#this was inspired by me not knowing what to say to my supervisor because i haven't done all the work

[starrywangxian]

i do find it very interesting how stede has to be in the field to become a fierce pirate captain, like he has to put in that situation where someone is running at him with a knife or sneaking up behind him with a gun to do anything.

it's almost like he's whim prone or something??? i don't know, many that's too far fetched

[trippinsorrows]

my all + oneshot

authors note: this is all deranged, dysfunctional, toxic, and unhealthy. i condone none of the shit ya'll are about to read. none. inspired by this ask.

words: 8.7k

song inspo: 'my all' by mariah carey. because solana is just as down bad as mariah was singing this shit about a young derek jeter.

warnings: smut, violence, some angst. age gap relationship (10 years). a bit of a daddy kink. breeding kink. blink and you'll miss it cum play. toxic relationship. rough sex. roman is dominant and possessive. solana is passive and a bit of a nympho for him.

Solana Miller knew the minute she laid eyes on Roman Reigns that he would be trouble. Without even knowing his story, his case, or the reason he was serving a 10 year sentence, she just knew he would be a problem for her. 

It started with the first man that he sent to her infirmary. Badly beaten. Multiple cracked ribs. A ruptured kidney. Eyes swollen shut. 

The reason for the vicious attack?

Because he could.

The man ended up needing care beyond what Solana could provide, hence being transferred to the main hospital.

And that was just one of several. Over the course of four weeks, several men who found themselves on Roman Reigns' bad side—if a good one even exists—laid on her bed. Bloody, beaten, unconscious. The more inmates she saw, the more severe the beatings. His cruelty seemed to know no limits.

And, Roman himself wasn't even the one who'd caused such mayhem. He had people working for, and inmates doing his dirty work for him. Even behind bars, he was still running shit.

It was the final inmate to need intense, urgent medical care beyond her clinic that Solana had to ask, had to inquire as to why. The how this kept happening. How Reigns hadn’t earned himself at least a good month or two of solitary confinement.

The answer?

“He’s untouchable.”

That was the only answer she received from her direct supervisor, the medical director of the prison, Dr. Trish Stratus.

And, it made sense. Because one look at Roman and one just knows he’s bad news, anyone who’s anyone knows exactly who Roman Reigns is.

The Tribal Chief. 

The Head of the Table.

The Capo.

He has many names, many titles, but all lead to one thing.

Danger.

Roman Reigns is the personification of danger.

The feared, brutal leader of two of the biggest crime syndicates in the world. His stint in federal prison only occurring due to betrayal from within his inner circle and a freshly appointed DA who thought he was hot shit by bringing down “The Big Dog.”

Solana knows it’s only a matter of time before he “mysteriously” disappears. Any sign or trace of him most likely to be found in the form of scattered body parts. If anything at all is to be left. 

Just like she knows it’s only a matter of time before Roman is someway, somehow released. A man as powerful as him can only be kept in chains for so long.

It'd been a little over a month since Solana first locked eyes with Roman Reigns in passing as he was being escorted to his cell. A brief, powerful, memorable thing. The faintest hint of a smirk on his handsome face as she redirected her gaze to her shoes.

Avoid.

Solana was determined to avoid him at all cost.

A difficult, almost impossible thing to do when one day she walked into work to find him sitting on the patient bed in her room, waiting for her almost, wearing a smug expression. 

The reason for his presence?

“Said his chest was hurting.”

Solana had never felt so disgusted with a person before when she received that bullshit answer from the guard. The guard who not only left her alone with Reigns, door closed, left him alone, completely unshackled. No cuffs on his wrists.

It was….unnerving, to say the least.

She’d heard the gory tales of his brutality. Knew what he was capable of. And, she’d been left alone with him. 

Wonderful.

Solana swallowed, doing her best to show no fear as she placed her bag on the hook behind the door. “Take your shirt off for me.” She issued her command while washing her hands, taking longer than what was necessary, already knowing she was bound to be distracted by the sight of such a man shirtless.

And, damn, was she correct.

Roman sat, still smug, shirtless, rippling muscles on full display. His tattoos, almost entirely tribal in nature, decorating half his body. A beautifully sculpted body.

Solana’s resolve had never been tested as much as it was in that awful moment.

“What’s your name, pretty girl?” It was the first thing she heard him say, the deep timbre of his baritone voice shaking her in an unsettling way.

Solana managed to avoid eye contact, drying her hands and answering. “Solana.” Throwing the used paper towels away, she added, “you can call me Nurse Miller.”

Roman shook his head, a teasing smile growing. “I like pretty girl better.” Fuck. “What’s a nice, young thing like you doing working in a place like this?”

“What are your symptoms?” She asked, somehow, someway maintaining professionalism despite the burning of her cheeks. She’d never been spoken to so boldly. 

Roman’s gaze was assessing, causing Solana to suddenly regret bypassing picking up a new set of scrubs. Having gained some weight over the past few months, she found her work uniform a little too snug in all the places one wouldn’t want attention in. The same places his eyes seemed to focus on. “You’re too innocent to be here.” He spoke, proudly and easily not answering her questions. “Too pretty. Too damn fine.”

Solana cleared her throat. “Mr. Reigns—”

“Roman,” he interrupted. “Call me Roman.”

Oh, fuck.

Solana’s suddenly shaky hands moved to grab the stethoscope off the counter as she walked over to him, managing a quiet, “just relax.” The same advice she tried to tell herself in being so close to him, the scent of his cologne, strong and masculine, just as distracting as his perfect face and body. Solana assessed his vital signs, hearing nothing abnormal. 

Clearing her throat, she moved to step away only for him to grab her. She froze as he tugged her in between his spread legs.

Her stomach dropped. “Mr. Rei—”

“Shhhh.” His index finger moved against her lips. “Roman.” He corrected once more, just as his eyes lowered to her chest. His tongue dipped out, licking his bottom lip. Solana utilized all sense of self-control to keep her thighs from clamping together from such an innocent act. 

Eyes never leaving her, he stood up, slowly. The height difference between them enough to make her head crane back to maintain that contact. Why she would even want to maintain it? She hadn’t the slightest clue. 

