might be too old to enjoy a nursery rhyme, but that doesn’t mean he should skip over learnin’ to play them.” Joel took a breath, giving you a look that clearly asked “is this alright”, and when you nodded he continued, pointing at the books. “You gotta start somewhere. Givin’ a kid something that they can’t play yet might make ‘em less likely to stick with it long term.”

“You could buy two books,” you cut in, immensely thankful for Joel’s interjection. “One of the easier ones and then something a little more difficult that he can work up to?” You gestured to the back of the shop. “When I was teaching my niece how to play guitar, we stared with really simple things and she tried new ones when she felt comfortable.”

“Same here.” Joel stepped a little closer, nodding his head. “First day I picked up my guitar I thought I was going to be able to pull off Jimmy Page or Eddie Van Halen solos right away…” He laughed, rubbing at his beard with his free hand. “Turns out that was not the case.” You bit back a laugh at his words, watching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. “It was months of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and Smoke on The Water before my fingers got used to playing.” He nodded at the man, his smile smaller but still there. “Get him one of the beginner books, and then explain you want him to feel confident before he tries somethin’ harder.”

The older man was scowling, his eyes moving between the three books on the counter until he finally looked up at you. “I’ll think about it. Thanks.” He left them there when he turned and headed for the door, pushing past Joel on his way. You watched his back until he was gone, and then finally looked at Joel again, shrugging.

“That could have gone better.” He set the strings down - along with two packages of picks - and then spoke after letting out a deep sigh.

“Way he reacted it’s like we were accusin’ his grandson of bein’ an idiot.” Reaching for his stuff, you began scanning it, dropping things into a small plastic bag. “It’s common sense, though. Why overwhelm someone when they’re trying to learn?”

“I wish I knew.” Finishing and giving him the total, you watched as Joel swiped his card before tucking it back into his wallet and shoving the entire thing in his back pocket. Change the subject. “Which guitar are you restringing?”

“Both of ‘em.” He leaned forward, resting his forearm on the glass, but leaving the bag where it was. “Cleanin’ and oilin’ the fretboards, too.” He looked down at his watch and then back at you. “Might even do it tonight.”

“What an exciting Saturday night, dad.” Sarah reappeared, followed closely by Ellie, your niece carrying another stack of boxes and a clipboard. “Maybe if you actually answered some of the messages on that dating app you have, you could go out and do things on the weekends.”

You felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of Joel going out on a date, but tried to push it down. You hadn’t ever made it known that you were interested - especially since you’d known him and Sarah for so long. But it’s harder not to say anything now that Sarah’s working here and I see him more.

“I do plenty of things on the weekends.” Joel straightened up, putting a hand on his hip. “I hang out with you. I see your uncle Tommy. I work on the house, and -”

“Thrilling.” Sarah rolled her eyes, nudging him with her elbow and looking at you. “I clocked out, by the way, so I’m not just like … standing here on your time.”

“You’re fine, Sarah.” Ellie set everything down and came to stand next to you, setting the clipboard down on he counter. “I’ll -”

“Speaking of thrilling…” Ellie cut in, crossing her arms and taking a seat on the barstool behind the register. “She told me the other day she’s not going to the Christmas thing at the community center next weekend because “Fridays and Saturdays are the busiest days in the store so I scheduled myself to work.” She made air quotes and changed her voice as she spoke, sending Sarah into a fit of giggles and even causing Joel to briefly smile as his gaze made its way back to you.

“Well I mean, it’s the truth. Next Friday is -”

“He said the same thing.” Sarah sighed loudly, looking pointedly at you and then at Ellie. “That he’s too busy to go, and needs to work. On what, I have no idea because he’s only got the one project right now.” Glancing at Joel, you felt alarm bells ringing in your head. Something’s happening here. Something is … this isn’t… “Bet if he had a date he’d change his mind.”

“That’s got nothing to do with it, Sarah. I -” He looked down at her and then back at you, realization in his eyes.

“Why don’t you two go together?” Ellie picked up a pen and started doodling on the margin of the clipboard paper, not making eye contact. “To the party, I mean. Neither of you have plans to go, and you’ve both got really lame excuses.” She paused, finally looking up. “And you haven’t been out on a date in -”

“Ellie!” You hissed out the word, feeling the way heat rose to your cheeks. She’s not wrong, but … “I have to work next weekend. It’s not -”

“Do you?” It was Joel’s voice that caught your attention, the man clearing his throat. “Because I could probably take a couple hour break.” You caught it even though it was brief - a fleeting look of shock on Sarah’s face, her eyes immediately going to Ellie. Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that either. “If you wanted to.”

You wanted to - more than you were willing to admit. But it would be weird, even if we just did it as friends. “It’s the weekend before Christmas, and -”

“We can work.” Sarah cut in, nodding. “I’m already supposed to be here for part of the afternoon, I’ll just stay later.” She shrugged. “Besides, the store closes before the party is over, so I can just take the bus from -”

“I’ll drive you.” Ellie waved her hand. “I close next Friday.” The girls went quiet, looking between you and Joel, who was also watching you with interest, laughter in his eyes. This is …

“I don’t know.” He frowned, keeping an eye on you as you spoke. “I feel like I should -”

“Come outside and talk to me for a minute.” Joel picked up the bag, closing his fingers around the handles. “Away from these two.” That you had no problem agreeing to, Ellie waving you off and Sarah doing the same to her father.

He held the door open for you, and when he joined you on the sidewalk a few seconds later, pointing in the direction of the small parking lot next to the building, you fell into step next to him. “We just got Parent Trap-ed, didn’t we.” He snorted, agreeing. “You didn’t have to ask me just to -”

“Who says that’s what I’m doing?” You reached his truck, Joel unlocking it and setting the bag down on top of the center console. “Maybe I just want to get to know you.” He straightened back up and closed the door, leaning against it when he turned to look at you. “Sarah’s been workin’ with you for six months, and she an’ Ellie have been going to school together for a couple years.” So that’s the only reason? Because of them? Your face fell; you couldn’t help it, and even though you were able to even out your expression quickly, you were sure that he’d noticed.

“Yeah, I mean … they’re friends. So it would make sense for us to be, too.” Pressing your lips together, you nodded. “If you’re serious, I’ll go with you.” Crossing your arms, you nodded again, chewing on the inside of your lip. “It’s just a couple of hours, right? “

“Right.” Joel swallowed, running his fingers through his hair. “I can pick you up? Makes sense to take one car.” He’s so practical. Everything’s … matter of fact. In all of the daydreams you’d ever had about Joel, you’d never had anything close to the one that was coming true, and if you were honest with yourself, it was disappointing. He said your name, interrupting your pity party, and when you looked back up, he’d relaxed a little more, reaching into his pocket and pulling his phone out. “Can I have your number?

You recited it to him, Joel carefully typing it into the device and then turning the screen around to confirm that he’d entered it correctly. When you told him that you had, you nodded twice and took a deep breath, holding it. “Alright, Joel… so I’ll see you next week?”

“No.” He smiled, the expression genuine. “I’ll see you next time I pick up or drop Sarah off and you’re here, too.” That made you laugh. When you said goodbye, you were slightly less unsettled than you had been, heading back for the store’s door so that you could tell Sarah it was ok for her to leave.

She and Ellie were still standing by the counter when you went back inside, both of them turning to look at you in the same moment. “You’re good to go, Sarah. Your dad’s in the parking lot.” She nodded, zipping her jacket up. “But before you go… I don’t know what the two of you are trying to do here, but putting Joel and I on the spot wasn’t -”

“You’re going out with him, aren’t you?” Ellie scrunched her face up as she looked at you, eyes narrowing. “And you like him, so -”

“It made things awkward, El.” You looked at Sarah, sighing. “For him, too. So just … think about that, alright?”

Neither of them said anything else to you, Sarah telling Ellie goodbye and then walking out the front door, leaving you and your niece alone. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.” You exhaled, rubbing at your eyes. “It’s just … weird.” And even weirder because of how awkward it feels. The door opened and two customers walked in, effectively ending the conversation there, though you knew that you’d be continuing it when you got home.

—

You and Ellie made dinner together that night, but neither of you spoke while you did it, moving through the kitchen silently. It wasn’t until you were sitting at the table together, bowls of pasta in front of you that you broke the silence.

“Why did you and Sarah decide to do that today?” She took a bite, chewing through it to give herself a chance to think of an answer.

“Ever since I’ve been giving her lessons, we’ve been talking a lot more.” She bit down on a breadstick, waving the remainder in the air. “We’re friends already, but I’ve never really asked her about Joel until now, and …” She shrugged. “She said he hasn’t dated much lately. All he does is work and hang out with his brother and spend time with her.” Ellie paused, making sure to make eye contact with you. “Kind of like you only work at the store and hang out with me.”

“That’s not true.” You gestured at her with your fork. “I have friends, Ellie. We just see each other less than we used to because they’ve all got really young kids and do that ‘mommy and me’ stuff with them.” Arching a brow, you cocked your head to the side. “And you’re a little old for tumbling classes or playtime at the park.”

“But I could use swimming lessons.” You both laughed at that, though Ellie cut hers off only a few moments later. “No but seriously. When you took me in so that I could finish school here instead of going with Marlene, I didn’t think … I didn��t want you to just give up doing everything but …”

“Ellie, that’s not what happened.” You got up, moving to the other side of the table and sitting down next to her. “Your mom and Marlene and I were all really close, and after … after Anna was gone, I was more than happy to help Marlene out with you.” You squeezed her arm, leaning in. “I was the one that suggested you staying here, El. Your mom grew up here, and I wanted you to do the same. I didn’t want you having to uproot yourself every eight months for Marlene’s job. I love having you here. I didn’t give up anything.”

She looked up then, meeting your eyes, and you saw uncertainty in them, though it was accompanied by relief. “I know. I just … it feels like everyone always leaves, and I’m afraid that you’re going to realize that you don’t want to do this with me anymore, and -”

“Ellie, you’ll be 18 next year and off to college. If anyone’s going to leave it’s you.” Taking a deep breath, you held your arms out to her. “I’m not going to leave you, kiddo. I promise.” She hugged you hard, but it didn’t last long, Ellie pulling away to look directly at you again.

“This still doesn’t change the fact that you and Joel should … see what happens.” She blinked a few times, her expression changing into the same ‘take no shit’ look that you’d seen on it countless times before. “We’ve noticed how you look at him. And he -”

“He and I are going to the party together next Friday, Ellie.” Settling back into your chair, you drummed your fingers on the table. “He told me tonight that since you and Sarah are such good friends, it makes sense that we get to know each other, too.” She frowned at your words, but didn’t say anything. “It’s just a couple hours. It’ll be … fine.”

“He said that? That’s not what we …” She shook her head, setting her fork down. “I’m done. Can I be excused? Do you need help cleaning up?” You told her to go, eyeing Ellie as she headed into the kitchen, plate in hand. You were used to her changes in mood, but that night was different, Ellie almost disappointed in your reaction to agreeing to go out with Joel, even though she’d orchestrated it. Returning to your side of the table, you finished your dinner, the sound of Ellie’s voice from the other room audible, though you couldn’t hear what she was saying.

She went upstairs a few minutes later, and you followed, deciding to get ready for bed, even though it was early. I’ll put on pajamas and watch a movie or something. Maybe have a glass of - You were interrupted by the vibration of your phone, an unfamiliar number on the screen.

“Hello?” Standing in front of your bedroom window, you held it to your ear. “This is -”

“It’s Joel.” Your eyes widened when he spoke, the man’s voice even deeper through the phone than it was in person. “I hate texting, so I thought I’d call.” You weren’t surprised, a quiet laugh escaping you before you were able to stop it. Fitting. “I was just informed by my daughter that I didn’t exactly explain myself well earlier.”

“What?” You didn’t understand - and then you groaned, covering your face with your hand. “Ellie. Ellie called Sarah and told her what we … Joel, I’m so sorry. Ellie and I talked while we ate, and I don’t want you to think that I was just complaining or -”

“You misunderstood what I was sayin’ before. Outside? When we were talking?” He cleared his throat and then continued. “You and I should be friends because of Ellie an’ Sarah. But that’s not why I agreed to go next week.” He paused, giving the shock you felt a chance to settle in your stomach. Why then? “I meant it when I said I wanted to get to know you.”

That conversation was more in line with what you’d imagined Joel asking you out to be like, and despite your apprehension, you felt yourself relax slightly at his words. “I’d like to get to know you too, Joel.” Pressing your lips together, you nodded. “Sarah’s said some really good things about you.”

“Ellie’s done the same about you when she’s been over.” He laughed - and you did, too, the tension entirely broken. “We’re going to watch a move, though, and she’s yellin’ up the steps at me, so I’ve gotta go.” He said your name then, the sound quiet - though his tone was certain. “When do you work next?”

“Monday. I close. Why?”

“No reason.” He hummed, and you heard another voice on Joel’s end of the line, the sound of Sarah shouting for him filling up the background. “I’ll talk to you later. Have a good night?”

You assured him you would, and when you’d both hung up, you spent a few seconds staring at the darkened screen, unsure of what to think.

—

Monday night, you were getting ready to close the store and count down the drawer when the door opened, the sound of footsteps drawing your attention. “Hi, and welcome to Firefl- Joel? What are you doing here? Something wrong with those strings?”

“Strings’re fine.” He stepped up to the counter and you couldn’t help looking him over - the man’s upper body encased in a long-sleeved shirt, both sleeves pushed up to expose his forearms. “I came to see you.”

You were shocked. The day hadn’t exactly gone smoothly, and you were almost desperate to get out of the store and home. But not at the expense of whatever this is. “Me? Why? Is Sarah -”

“Sarah’s fine, too. She’s at soccer practice.” He glanced down at his watch, nodding. “I gotta go and pick her up in about twenty minutes.” That meant that whatever he was doing in your store wouldn’t take long, which confused you even more. “I have somethin’ for you.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small envelope, sliding it across the counter. “Here.”

You picked it up and thumbed it open, unsure of what to expect. And when you saw the contents, you actually laughed, looking up from what you held and at Joel’s face, the man’s lips set into a lopsided smile. “You took like … half a coffee from me one time, Joel. You didn’t need to …” Flipping the gift card back and forth between your fingers, you sighed. “Thank you.” You meant it, reaching over with your free hand to squeeze the one he’d let settle on the countertop. “I’ll definitely use it.”

He looked down at the same time you did, your inhale sharp when you saw your joined hands. Oh, shit. I didn’t … “You’re welcome.” Joel cleared his throat, looking back up at you through his eyelashes. “Gift card was just an excuse, though. There’s…” He straightened up again and then pulled his hand back, reaching up with it to rub at the back of his neck. “Shit, I’m bad at this.”

“Bad at what?” Sliding the card back into the envelope, you leaned over to tuck it into the space next to the register. “What are you -”

“Sarah and Ellie mighta been responsible for the other night, but …” He wet his lips, Joel’s jaw twitching before he continued. “She was right when she said I’ve only got one project right now, because we just finished another big one.” You’d heard Sarah mention that he’d been working long hours, but she hadn’t gone into much detail. “The company we did the work for is … real happy with the outcome, and they’re …” He cleared his throat. “They’re havin’ a Christmas party next Saturday, and we’re invited. I was just gonna go with Tommy, because I figured even though it’s a holiday, it’s still a good time for networkin’, but…”

“But what?” You tucked the gift card back in the envelope and then slid it toward the register, tilting your head. “Joel?”

He looked away, eyes wandering over the assortment of instruments and equipment on display throughout the store before they landed back on you. He was apprehensive - you could see the uncertainty in his eyes. What is going on? “Would you have any interest in goin’ with me?”

“To the party?” He nodded. “Next Saturday?” He nodded again, but all you could do was stare at him in shock, trying to comprehend his words. Going together to the Chamber party was one thing - you and Joel were both well known throughout the community, and the two of you spending time together wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. But at a function for his job? Where he’d be the only one I really know? That’s… “As a favor? Just so you don’t have to -”

“No. As a date.” He swallowed hard after he’d spoken, his eyes widening slightly. “My date.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? We’ve never spent -”

“I don’t know yet.” His smile widened, Joel shrugging. “But I’m still asking.”