Solana’s mouth went dry as Roman grabbed his orange discarded shirt, laying it on his muscled forearm. She went to back away, the distance between them too suffocating, too cumbersome. 

But, the minute she did, his hand was on the small of her back, holding her, keeping her near him. 

Her eyes shut when he lowered his head, mouth near her ear. “I’ll see you around, pretty girl.”

A whispered promise followed by a light slap of her ass before he separated from her, walking out the door without another word.

—------

Solana would love to say that was the one and only time that happened. 

But, that would be a lie.

A big, fat lie, because that man earned himself an undeserved visit to her medical bay more often than any other patient she’d ever had. And not once did he come with any medical necessity. His reason always the same. 

“I wanted to see you.”

To her credit, she tried her best to maintain those boundaries. Corrected him every time he called her “pretty girl.” Ignored him whenever he made an inappropriate comment or innuendo about her body. Avoiding him seeing the blush on her cheek when he referred to indecent acts.

She truly did her best, but with each visit, her resolve crumbled. A straight face slipped into a small, shy smile. Physically assessing him with her hands, while limited to the usual, medically approved checkpoints, shifted into something else. When he grabbed her wrist and slid her palm over his heart, it rested there for longer than what was necessary. 

The personal questions he asked shifted from being ignored into being answered, though some information was omitted.

And, the physical distance she did her best to keep between them minimized with each encounter. He was breaking her, and he knew it.

She thought of going to Stratus. Even briefly considered asking for a transfer. But, something about it, something about him, prevented her from doing so. Prevented her from putting an end to it all, because another part of her, a stupid, naive part liked it.

She liked the attention he gave her.

She liked him.

And almost a month into this game of cat or mouse, it all came to a head. 

—----

It was the usual routine of him lying and forcing his way into her space, but the air about it was different. It felt different. 

Right away, she knew he had other intentions.

Roman’s big body eclipsed her last glimpse of the door closing, the two guards outside of the room instead of one inside and one outside, as protocol dictated. 

A protocol that’d been disregarded from the moment he stepped foot into her infirmary.

But, instead of sitting on the bed as usual, he remained standing. Nearing her, watching and studying her.

Nothing but lust and desire dancing in his beautiful eyes. 

Solana swallowed, partially already knowing what was about to happen.

Didn’t stop her from asking.

“What—what are you doing?” A question that should have been laced with fear and concern. Roman is a monster. A cold-blooded killer whose ledger is soaked and dripping with blood. 

He was also standing directly in front of her. 

He said nothing at first, head tilted as he effectively backed her against the patient bed. Solana’s ass bumped into the end of said bed, preventing her from going anywhere. He had her boxed in. 

“Giving you exactly what you want.”

His answer was hard enough to process, followed by his big hands reaching down and grabbing her, lifting and placing her onto the edge of said bed. Solana gasped, going to scold him, “Mr. Reigns, this is inap—”

“Shut up.”

Solana would be lying if she tried to deny she hadn’t thought of what it would be like to kiss Roman. A monster he may be, but ugly, he most certainly is not. Visually speaking, tall, strong, dark, and handsome, he checks off every single box a woman could be looking for.

Except, she didn't push him off when he smashed his lips onto hers. Didn’t shove him away and scream for help, for one of the guards to restrain him and keep him away from her.

She pulled him closer, ignoring the smirk of his full lips into their passionate kiss. A kiss she found herself not wanting to end as he shoved his tongue into her mouth the same way he’d shoved himself into her life. Without request and without protest.

Solana moaned when his hands moved down to squeeze her breast, his thumb peppering over her hardened nipples that felt brick solid, poking against the fabric of her scrubs. 

Her attraction for him and enjoyment in their passionate make out couldn’t be denied even if she tried. So much so that she doesn’t bat an eye when that same hand previously groping her big breast jumped down to start tugging her pants off. 

Solana moaned into the kiss, as Roman expertly rid her of her scrubs, ripping them past her sneakers, that he also removed, all items discarded onto the floor. He pried his mouth from hers, full lips swollen, pink tongue darting out and glossing over his bottom lip. 

“Lay back.”

Two words. A single command. One response.

Never mind the consequences, the repercussions, the career ending outcome that could stem from such a major fuck up. A mishap or mistake were too watery of terms to use. Too downplaying of what should easily be the biggest regret of her life, because so much, all, stands to be lost with just one knock or entrance of the right—or wrong—person.

Fraternizing with the prisoners was one thing, but sexual conduct with said prisoners was entirely different.

Solana could lose her job, could lose her license, could lose everything she’s worked so hard for.

And, yet none of that prevented her from doing a damn thing to stop this man. 

Solana laid back on the patient bed, sitting up and resting her weight on her elbows as she watched him drop to his knees before her. Heart rate erratic, she lifted her hips just enough when he started tugging down her underwear. As expected, they were thrown to the wayside, just as her pants and shoes were. 

An inconvenient obstacle preventing him from his destination. 

His warm eyes lifted to hers at the same time he grabbed her by her calves, forcing her down on the bed and right onto his waiting mouth.

“Oh, fuck!”

Solana had always enjoyed this part of sex. Tried to enjoy it, at least. Consistent good head had always been hard to come across. It’d be great at first and lackluster every time after. Or, the usual of way too much theatrics and not enough actual performance.

None of that was the case with the man before her. 

Roman didn’t ease into anything. It seemed like a trait that felt applicable across several areas of his life. Including with sex. Because, he ate her pussy with a ravenous, carnal, sinful need. The sounds of him sucking and licking on her clit battling with the moans that left her mouth and the withering of her body on the bed. 

The minute his thick, talented tongue circled her sensitive nub, Solana was off her elbows and on her back, head reclined from the delicacy of his exquisite mouth on her most sacred parts. 

“Oh my God.”

Solana was too caught up in the bliss of it all to care when he pulled back, humming almost. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He brought his fingers to toy with her arousal, thick finger teasing her tight hole. “Fuck my face.”

It was only then Solana realized how her body moved against him, how one hand fisted in his hair, holding him right where she wanted him. To stay.

Forever.

“Shit, Roman,” she cursed when he went back to work, sucking and kissing her pussy like it was the best thing he’d ever been blessed to experience. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

He moaned against her, hands moving under her ass, tugging her even closer. Solana cried out from the euphoria of it all, continuing to grind against him, an eager, needy nympho for his fix. 

And, he continued to provide it, continuing to grace and grant her with a level of delight she never knew possible. Roman ate her out within an inch of her life, Solana’s attempts to pry him off her only met with him forcing her hands away, further burying his face into her safe haven. He continued to torture her, never retracting or stopping, even as her orgasm coursed through her, practically knocking the wind out of her.

Never in her life had she come so hard. 

Or so much. 

She was a discombobulated mess, the only thing pulling her from that post orgasmic daze was the sight of Roman lowering his orange pants and black boxers, freeing what had to be the biggest dick—outside of porn—that she’d ever seen.

The excitement and libido was momentarily altered by an understandable amount of trepidation.

“I—” Solana wasn’t quite sure how to say it, especially as he rubbed the massive mushroom head of his equally massive sized cock against her slippery, wet folds. “It’s—it’s not going to fit.”

She knew this well. Basic science and common sense. Maybe some fear as well.

A lot of fear.

There’s no way he could get that inside of her. Not without her landing in someone’s emergency room from vaginal tearing. If not worse.

But, her apprehension didn’t extend to him. Roman smirked in response to her overt concern. “Yes, it will.” He prompted with his chin, one hand stroking that beautiful, long dick. “Lay back.”

She swallowed. “Roman.”

“Trust me.”

Her eyes widened slightly. Trust him? She shouldn’t have even be doing that with the man, let alone trusting him to fuck her without causing great bodily harm. It was crazy. All of it. One of the most dangerous men in the world, serving a ten year prison sentence, a man who had run this place like he owned it since starting his sentence. A man who’d gradually made his way past her wall, albeit weak from the get-go, standing before her, about to fuck her in the infirmary where she was supposed to be working. Like the guards outside the door who were also supposed to be working but had turned a blind eye, like almost everyone has with Reigns’ outrageous conduct.

It was fucking ludicrous.

And yet, she did exactly as he directed.

She laid back, demonstrating an undeserved and unearned amount of trust. 

Her stomach doing all kinds of somersaults, also in battle with the desire that still coursed in the depths of her belly. The wonderful sensations that came from him continuing to coat his dick with her essence, their makeshift lube in absence of the actual product.

Not once did she think to ask about protection. Or anything else, really, because all she could think about and focus on was the immediate, almost painful feel of him as he started to enter her.

Her eyes clenched shut, her fingers gripping the bed underneath her. “Shit.” An almost burning sensation, something similar to what one experiences when being split or cut open.

An accurate description. 

Solana felt a shift and a sort of weight on top of her, followed by Roman’s soft, full lips on hers. Nasty, tongue kissing accompanied the gradual descent of him inside her, providing a salacious and needed distraction. Inch by inch, he stretched her walls, forcing her cunt to accommodate his big dick.

Solana clutched onto his shoulders, moaning into his mouth when he spoke against her lips, “that’s it….let me in, baby girl.” Her eyes didn’t need to be open to see the haughty expression on his face. It seeped through his deep voice. “Let me ruin you.”

Concerning words that should not evoke the kind of moan it did. But, it did. The same way Solana couldn’t stop herself from realizing at some point the pain and discomfort of her taking someone of his size and girth transcended into something delicious and pleasurable. That it moved into her rocking against him, eager for more and all of him.

Something most definitely noticed by the man above her.

“Am I in there?” A possibly rhetorical question that was followed up with a more demanding question. “Where am I? Tell me, baby.”

An easy question, but one that was a struggle to verbalize as Roman had eased into a slow and steady pace. Solana hugged him closer as one hand moved under her ass, holding her up a bit while he fucked her. 

“My—my stomach, oh my God.” The only answer she could provide, the one that felt the most truthful, cause God, he was so deep. If not for rolls and pudge of her belly, even more profound from the position they were in, she’s certain she could have seen his sizable dick driving into her. Balls and stomach deep.

“That’s right,” he growled. Solana’s head fell back, wincing when he kissed and bit down on her neck. Equally painful as it was delightful. “Can’t nobody fucking beat your shit up like this but me.”

Another true statement she couldn’t deny or even try to. Solana couldn’t do much of anything with the way he was pounding into her. Wild, animalistic, uncontrolled. 

Fucking into her with a sense of need and urgency. “Fuck, your pussy feels amazing.” He grunted, leaning over, sucking on her neck. “Tight ass cunt….”

Her thighs locked around his waist, hungry for him, begging to feel his dick continue to dive into her. She’d never had a sexual partner hit and feel as deep as Roman was and felt in her. “Keep fucking me like that.”

Roman’s smirk was loud and proud. “This what you been wanting?” His tone cocky and knowing as he flicked her nipples through her top. “Me to stretch this pussy?”

Her response was a moan as she gripped his arms, holding him tighter and closer. “Y–yes.”

He made a sound, hiking her up further, Solana crying out from the angle of the thrust. The tip of his dick repeatedly knocking into and nudging her g-spot. “God, yes, right there.” Words in Spanish tumbled out of her mouth at the way he rocked into her, over and over again, driving her mad with delectable ectasy.

“Pretty girl just wanted me to slut her out on my dick, huh?” More bragging. Well deserved, because the way he was digging her out, pounding into her, should be studied, framed, and preserved for all eternity. “Wanted to be fucked by a real man.”

Another undisputed fact. 

“Fuck.” His hissed curse drew her gaze to him, Solana biting down on her bottom lip at the sight. Eyes shut, tension evident by how he was clenching his jaw, he looked like he was enjoying it just as much as she was. And there was something empowering about that, something that got her off even more. Knowing that a man as powerful as him, in all the ways, could be brought to this level of bliss because of her.