You laughed, the sound nervous. “I only work until 3. What time would I need to be ready?”

“I can pick you up around six?” He swiped a hand over his beard, nodding. “Take us about a half hour to get there.” Taking someone to a holiday party as a date says something. And we’ve never … he’s asking me to … shit. “Before you agree, though…” Joel took a deep breath, his voice steadier. “The project we worked on is a new hotel up near Lake Travis. And they’re openin’ the rooms to people that night.” So it’s an overnight thing? “If you say yes, I’m more than happy to drive back.”

“Would we have two rooms?” Your heartbeat elevated, you eyed him with interest. “Or two beds, at least?”

“Two rooms. They offered a room to me an’ Tommy each, so if you come with me, you’d have one of them to yourself.” He held up a hand, shaking his head back and forth. “I’m not expectin’ anything, I just -”

“Yes.” You nodded, absolutely certain in your decision. “I’d like to go with you, Joel.” He looked surprised, his lips parting, though he didn’t speak. “Is there a dress code?”

“Yeah. There is.” He pressed his lips together and then frowned. “Festive.” You burst out laughing at that, covering your eyes with your hands. “Why are you laughing?”

“Festive can mean anything from an ugly sweater to red and green but formal, and -”

“The hell if I’m wearin’ that.” He snorted, and then started laughing, too. “The invitation wasn’t real clear, so…”

“Festive probably means cocktail attire, Joel, but with a holiday twist that isn’t as formal.” You shrugged. “But that works for me. I’ve got a few things that will fit that requirement.” And so do the stores. “Um.” Blowing out a breath, you tried to compose yourself. “Are … does Sarah know you’re asking?”

“No.” He shook his head, chewing on his bottom lip. “She knows I’m goin’, but not about this.” So I won’t tell Ellie. Got it. “Those little shits intervened with me asking you to the other party, but not this one.” Biting back another laugh, you nodded in agreement.

“They’re going to figure it out.” Narrowing your eyes, you leaned in. “When we’re both getting ready and then gone next Saturday night, and -”

“Yep.” He nodded, the expression on his face serious, though the look in his eyes was anything but. “But at least we won’t have to listen to ‘em all week beforehand.” You laughed again, rolling your eyes. “I’m gonna go, though. I don’t want to be late picking her up.”

You nodded, lifting your hand and waving - not trusting yourself to speak. But when he reached the door and turned his head to look back at you from over his shoulder, you couldn’t stop yourself. “Joel?” He hummed, arching a brow. “I’m looking forward to next weekend.”

He smiled - a broad, genuine one - and reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Me too.”

---

Part 2

#all I want for Christmas is this fic in which the characters get to thrive and be happy #<- had a nice holiday ring to it I think #joel miller x female reader #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou joel #tlou ellie #tlou sarah #joel miller christmas #fic rec fic rec fic rec!!#something tofightfor

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jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

umm maybe this is me projecting bc i am messaging you during my break but for a drabble request, yoongi in a retail setting???? 😐😐😐😐 oc could either be a co-worker or a regular customer who asks too many questions 😔😌

retail-type beat

drabble week: day three

drabble week masterlist

pairing: customer!yoongi x retail worker!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second. anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

the last time you checked, work doesn’t start until nine

you kNEW it doesn’t start until 9 in the morning, so clearly that’s why you’re just wearing slides instead of your sneakers

the company uniform is either black or purple (it has to be from what the store is selling though so you can get to choose) with of course!!!! a lanyard!!!!

and you know this, because you’re still wearing your slides from home because it isn’t opening time yet

“goddamn it, i forgot to bring my slippers,” jin moans the moment he walks to see you, looking down on your feet that only reminds him he’d be stuck in his cool yet painfully uncomfy sneakers

he’s probably the only co-worker that you’re truly close with, not feeling the urge to sell him just to get a free day

“i told you to get the sneakers that nurses use!!”

hands-down one of the best purchases you’ve ever made

retail’s hard and it’s not exactly the best-paying job!!! thankfully the franchise owner is a bit more generous so that’s why you get slightly-higher hourly pay

“i would if they looked a little more seasoned,” jin snorts and stubbornly crosses his arms, “i might sacrifice my pride and buy some compression socks.”

OOOOOH THOSE ARE GOOD TOO

makes you feel like ur walking on air

but lol no seokjin isn’t ready to buy those just yet

he’ll settle on some blisters and putting salonpas patches because they look cooler that way, thank u very much <3

jin yawns, talking about finding a steam iron somewhere to replace a blowdryer so he could break in his shoes

“you wipe the glass this time.”

oh right he absolutely hates wiping down the glass — even before opening!!! even when there aren’t any grubby kids that would soil it instantly with their equally as grubby hands

you don’t mind it honestly

you might honestly like it

you prefer wiping the glass a hundred times over than steaming clothes

there is nOT a single thought in your head when you spray on the solution to the glass, rag and squeegee tucked between your fingers when-

maybe you should’ve hOLY FUCKING SHIT

it’s not opening!!!! it is nOT nine o’clock in the morning!!!!

you know that the shop you’re working in is pretty fucking famous and it’s located on one of the most populated streets ever BUT THERE’S ALREADY SOMEONE

although the bucket hat seems familiar from a distance and-

oh it’s just yoongi

yoongi?

yoongi’s already here????

yoongi, the guy in question, is an always customer!!

no, not a regular customer — an always customer

he comes every week and maybe even twice within that period

he’s a nice talkative customer who likes asking questions and even occasionally guides the other customers on what to buy and where to find it

he’s yoongi!!! of course that’s expected of him

he’s been going here long since you ever started working here, and jin keeps iNSISTING that he’s been here more frequently since you started like a year ago

but doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?

“woah, yoongi’s already here? — doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?”

?!!?!!

“i was just thinking the exact same thing.”

jin bangs the glass with his fist and you automatically wince and frown

you dO like cleaning the glass panes!! you didn’t say you liked cleaning them a second time :(

“YOONGI!”

“YES??”

you push jin’s fist away to wipe at the smudge his hand left

“IT’S NOT OPENING YET!”

“I KNOW!!”

wow they’re uh

they’re really loud

sometimes you forget how seokjin could be since it’s been awhile since you heard him yell

lol no one’s been shoplifting recently so you haven’t been hearing him

a mind-blowing idea is for jin to come outside and talk to him in a normal talking voice, so your ears would stop ringing

“HEY! WHAT IF YOU JUST ENTER EARLY IN?”

“REALLY? IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED??”

"YOONGI, EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR KNOWS YOUR NAME. NAMJOON EVEN GAVE YOU A CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFT, AND WE DON'T GIVE CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFTS TO ANY OTHER CUSTOMER!!"

namjoon, who technically should be called mr. kim because no one really thinks to call the franchise owner with their government first name, is actually pretty cool

but he's too busy these days and haven't been visiting because he's too busy tending to his newly-opened coffee shop

as if the money he earns from opening his franchise in a day alone isn’t enough :0

"IF YOU SAY SO?"

you’re the one who hikes up the roll-up door in the slightest, enough for only yoongi to enter and not encourage anyone else to nOT enter when it’s still not opening time!!!!

he only has to crouch a little but he still has to dust his thousand-dollar pants as if he crawled through mud

his cream-colored slacks with a large black hoodie that has a giant bear embroidered on the middle of it and mules

... you don't hate his outfits

pretty cute, actually

it's yoongi!!

you'd never catch him lacking!!!

you don't even have to envision him rocking the shit out a paper bag

one time, he came in the store wearing the WRINKLIEST brown linen jumpsuit that no iron could possibly fix and he still pulled it off

toon-teen-ten!

oh god that’s the sound of the intercom

and the sound of the intercom equates to jungkook

... as in jeon jungkook who’s the floor manager and his constant top one goal for every month is to endearingly annoy seokjin

he’s young and mischievous!! but if you were to ask him, only you and jungkook are the people in this floor he’d actually get drinks with outside the shop

“seokjin come to the lingerie department right now, please.”

you see the thing is :D

“now this is just funny

there’s walkie-talkies for everyone here!! jungkook likes intercoms, and seokjin like yelling!!

“WHY ME AGAIN?? I’VE ALREADY FOLDED-“

“there’s a literal rat and i need yOU to catch it!! you know that i hate rodents!!”

him and jungkook are forever gonna be on this eldest-youngest brother dynamic and while jungkook pouts and shared the extras that he gets, jin is the one who kills the bugs :D

10/10 totally fair

fine then!! he’ll catch that goddamn rat

that leaves you and yoongi. alone.

“why did you come so early this time?”

you ask out of courtesy, genuinely baffled too because you know that yoongi’s a creature of habit

yoongi’s eyes pop out, head fervently shaking no

“i’m typically not the type to do that, no.”

???

is he-

are you-

are you both talking about the same thing

yoongi’s face flushes in embarrassment, his mind just then registering what you were actually saying

“o-oh! it’s because last night, i dreamt of the sweater i saw here last week!!"

oh right

typical :D

"need me to find it for you or do you already know the aisle?"

you align the folded shirts by the corners as you pass, looking at yoongi briefly while he trails behind yoh

“not unless you pulled it out already."

he's hoping that dear god you haven't

the black sweater with the moon aND buildings on it and when you turn on the flash, the windows of said building reflect it right back???

he SHUDDERS just by thinking about it

it’s gonna go with everything!!! an instant boost of serotonin every time he sees it

"for you, yoongi?" you shake your head, a small smile on your face that he only sees every once in a while, "i'd comb through the entire stock room."

wait

that’s sweet :((

“i’ll hold you to that.”

you know what??? you're less cranky when it's only him, and a couple of hundred people less

your smiles aren't for customer-service and you don't have misplaced clothes hanging from your shoulders and your walkie-talkie isn't talking in latin

or when no one’s asking you to reach something from the top shelf

or when you’re on the way to the intercom because a kid got separated from their mother

or when someone’s approaching for a refund for a shirt who has a stain that’s 100% no doubt customer error

his feet immediately move on its own because he’s memorized the outline of this too many times

there it is!!!

the sweater he’s dreamt about is already on his hands, only a handful few left

the piece is considerably more expensive than majority of the items here, so that’s why they’re all spaced-out instead of being clustered altogether

yoongi rarely goes to the dressing room, regardless if it's a full-house or not!!

he could just look at an item and immediately tell that it’s made for him ta know

he's beyond sure that this sweater fits him perfectly, but he may want to be here a little longer

yoongi may have say inside one of the fitting rooms and spent a little time in it just to sit on the chair inside, not fitting the sweater at all

he's gotten his item SO quick and he wished he could've just walked slower or pretended to not know where it was!!!

he wants to spend a little more time here

you don't hate yoongi!!! but sometimes he could just be... yoongi

he's quite talkative and strikes it whenever, making you unguarded

he could be overbearing but like an overbearing kind of nice

yoongi’s nice!! he’s the type to ask a lot of questions sure, but he’s also the type that would point the other customers what to buy and where to find it

he’s the type to find an obvious faulty stitch on a shirt, but he’d just quietly exchange it instead of asking for the manager

he’s the type you wouldn’t want to stand behind in line because it would take a long time for him to finish, but he’s also the same one who buys giftcards with generous amounts for family and friends

yoongi’s kind of cool and that’s cemented on your mind

"what do you got for me?"

he materializes out of nowhere, spooked because you thought he already ringed up and was out of the store already

it just happens to be ten minutes before opening and you’re doing last-minute arrangements on a new spread

well, yoongi most certainly is still here and his attention’s piqued

“we have... a new collection."

you clear your theory, awkwardly gesturing because you’re more than aware that yoongi hasn’t seen this either

“yeah, i know that. but like, what's going on??" he gestures to the displays and racks, squinting his eyes, "what's the theme? what's the material?"

uhm you haven't read the brief about this

you aren't even sURE if there is one!!

doesn't everyone make up something on the spot in retail

or atleast that’s what seokjin tells you

“the theme," you clear your throat, scratching your temple before gesturing towards the full rack, "is everything."

“everything?

yoongi’s eyebrow is raised, not expecting that answer at all

you look back to the new feature, and nOW that you think about it,, there's no cohesion at all

“y-yes. the shop was going for the theme of uhm, everything... all at once — yeah, that's it. everything all at once."

it’s a nice way to put it when not one bit of the new collection goes together

“hmmmm. i like it,” yoongi nods solemnly and tilts his head, “and the material?"

"the material?"

you repeat, eyesight not the best so you can’t really tell anything off the bat or uh aNYTHING really

"t-the material is shirt."

they're all shirts!!! that’s it

yoongi grimaces in disgust, the first time you’ve seen of it

“what?? you can't say that.”

he outsretches his hand to the nearest article, holding it up by the hanger

"this, right here, is satin. see how it shines like silk, but doesn't feel like silk?"

uhm yes

you have a gist of what he’s saying but yes

yoongi picks up a pink button shirt this time, flipping it inside out

"this, is silk charmeuse. look at the inside, is it smooth?"

okay where is he going with this

he urges you to put your hand on the fabric and uhhh you didn't sign up for this???

it looks smooth, sure!! end of discussion

"yea-..."

“it's not. it's rough. it is smooth, but it's dull. silk charmeuse is still silk, but the backing it has is different from the lustrous part."

okay yoongi

you’re starting to feel uncomfortable and it has to do something with the tone he’s using on you

“can't believe you didn't know that!! how about this," he plucks out a shirt with a tiny print at the middle of it, "cotton or polyester and rayon?"

"i don't-"

there’s an itch in your neck that you want to scratch, a tell-tale sign that you just wANT to remove yourself from this situation

“come on!! it's a dead giveaway!!"

:((

why is he being like this?

toon-teen-ten!

“y/n, panty section please. jin almost got bit by a mouse and he needs comforting. two minutes until opening, people!!"

jungkook speaks at the right moment, and jin’s little incident is enough of a reason for you to bolt

yoongi's still looking at you but you can't afford to embarrass yourself further

“bye. happy shopping."

huh?

yoongi’s face falls when you leave as cold as that!! typically when you were going to show him out (when it’s regular shop hours), there’d be a smile :((

there's not even a customer service smile :(((

yoongi goes to the only cashier that's open so far and it happens to be far away from you and a teary seokjin

seokjin's fine he didn't even get bit!! that much he could say

but are you okay? uhhh you kinda went cold on him by the end and he thought he started on a good note

yoongi doesn't visit for another week and you don't find yourself counting the days until you meet him again

you did not have a devil wears prada moment where anne hathaway has an epiphany for fashion knowledge

you just felt belittled at a job that isn’t exactly what you wanted anyways

needed, yes. but wanted? not exactly

you know that basic knowledge about clothes is required in a retail job like this and you have it!! you do!!!!

you’d know more if only there were actual available resources for employees to know!!! nobody besides yoongi asks anyways

you’d know if you have time to yourself and aren’t working two jobs trying to make ends meet and tHEN you could pull up a book or something!!!

you’d know if your life is as lax as yoongi’s and could have the budget to buy new things for yourself every single week

“jin, i need to ask you something.”

he hums as called, looking at you briefly until you get on with it

“do you know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse?"

he shrugs casually while you're sitting inside one of the closed-off fitting rooms to catch a break, sharing a burger because the store’s packed-packed

why did you ask him? it’s too easy

“one's made by worms, and the other's a pokémon."

that,.,., could not possibly be righti* it brings you a laugh and you honestly don’t even try to correct him

it’s 11:15 and you kNOW it’s time to resume your shift, straightening your shirt because atleast one (1) person would hound you when they see a familiar red lanyard

oh you’re hounded alright

“hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second.”

yoongi????

you haven’t seen him for a week and you don’t know what to feel in all honesty

"anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"

wow

you're quite speechless as he holds up the item

really?

this thing all over again???

why are you even surprised

the only thing that yoongi gets your customer service smile, fishing your hand from inside the sweater to show him

“70% wool."

that's it???