It had to be what emboldened her to bring her hands to his face, forcing their swollen lips to lock once more as she demanded, “you like how my pussy feels, baby?” Such an uncharacteristic thing for her to say, in the middle of being fucked numb, or not. Regardless, it’s exactly what she said. 

Roman’s response was to grind his hips against her, as he answered almost darkly. “Yes.” Solana nearly came right then and there from a single answer. “The Tribal Chief loves it.”

Another orgasm inducing acknowledgment that had that familiar sensation building and budding inside her. “Roman…”

“I know,” was his only response. He could feel it, too. “Not yet.” He said more to himself than her. “I’m not ready...”

Solana had a good feeling about what he was referring to, but it did nothing to slow down the autonomous response of her body. Unless he stopped fucking her like that, there was no stopping it. 

A whimper left her mouth as she dug her nails into his cheek, their foreheads pressed against each other. “I can’t….”

“Yes, you can,” he encouraged, slowing down the pace of his thrusts. She couldn't tell if that helped or hurt. “Don’t come on daddy’s dick just yet, pretty girl.” The ‘pretty girl’ most definitely didn’t help. It never did. “Let me feel this good ass pussy a lil’ longer…”

She wouldn’t be opposed to feeling his good ass dick inside her a lil’ longer as well, but wants oftentimes can’t stand up against needs. And, what she needed was to come.

More than she’d ever come before. 

It felt almost impossible, but Roman talked her through it. Kept her from tipping over the edge just long enough, so that he could catch up with and reach her, where they could climax together. And, they did. God, they did. Solana holding onto him, mouth ajar, connection to reality momentarily severed. Her orgasm was otherworldly. Too good and grand for her to even put into words, to be fully, physically, emotionally, and spiritually present.

All so earth and world shattering that it never even occurred to her how Roman came inside of her. Ropes of his cum, combined with her own, filling and spilling out over her used and battered pussy. 

She was partially cognizant to when he eventually pulled out of her, dazed look in his eyes as he brought his finger to her vagina, pushing some of their cum back inside. 

But, she was very aware when he used that same hand and brought his hand to grab her jaw, squeezing just enough to force her mouth open. That same hand, those fingers, still with their juices on it, entered her mouth. The unspoken command obvious. 

Solana sucked his fingers dry. 

Imagining it was that big, beautiful dick of his instead.

His look of pride at her obedience was followed by him removing said fingers. His mouth back on her, Solana shared the taste of them on her tongue and lips. An erotic, nasty exchange of sorts that had her pussy fluttering. 

It was all so kinky.

Roman broke the kiss, looking down at her with something she couldn’t name, but something that had her both aroused and fearful. 

And with all the conviction in the world, he laid his claim. “You’re mine now.”

—-----------

That first time was the start of something inescapable and avoidable.

Something sinful and forbidden.

An affair.

Four months deep, even if Solana wanted to get out, she couldn’t. It’s a known, open secret among several of her coworkers and colleagues. Something that once shamed her, embarrassed her. Now, she can’t seem to think or see straight beyond Roman. 

Even now, as she sits in the trailer, the place intended for prisoners who have an exemplary record, who have completed the Extended Family Visits (EFV) Program, that allows prisoners to have family time with loved ones in this separate space on prison grounds. 26 hours to live as normal a life as possible.

It’s a resource Roman has now commandeered for their alone time, adding to their visits that still happen at least three times a week.

For almost four months now, this has been the routine. Short, not as long meetings in the prison followed up with the Friday into Saturday she spends with him in the trailer almost weekly.

The closest sense of normalcy she’ll ever receive in such a fucked up situation.

But, the moment Roman arrives, she knows. 

Knows that something is wrong.

He’s upset with her. She can tell from the minute he walks in. Big body and tall frame almost too large for the trailer. Nicer and even bigger than the average, it’s just too small for him. Too simple. Too basic. A man like Roman demands and requires only the best of things. 

A difficult task, however, given the situation he’s in.

The situation they’re in.

He heads straight to the shower, which is the norm for him. However, what’s not the norm is the way he doesn’t even ask—or tell—her to join him. That’s usually how they kick things off. In the shower. Her washing him. Him washing her, and then her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounds into her her, her on her her knees, her body propped up against the wall, then on the bathroom counter, and eventually into the bedroom.

The normal trajectory of things. 

But, not tonight.

No, tonight is clearly bound to be different.

For a minute, Solana considers just leaving. It’s obvious he’s in a mood, and she doesn’t feel much better herself. It’s probably just best if she goes home. The smart thing. The right thing.

She doesn’t do it.

She remains there, sitting and waiting on the bed, wearing an old Selena shirt, a gift from her cousin back when they were in college.

And, she waits. For what, she’s not entirely sure anymore.

She just waits.

Roughly 25 minutes pass from the time he entered the trailer and the minute he walks out of the bathroom, nothing but a thick white towel wrapped around his waist. He’d clearly used another to dry his hair as best as possible given its damp, but not wet, appearance.

He stands at the end of the bed, ringlets of water dripping and traveling down his body, that sculpted, divine, fine work of the Gods. And, he looks at her. Says nothing. Just looks.

Suddenly exhausted and minimally frustrated, Solana runs her hands through her blown out hair. “Roman—

“Did you fuck him?”

And now, she’s looking at him. Of all the things he could say, of all the things he could ask, that….that was most definitely not on her list.

Confused, but maybe not, she asks, “what?”

 “You should know by now I don’t like repeating myself.” His expression is hardened. The perfect match for his voice. “The same way I don’t like when people lie to me.”

Both things that she knows. Solana has treated the brutal, gruesome wounds of the men who had to learn one or both of those lessons the hard way. And yet, she remains staunch in her partial confusion. “Roman, I don’t—” She’s silenced by him grabbing her ankle, yanking her down to the end of the bed. The action causes her shirt to scrunch up, revealing her blue thong.

His favorite color.

Not that she wore it for him. No….not at all.

Roman’s gaze briefly drifts to that same thong, and she sees the flash of desire that builds only to be squashed by frustration. “Don’t test me, Solana.” A dangerously delivered warning combined with his hand loosening its hold, only for him to gradually move it upward. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Her eyes never leave his traveling hand. “F–find out what?”

He stops only for a second. “You’re a terrible fucking liar.”

Solana says nothing, unable to disagree. She’s heard variations of the same thing over the years. Doesn’t mean she’s willing to cave.

“I know you went out last weekend with your friends.” And, there it is. Though startled, she remains unmoving. “That you went clubbing.” There’s an undeniable disdain in his delivery of that last word. A marked contrast to his hand that’s now in between her thighs, fingers hovering around the perimeter of her thong. “That you were dancing and talking to some piece of shit.”

All things she can’t and won’t deny, partially because it’s true, mostly because it’s practically impossible to focus with his hand so close to her pussy.

“So, I’m only going to ask you one more time, sweetheart.” Her eyes shut, lips parted, mouth drying as he travels his thick, long fingers past the band on her thong, collecting and playing with her arousal. “Did you fuck him?”

The him comes out at the same time he moves two fingers inside of her, evoking only a moan for a response. 

It’s the wrong answer. 

Solana cries out in protest when he hastily retracts his fingers, leaving her yearning and wanting more. 

“Ro—”

“Shut up.” An angry silencer accompanied by his big hands moving to grab her hips, tugging her forward even more and hurriedly turning her over. Solana is hoisted up on the bed, guided on her hands and knees. 

“Ro—”

Solana is once again silenced, but not by his words this time. By that same big hand coming down on her backside, the sound echoing throughout the room, her ass jiggling in the recoil. 

“I said shut the fuck up,” he reiterates. There’s not going to be a third repeating. A mixture of confusion and excitement fills her at feeling and hearing him move behind her. The drop of the towel from around his waist, the way he snatches and rips her underwear clean off her body. His moan that’s followed by her own as he drags his thick dickhead up and down her folds, collecting her arousal.

It’s all so dysfunctional and wrong.

And, she loves it all.

A loud shout and moan falls out her mouth the minute he plunges his long, girthy dick inside of her. No build up. No preparation. Just the massive intrusion of his sizable member in her tight opening. 

And, he’s relentless. 

Solana’s body jerks back and forth from the force of his thrusts. Angry. Possessive. Jealous. 

“Roman,” she moans. “Baby, please.” One hand reaching back to push him away is quickly snatched and held against her lower back as he starts fucking her harder.

“You’re mine,” he growls, leaning over, deepening the feel of the delicious dick inside of her. It hurts so good, feels so bad in all of the right, wonderful ways. “You belong to me.”

More possessive statements accompanied by his hips slamming against her big, round ass, jerking in and out of her, like each thrust is another assurance of his ownership. “Your pussy is mine.”

A decree followed up with a switching of his pace. Roman opts for slower, deeper thrusts, his hips grinding against her as one hand goes to slap her ass once more.

Solana moans, head down on the pillow, her other hand snatched and restricted behind her back. He’s got her pinned down as he continues to fuck into her like a man on a mission.

“Did you give him my pussy?” There’s an edge to his voice, like anything but the right answer could easily send him over the edge.

And, it just might. 

“N–no,” she finally answers, praying the truth of her response translates despite the weariness of her voice. He always fucks her in a way that makes her feel so exhausted. “It’s—it’s your pussy, baby.”

His. All his. Every part of her. The good, the bad, the somewhere in between.

His.

“That’s right,” he grunts. Solana’s eyes burn with unshed tears. Never in her life has she been fucked like this. Fucked so good. It’s almost impossible to resist. To deny him this. To deny herself this. “Who do you belong to?”

She’s about to reply when he frees one of her hands only to fist her hair, forcing her up, head back, burning gaze on her. “I asked you a question.”

An easy answer but a difficult answer given how he’s fucking her right now. “Y—you, baby. I’m—I’m your—shit—only y–yours, Ro.”

“Damn right,” he huffs, releasing her hair. Roman moves her shirt up, exposing her big, heavy breast, gripping them, fingers playing with her nipples. “My pretty girl is mine and only mine.”

Eyes fluttering closed from being fucked numb, she can only blindly nod and agree, stuttering from the impact of his unforgiving his pace. “Y–yes, daddy.”

Head lolling back against his chest, Solana moves her hands atop his as he continues to grope and play with her titties.

His mouth near her ear, kissing and nibbling, his deep voice rumbles, “you’re gonna give me a baby.” If not for her sex fueled haze, Solana would have done a double take. Eyes wide, mouth ajar for an entirely different reason. “Gonna fill this tight, little cunt up with my seed and put a baby in you. My baby.”

Crazy.

She should call him crazy. Delusional, even. But, she can’t. She can’t, because his statement isn’t also sex fueled, the result of being caught in the throes of passion. 

It comes from her.

Came from her.

Was a request straight from her mouth.

Solana had asked Roman to give her a child, to give them a child. Has done nothing to prevent said child from occurring organically given the numerous times she’s let this man come all in her without a single form of protection.

“That’s what you want, right?” He taunts, his heavy balls slapping against her from the force of his thrusts. “Me to put a baby in you? Why you let me come in you every time?”

Truthful words that should bring her to shame. But, they don’t. They just turn her on even more.

“Yes, Ro.” She moans, ass moving in tandem with him, swallowing his dick with the hunger the fills them both. “Oh, fuck, you fuck me so good, baby.”

“That’s right.” His hand squeezes her booty, jiggling and slapping it once more. “My pretty girl is a dirty cum slut for me and only me.”

Continuance of filthy truths that reveal all the ugly, tainted things about herself that only become evident when she’s with him. The secrets of her desires that could only come to the light because of him. The things she’s not sure how to get back into the box.

Or, if she even wants them to. 

As he does most times, Roman puts her in any and all positions he wants to. On her hands and knees. Propped up on his dick as he watches her ride him. From the front and back. On her back. On her knees as she deepthroats him till she's on the brink of vomiting. Her knees up against her chest, juxtaposed to her ears. One leg over his shoulder, the other held up against his waist as he relentlessly pounds into her. It never stops. His sex drive is endless, his hunger and desire for her is insatiable. Always has been.