NO GOOD MORNING????

you're mad at him, aren't you?

he knew it :((

he knew something was wrong but he just didn’t know what

he’s gonna fix this!! he will

which is why the very next day, he takes the day off from his work and comes to the store at a time he knows you’d surely be there

you're on cashier duty and you like it actually :D

you have an option to sit and the way you’re just gonna scan pricetags (and occasionally enter the code if it doesn’t work) is really appealing

“good morning!"

you’re about to grab the items from the basket laid on the counter and your eyes could only see the very familiar hand

the same one you’ve seen go through racks and racks

yoongi??

he sets his items one by one, buying himself more time

the first one is the same exact sweater he came to wait for before opening

“you already bought this."

you tell him even before you could hold it back, looking back at him briefly before you scan the tag

“i know. i just wanted to see you."

yoongi threw a bunch of other items (individually) so it would be a longer talk, but you scan each item quickly that he’s grabbing things from the counter

hand sanitizer!!! hair ties!!! keychains!!!! yeah he needs them

“i'm sorry that i tend to spring shit on you most of the time. you don't need to know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse."

you only chuckle then, a meek smile on your face

"it's okay, yoongi.”

“it's not."

... it’s not?

yoongi fidgets, opening and closing his mouth like he’s nervous!!! he’s never had his credit card cancelled but he could only feel that this type of jitterness is more than the former

“can i make it up to you? no lanyards, no baskets, no customer service?? i don't wanna fuck things up with you."

“don't feel obligated-"

“i know i could be a condescending ass who expects people to automatically know fabric and whatnot, but i wanna make it up to you."

alright yoongi’s a really good apology-maker

you mIGHT be even flustered a little

“you're holding the line, yoongi.”

“i cleared my schedule."

“i haven’t!!!!!” - guy in the back

“dinner at my place at 8. i-i promise to make your hard-earned break after your shift worthwhile!!!"

hmmm

maybe that wouldn’t hurt

“okay. just because you're holding the line."

“fine by me."

:))

yoongi transfers all the items he bought, all but one, to his tote bag

he hands back the paper bag to you, scribbling his address on the back of the receipt before he does

he lingers a little while at the counter, the people behind him ALREADY switching lanes to the one seokjin’s just opened beside you

it's the sweater that he has too

yoongi scratches the back of his head, this time being the meek one

“what? m-matching sweaters for our first date. s'cute."

#drabble week #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #min yoongi imagines #yoongi oneshots #yoongi oneshot #yoongi drabble #yoongi drabbles #yoongi au #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi oneshot #min yoongi scenarios #yoongi headcanon #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

We’re Gonna See It Through

Bishop Losa x Reader

Based on the Title Prompt ask that @dorkofclanlavellan sent me a little while back. I typed the summary that I would do and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it so...here it is lmao

Warnings: Language, angst, Bishop getting in his feelings

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I’m sorry to hurt our mans like this but sometimes that’s just how it is.

Bish Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 (I know I have my taglists separated by character so if you’re on one and not another or if you just want me to put you on all of them let me know! Sorry if I’ve made it more confusing than necessary lol)

You were fast asleep by the time Bishop came home. You had given up on trying to stay up to wait for him. He was coming home later and later, and with everything falling apart at work, you were having to leave earlier than usual. It felt like for the past three weeks or so the two of you had hardly even seen or spoken to each other. Truthfully, you could use each other more than ever now but the two of you just couldn’t seem to time it right.

He walked into the house, quietly shutting the door behind him. He spotted a note on the counter, managing a small, exhausted smile as he read it, “Saved you some dinner in the fridge. Pop it in the microwave for 2 minutes. And, if your day was really bad, skip dinner and go right to dessert. Picked up a pint of your favorite Ben & Jerry’s and put it in the freezer. I love you. xo”

Despite all the shit that was going on with both of you, you were still trying to make things work as best you could. Bishop knew that, and he wished that he knew how to let you know that he could see that you were putting in effort and that he appreciated it. But he was in the same boat as you and felt like he hardly ever got to spend any time with you lately. Things had been crumbling with Galindo and the club and it was taking up more of his time than he would like. You had always been understanding of his commitment to the club, but even he knew that everyone’s understanding had its limitations.

He ate dinner, being mindful to stop the microwave before it beeped so that the noise wouldn’t wake you up. He also took a few spoonfuls of ice cream before going to shower off the shitshow that had been his day. When the two of you had first moved in, you had been bummed out that the bedroom didn’t have a bathroom attached. And, while Bishop knew that it would have been convenient, on nights like this he was glad that the bathroom was down the hall so he had less of a chance of disturbing you. He knew that you needed all the rest that you could get.

He quietly crept into the room after his shower, hanging up his towel and pulling on a clean t-shirt and pair of boxers before slowly crawling into bed beside you. He gently wrapped his arms around you and you subconsciously scooted back so that you were pressed against him, still fast asleep. He took a deep breath, soaking in your scent and the warmth emanating from your body that had been trapped under the blankets all night. Almost instantly his eyes drifted shut and he fell asleep.

You woke up early in the morning, your alarm not even beginning to awaken Bishop. You took a deep breath as you shut it off, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you for a moment before carefully removing yourself from them so that you could get ready for work.

You lingered in your bedroom doorway for a moment, watching Bishop sleep peacefully in the middle of the huge bed that the two of you shared. Your heart ached, wishing for everything to go back to normal. You rested your head against the doorframe, taking a deep breath to fight back the tears you could feel stinging at your eyes before finally making yourself leave for work.

Most of the morning had flown right by, but you were currently an hour deep into a conference call that was making you want to gnaw your own arm off. Your phone buzzed lightly on the surface of your desk and you checked to see who was texting you, happy to have a distraction for a minute. You opened it to see a text from Bishop.

“Sorry I missed you this morning, sweetheart. I love you”

You smiled despite the knot in your chest, “I love you too. Will I see you tonight?”

It seemed like the three bubbles were on the screen for an eternity before you finally got a response, “I hope so. I’ll let you know if I’m going to be late again”

You pressed your lips together, making the choice to not respond. There was nothing really for you to say at that point. You knew that you should bring your attention back to the call that you were on, but your head was completely clocked out of the office by this point. You found yourself scrolling back through your most recent texts with Bishop. About ninety percent of them were one of you apologizing to the other for running late, or missing plans, or not being able to wait up for the other because you were too tired. It felt like your throat was closing up as you bit back a sob. If this was going to be your future you weren’t sure that you wanted it. You loved Bishop but you couldn’t handle a lifetime of feeling alone.

You knew that you weren’t going to be able to handle staying in the office. You unmuted yourself on the call, “Hey guys, sorry to cut out so suddenly. Some family stuff just came up and I have to go. I should be back tomorrow. Just shoot me an email with whatever I miss,” you didn’t wait for a response before hanging up and grabbing your purse. You all but ran out of the office building to your car.

Once you were sitting in the driver’s seat, the tears began to flow. You sobbed into your hands as you tried to think about what you were even going to do now that you left the office. You waited until the tears slowed and your breathing went back to normal, and then decided that your first stop was going to be home. You needed to be in clothes that were more comfortable that what you had on.

When you pulled into the driveway, you were hoping that you’d see Bishop’s bike, but no such luck. He had already taken off for the day and it made your chest feel heavy. With a deep sigh you got out and walked into the house, looking around as you made your way to the bedroom. It all felt so much duller and emptier now and you hated that you felt that way about the place that was supposed to be your home. You knew that Bishop was gone because he was out on club business, and you didn’t want to be the partner that showed up at the clubhouse and dragged all your personal shit into the MC, but it was tempting. You just wanted to have a real conversation with him for the first time in weeks.

You decided that you would wait to see if he texted you with an update. If he said that it was going to be another late night, you’d go to the clubhouse. You had earned that. In the meantime, to try and keep your mind occupied, you decided that staying in the house wasn’t doing you any good at all. While you had spent a considerable amount of time alone lately, none of it was really “you time”. So you decided to try and make the afternoon all about you.

You grabbed yourself your favorite excessive coffee order from the café down the street, and took yourself shopping. Even if you didn’t end up buying anything, spending the afternoon trying on fun outfits was a welcome distraction. It felt nice to simply do something for yourself after feeling like all of your energy lately was being spent on everyone else and no one else was bothering to return the favor.

You were changing into what felt like your hundredth outfit of the day, and for the first time in a while you felt happy. It felt nice to be taking some time for yourself despite the circumstances that landed you there in the first place. You slipped into a cocktail dress that had caught your eye while you were wandering through the store. It wasn’t a dress that you would necessarily have a lot of occasions to wear it, but something about it told you to try it on anyway.

It felt nice, and looked even better. After zipping up the back, you took a moment to look at yourself in the mirror and you felt a smile creep across your face. It wasn’t anything overly fancy, but that was part of what drew you to it in the first place. The dress was a deep burgundy color and it was short, but you knew that Bishop always loved seeing you in short-shorts and mini-skirts anyway. It clung nicely to your body but it wasn’t suffocating you. it had long sheer sleeves that made you feel a little elegant, too. You smiled as you grabbed your phone out of your purse and took a selfie to send to Bishop.

“For our next date night?” was all you said along with the photo.

The response came before you could even set your phone back into your purse, “Absolutely. Please tell me you’re buying that”

You smiled, shaking your head slightly as you responded, “Guess you’ll have to take me on a date and find out for yourself”

You bought the dress, along with a few other cute items that had caught your eye. You didn’t want to go overboard, knowing that retail therapy had hurt your bank account on more than one occasion. You found a place to eat lunch and gave yourself time to sit, relax, and people-watch. The afternoon ticked by and you still hadn’t heard anything from Bishop. You were hoping that no news was good news and maybe he’d make it home at a decent hour for once. You could only hope. You could only distract yourself and stay away from home for so long before you had to head back.

You were parked in the driveway, staring at the home you supposedly shared with Bishop, not that either of you were there all that much these days, let alone there together. All the lights were off and you didn’t want to get out of the car. You took a deep breath and reached to unbuckle your seatbelt when your phone started to ring.

It was Bishop’s name flashing across the screen, and you almost didn’t want to pick up. You sighed, hitting the green button, “Hey, baby,” your voice was soft, hopeful, “everything okay?”

There was a pause, “Um, yea. Everything’s okay. I just, it’s going to be another late one. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath, “Okay. Thanks for the heads-up.”

He could hear the detachment in your voice, “I’ll make this up to you, sweetheart, I promise. I know things have been off lately.”

“It’s alright. Take care of the club. Get home safe.”

“I love you,” his tone conveyed that he was saying it because he meant it, but also to see if you were going to say it back.

You were trying not to let your voice crack, “I love you too,” you hung up before he would be able to hear you crying.

You cried it out in the car for a few minutes. Part of you knew that it was going to happen, but another part was still hopeful that maybe things were going to be okay, that if you tried to put it out into the universe, it would happen. But there was no amount of positive thinking that could change the reality of the circumstances you were in.

After taking a few deep breaths, you turned the car back on and pulled out of the driveway to head to the clubhouse. You weren’t going to cause a scene, but you were going to have a face-to-face conversation with Bishop. This all had to stop—you couldn’t feel lonely indefinitely. You loved him but you knew that you both deserved better than that.

You walked into the clubhouse and it was all silent. There was no one around save for EZ standing behind the bar. His eyes grew wide when he saw you—he could see that your eyes were puffy from crying. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to you or offer you. You sniffled slightly, trying to gain enough composure to talk to him without breaking down.

“Bishop around?”

He nodded towards the back room, “They’re all in Templo. It might be a while. Do you…do you want me to get him?”

You could see the anxiety on his face at the thought of interrupting Templo. You gave him a small smile and shook your head, “Not necessary, EZ. Thank you, though. When they come out, can you just let him know that I’m outside waiting for him?”

He nodded, “Of course. Do you want a beer or anything?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding and walking over, gratefully accepting the bottle that he handed you, “Thank you.”

You strolled out of the clubhouse and onto the small deck. You took a seat on top of the picnic table, your feet resting on the bench. The sun was just starting to go down and the sky above the compound was lit up in a million different colors. You quickly wiped the tears off of your face before taking another swig from your bottle.

You dug around in your purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. You really weren’t much of a smoker, just when you were stressed. Suffice to say that for the past weeks you had been smoking a lot more than normal. You lit it and inhaled, holding it for a moment before exhaling the smoke and watching it swirl and dissipate around you.

Time seemed irrelevant as you sat on the table. You didn’t look at your phone, didn’t really try to keep yourself busy with anything besides nursing your beer and smoking your cigarette. When both of those were done you didn’t get another, just letting yourself stew with your thoughts as you waited for Bishop to finally have a moment for you.

The sun had long since set by the time you heard footsteps on the deck behind you. He didn’t say anything at first as he sat down next to you, his leg pressing lightly against yours. He rested his hand on your thigh and you almost broke down.

“Everything alright?” he asked the question despite knowing the answer.

A humorless laugh came out of you as you wiped tears off of your cheeks, “That seems like a pointless question at this point, doesn’t it?” you dropped your face into your hands, taking a shaky breath before forcing out the question, “What are we even doing anymore, Obispo? I just, I feel like we aren’t even really together anymore.”

“I know it’s been difficult lately but—”

“You realize this is the first face-to-face conversation I’ve had with you in over a week?” you shook your head, “And I had to come down here and sit out on this fucking deck for god knows how long just to get some time with you. I can’t…I think about the rest of my life and I just, I can’t,” a sob broke your sentence, “Forever is a long time to feel like this, Obispo.”

“It won’t be like this forever, though, Y/N.”

“How can you be so sure? I, I know that I’ve been keeping my opinions to myself because the club is your thing and it’s really not any of my business, but fuck, I feel like I’ve lost you. You know, I looked back through our texts today. And with the exception of a very small handful, all of them were apologies. They were all apologies and cancelled plans and just,” you tried to take a breath to calm your voice, “I can’t keep doing this. I know the club is a priority and I respect that. I respect it enough to not try and make you choose. This,” you gestured to the clubhouse, “is where you need to be. And that’s…fine. But I can’t stay in that fucking house alone all the time.”

“You think that I don’t want to be there with you?” he was never one to get loud with you, but his tone was frigid, “You think that I’ve liked having to be away from you so much these past few weeks? I’m not enjoying the bullshit that I’ve been having to deal with.”

“I’m not saying that you do. But there’s always going to be bullshit, isn’t there? We’re both always going to have bullshit going on. But it looks different for you than it does for me. Most of the time I can drop most of mine at the door, but you don’t even get to make it to the door. We can’t even try to be there for each other when all of this is happening and that’s just not fair to either of us. We shouldn’t feel so alone when things are falling apart.”

“I’m sorry that you’ve felt alone.”

“You haven’t?”

The question made him pause. His concern was always trying to be there for you, and he knew that he hadn’t been. But he could feel that you were always trying to be there for him despite his absence. He sighed shaking his head, “No, I haven’t. And it’s on me that you’ve been feeling that way. I’m sorry that I haven’t been there for you the way that you have been for me,” he gave your leg a light squeeze, “But you can’t leave, please.”

“What do you want from me, Obispo?”

“A little more time,” there were tears in his eyes and it hit you that you had never seen him cry until this moment, “Please, Y/N, just give me a little more time. I know that this has all been hard on you, and that I’ve been far away from you in every sense. But I can do better—I will do better. I just, I need you to give me the chance to prove it,” he nodded slightly as he wiped tears away before they fell down his cheeks, “We can get through this.”

“How?” it felt like it took all of your strength to say one word.

“Together, the way we always do. You’re right, forever is a long time. It’s a very long time to be without you and I can’t see my life being that way. We can figure this out. We promised that we’d be there for each other no matter what and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. I’m a man of my word, or at least, I try to be. We’re gonna see it through, Y/N. We’re going to figure this out.”

Despite how hard it was for you to say everything that you had said to him, you had to admit that your heart felt a little lighter solely from being able to actually see him and talk to him. You were still hurting, but you wanted to believe that he meant what he had said and that the two of you were going to work on things going forward.

“I want to believe you,” you looked down and interlocked your fingers with his.

“Please. If we end up having to have this conversation again, I won’t ask you to stay. But please, give me a chance. We can get through this.”

You took your hand from his and held out your pinky, “Promise?”

He smiled, nodding as he locked his pinky with yours, “Promise.”

He pulled you into a tight hug as you cried into his chest. The weight of the last three weeks poured out of you as he held you. he pressed gentle kisses into the top of your head and rubbed your back, knowing that this is what you’d been needing all along that he hadn’t been there for. He told you over and over again that he loved you, and that it was going to be okay. And, despite the weight in your chest, you believed him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered as you wrapped your arms around him, “I promise.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #bishop losa #bishop x reader #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa x you #obispo losa #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa imagine #bishop losa fanfiction #bishop losa angst #my writing #drabblesmc #fanfiction

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x0401x · 4 years ago

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Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #11

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Delicious Recipe

I would soon be at an age where I could envision my 50’s. My only daughter was a college student. I didn’t think of myself as too much of a passionate clerk, but I was fond of my current job at a mass retailer. Said shop was on the line of so-called “luxury supermarkets” in a way, so it had many products that weren’t available at supermarkets in my neighborhood, which meant stocking shelves was a hassle, but it was fun to look around. It had things such as assortments of high-quality cheeses or pouches of cold soup called vichyssoise. Since the shop was within walking distance of one of the largest stations in Tokyo, its clientele was diverse and there were many first-time customers, but on the other hand, that was exactly why it was so easy to remember the face of repeating customers.

“Hmmm...”

The young man glaring at the syrup shelf for a while now, who seemed old enough to be a university student, was actually a regular customer as well. Said regular – who stood out like a sore thumb in this shop, which had an overwhelming elderly customer base – always asked for simplified receipts. The name on them was “Jewelry Etranger”. Must be from a jewelry store. I believed him to be about as old as my daughter.

He was pacing back and forth in front of the shelf. Even though he usually came to buy snacks such as youkan and cookies, he was groaning in front of the cocktail syrup shelf today. Was it for private use instead of an errand? While I was staring at him, our eyes met, and with an apologetic face, he came over to my counter. There were no other customers.

“Hum, excuse me.”

As I welcomed him with a “yes, what might it be?”, he asked for a strange piece of advice.

“I want to make melon soda.”

“Haa.”

“The kind that you can quickly make into cream soda, with vanilla ice cream floating on top...”

“Haa.”

Then wouldn’t it be all right if he just bought the melon-flavored shaved ice syrup and carbonated water over there and mixed them in the appropriate proportions?

Before I could say this, he cut off, a crease rippling between his brows as he furrowed them, “I want it to be tasty. Very tasty.”

“Haa.”

A tasty melon soda. A very tasty one, no less. What kind of melon soda would that be?

I fumbled around my memory for the latest experience I had with a melon soda. The last time I had gone to a fast food was when my daughter was about ten years old. It had already been quite a long time. But I didn’t think there were any revolutionary changes in taste since then. It was carbonated, green and simply sweet. It didn’t have the same variety as tea or coffee. As if pressed with a stamp, melon soda was just melon soda. It was different from those confusing flavored-tea leaves.

He had actually already bought the melon syrup, he told me. But no matter how he changed the proportion of carbonated water, it didn’t have enough of a punch to it.

“I did some research at bars about how different the taste was from the melon sodas that we drink out there, but I kind of couldn’t tell... I think it might be best if I mix it with something. That’s why I’m looking for syrup, hmmm...”

With the exception of standard syrups for shaved ice, all syrups we handled were meant for cocktails. Bottles of vivid colors, in flavors such as apricot and mint, were lined up there. But I didn’t know whether any of them could be the secret ingredient for melon soda. The prospects were dim.

For starters, why had he decided to make something so troublesome by hand? To the point he was thinking of purchasing a bottle of syrup that was by no means cheap.

Of course, I didn’t say such things in front of the customer, but as if seeing through my hesitation, he smiled, as though a bit embarrassed. “No, hum, I have a friend who likes cream soda. She will be coming to the shop I work at one of these days... so I wanted to surprise her. Ehehe,” he laughed, looking happy.

I would guess that I did nothing but blink silently for a moment. It was an astonishingly good motive. I didn’t know what kind of friend she was or what kind of shop she would be visiting, but if nothing else, she seemed to be someone important to him.

If it were me, that would probably become a memory to last a lifetime.

A secret ingredient for a sweet juice. What suddenly crossed my mind was a time when my daughter was still little. A time when she caught a cold. I once made her a sweet juice when she didn’t want to take her medicine. I had a memory of being troubled as she was reluctant to drink water, saying it was painful. This had happened either in September or October, so there was still some leftover shaved ice syrup from the summer in our fridge. Making sugared water using it as colorant apparently gave it a special vibe, so she cheered up and drank it. Was it just sugared water? Hmm, if I wasn’t mistaken, in order for it to feel refreshing in the mouth, I had added—

“Ah, lemon juice.”

“Eh?”

“Mr. Customer, I’m not a bartender or anything, so I might be giving a wrong guess, but...”

Lemon went surprisingly well with sugared water.

As many cocktail recipes had lemon juice in them, I believed it strained the flavor that tended to unilaterally turn into “sweetness”. I didn’t think there was freshly squeezed lemon in the melon sodas of fast food shops, but if he was in pursuit of tastiness, wasn’t it a possibility?

When I told him this, he looked at me with a happy face, bowing his head with a “thank you very much”. And so, when he was about to leave the store without buying anything, he came back as if remembering something, lining up in front of the register and buying a package of specialty cookies from a certain place. When I was about to make the receipt, he told me he didn’t need it today, so I could tell it was his own pocket money.

“Really, thank you so much,” he said with an uplifting face, and this time, he exited the shop for good.

I didn’t think the suggestion I gave him warranted such consideration, and yet, what a proper child he was. His mother certainly must be happy to have a son like that, I thought, but afterward, I changed my mind, as he might surprisingly not be like that at home. My daughter, too, was an unfettered general at home, but the boyfriend that she discreetly brought over at the end of the previous year said some dreadful things about her, such as that she was a “refined young lady”. I thought they wouldn’t last for long, but it seemed they were still dating. It might be that people possessed many sides, just like those stylistic syrup bottles. Like the gemstones sold in jewelry shop. And he had showed me a wonderful, brightly shining side of his.

As a clerk, I wished from the bottom of my heart that his peculiar act of hospitality would go well.

On Thursday morning, while I was extremely busy with stocking items, someone called to me with an “excuse me”. Even though I wished people wouldn’t talk to me at times like these, I couldn’t let it show on my face. When I turned around with a “yes, what might it be?”, my facial expression froze up. A blond, blue-eyed man was standing there. He was such a beautiful man that you’d end up asking yourself if it was okay to be breathing the same air as him. My face stiffened. He was speaking in fluent Japanese.

“Do you have canned cherries?”

“Eh, hah—aah, cherries?”

“Cherries. I need them urgently,” he said with a sour face.

Whatever might be the situation that required such a pretty young man, who looked like he had fallen from Heaven, to purchase canned cherries, it was beyond me. Anyway, with a manner of walking that looked like a frantic penguin, I guided him to the canned fruits corner and bowed with an “it’s this way”. He smiled as if relieved, leaving me floored.

“Much obliged.”

You’d think of it as an ordinary expression, but it was difficult to describe this with any word other than “bombshell”. His smile was like the glowing summer wind. As a result, you’d find yourself wondering about even unnecessary things, such as if this person had lived a life full of hardships. Was he an actor? Could be a model. His beauty was so removed from this transient realm, so I couldn’t think he was someone from the same world as myself. If a person like him were playing the hero in a tragic drama, I had the feeling that the audience would be a bit turned-off. As in, wouldn’t the role of charismatic villain suit him better? After a brief moment of escapism from reality, I came back to my senses and returned to stocking the items.

Once the checkout of the canned cherries was finished at the register, the elegant man left the shop while cursing someone’s carelessness with an “honestly, that heedless guy,” using a word that even a Japanese person seldom would.

At that moment, for some reason, the figure of that regular customer boy suddenly surfaced in my brain. The one who had told me he wanted to make melon soda. The kind that could quickly be made into cream soda, with vanilla ice cream floating on top. Melon-flavored soda aside, if you wanted to make a cream soda, the cherry was the last thing you should forget - that was what I had always been thinking, but unfortunately, he hadn’t showed up in the shop yet ever since then. Well, someone who had been so obsessed with the melon flavor probably wouldn’t do something like forget about the cherry, but there were instances such as the blond Onii-san of today. If he ever showed up again, I would make sure to mention the cherries.

On that day’s afternoon, I finally gave it a thought, and just as I was going home, I went into a family restaurant for the first time in ten years, and while tasting an awkward embarrassment, I ordered a cream soda. I had actually been wanting to drink it all this time ever since I saw him. My first cream soda in a while had the painfully sweet flavor of childhood.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #richard #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation

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hellololla · 4 years ago

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Jersey, Channel Islands (Part I)

Jersey is an island and self-governing British Crown Dependency near the coast of north-west France. It is the largest of the Channel Islands (118.2 square kilometres or 45.6 sq mi) and is located 22km (14 miles) from the Cotentin peninsula in Normandy, France. It has a coastline that is 70 km long and measures roughly 9 miles from west to east and 5 miles north to south, which gives it the affectionate name among locals of "nine-by-five".

The island is divided into twelve parishes (all named after their parish church), the largest of which is St Ouen and the smallest of which is St Clement. The island is characterised by a number of valleys which generally run north-to-south, such as Waterworks Valley, Grands Vaux, Mont les Vaux, although a few run in other directions, such as Le Mourier Valley. The highest point on the island is Les Platons at 136 m. Jersey was part of the Duchy of Normandy, whose dukes went on to become kings of England from 1066. After Normandy was lost by the kings of England in the 13th century, and the ducal title surrendered to France, Jersey remained loyal to the English Crown, though never became part of the Kingdom of England.

Jersey is a self-governing parliamentary democracy under a constitutional monarchy, with its own financial, legal and judicial systems. Jersey is not part of the United Kingdom and has an international identity separate from that of the UK, but the UK is constitutionally responsible for the defence of Jersey.

The island has a large financial services industry, which generates 40% of its GVA. British cultural influence on the island is evident in its use of English as the main language and Pound sterling as its primary currency. Additional British cultural commonalities include driving on the left, access to British television and newspapers, a school curriculum following that of England and the popularity of British sports, including cricket. The island also has a strong Norman-French culture, such as its ancient Norman language Jèrriais and place names with French or Norman origins.

01. Jersey airport

02. Old shed for the defunct Jersey Airlines

03. Rozel Bay, the closest beach to where I used to live. I would walk there down Rozel Valley through the daffodil fields until I reached the shore.

04. A simple burger at the Hungry Man, Rozel’s most famous beach café. I loved walking there to get a coffee and watch the waves, while throwing muffin crumbs to the ducks. The tiny colourful houses on the background are beach huts.

05. Another view of Rozel. The tide is low, exposing the sandy beach.There used to be a lovely seafood restaurant on the seafront (the blue square house in the center of the picture), but I believe it’s now closed.

06. Jersey has 19 beaches and they are home to a plethora of fauna and flora. Masses of succulents cascade down the sunny rocks, providing shelter for little lizards.

07. This is where the old abattoir used to be, and in recent years it was turned into a mall. It wasn’t very popular. Retail isn’t one of Jersey’s strong points; there aren’t enough inhabitants to justify having a lot of shops. People do their shopping online (Ebay, Amazon, etc. but several retailers won’t deliver to Channel Islands postcodes), take weekend shopping trips to the UK or France or get by with whatever is available locally. The upside: Jersey doesn’t charge VAT tax, meaning that anything bought in the island or coming into the island from the UK is at least 20% cheaper - hence the many cosmetics/perfume shops, very popular with locals and tourists.

08. and 09. The parish of Saint Helier is Jersey’s capital and main retail area. There are plenty cafés, restaurants and shops, and also houses the bus station to where the vast majority of bus lines converge. Public transport isn’t a strong point either, as most people have cars and never take the buses.

10. Le Crapaud, the toad statue in Saint Helier in honour of the nickname given to the Jersey people by the french. It’s sometimes used as a meeting point; “see you at three by the toad!”

#may2021 #jersey #channel islands #island life

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chikoriita · 4 years ago

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Secret Agent Elf

Here is my @mlsecretsanta fic for @xiueryn! I really hope you enjoy it!

Read on AO3

"Let me understand what you're saying." Alya stirred her hot chocolate languidly. She furtively looked over Marinette's shoulder to find the boy in question. He seemed innocent enough as he bagged his customer's purchases. "You believe that Adrien is an elf? Not even a Lord of the Rings elf, but one of Santa's helpers!" She could barely keep her laughter contained.

Marinette shushed her. "Not so loud!" She took her own look to make sure no one, especially not Adrien, heard her. If she lingered a little longer than necessary, Alya thankfully did not comment.

"Marinette, you've had a few too many late nights. Adrien is not magical to anyone except you." Alya raised a knowing brow. "Is this an excuse to avoid talking to him?"

"No! I talk to him all the time." Marinette maintained eye contact with her best friend. Her tiny crush on Adrien had nothing to do with her suspicions. If anything, the only thing holding her back was her certainty of his elfin origins.

She made the connection three weeks prior, at the start of the Christmas season for Agreste Fine Goods. One of the largest department stores in the city, Agreste Fine Goods catered to every need of the Parisian family. From couture to off the rack, from interior design to furniture kits, the store had it all.

"It all" included the opportunity to intern directly under Gabriel Agreste. Out of the entire city, Marinette was chosen to be the fall intern. Unlike past interns, Gabriel chose her himself. As part of her course, he guided her through everything from designing to marketing to in-store operations. Personally.

She did not mind the extra scrutiny. Gabriel built the business from a tailor's shop to its current state. Any knowledge she could glean from him was worth it. Even if her internship coincided with the dreaded retail season of Christmas.

Gabriel, the Mentor, was tough, but when it came to Gabriel, the store owner, and the Christmas season, he took no chances for disaster. It was the most profitable time of year. Thus he took on dozens of new employees in preparation. Adrien was one of the seasonal hires. He arrived at the store with a cheerful attitude on November 1st.

(Marinette should have started suspecting then; what retail worker was cheerful during the Christmas season?)

"Magical things happen when he's around!"

Alya snorted. "Fine. If you can bring proof that he's a "Christmas elf", then I will believe you. But!" She held up a finger. "If you can't, because he's a human being, you have to ask him to our New Year's Eve party! Either way, I win."

Observation Report 1

Date: December 20

Subject: Adrien

Setting: Santa's Workshop

21:00 - Subject observed tinkering with the decorations in Santa's Workshop. I put up those decorations. What did he feel like needed to be fixed? Could those sparks be coming from his fingers?

Note – Upon his exit from the workshop, collided with the subject. The subject smelled of peppermint and marshmallows.

Observation Report 2

Date: December 22

Subject: Adrien and Staff

Setting: Break Area

12:00 - Subject brought copious amounts of hot chocolate to the common area for staff only. Two hours later, the normally hectic, frantic, and grumpy restockers wore grins of joy. The cashiers did not shed one tear that morning. A peek into the customer service room indicated that there was some magic afoot. Upon entering, they wished Gabriel and me a "Merry Christmas". (The last time we ventured to Customer Service, even Gabriel hesitated to cross the threshold into their lair)

Note – he brought me a personalized mug of the chocolate, and there was no aftertaste of any added ingredients. Thus, it must have been magical to calm the staff in their mania.

Observation Report 3

Date: December 23

Subject: Adrien

Setting: Loading Dock

22:00 – Subject found with a large sack of packages in the trunk of his car (a rental). The packages did not have the AFG logo on the wrapping, and thus not packages from the store. When Subject was approached, he had a bashful grin. The packages were going to a local homeless shelter.