It’s only when she tells him she’s too sore, that the pleasure is completely gone, pain and discomfort the only sensations she has left inside of her is when he lets up off her. A constant thing. The minute it’s no longer pleasurable for her has always been his stopping point. 

As intense and dominating he can be in the bedroom, he’s always been mindful and respectful of her consent. When she says stop, he listens. 

Every single time.

When she taps out for good, he accepts it.

And, she is completely tapped out. 

Roman carries her to the bathroom where he turns on the shower, bringing her under the running water as he washes her and then himself. A type of gentleness that’s a stark contrast to almost everything else about him, but a normal thing when it’s just the two of them. Both clean and cleansed from the mess they’d made of themselves, he kisses her forehead and brings her back into the bedroom. An extra blanket is laid over the bed, over the other mess that was made.

He lays her down first before climbing into bed with her, another clean blanket on top of them. Solana presses her naked, clean body against his own, head on his chest as he kisses her temple, encouraging her to rest.

And while her body enjoys the much needed respite, her mind cannot.

She can’t find a way to settle her many, racing thoughts at this. At all of it.

Madness.

This whole thing is a type of madness that makes no sense when she’s not with him and all the sense when it’s just him. That’s the power this man has over her. Solana can’t see or think straight when it’s Roman. He’s clouded her judgment, turned her into a version of herself even she can’t recognize.

She’s yet to tell if that’s a good or bad thing.

It’s all bad, according to Jade, Solana’s older cousin and confidant. 

Well, prior.

Because the minute Solana made the mistake of confiding in the woman she thought she could tell anything, she learned just how wrong she was. 

“Solana, have you lost your goddamn mind? You’re fucking a prisoner? A mafia boss at that?”

That was probably the nicest of the response she received. Everything else was a lot of judgment and lack of understanding. Or, trying to understand, at least.

Needless to say, the conversation didn’t go well, and every outreach attempt Solana has made in the weeks that have passed have gone without a response.

It hurts. For sure. But, Solana can understand. 

Jade also works as a nurse in the local hospital and most likely doesn’t want it to get out that she knew about this illegal, forbidden affair and played any part. Distance is probably for the best.

But, the conversation and aftermath did get Solana thinking. Forced her to consider all she stands to lose should this ever reach that point, and not even her professional standing and achievements.

Her family. 

What would they think of her? They’d be disappointed for sure. 

The child her family never had to worry about suddenly boosted to the top of that worry list.

A dangerous thought that led her stumbling into even more dangerous territory.

Solana will never say she has a bad family. Ever. She loves her parents. Loves her siblings. Her family is good.

However, the youngest of five siblings, some of them hitting rough patches at various points in life, there were definitely moments where she just felt….there. Like, she was just another member of the family. Another Miller kid. The “good” Miller kid. The one who always had it together, for the most part, thus not needing as much attention from her parents who were already stretched thin from their other children. 

And, that was pretty much the dynamic her entire life. Solana did well, did okay, and that was that. Her parents would acknowledge they were proud, but it almost always felt like a distant thing. Like, they were saying it as a pleasantry, distracted, too busy helping out DJ with his custody battle for his daughter. Occupied with finding Isabella a good therapist for her anxiety. Stressed out by Zuri and her refusal to comply. 

Solana was just the child they never had to worry about which, unfortunately, translated into her being the child that often felt forgotten about.

Enter: Roman Reigns.

The attention of a man like him is one thing. The interest is something entirely different. 

And, she’s managed to nab both. He should be the last person she wants to see and be intrigued by her, but that’s exactly what’s happened. Not only does Roman make her feel seen and heard, he makes her feel wanted, something she didn’t realize she lacked so deeply until him.

He makes her feel cared for.

Protected. Another, interesting, sad thing she also never realized she was missing, wanting, yearning for. 

Like the guard, Knight something, who continued to pester and bother Solana, even going as far as groping her ass as she walked past him one day. An impossible, unavoidable situation as he’d been there for years compared to her six months. Something she just accepted she’d have to tolerate.

She was wrong.

Because not even 24hrs after Roman happened to catch a glimpse of the harassment she was dealing with, Knight was found dead in a prisoner’s cell. Beaten to death. Castrated. Eyes gouged out. 

A gruesome ending for a man she couldn’t find herself feeling sorry for after learning he had a record of harassing nurses. And sexually assaulting female inmates at the prison he worked at before then.

Ignoring his willingness to kill or have people killed for her, which probably should disturb her more than it does, Solana could talk to Roman for hours and never tire. Because his gaze is always on her, eye contact consistent, attention devoted solely to and on her. She can’t count how many times she’d be trying to talk to her parents or siblings about something, anything, only for them to always find something more important to redirect their focus to. 

“I’m sorry, Sola.”

“There’s just a lot going on, sweetie.”

“Can we talk about this some other time? We will. I promise. I’m just….”

Reasons, when she was younger. 

Excuses, now, at 27. 

And, she doesn’t fault them, isn’t upset with them. It’s just realizing what void that caused for her is such an experience, especially when that void has been filled—and more—by a man ten years her senior and miles beyond what and who she usually goes for.

Amenable. Introverted. Lover of the arts. All qualities she could use to describe her exes, none of which could describe Roman.

Strong. Quiet. Brutal. There’s a strength about him she admires and gravitates to that has nothing to do with his massive build and rippling muscles. A story behind those warm brown eyes she could most definitely get used to waking up to. A man beneath the thing that is Roman Reigns. 

A…..a man who, in the throes of chaos and destruction, sometimes seeks the silence and calm. A space she knows she provides him. 

“It’s simple with you.” He’d once said as they lay in bed together, his strong arms around her, her head on his chest. Her fingers danced across the plane of his stomach.

Something told her he wasn’t talking about the silence of the room they lay in, either.

At the very beginning, she tried to tell herself he didn’t care. That she was nothing more than a source of entertainment for a man who has nothing better to do while waiting to be released from a sentence he “shouldn't” even be serving in the first place.