Quote: "A benefactor asked me to drop these off to make sure the children have presents to wake up to on Christmas morning. Every kid deserves to have a present to unwrap. Please don't tell anyone you saw me with these gifts." Sidenote: The look in his eyes was heart-melting; how could I not listen to him? Second Sidenote: His ears were looking pointier than normal. Could it be a side effect of Christmastime?

22:45 – After helping Subject stuff the gifts in the car, I returned home to find a similarly packed gift in my purse. Upon inspection, it was far more delicate than the other gifts in his car and had a note attached to it.

[Attached Note Contents]

Marinette,

For all of the cherished memories you’ve helped make since we met. You were the best part of my Christmas, by far.

Love, Adrien

She reached the logical conclusion the next night in her makeshift office.

Adrien was definitely an Elf.

Marinette wanted more than anything to inform Alya of her observations. After all, she was right, was she not? Telling Alya was the whole point of the investigation. Still, there was something that held her back.

After all, if Adrien was an elf, then it followed that Santa was also real. Santa Claus, the same jolly fellow that sorted the people of the world into two distinct lists. And if she outed one of Santa's actual elves, then there was no doubt which Marinette would be on for the rest of her life.

Her eye caught the package he had given her the night before. Inside had been a lovely pair of jet earrings. More importantly, she thought as she ran her hand over the note, what would he think of her?

Well, that only left one option didn't it?

To tell the truth, he hadn't expected anyone to follow him out of the store on Christmas Eve. At this point in life, Adrien knew better than to lose track of his surroundings. Even in the safety of such a nice neighborhood, anything could happen. Though he could admit, if he had to choose someone to accost him in the street, it would be Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

A surprisingly strong arm looped through his elbow and pulled him close. "I've been waiting for you!" Marinette gasped.

He looked down into her wide eyes. "Why?”

She furtively glanced around. The back alley of Agreste Fine Goods was not the best place for a conversation. "We need to talk. We can go to my parent's bakery." She tugged him toward Rue Gotlib. "They're closed for Christmas Eve, and we'll have privacy there."

Adrien would have lingered longer on the privacy if the thought of delicious pastries had not intruded. In any case, his feet were following her lead.

Before he realized what was going on, she had him settled in the bakery with two steaming mugs of coffee and the end of day croissants.

“Sorry, it’s not much.” She grinned and took a sip.

On a cold and snowy night like this, he was in a cozy bakery with the cutest girl from work. He thought it was perfect.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. "Adrien." Marinette placed her mug firmly on the countertop and sighed. "I need to confess."

He met her gaze. She seemed burdened by something. What on Earth could she need to confess? On Christmas Eve no less?

"I know your secret."

In hindsight, maybe drinking something hot was not the best choice when having such a conversation. "My what?" He choked. How could she have found out? He thought he had been so careful.

To be fair, he wasn't surprised Marinette found out. Over the last few weeks, she paid closer attention to him than any of the other seasonal workers at the store. Only… Only he hoped it was for a more affectionate reason.

"I figured out your identity. I didn't mean to, but it was so obvious. After all, when you're around everything seems more magical," she blurted out.

Magical? "I'm not sure I follow," He said slowly.

Marinette began to pace back and forth. "Alya said I was being silly, but now I know I'm not. You're so beyond my reach, especially with my internship ending and you leaving. I don't want things to change between us."

He felt his stomach hollow. "Does the truth really have to change how you treat me?"

"I don't want it to change," she repeated softly. "You're wonderful."

He grabbed her hands and stopped her pacing. Pulling her close, he gently said, "Marinette, look at me. Does knowing the truth make a difference of how you feel?" Adrien hoped more than anything that she would deny it.

"Feel?" Her breath smelled of mint chocolate.

"Knowing the truth shouldn't change how we feel about each other." He leaned closer and placed his lips on her cheek. "My feelings certainly won't change."

"This probably won't work. The geographical distance is too large." Marinette sighed.

"I won't be that far away."

She giggled. "The North Pole is pretty far Adrien."

"That is true- Wait what?!" He wrenched back.

"The North Pole. Where you live? Isn't that what we've been talking about?" She sat down on a barstool.

This girl had a way of knocking his world off-axis in more ways than one. "Not to my knowledge." His voice came out higher than he expected. "What exactly did you find out?"

To her credit, she turned redder than a tomato. She mumbled her next words, but he could swear he heard "elf" somewhere. Were his ears deceiving him?

A small spark of mischief entered his voice. "Come again?" He teased. He had a feeling they would enjoy this in future Christmases.

"That you're a Christmas elf on assignment from Santa Claus. Now I realize that might sound far fetched, but I had my reasons!" Marinette quickly said. She narrowed her eyes and held up a finger before he could speak. "And before you say a word, Mister-" The fire from her voice died down. "What is your last name anyway?"

Oh this was going to be great. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and leaned down to her ear. "I realize that I never properly introduced myself. My name is Adrien Agreste."

Her body stiffened in his embrace. He slowly turned her around to see the dumbfounded look on her face. Adrien took the few moments of silence to study the enigma of Marinette. He saw the gears working behind those expressive eyes of hers. She blinked once, then twice. He braced for anger and possibly humiliation.

But Marinette never reacted how one would expect. Her mouth widened into a grin. "It's slightly disappointing, to tell you the truth." She batted her eyes at him.

He scrunched his mouth in confusion. "Disappointing?"

Marinette grabbed him around the waist and pulled him closer. "Don't you think flirting with a Christmas elf would be rather exciting?" She heaved a sigh. "I guess I will have to settle for the boss's son. Although, I did hear a rumor that he was some kind of model."

If he hadn't seen the wink, he might have taken a bit of offense. Instead, he played along. "Take me out of my misery, Miss Dupain-Cheng! I adore you."

"I might adore you as well. But please explain a few things to me before we continue with all our adoration." She released him, and patted the seat next to her.

“Ask away, milady.”

She pulled out a small notebook from her bag. Flipping to the back, she began, “What were you doing in Santa’s Workshop four days ago?”

He was impressed. She had notes. Real notes. Only Marinette, he thought with a smile. “I was fixing the lights on the chair. The photographer was complaining that the bulbs were interfering with his “art.” It made more sense to rewire the lights to not twinkle.”

“That explains the sparks…” Marinette murmured.

“What else do you have for me, Secret Agent Elf?”

“What about the hot chocolate?” She smirked.

Adrien felt his ears burn. He had heard enough about that from his father that day. “I… Um…”

“Yes?”

“I brought spiked hot cocoa to the break area. My roommate wanted to play a prank on my dad, and there was some collateral damage.” The Customer Care department in particular was hit hard. Their antics tipped Gabriel off to what happened.

“I drank the same cocoa, and nothing happened to me!”

Marinette stared him down with her big blue eyes, and he couldn’t help but tell the truth. “I made yours by hand,” he mumbled and dropped his face in his hands.

“That is so sweet.” She rubbed his shoulder. “One more thing, and then we’re done. Where did all the gifts come from?”

He groaned once more. “You really can’t tell anyone about this. Father and I use the “wages” that I earn to send those gifts to the shelter. My mother, she used to volunteer there. He does not want anyone to know we are the donors.”

“Why not?”

Adrien lifted his head and shot her a cheeky grin. “To be fair, in any other conversation, the explanation wouldn’t be nearly as funny. He made a deal with the director at the shelter. They would keep his name private, and instead, I would deliver the gifts dressed as an elf in lieu of Santa Claus.”

She snorted, which led to her bursting into laughter. Even her laugh was enchanting. Before long, he joined in, thinking of the silliness of it all.

When they had a chance to relieve all their tension, Adrien wore his jacket and scarf once more. “I should probably head out. Your parents probably want to see you at some point this evening.”

“If you must,” she wistfully said, walking him to the door.

“Hey.” He lifted her chin and leaned close. “Since I will be closer than the North Pole, would you like to go on a date? A real one? A date nowhere near Agreste Fine Goods?”

“Of course I would. I still need to ask you to Alya’s New Year’s Eve party.” She tilted her head higher.

“Two dates!” Adrien laughed. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, I would be delighted.” With those words, he lowered his lips and spun her around.

#miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #Adrienette #mlb #mlb fic #ml fic #mlb secret santa #lightkeykid writes

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writerbyaccident · 6 years ago

Text

Guard Dog (Yandere BakugouxReader)

Request: Hi, if it isn’t any trouble could you do Bakugo with a particularly skittish s/o?

No trouble at all, I had my last final yesterday (which was why I didn’t post anything) so I was able to give this one plenty of attention

It was a rainy kind of morning, one where the streets were misty and the sky was grey. You didn’t mind though, these sorts of days always made you feel cozy, a feeling that was undoubtedly helped along by the fragrant smell of coffee and baked goods that surrounded you. Working at such a tucked-away café certainly had its perks, not the least of which was the relaxed atmosphere it provided. Even though the café did pretty steady business, it was never overcrowded or incredibly busy, meaning that working there was actually fairly tranquil. It was exactly the kind of place you would choose to frequent in your spare time, personally hating those cafes and shops so full to the brim that you could hardly hear yourself think.

Before you started working there, you had run through a few of the typical cliché jobs of a teenager, working in both retail and food service at some pretty popular places. You had made do, but the relentless pace and entitled customers at those jobs had clawed at your nerves. Too often you had had to hold back tears as customers yelled at you, forcing yourself to wait until you got home or at least until you were on break before letting them spill. So often you had wished for a thicker skin, to be jaded and indifferent like some of your coworkers, but that wasn’t the case. But here most of the customers were regulars, they knew you and were always at least polite, if not downright friendly. That is, most of them were.

“What the hell do you mean you won’t accept it?” an angry customer spat at you.

“I’m very sorry ma’am, but that promotion has expired,” you repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time. The customer is question was a new one, or at least one who hadn’t come during your shift before. She was holding up a coupon, practically waving it in your face, and you dug your nails into your palm slightly to keep your tears at bay. The coupon in question was one your boss, the owner, had made herself, printing them out and distributing them around local businesses to try and draw people in. But the expiration date was right on the coupon, a date already several months past. Despite the fact that you had pointed this out to her though, she still insisted that you give her the discount. A part of you, the part that was dangerously close to crying, was just tempted to give in, but you didn’t want to get in trouble with your boss.

“Where’s your manager?” the lady yelled, no doubt trying to escalate the situation to make your boss give her what she wanted. “This is horrible service, you keep treating customers like this and soon you won’t have any left.” Attempting to tell her that your boss was on the phone at the moment, all that left your mouth was a terrified squeak. The heat rushing to your face was relentless, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep yourself from crying.

“Well if they were all bitches like you I bet they’d prefer it that way,” a new voice said, inserting themself into the conversation. The voice in question belonged to a face you recognized, it was a teenage boy around your age, one with ashy blond hair and burning red eyes. He was a regular here, and while he was always polite to you, you had always been intimidated by his gruff demeanor. What was his name again? Bakugou?

Glowering at the rude woman, Bakugou thanked whoever the hell was up there that he had made it in time to help you. As soon as he stepped into the café, his eyes had gone right to you, as they always did, and he had clenched his fists in anger at the sight that greeted him. He had been coming to this place for a little while now after wandering in one day and had stuck around ever since. It wasn’t because of the coffee or the snacks here though; it was because of you. Ever since that first day, something about you had captivated him. Your sweet smile, your warm eyes, your soft voice, they all had wormed their way under his skin and had driven their hooks in. So he kept coming around, staring at you from the corner of the room where you couldn’t spot him. He realized he was being creepy, but he wasn’t about to let you get away. Besides, he had to make sure that some other guy didn’t sweep in where he didn’t belong. Bakugou had been trying to find the right time to actually ask you out, but he wasn’t an idiot. He could tell that you were kind of scared of him, it was apparent in the way you would drop your gaze and speak more quietly when he talked to you. Bakugou was no quitter, but he figured he should take things a bit slow with you. But this, this was something he couldn’t stand for.

How fucking dare this lady raise her voice at you? How dare she bring you to tears? He could see that you were desperately trying to stay composed, even as your eyes grew bright, and the sight of you upset infuriated him. In truth, he was just barely keeping himself from pushing this lady out of the damn place, but he knew that getting physical would only make you more frightened of him. But still, if this woman kept yelling and glaring at you like that, he might just be forced to do something drastic.

“Excuse me,” the woman began, voice stiff with outrage, “but this is none of your business, young man.”

“It’s my business if you’re acting like a fucking asshole. Your damn coupon’s expired, either pay full price or fucking leave. And if the manager comes out, I’ll make sure they know for damn sure that you’re the one causing a problem here.” The angry customer pursued her lips at him, seeming to debate if this was even worth if any more. Coming to the rather inevitable conclusion, she huffed harshly and turned away, stalking towards the door. Once she had left, you looked over towards your rescuer.

“Thank you,” you whispered, biting your lip shyly.

“No problem,” Bakugou replied. “She deserved it. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t ask if you would be fine,” Bakugou sighed, eyes narrowing. “I asked if you were fine.” Not knowing how to respond, you just shrugged, dropping your gaze. Bakugou frowned, unwilling to let this chance pass him by.

“Look,” he said, reaching into his pocket and bringing out his phone, “why don’t you give me your number. That way I can text you and make sure you’re okay.” Heat burned at your cheeks once more at his words, but this time due to flattery over fear. He was cute, there was no denying that, and he seemed nice, if a bit rough around the edges. So you took his phone and added your number with a bashful smile on your face. Bakugou smirked back at you, thankful that you were smart enough to just do what he said. It was clear to him from this little incident that you needed someone like him, someone to guide you and protect you, something you clearly couldn’t do for yourself.

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coppicefics · 4 years ago

Photo

Masked Omens: Week Four

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.

Image 2 - A page from the Opinion section of the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 16th January, 2021. Full image description and transcript below the cut. End ID.]

Read the fic here!

(Falling records template from Pixeden)

The Capital Herald, Saturday 16th January 2021 Opinion, page 20

Main Story: TOFFLEY GATE: FIFTEEN YEARS ON, IT’S NO HOME Where is the affordable housing that was promised? And why can’t local people get access to it? The Toffley Gate development once seemed like that most elusive of rarities; a politician's campaign promise made real. When Lawrence Richmond, a distinguished barrister, was elected as MP for Toffley South in 2005, it was partly on the strength of his pledge to build a brand new block of affordable accommodation for the people of Toffley. In fact, if you ask most local voters why the future Transport Secretary won his seat, they'll point in the direction of Toffley Gate. The development, it was claimed, would create jobs in the area, boost property values, and allow more buyers and renters on low incomes to invest wisely in their future. Fifteen years on, how are those claims holding up? Well, the development did indeed bring in construction jobs, as well as long-term positions in the shops and services on Toffley Gate's street level. As construction continued, however, some concerns were raised – even as early as February of 2006, seven months before the grand opening – that changes to the specification meant almost all the flats in the towering buildings would be described as luxury apartments, rather than affordable housing. But as long as they were still rented out at low rates, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. When the development's 312 flats were put on the market, however, 276 of them were priced at luxury rates. The remaining thirty-six were a single block of small studio apartments, suitable for a single occupant or two, a far cry from the family homes Richmond had promised to provide. Protests followed, in 2009 and 2010, but it was too late. Now, fifteen years on, only 194 Toffley Gate units are occupied. The rest remain empty and useless, far beyond the means of most local residents and workers. The Capital Herald popped into the local coffee shop to canvas opinions. “Oh, they're lovely, aren't they?” said Gladys Jones, retired, who'd stopped in with her grandson, Chris, a student. “I'd love one of those balconies, but not on my pension.” And Chris? “They're going for what, two or three grand a month? I could work for years and never save up enough to live there.” What would he like to see done with the place? “Drop the prices, maybe set them up as student accommodation, the uni's always oversubscribed. Or just... make sure normal people can afford them, you know?” “I put my name on the waiting list for the cheap flats when the place opened, when I was about twenty-five,” Jenny Tyler, a teacher, told me. I asked her what changed her mind. “No, I'm still on the list. Fifteen years, I'm still on the list.” Has she considered applying for one of the more expensive unused units? “No. On a teacher's pay? No, in fact, I'm moving back in with my dad. It's cheaper to commute in from Tadfield than to keep paying rent in Toffley.” And what of those behind the counter? Of the three employees on shift, two had joined the waiting list for the affordable housing at Toffley Gate. All three agreed that they'd love to live in one of the fancier units, if it were possible. One, Tom, has a second job as a cleaner on the development. “I have to clean all the luxury homes, even the empty ones,” he said. “And there are a lot of empty ones. Even the ones where you can tell someone's moved in, there's hardly any sign of life. It almost seems like an investment property type thing, but I don't know how they can be making money without sub-letting it.” When approached for comment, Lawrence Richmond – an Eton graduate who lives in a large historic house with his wife and son – argued that he is not responsible for market rates, nor for setting the level of affordable housing provision within the development. Why, then, did he make such grandiose promises during his election campaign in 2005? And why, sixteen years on and after several protests, is he still in office? If Richmond is as keen on affordable housing as he claimed to be in 2005 – as he has continued to claim, during the run-up to every local election since then – there must be something he can do, in his capacity as Toffley's MP, to encourage the building's owners, Selectan Homes Plc, to lower rents and allow lower-income families to access the many unoccupied units in the building. Surely it would be a win-win situation; Selectan would reap the rewards of a fully-let building, existing Toffley Gate residents would benefit from an invigorated community, and local people could live in the area where they actually worked. The businesses established at the base of the Toffley Gate tower blocks would have as many customers as they could want. In short, Lawrence Richmond, what are you waiting for? TINA MOON

[Image Description: A colour photograph of a gleaming block of flats. End ID] [Caption] Toffley Gate gleams in the sunshine. But are its units overpriced? (Photo: Daniel Brubaker on Unsplash)

Right hand column: OLD TUNES ARE BEST How wonderful to hear some music from the good old days on ITV’s The Masked Singer. When I sat down to watch it - under duress, I’ll admit, and largely to keep my wife and daughters happy - I expected nothing but noise of the variety that makes up the modern singles chart. Imagine my surprise and delight, then, when several of the songs reminded me of the heady days of my youth. Some, of course, were older still, overshooting the perfect era of my teenage years to land in the tragically uncool Jazz Age, but for the most part over the last few weeks I have been able to sing along with abandon, embarrassing my daughters no end and infuriating my wife, who is desperately trying to ascertain the identities of all of the disguised celebrities inside the ludicrous costumes. I doubt we’ve ever heard any of those voices before, given that the really big names in entertainment no doubt have better things to do than make such fools of themselves on a Saturday night, so I won’t be participating in the silly guessing game. Instead, I’m picking my favourites based on the songs they sang in the first few weeks. Snake is my favourite, by virtue of singing a Whitesnake song in the first live show, and it was a good enough performance that I will, for now, dismiss last week’s show as merely a momentary lapse in skill and judgement. Bonfire got everyone in my house smiling with ‘Disco Inferno’, and it’s rare that my children and I agree on anything, so they have to be the house favourite. Axolotl chose wisely in channelling Kermit the Frog, a universally beloved entertainer, and Pony’s tribute to America with ‘Horse With No Name’ was very enjoyable, too. So, I don’t know who Snake is but I’m rooting for them anyway, it seems. Who knows what tonight will bring? READER’S LETTER FROM DEREK METTE

Coupon, bottom third of page: [Image Description: Graphic of two falling record sleeves, with corresponding vinyl records also falling beside them. The first album sleeve shows two silhouettes of a face, looking towards each other in the style of the face/vase optical illusion, and is labelled “talking about it - Anathema”. The second shows a closeup of hands holding a book, and is labelled “Anathema - Narrative Devices”. At the bottom of the graphic are track listings. “Talking About It: Talking About it, Here I Go, Talking in Circles, The Magic Word, Seventh Sense, Pour My Heart Out, Nobody’s Fault, For A Spell, Living In The Past, Parting Words. Narrative Devices: Narrative Devices, Stab In The Dark, Look Before You Leap, Out Of The Crowd, Daisy Chains, I Hate To Leave, Ashes, Eagle Eyes, End of Days, Parting Ways.” End ID.] EXCLUSIVE DISCOUNT FOR CAPITAL HERALD READERS Exclusive to the Capital Herald, this voucher entitles you to 50% off the listed price of Anathema's first album, Talking About It, when you buy her new album, Narrative Devices. Featuring hit singles 'Daisy Chains' and 'End of Days', Narrative Devices has been described as 'a breath of fresh air for folk music' and 'a powerful meditation on the stories we tell ourselves every day'. 'Talking About It' contains the gorgeous ballad 'For A Spell', which has already sold over half a million units as a single in the two years since its release. Don't miss out on this amazing deal! Just take this coupon to your nearest participating retailer, or enter code CAP50 when ordering online. [Image Description: A barcode marked ‘FOR RETAILER USE’, from barcode.tec-it.com, and a QR code, from qr-code-generator.com. End ID.] Voucher expires 12AM 23/01/21. At participating retailers only. While stocks last. Not valid outside of fanfiction. For full terms and conditions, see page 28.

#masked omens #mo week four #good omens fic #very much fake news #masked singer au #mine

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starseedfxofficial · 2 months ago

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The Abandoned Baby: The Secret Sauce of Smart Trading Picture this: you're out shopping and you see a pair of shoes you absolutely must have. But there they are, alone on the clearance shelf—abandoned by their past buyers because they're either incredibly trendy or just plain misunderstood. Kind of reminds you of a certain candlestick pattern, doesn’t it? Well, today, dear traders, we’re diving into the world of Market Profile and the Abandoned Baby pattern. And no, this isn't about picking up orphans, but rather about picking up game-changing trading signals that most people overlook. Let's start by laying the cards on the table: Market Profile analysis is like the Sherlock Holmes of trading. It doesn’t tell you where the market has been; it tells you why it went there and, more importantly, what’s likely to happen next. And when we throw in the ever so catchy “Abandoned Baby” pattern, you've got yourself the combo platter of trading insights – a bit mysterious, a bit risky, and a whole lot of rewarding. The Forgotten Genius of Market Profile Most traders treat charts like exes—only looking back at what happened to see if they can make sense of their feelings. But Market Profile is all about understanding the dynamics of trading volume and time at different price levels to spot where the value truly lies. Market Profile is not a system, it’s a way of thinking. In simple terms, it helps you understand who’s in charge—is it the institutions moving big money, or retail traders like me when I buy five lots of coffee futures because I skipped breakfast? Market Profile uses a distribution curve to tell you the "value area" where most of the action happens. It’s like walking into a party and spotting where everyone is gathered around the snacks—you know that’s where the action is, and probably where you need to be. The Point of Control (POC): Where All Eyes Should Be The Point of Control (POC) in Market Profile is like the loud DJ at a party that you can’t ignore. It represents the price level with the highest trading volume during a particular session. In essence, it’s where the crowd found comfort, a little like when everyone gathers around that one bowl of guacamole. Understanding where the POC lies helps you figure out whether the market is stuck in consolidation or getting ready to make a move. Abandoned Baby Pattern: The Candlestick Nobody Talks About Now, let’s pivot to the Abandoned Baby pattern—and no, we’re not in the childcare business. It’s a rare reversal pattern made up of three candles. First comes a strong candle in one direction, then a doji—the awkward “no man’s land” type—and finally, a candle in the opposite direction, separated by gaps. It’s like seeing someone storm off in a huff, only to come back sheepishly, realizing they left their keys behind. So why does this matter? Well, the Abandoned Baby is like catching a pivotal moment—a point where the market’s gotten a little too confident in one direction, and like a bad fashion trend, has to reverse course. It’s a turning point—often signaling a price correction after an overstretched movement, especially when combined with Market Profile data. How to Combine the Abandoned Baby with Market Profile The magic happens when you marry the insights of Market Profile with the Abandoned Baby. It's like peanut butter and jelly—each good on its own, but much better together. Let me lay down the strategy: - Identify the Value Area Using Market Profile: First, determine the value area and POC on the chart. You’re hunting for signs of value being overstretched. Picture a rubber band being pulled too tight—eventually, it’s going to snap back. - Look for an Abandoned Baby Reversal: Next, keep an eye out for an Abandoned Baby at or around the value area’s extreme. When this reversal shows up, it’s the market telling you that a sharp price correction could be on the way. Think of it like a massive ‘Oops, I went too far’ sign flashing. - Align It With Volume Nodes: Check the volume nodes. Is the Abandoned Baby happening at a high-volume node or near the Point of Control? If yes, it’s your signal that the market is exhausted and about to do a U-turn. Case Study: The EUR/USD Trade Gone Right In March 2023, we saw a classic example of an Abandoned Baby pattern on the EUR/USD pair right as it touched the upper extreme of the Market Profile’s value area. Many traders got overly excited about the bullish push (you know, like buying a pair of neon sneakers because they were on TikTok for five minutes). However, smart traders—using the Abandoned Baby—spotted the reversal just in time. EUR/USD ended up correcting almost 120 pips within the next day. The lesson? If you had the Market Profile and the Abandoned Baby combo, you’d be laughing all the way to your broker. The Secret Sauce: Common Pitfalls to Avoid Using these techniques together is powerful, but only if you avoid the common pitfalls. Here are the big ones: - Ignoring Context: An Abandoned Baby doesn’t work in isolation—it’s the context that matters. Where is the price in relation to the value area? If you see an Abandoned Baby in the middle of nowhere, it’s probably just a cute, albeit useless baby. - Not Waiting for Confirmation: Many traders jump the gun on these patterns without waiting for volume confirmation. Let the volume be your friendly nod of approval before diving in. - Risk Management: No matter how poetic the setup looks, proper risk management is still the glue holding this trade together. Set realistic stops, and keep them tight—because let’s face it, even a perfect pattern can still surprise you like an uninvited plus-one at a wedding. Why Most Traders Miss Out on This (And How You Won’t) The truth is, the Abandoned Baby is one of the more overlooked candlestick patterns because it’s rare. Traders often look for flashy, easily identifiable setups, but what separates the wheat from the chaff is understanding the market context—which is where Market Profile shines. Mastering these tools can give you the edge to capitalize on subtle shifts and sentiment changes before the rest of the crowd catches on. So, are you ready to put these concepts to the test? Understanding Market Profile and the Abandoned Baby setup is like having a map of where all the snack bowls are at a party—once you know where to look, you’ll always be in the action and always a step ahead. Elite Tactics Summary - Understand Market Profile: Focus on the value area and Point of Control to get a sense of where big traders find value. - Spot the Abandoned Baby: Look for a reversal pattern near key value extremes for high probability trades. - Confirm with Volume: Make sure you’ve got the volume to back up the move—it’s the closest thing we have to a market thumbs up. - Avoid Common Mistakes: Context is king, wait for confirmation, and always manage risk. Ready to Become a Pro? If you want to stay on top of market movements and exclusive trading setups, check out our Forex Education resources at StarseedFX Forex Education. Expand your arsenal of ninja tactics and hidden insights to become a step ahead of the market. Or, if you’re the type who loves real-time action, join our Community Membership for live alerts and insider tips: Join the StarseedFX Community. Happy trading, and may your charts always be green! —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

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minstrophywife · 6 years ago

Text

Peacock

⇢Pairing: Office Worker!Jimin x Office Worker!Reader ⇢Genre: Office!AU, PWP ↳[smuuuuut] ⇢Word Count: 5,403 ⇢Warnings: Praise kink (but of course), slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, rough sex, fingering, spanking, pussy slapping, hair pulling, subspace, begging, aftercare

⇢Masterlist ↳DOPE Masterlist

⇢Summary: Jimin attracts all the attention in the office, but you just don’t care. So he’s going to make sure you notice him. Because what Park Jimin wants, Park Jimin gets.

A/N: Ahh~ So it’s the beginning of my new little collection, to keep my writing energy GOING! Let me know what you think. And I hope you get excited about the other ones coming up! 💕

PEACOCK.

Okay so you were desperate. And the thing is, living in Seoul was expensive, and not getting any cheaper. And maybe, just maybe, you needed another job while you were fresh out of college and needed to pay your exceedingly high rent and utility bill. Cool.

“…. Fuck.” You were starting to get a headache, staring at pages and pages of job listings.

“This was the fifth ‘fuck’ in the span of 10 minutes.” Jungkook says, not looking away from his laptop screen.

You shoot him a glare, hoping he feels the daggers you are throwing his way. You open your both to snap back, but Jungkook stops you. Eyes still not leaving the screen, he raises a hand from the keyboard in an accusatory point.

“Don’t get let me tell you how many within this hour.”

“Well I don’t give a single fuck, so how about that.” You flip him the bird for good measure.

“Either way, rent is up in a couple of weeks, and you still need to pay me back for last month.”

He’s relentless.

But it’s true… you promised him that you would get your shit together, and Jungkook was more than understanding last month when he covered your end of the bills last month. You need to stop mooching of your roommate and friend.

“…I’m sorry Kook. I’m trying my best.” You bite your lip, and hang your head down in shame.

You feel a soft thwump! Against your head, and you blink back in shock.

“… You shit!” You screech, scrambling from your seat at the table, grabbing the pillow that Jungkook had thrown.

Still no luck. It had been two days of searching, and honestly at this point, you were going to just apply at one of the many retail jobs. There was no way you were going to make Jungkook pay again for you. Despite his teasing and his snarky attitude, you knew he would in a heartbeat.

You slump in couch, willing your headache to go away while you close your eyes.

BANG

“Shit!” Your hand flies to your heart.

In stomps Jungkook, or, what you assume to be Jungkook, because his face is hidden by a large shopping bag that fills his arms.

“Oi- Jobless- stop moping. I brought chicken and beer.”

Your headache just got fifty times worse. Jungkook the little shit. He dodges the slipper you throw in his direction. How he dodged it when he couldn’t even see from behind the massive bag of food, you’ll never know. He sucks like that.

“I’m here too!” A voice you haven’t heard before.

A skinny and tall figure peeks behind waving happily.

“Hello….?” You peer at him in curiosity.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.” He fills in the blank, and grins, large and boxy and you can’t help but return the sentiment.

“This is a celebration.” Jungkook says, already unloading the many boxes of fried chicken in front of you on coffee table.

“For what?” You say already reaching for a beer greedily.

“I have a job opportunity for you!” Taehyung says, excitedly bouncing in his step.

“Well, technically, Chim does, but he couldn’t make it tonight because he was working late in the office…” Taehyung is beginning to rant, and you already feel lost.

Jungkook is already has a drumstick half way eaten.

“What he means to say,” his mouth is full, not even bothering to look up from his food,“is that a mutual friend of ours mentioned that the company he works for is hiring currently. Applications are due in by next week.”

You turn and hug Taehyung excitedly.

“I love you already.” You say, and Taehyung just laughs, hugging back, not at all bothered by the fact that Jungkook’s strange roommate that he just met is hugging him.

“Tell that to Jimin.” Jungkook mentions, finally swallowing his mouthful.

Right. You’ll have to mention a thank you to this Jimin.

And then you got the job. You’re surprised- this job is actually within your field as well- it looks like you’ll be a senior editor, for a bunch of different magazines under this one company. So your communications and journalism degree wasn’t complete trash.

It took about three interviews to get the job, but the process was quick. Seems like they were desperate to fill in the position, and you, well, you were desperate for rent money.

The job seemed fast-paced, but exciting, and to be honest you couldn’t stop fidgeting. Jungkook almost punted you out of the apartment with how full of energy you were this morning.

And now you sit in the lobby, waiting for the Lead Editor to come and give you a brief rundown of this job. Min Yoongi is his name, you need to get off to a good start, leave a good impression.

“… And this is the media and communications department. They are on the same floor as us. You’ll get used to how chatty they are. If it gets annoying, you can always yell at them to shut up. That’s what I always do.”

You eye the group of chatting coworkers, all seeming to be flocking to one area.

“This way to the editing department.” Min Yoongi, Head Editor and your boss, talks slow, but he feeds information to you quickly. You follow behind wordlessly.