That thought process helped her justify her outrageous behavior just a little.  

But, it was a thought that quickly started to be debunked when things started happening. 

Like her being at home, in her quaint little apartment, only to receive a knock at her door one day with a delivery. Beautiful pink roses from the local florist. A card attached that simply read.

For my pretty girl.

-R

Moving past the shock of such a thoughtful gesture, Solana chalked it up to a singular act of kindness. Underserved, in her mind. But, appreciated, nonetheless.

And, then it happened again.

More flowers. 

Flowers morphed into gifts. Expensive gifts. Someone who had a few select Kate Spade bags and a Michael Kors backpack gifted during college, Solana found herself on the receiving end of designer brands so fancy she couldn’t pronounce. And, the flowers remained a weekly thing as well, something she valued slightly more than the six to seven figure gifts. 

Because he’d asked her what she liked, and she’d told him flowers. She told him, and he remembered. Not only did he remember, but he’d seemingly made it a mission of his to make it a thing. To make a small act of kindness a thing of normalcy. 

And while she tried her best to not make too much of it, a man in prison showing her more adoration and appreciation compared to any of her exes, who were most definitely not serving a decade long sentence, is something she can’t avoid. 

Can’t not acknowledge.

Doesn’t mean she hasn’t tried, because she has.

Solana has tried to break free from the addiction that is Roman Reigns.

Tried to avoid him as much as possible. A difficult thing on so many levels. Especially when he always seems to find a way inside of her infirmary and especially inside of her.

It was why she went out last weekend. Willing to test out that age old theory regarding how the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. 

It didn’t work. It was, somewhat, even as she made out with the random man whose name she can’t really remember. Melo, or something like that. But, the minute he started “stroking” her and boasting about how good it probably felt, it was a wrap.

Her thigh. He was stroking her thigh.

Solana went home alone that night, left early, needing to just be away from it all.

But, the fact that Roman knew about some of it, clearly not everything, comes at no surprise.

She knows he has people watching her. Has noticed the cars parked outside her parking complex. Seen the men that are almost always in not too far distance whenever she goes out. Even at the club that night.

He has a security detail on her. 

Has had one on her for a while now. 

Ever since that happened.

A fight broke out among inmates. Nothing out of the norm. A few were injured, hence several being transferred to medical. For some reason, she’s still unsure as to exactly how, a few of the prisoners weren’t properly secured. They weren’t shackled or cuffed, and it was as Solana went to disinfect a cut on one of them, he headbutted and punched her so hard that it knocked her out cold. 

Solana came to hours later in the local hospital where she wasn’t released until the next morning, being treated for what she considered minor injuries. Though the nasty bruise that marred the left side of her face was far from minor.

As recommended by Dr. Stratus, she took the next few days off. It felt a bit unnecessary. Solana didn’t feel too impacted by what occurred. Having been in the nursing field a few years now, she’d seen and experienced a lot. It wasn’t necessarily the first time she’d been hurt on the job, but it also wasn’t something that kept her up. That had her feeling traumatized.

There was some level of anxiety when she returned to work a few days later, but it quickly subsided when she learned that same prisoner who attacked her was dead.

Found tortured and murdered in his cell.

That shook her a bit. But, not as much when Roman was brought to the infirmary, her room, and the first thing she noticed was the scraped skin of his knuckles. For all of the many times he finessed his way into coming to see her, never had he actually come with anything requiring any kind of medical attention.

And even then, there wasn’t much that needed to be done outside of some disinfecting.

But, he didn’t seem to give two shits about that. 

He only seemed concerned with her. The minute the guards closed the door, he was before her. His big hands gently cupping her face, carefully turning her head to the side, examining the bruise that not even her most full coverage foundation could conceal.

His expression was a mixture of fury and regret. But, the fury couldn’t be felt not one bit as he pulled her into him, Solana initially confused but easily melting into comfort. She relished being in his strong embrace.

He kissed the top of her head, holding her, voice low and heavy with something unknown. “I’m sorry.”

To this day, she doesn’t know what exactly he was sorry for. She just knows that ever since that day, she’s had a security detail. It felt a little unnecessary and not even applicable, given she was injured on the job. Her “bodyguards” of sorts can’t really do anything to protect her when she’s on the clock.

But, Roman can.

It’s why she put two and two together, realizing Roman himself killed the man who hurt her. Every other life he’d claimed had been done indirectly. He’d used and ordered other people to carry out his fatal orders. But, this time….this time, he took it into his own hands.

He used his own hands to end the man’s life. Violently. Brutally. Graphically.

Why?

For her.

To send a clear message regarding what happens to anyone who dared to touch or try to hurt her.

Solana isn’t entirely certain, but she has a nagging suspicion that that was the moment it happened. 

The moment she realized she was falling in love with Roman.

Roman, for all his faults, and there are many, is good to her. He protects her and gives her a sense of belonging. Makes her feel wanted, something she didn’t really realize she was craving so deeply until him. 

Where she always just felt one of many with her family. With him, she’s one of one. She’s all he sees and all he wants. 

The same way she feels about him.

While the sex is phenomenal and in the plenty whenever it’s just the two of them, he talks to and with her. Asks about her, about how she’s doing. He’s always been so interested and intrigued about all the things that make her her. And, he commits it all to memory. Locks it away for sake keeping and points of retrieval. If she casually mentions working on an art piece, the next time they’ll see each other, he’ll ask how it’s going.

If she mentions not feeling the best during an interaction at the prison, their EFV visit won’t be used for a “sexscapade.” They’ll talk, she’ll learn more about him, he learns about her. It’s almost entirely domestic. He won’t touch her, unless she asks, and even then, he’s intent on making sure that she’s sure it’s what she wants.

And, it’s those moments that make her realize somewhere along the way, she stopped falling in love with Roman Reigns. 

She’s in love with Roman Reigns.

It’s all so fucked up. Everything about it. But, she’s too far gone, too deep into it to turn back now. 