“This is my office. You can ask questions at any time, but honestly it’s easier to use the office messenger. We all get really busy in the editing department. There isn’t that many of us.”

At his office door, he points in the direction of what you assume to be your office. When you open the door, it’s small, but quaint, and you can’t help but feel giddy at the prospect of having your own space.

It’s been a week now at your job, and while its stressful and demanding and fast-paced, you wouldn’t have anything less. Plus, you got to see what your first pay check would look like at the end of the month, and man, you could afford to pay for two months of rent while covering Jungkook too. Which you probably should do, since he did cover your ass while you were jobless.

Thinking of Jungkook, your mind wanders. That’s right- you’ll have to thank Taehyung’s friend, the mysterious Park Jimin you have yet to thank. You vaguely remember Taehyung mentioning that he worked in the media and communications department.

Convenient.

Needing a break anyways, you walk out of your office and into the common area between the departments. You can already hear giggles and voices. If there is one thing that stuck with your from your orientation, it was definitely the noise level of media and communications. You reel back, but you approach the first woman you see- Choi Minah was it? You don’t remember, but you tap her shoulder anyways.

“Excuse me, where can I find-“

“Jiminnie! You’ve done it again! You’re so smart with twitter!”

Ah.

“Oh, you’re too kind Yoojung, It was the combination of all our efforts!”

His voice sounds sunny and happy, and you find yourself smile a bit to yourself.

You walk closer to the excited chattering of ‘Jiminnie you’re the best’ and ‘Jiminnie you should partner with me for the next project’, and you feel like you can’t even see him really, not with the amount of people surrounding him, men and women.

You feel your eyebrow tick in annoyance.

Well, now was a good time as ever to get this over with, so you can thank the man and get over it. You clear your throat.

“Excuse me, Park Jimin?”

Many pairs of eyes swivel in your direction at the interruption, and then his eyes are on you. Oh… Taehyung didn’t mention how beautiful he was.

Stylishly and impeccably dressed, with full cheeks and full lips contrasted nicely with the angle of his jawline. His eyes snapped to yours immediately before turning into crescents as he smiled widely back at you.

“I’m Y/N, roommate of Jeon Jungkook. Kim Taehyung told me you landed me this gig, so I thank you immensely.” You bow politely, and the eyes on you shoot many unaired questions.

Jimin bounces forward in recognition of familiar names, slightly pushing people out of your way so he can stand in front of you. He grabs your hands in his own. “Ah! Tae mentioned to me that you were accepted! I’m so glad you’re here!”

You blink back, a bit shocked with how close he’s already regarding you.

He’s not phased at all by your lack of response, instead he considers it an opening to continue to talk to you.

“I’m so sorry that I haven’t had a chance to come by yet, but I assure you we should remedy this situation! Any friend of Kookie and Tae are friends of mine.”

“T-thanks again.” You feel his hands squeeze a bit tighter.

“I should go back to my office, I was just needing a quick break before I continue editing.” You bow again, and make a quick escape from questioning eyes boring into your head, hands tugging just a bit from Park Jimin’s own, as if he wasn’t expecting to leave so soon.

You don’t leave your office until an hour after you are supposed to leave for the day.

You had important editing to be done.

From that moment forward, Park Jimin acknowledges your presence whenever you make the long walk from the elevators to your office. It’s not everyday, but he always manages to spot you if he’s in the same common area or break room kitchenette, even amongst his usual crowd of adoring coworkers.

It’s always a bright and shiny, “Hi Y/N! Good morning!” Or “Hello! Did you sleep well over the weekend? You really need to hang out with Kookie, Tae and I next time!” And even, “Wow Y/N, is that blouse new? You look absolutely lovely!”

Each comment he tosses your way, your ears burn, you can feel the almost jealous stares on you. You usual mumble a polite ‘hello’, or a bow, or a small wave. You don’t stick around to chat.

It makes you not want to interact with Park Jimin too much. Too much of a hassle.

It’s been an annoying day at work, and you angrily punch in the code for your apartment. You want to just take a quick shower and go to bed- but of course when you arrive home, Jungkook and Taehyung are loudly shouting at the TV screen, sounds of shooting guns and whatnot blaring from the PlayStation.

Of fucking course. No way you could have peace and quiet. Taehyung waves at your entrance and actually hops up from his game to come and wrestle you in a hug. You huff. Maybe Taehyung’s hugs are magic.

You try to make a quick escape, but Taehyung bribes you with fried chicken and beer, your staple in life really, and you’re sold. So when you re-emerge from your bathroom, donned in your baggiest is sweatpants and largest hoodie, you can’t help but ask Taehyung.

“Park Jimin is your best friend, right Tae?” You lazily watching Jungkook and Taehyung as they continue to battle in their game. Jungkook grunts, and Taehyung mutters a curse when his character dies. He pouts for a minute while Jungkook continues on.

“Why do you ask?” Taehyung questions, turning away from the TV now to face you.

“I’m just...curious if he’s always managed to be...” Taehyung is his best friend. No need to rude- and plus- Park Jimin has been nothing but kind to you. It’s the fucking consistent gaggle of oohs and aahs and ‘you’re so cute Jiminnie’ or ‘wow Jiminnie you’re the best’ that grates your damn nerves.

“...the center of attention.”

Taehyung barks out a laugh. “Chim Chim loves to be the center of attention.”

You scrunch your nose. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

That just makes Taehyung laugh more.

You are coming up from a late lunch, back from your favorite ramen place. It’s nice taking late lunches because the elevators are not crammed with people, and because no one tries to invite you out to eat with them. It’s not like you don’t do it, but really, you only feel comfortable eating with the other editors in your department.

When the elevator doors open at your floor, you can already hear them.

“Ouch!”

That’s clearly Park Jimin’s voice. You hunker down, hoping to slip by and get to your office as swiftly as possible.

And then there is a flurry of ‘Jiminnie! Are you okay?’ and ‘Oh no! You hurt yourself!’ and ‘Here! I have the first aid kit!’

Well, with all the commotion, you can slip right by.

But he’s standing in the middle of a group of ladies, as they fawn over him.

And of course he’s glowing- when all the ladies come by and help put a bandaid on his fucking paper cut. It’s a god damn paper cut.

Does there really need to be four people all helping with one paper cut? One is cleaning the cut with disinfectant, one is holding his hand, one is holding the bandaid, and one is just fucking hovering, just cooing over Park Jimin that it’s ‘going to be okay’ and ‘does the disinfectant sting’?

You roll your eyes, passing by the hubbub to get to the peace and quiet of your department and your office.

“Y/N! Good afternoon! Did you have a good lunch?”

You just raise a hand in acknowledgment, not stopping to turn around.

As per usual the media department was loud. Loud and obnoxious and grinding your nerves. You had a deadline due. Your head throbs in annoyance, but you have to get your printouts of your edits to have Yoongi look at, it’s due in fifteen minutes. And of course the printers are right in the common area between the editing department and the media and comms department. It makes sense but it’s still agitating. Especially right now.

Because once again, Park Jimin is seated at a table nearby the printers, and of course he at least has two people there.

You really don’t have time to pay him any attention though, because you really need to get those printouts on Yoongi’s desk, otherwise he’s not going to be pleased. You wait impatiently as the printer wakes up from a deep slumber.

“Y/N! How are you today?”

You wave him off, unamused and not wanting to deal with sunshine Park Jimin at the moment.

“Just printing for Yoongi.”

Wow this printer is fucking slow. There’s finally page one.

“Do you have a deadline soon?”

You hear a whiny ‘Jiminnie~~’ from someone else.

Page 3.

“It’s due at 5.”

Page 6. Can this thing fucking hurry up already?

“Oh! It’s almost time! You should hurry, I’ve heard Yoongi can be quite a stickler for deadlines.”

Page 10. Fucking finally. Another annoyed whine from Park Jimin’s companions.

You grab the papers hastily, and without another glance you race towards Yoongi’s office, not ashamed to run.

The shared break room between the department is loud and crowded, which, you aren’t sure why everyone is in such a good mood at 5:00pm on a Friday night, when everyone has damn deadlines to complete before they can leave for the weekend. You just want to get today done and over with, so that finally, the glorious weekend can come and you can sleep for a good 24 hours.

You nudge your way towards the coffee machine, ready to nurse yet another mug of coffee of the most awful tasting, but necessary, black liquid energy.

It’s hard to get to where you want to however, with Park Jimin and his usual gaggle of ladies cooing all over him.

You feel snappish- you just want to get your damn coffee but they are in the way. You clear your throat slightly as Heeyeon, hair curled just right and makeup done impeccably, prattles on, curled up next to Park Jimin’s side, hovering over the counter.

“I’m almost done making your coffee Jiminnie- just the way you like it. Two sugar cubes and a packet of creamer.”

Park Jimin shifts, eyes curling into crescents. “Why thank you Heeyeon, I can always count on you for coffee.” He has the gall to turn to another girl, hovering behind you, and wink.

You roll your eyes. You really aren’t in the mood to witness yet another session of women flocking around Park Jimin. It’s fucking annoying at- you bring your wrist up in annoyance, more for show than anything- now 5:10pm. You try and restrain yourself from tapping your foot in impatience.

Heeyeon finally fucking hands Park Jimin is damn coffee- but instead of moving she just continues to hover- eyes doe-eyed and eyelashes fluttering as she waits expectantly.

“It’s exactly how I like it Heeyeon- thank you!” Jimin is all smiles, and Heeyeon coos at him. “Anything for you Jiminnie, you are the cutest!" If Jimin could smile any more, he would.

And then finally, fucking finally- Park Jimin is tugging Heeyeon forward to give her a hug. Or whatever. Either way the coffee dispenser is now free.

So you shove your way to the counter, hastily fill your mug with a bit of cream and sugar yourself, and turn around to get out of the damn break room as fast as you can.

It’s like a dramatic, slow-motion, drawn out scene from a movie. Your ankle catches on - something- you aren’t sure, but you curse your clumsiness, because of course you would make yourself look like a fool in front of a large group of employees. And then, of course-

You bump into something very solid.

You barely register the liquid that splashes forward, down the front of the solid form in front of you, and then backwards onto yourself.

And then- it registers.

“Fuck!”

The coffee was not the most fresh and cooled down by creamer, but it’s still hot as fuck and the now the contents of your almost empty mug are now down your white shirt. This shirt was fucking new too, Taehyung gifted you a leftover silken shirt that he thought would ‘look really good’ on you. In reality you liked it because it was soft and flowy.

And -

There’s a cacophony of noises, your cursing, the high pitched screeching of some of the women, and a hiss.

You feel a powerful hand grab your arm.

Oh right. You just spilled all over someone.

“Fuck, I am so sorry, it must be hot, your shirt must be expensive, I’m so-“

That’s when you finally look at who you ran into.

It’s Park Jimin.

A brief smile flashes in front of you- but it’s one you’ve never seen on his face before- it looks triumphant, crooked into a satisfied smirk.

But it’s gone before you have a chance to register what you saw, your apology stuck in your throat.

You hear Heeyeon from behind you- “Jiminnie! Are you okay?! Oh my god I can’t believe she just poured hot coffee all over you!”

You can practically hear the saccharine sweetness drip off Park Jimin’s tongue.

“We have to clean this mess, if we have any chance of salvaging our shirts.”

Who’s he talking to?

You let yourself be dragged out of the small kitchenette, Park Jimin pulling on your hand.

But really it’s the least of your concerns, where he’s taking you exactly, because you are in the middle of hiding your bra, peeking through your white top with your free hand. Because of course you can see through it. Because this is a damn movie.

He pulls you forward, and you’re in the one of the three bathrooms on this floor. He pulls away, stepping away from you. You hear the door shut, and you pull the top off of you, feeling just a little bit sticky. You shove it in the sink and turn on the water, hoping to try and salvage the fabric from your blunder.

What you don’t realize of course, is the door locking, and someone sliding up behind you, caging you against the sink.

Too late now.

You try and spin, shocked that, not only did you just strip off your top unabashedly in front of Park Jimin, but also you are very aware of your current predicament- you can feel his damn breath tickle your ear.

He turns off the tap, and you finally speak up, mostly to rid the sound of his soft breathing.

“The other bathrooms are free Park.”

You reach for the handle for the tap again, which Park Jimin so rudely turned off.

It’s not the answer he was looking for, because he pushes against you further, and grabs the hand that is resting on the tap. You can feel his front nestle into the swell of your ass.

“You don’t pay me any attention.”

He’s ignoring you, but you fight back a shiver at the lower tone of his voice. It’s sultry and dark, in a lower octave. He sounds offended.

“You’ve been rude...” you feel his free hand behind to trace your hip bone, and travel to your spine, his fingers dancing across your skin leaving a trail of goosebumps behind until he stops at the hook of your bra.

“...when all I’ve been is kind and attentive.”

Your bra slides forward on your arms.

You try to ignore the fact that your nipples are hard and wanting attention, from the cooling coffee that was spilt on them, from Park Jimin’s heady gaze that pierces you via the mirror, from his hand that is splayed across your back.

You open your mouth the protest his boldness, eyebrows raised in question, lips twisted in a grimace.

“I get what I want.”

Your eyes widen, your protests caught in your throat. You pretend that you don’t lean back further into him.

His hand leaves from its grip on your own, the blunt of his nails drag across your arm, where he grabs your breast.

You could elbow him in the ribs. You could twist away from his cage.

But his eyes don’t leave yours, and you feel like you’re trapped- Park Jimin has you in his snare, and he isn’t letting go.

And then it happens in one swift motion- his hands are bunching up your skirt roughly to your hips, as he bends you over the porcelain sink, ass on display for easy viewing.

Your arms splay outwards to grip the sides of the porcelain so you can balance yourself. The sink is cold against your stomach, the pressure there slightly uncomfortable-

A hand, adorned with decorative and stylish metal rings swings downwards, a resounding slap echoing in the bathroom.

That fucking hurt- you already feel the bloom of heat spread outwards from you right ass-cheek. You cry out in shock and pain.

“What the fuck! Park Jimin!”

You feel a grip even tighter on your waist. And it’s like you are almost anticipating the next hit, because your knuckles are turning white with how hard you are grabbing the porcelain of the sink.

“So mouthy.”

He says, and another resounding crack on the other cheek.

You release a cry of pain, tears beginning to form at the edges of your eyes.

“I want you to be loud.”

Another resounding smack, but this time it’s against the soft flesh of your inner thigh- and his hand is angled in such a way where the tips of his fingers brush against your pussy. There is a rush of fluid that you feel, and you can feel the fabric of your panties becoming drenched in your slick.

A garbled moan.

“I want the office to finally hear the cries of Y/N begging for my cock.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. Gone is the the sweet lilt that is so characteristic of Park Jimin.

He hits the other thigh this time, but his fingers drag more deliberately over your throbbing cunt.

Another cry- you feel tears escape from your eyes that are crewed shut in pleasure and pain, falling down your cheeks- he hits you again, softer this time, but it’s a direct hit against your cunt. He doesn’t draw his hand back, just edges his hand forward to flick at your clit through your underwear.

He grips the top of your panties, roughly pulling them down. They get caught at the spread of your thighs. You feel your mess spread as your soiled panties pinch your thighs.

But the relief of your exposed cunt is not enough.

It’s not enough, not nearly enough- the pleasure and pain has you on edge- the heat that sears from your thighs and your ass makes you block out all other sensations as you are reminded why they are there, and who put them there and now you are crying more, broken sobs, because he isn’t moving.

His hands knead the furred skin of your ass, and you moan loudly at how sensitive your abused skin is.

He tsks in disappointment.

“That’s not what I said. Use your words.” He slaps the inside of your thigh again as a reminder for your misbehaving.

You are stubborn though, no matter how heavy the air is with your lust. You know you are on the precipice, but you are feeling bratty- so you stare brazenly at him through the mirror, your eyes shine defiant through your tears. You see Jimin’s eyes narrow.

That’s just not going to do.

At that he shoves two fingers inside your swollen cunt, harsh and deep. Your eyes widen and a cry escapes your lips.

His fingers continue to pump harshly, grabbing your hair in his hand to forcefully expose your neck, pulling your head to the side. Your scalp begins to sting, but he takes a mouthful of your skin between his teeth, sucking harshly before his tongue travels up your neck to stop at your ear.

“Say it.”

Your eyes screw shut, and his mouth bites your earlobe.

“P-Park..” you can barely whisper, you are overwhelmed with too many senses. His hand grips tighter in your hair, his fingers stop pumping.

“Jimin.” He demands, waiting for your response.

“Jimin.” You parrot, the name spilling from your lips in a garbled plea.

It seems satisfactory for now, because Jimin grunts in approval and bites at your shoulder. When he decides to start pumping his fingers in you again, you’ve barely noticed he’s added a third.

But really, it’s not enough.

A frustrated whine leaves your throat, and Jimin decides he’s being too soft on you, because really-

“Jimin....!” You whimper, your voice needy, but you are too riled up at this point to care.

“Louder. I can’t hear you over your noisy pussy.”

The wet squelching noises sound much louder in the echo of the bathroom, and it doesn’t help that your moans get louder after Jimin has pointed it out to you.

“Please!” You raise your voice a few octaves higher, voice cracking into an (otherwise) annoying squeak.

“Please what?” He says, and his hand fully removes from your messy pussy. You clench around nothing, your moan full of despair because that’s not what you wanted, you want-

And you fall from the precipice.

Your mouth opens and now you can’t stop.

“Please fuck me. Please put your cock inside. I need Jimin’s cock.”

Jimin is satisfied, because you hear the sound of a belt being undone, and a zipper sliding open.

“I want Jimin’s cock. Please Jimin please fuck me...”

You hear the sound of a packet being ripped open, and a hiss as you assume Jimin’s putting on a condom.

But he’s not fast enough.

“Hurry, please fuck me, I promise I’ll be loud- I promise to shout your name loudly...”

You’re babbling now, begging. You just want his cock, and his merciless teasing has tears whetting your lashes. You don’t feel anything, except the desire to have him fuck you raw.

“Impatient for someone who was so haughty...” he says, but then he’s slamming into you.

A satisfied moan falls from your lips. You arch your back, sticking your ass upwards for more contact.

“Jimin! Your cock! Harder!” You don’t even understand what you are saying at this point. Anything to get him to finally let the heat that has been burning in your lower stomach to release.

“Pretty Y/N, begging for my cock.” His voice still sounds smug, though it’s growled out and deep, he’s trying to hold back his own moans from escaping.

He pulls you up further by the hips, leaning you further over the sink for more balance, your toes barely brushing the floor now. Your hand flies upwards onto the mirror for more stability as Jimin continues to pound mercilessly into you.

This new position is too much, it feels too good- and when he snakes a hand forward to pinch at your neglected clit you can feel yourself at the edge.

“Jimin! Cock...feels too good....” you moan brokenly.

“Do you wanna cum?” He has the gall to ask, voice muffled because he’s marking deep bruises up your spine, on your shoulder, your neck.

“Please...let me come...” you don’t say it loudly, you whisper it, your throat is scratchy and dry from moaning and yelling. You think you may have made him mad. A tear falls down your cheek at the possibility of making him mad and not letting you cum.

Even if you were good and did as he asked.

That seems to be it for Jimin though, because he lands a particularly harsh bite at the back of your neck, and he roughly pushes down on your clit. He lets out a broken and low moan, and he’s coming, reaching his orgasm before you.

Feeling him break before you is thrilling in on itself, and your own orgasm hits you- you feel yourself clenching wildly at Jimin’s cock as he continues to ride throughout your orgasm.

Instead of a loud cry from finally eclipsing on your high, soft hiccuping sobs leave your lips.

Your legs are shaking, and when Jimin pulls away and slips out (you don’t want to dwell too long at the fact that you already feel so empty) his arm moves upwards to encircle your waist securely. You’re glad for the help, because your legs cannot support themselves.

You feel his other hand reach upwards to massage your scalp, and your eyes close. They flutter back open when you realize he’s pressing soft kisses into your hair. He supports you as you both stumble so he can reach for toilet paper, and he haphazardly tosses the condom in the trash. He leans you on the wall, bending down to softly wipe at your mess, pressing soft kisses on your legs.

“Pretty Y/N... you did so well.”

He drags himself upward, kissing languidly and your belly, your ribs, your breast, your collarbone, your chin... until he meets your lips and when the soft pillows of his lips press onto yours, sweet and gentle, you almost forget about demanding Jimin.

Until you hear a knock on the door.

“This is the janitor, cleaning up for the evening. Is someone still in here?”

Like a douse of cold water, your eyes open in shock, you break your lips away push against Jimin’s chest.

Jimin’s sly grin betrays his sweet voice.

“Just a minute sir- give me five minutes and we’ll leave you to it.”

A cough outside the door. A different voice speaks up, clearly unamused.

“Hurry the fuck up Park Jimin. You too Y/N.”

Embarrassment crashes heavy over you.

“Don’t worry Hyung, we’re coming.”

Jimin winks at you, tossing you your discarded shirt and rumpled skirt- but tucks your panties in his pocket before you get a chance to protest.

You pull on your clothes as swiftly as possible, busying yourself from feeling a full assault of shame. While all Jimin has to do is tuck himself into his briefs, tug up his pants and redo is belt, he gets a chance to chuckle at you in amusement.

The coffee stain on the white rumpled shirt makes you release a disgusted scoff.

“You better buy me a new fucking shirt.”

Jimin’s laughs happily before reaching forwards to unlock the door.

#bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin pwp #park jimin #bts pwp #bts smut #bts imagines #bts x you #jimin x you #bts x reader #jimin x reader #jimin

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goblincas · 4 years ago

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Entry Level Angel | Ch 3

On AO3

Saturday, October 10th:

Charlie tapped Cas's shoulder, urging him forward as another breeze stroked past his skin— his still very desensitized skin. He swallowed, unmoving, eyes drilling into the scene ahead. After waiting another moment, Charlie flicked Cas in the bicep. He flinched out of sheer habit.

“Y’know, this is super important,” Charlie reminded him, using her fingertips to soothe the site of assault. “Like, for your own well-being. Hell, for your life, even. Not to be melodramatic or anything, but it’s not like we have any clue of the severity we’re facing, here.”

She was right, of course— Cas needed help, and he needed it more and more desperately, each passing day. He had almost certainly been cursed. Although, that was right about where the reasonable conclusions slipped off into the abyss, never to be heard from again.

However, if Charlie’s plan was to succeed, Cas was going to have to take some initiative, first. There was nothing productive about standing in place, waiting for the asphalt to swallow both his body and his oh-so stubborn will to live.

Christ, how did Charlie convince herself that she was the “melodramatic” one?

The brick wall ahead was tinged by an earthy green plaster, offsetting the tubular neon lights spelling out “Magical Books ‘n’ Goods” across an otherwise cramped windowpane. Damp autumn leaves clung to the chipping windowsill and the base of an oval-capped doorway. Cas could hardly see inside the low-lit shop, aside from the unassuming profile of a retail bookshelf.

Sure, it wasn’t an especially threatening setup, but he wasn’t exactly coming at the situation from the calmest headspace. Thus, there was an almost menacing ambiance filtering through the shop’s walls, clamoring in Cas’s direction. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been rendered motionless by fear, much like a toddler off to their first day of preschool. Nope, no need for personal responsibility or self-initiative, here. Not today.

Again, Charlie nudged him, although with more pressure than earlier. “Dude, I’m serious. I just know that if anyone’s gonna be able to give us a clue, here, it’s gonna be her. Listen; I get the nerves, okay? And, like, I don’t even expect them to go away when you guys meet. She’s great, but she’s still an acquired taste… if it’s not totally insensitive to say that about another person. But this is important, Cas. I care about you too much to be lax, right now. Got it?”

Cas huffed, blinking slowly. Processing. “What a beautiful speech,” he quipped, continuing to gather his thoughts. Charlie flicked him again, this time on his shoulder. “Fine, okay, I understand. I do. I’m going in.”

Eyes lighting up against the muted autumn backdrop, Charlie thrust a celebratory fist into the air. “Great! Let’s get going, then.”

⁂

The inside of the witches’ specialty shop wasn’t too much unlike a run-of-the-mill small town bookstore, down to the effortless quirks of its layout. Mismatched shelves lined much of the back wall, creating a rich smattering of varying hues and grain around the secondhand spines. The air smelt faintly of chemical cinnamon, hardly able to overcome the musk of the place. Still, the witchy touches were anything but hidden; a line of tables ran down the center of the shop, covered in plastic-wrapped bundles of herbs, jars of unidentifiable glowing substances, and trendy rose gold altars. Wait, was that… an eyeball?

For his own sanity, Cas decided not to overthink it.

Before Cas had the opportunity to turn to Charlie for guidance, a voice jetted through the air, originating from god-knows-where. “Ah, hello there, dearie! Charlie, welcome back! And who is this you’ve brought along with you?” The thick, unmistakably Scottish sing-song seemed to reverberate out of the air, itself. Although hazy at the start, the sound was quick to crispen up.

Shifty eyed, Cas began to peer around the shop, only slightly disturbed by the disembodied words. Truly, it wasn’t as if he’d been expecting a day-to-day, streamlined retail experience. This was about in line with his expectations, so, whatever.

Charlie, bless her, managed to respond with near perfect nonchalance; this calmed Cas, yet somehow, also put him just a bit more on-edge. Well, then. “Hey, Ro! Where are you at? The back? I kinda, really need your help with something. Or, at least, my friend here sure does. Oh, Cas, introduce yourself!”

Cas side-eyed his friend, chewing his lip before replying slowly, seemingly to no one in particular, “Hi, I’m Cas. Um. Nice to meet… you? Yeah, sorry, who am I speaking to?” He was a human, for heaven’s sake; he wasn’t used to this, as expected as it might have been. Witches were certainly avant-garde, Cas could give them that.

Seconds later, a door was pushed open toward the back of the shop; it was encased on both sides by thinner, darker shelves, lined with stones and miscellaneous shiny and slimy tchotchkes. Cas swallowed, taking in the emerging figure.

The woman was surprisingly petite, yet carried herself as if she could crush Cas beneath her pinkie finger, alone. Red hair styled in fat curls poured over the shoulders of her simple black gown. Her eyes seemed to be faintly glowing, and Cas wasn’t certain he was comfortable with that fact, all things considered.

Nonetheless, Charlie was beaming in an instant, giving a short yet enthused wave of her hand. “Hey again, Ro. I know you’re probably busy, and I seriously don’t wanna waste any more of your time than I have to, so I’ll get right down to it. Oh, first— Cas, this is Rowena MacLeod, the spell-casting and lore dictionary, herself.”

Rowena let out a low giggle, the gleam in her emerald eyes only intensifying. Honestly, Cas was convinced that that “gleam” was more than simply a trick of the light.

“Yes, of course! Well, it’s very good to meet you, Cas, dearie,” Rowena said, her voice flowing over Cas like compound butter.

Cas gave a curt nod, unsure if he was meant to lead the conversation from there, but praying that he wasn’t.

To his luck, Charlie continued, “Like I said, I’ll get right down to… it. ‘Cause it’s kinda a lot. Unfortunately,” she said, planting her hands on her hips and entering an inadvertent power pose. “Cas here, just like the unlucky bastard that he is, managed to go and get himself mega cursed. And we have, like, no clue what’s goin’ on. So, first off, we’re gonna need a diagnosis, if you can give us one.”

Pursing her red-painted lips, Rowena hummed, squinting in Cas's direction. Cas fidgeted as the witch glided across the room, the floor creaking and whining beneath her leather heels. Moving in Cas's direction, she continued to scope the young man out.

“Hm? Ach, so… Cas, darling. Mind to expand in place of your friend? This is your tragic curse, after all. I’m sure your first-hand assessment will be more useful to me, here.”

Strangely enough, Cas wanted to contend. While Charlie hadn’t been the one experiencing the bizarro symptoms that past week, she was the witch. This was her specialty, her very domain as their backdrop.

Still, with trepidation, he replied. “It’s not anything bad, necessarily. At least, not painful. Just… very strange.” He sighed. Rowena leaned forward, tipping the weight of her body in Cas's direction. “I spilled hot coffee on myself and wasn’t burnt. No pain, either. I can’t sleep. I haven’t tasted food in a week. Oh, I haven’t slept in a week, either, so I definitely should mention that. Also, once, not too long after this all started, my entire abdomen glowed blue, before I was knocked unconscious for… a few hours, I believe?”

Cas held his breath, anticipating the sharp-eyed witch’s professional assessment. She continued to squint upward, claw-like hands finding their way to her hips.

“Well,” she hummed, after a moment of thought. “That’s certainly… concerning, to put things all too simply. Ah, and— you’re a human, correct?”

“Yeah, I am.” Although, frankly, Cas wasn’t so sure anymore. He certainly didn’t feel like a human, at that point. Surely, a “human” would have dropped dead of exhaustion by then, right?

(Although, it was more likely that Dean was going to be the one to kill him for neglecting his health and safety, if he ever found out. Assuming the curse didn’t get creative and take care of that first, of course.)

Rowena gave a delicate nod, loose curls bobbing with the movement. She straightened herself, leaning just slightly away, and Cas felt the concrete seeping from his own limbs. Wait, when had he gotten so tense?

“I see, I see. Hm…” She clucked her tongue, momentarily turning her gaze toward the tiled ceiling. “You are certainly correct, Charlie, dear. This isn’t a common ailment… how fascinating. That is certainly an unusual combination of, what sounds like, quite powerful and life-altering symptoms. Ach, well…” She trailed off, before reaching out a slender hand and attaching it to Cas's forearm. He lurched, but made sure not to pull away. As much as he loathed people touching him without a lick of permission, he reasoned that it was a sacrifice he’d apparently have to make.

God, he felt like a fucking lab rat, though. A genetic freak of a rodent, caged off from the rest of its whiskered brethren.

“I… have a bit of an inkling, certainly,” Rowena said, nails digging deeper into the flesh of Cas’s arm. She gazed directly into his eyes. “Infernal magic of some sort or another seems likely. Demonic in nature, maybe? Of course, draconic spellwork is still very much a consideration.”

Charlie drew in a breath between her teeth, reaching out from beside Cas and laying a hand on his shoulder. “Woah… not good. Why do you think that?”

To Cas's hardly containable irritation, Rowena let out another giggle, sleek as ever. “Well, you see, dearie, it’s really just a simple process of elimination. The more uncommon the spell or the curse, the more likely it’s outsourced from fringe magic. It’s as simple as that, really.” She drew back her hand, joining her palms together atop her heart. “Of course, we’ll have to do some further investigation to understand what, exactly, is the matter. Now, think of it like a fun little puzzle— in that light, your predicament will feel far less harrowing. Hm?”

As Rowena spoke and Charlie shifted her hand to clutch at the meat of Cas’s bicep, the front door to the shop was nudged open. Cas peaked over his shoulder, watching a golden-haired stranger hop on in— and promptly drift toward the corner shelves. There was no hesitation to his movements, his gait full of pep and bordering on enthusiastic. Still, he didn’t reach out to fiddle with any of the items; he simply stood in place, arms crossed over his chest, facing away from Rowena and company.

“Follow me to the back, now,” Rowena sung, re-seizing Cas's attention. “I’ll dash back out if I’m needed, but for now, privacy would be best.”

Charlie nodded. “Totally, I agree. Cas, you okay with heading back? Do you want me to come with? I can, if you want. Or not. Whatever you need, man.”

Throwing a final glance toward the apparent non-customer, Cas turned to Charlie, eyes pleading. Please. Please don’t leave me alone with her.

Thankfully, his friend got the message. Blessed be

#my writing #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #A bit of a rougher chapter... but we're gonna work with it!#my post

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mdogggames528 · 4 years ago

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Gaming pc installing windows what do i need

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