And a part of her still worries that this is all performative. That he’s saying and doing all the things he knows she wants to hear and receive just to get what he wants from her. That the moment Roman is finally released will be the moment she never hears or speak to him again. He’ll be back on his throne, and she’ll be left all alone, heartbroken, life in ruins, trying to put it all the shattered pieces back together.

Potentially with a baby in her stomach.

It’s a reality she should probably consider more than she does, if at all, but it’s a reality she refuses to acknowledge. 

If that ends up being the devastating case, she’ll cross that bridge when they get there. When she gets there. Until then, she’ll enjoy this. Enjoy him. Enjoy them.

Because she’d give her all for him. 

Even if just to be a distant memory.

[bestofmultiverse]

Between the pages || 4

Aubrey plaza x fem!reader

"It’s hard to save people from themselves. But if they’re willing to try, it’s worth the risk.”

- Paperweight by Meg Haston

A/N : this part talks about mental health, i don't know if its on triggering level but it was important for me to let yall know.

Got inspired by my trip to the ER today because of anxiety attack that left me feeling like i was literally dying. Im okay, conveniently had a therapy session as well afterwards so had a pretty rough day- but pushing trough it 🤍

I love you guys hope you will like this one x

1 • 2 • 3 • 5

When Aubrey stormed into the ER, she wasn’t sure what she was more furious about: the fact that her girlfriend hadn’t told her she was there or the casually infuriating way she explained it when she finally did.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” her girlfriend had said with a weak shrug, as if chest pain and difficulty breathing were minor inconveniences she could brush off.

“Didn’t want to bother me?” Aubrey had echoed, disbelief flaring in her voice.

The younger woman, seated in one of those awful plastic chairs, simply nodded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. “It’s not the first time,” she added lightly.

That had nearly sent Aubrey over the edge, but then her anger had crumbled the moment she took in her girlfriend’s slumped posture, the way her hands trembled slightly in her lap. The fight in her drained away, replaced by a deep, aching worry.

Without a word, Aubrey knelt in front of her and wrapped her arms around her tightly. Her girlfriend stiffened for a moment before her shoulders sagged, and tears, born of frustration and weariness, spilled from her tired brown eyes.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Aubrey murmured against her temple, her voice breaking.

“I’m sorry,” came the hoarse reply.

“What did the doctor say?” Aubrey asked after a beat.

“Nothing yet. It’s been two hours since they checked me, so I guess that’s a good sign,” her girlfriend said, trying for humor, but the weak smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Aubrey frowned and brushed a stray strand of hair from her girlfriend’s face. “What made you come in today?”

Her girlfriend hesitated, looking down at her hands. “A coworker noticed I was struggling and told my supervisor. They basically forced me to come.”

Aubrey’s heart clenched at the thought of her being too stubborn—or scared—to seek help on her own. “I’m sorry that happened, baby.”

“It’s not your fault,” her girlfriend said softly, shaking her head.

Aubrey pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Still. I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aubrey sighed, her thumb tracing comforting circles over her girlfriend’s hand. “I’m going to talk to the nurse and see what’s going on.”

Her girlfriend grabbed her wrist, her grip surprisingly firm. “Please don’t make a scene. They’re doing their best.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Aubrey said with a small smile. “But I’m not just going to sit here while you suffer.”

She stood and approached the front desk, her patience already worn thin. “Excuse me,” she said, keeping her tone calm but firm. “My girlfriend’s been waiting for two hours with chest pain and trouble breathing. Is there any way to get an update?”

The nurse didn’t even glance up. “It takes time,” she said dismissively.

“I understand that,” Aubrey replied, clenching her jaw. “But is there any way to know how much time?”

Before the nurse could respond, a doctor appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. “Y/N?” she called out.

Relief washed over Aubrey as she hurried back to her girlfriend. “Come on,” she said gently, helping her to her feet.

They followed the doctor into an exam room, and Aubrey stayed close, her hand never leaving her girlfriend’s.

“After running several tests, we didn’t find anything concerning,” the doctor began, offering a reassuring smile. “Your heart and lungs are healthy, and your bloodwork came back normal.”

Aubrey’s girlfriend nodded slowly, her expression conflicted.

“So what’s causing this?” Aubrey asked, her tone carefully measured.

The doctor hesitated before answering. “It seems to be psychological—likely a panic attack.”

Aubrey’s girlfriend let out a bitter laugh. “Figures.”

“It’s more common than you think,” the doctor said gently. “There’s nothing physically wrong with you, which is good news. But I’d recommend following up with a therapist to explore potential triggers and coping strategies.”

“Right,” her girlfriend muttered as she stood, grabbing her bag. “So, I’m crazy. Got it.”

“You’re not crazy,” Aubrey said firmly, standing as well and pulling her into a hug. She held her close, one hand cradling the back of her head as her girlfriend let out a shaky breath against her shoulder.

“Thank you, doctor,” Aubrey said softly before leading her girlfriend out of the hospital.

The drive home was quiet, the radio turned off at her girlfriend’s request. When they reached Aubrey’s apartment—a place that had gradually become their shared home—they settled on the couch, the silence stretching between them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aubrey asked after a while. “No pressure, but… I’m here.”

Her girlfriend pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. “It’s just… stuff. Work’s been rough, and… other things too.”

“Other things?” Aubrey prompted gently.

Her girlfriend hesitated. “It started about five months ago.”

Aubrey froze. Five months ago—the same time the media had started dissecting their relationship, plastering their faces across magazines and social media.

Her girlfriend must have noticed the look on her face because she quickly added, “This isn’t your fault, Aubrey. Please don’t think that.”

Aubrey shook her head. “I should’ve protected you from all of that.”

“You couldn’t have. I chose this. I chose you,” her girlfriend said, her voice trembling. “And I’d choose you again. Every time.”

Aubrey pulled her into her arms, kissing her temple. “I’d choose you too. Always.” She paused, stroking her girlfriend’s hair. “But I think we need help—someone who can help us make sense of this.”

Her girlfriend looked up at her, confused.

“I’m talking about therapy,” Aubrey said gently. “For you, if you want it. And maybe for us. Together.”

Her girlfriend frowned. “You think we need couples therapy?”

“I think it’s worth trying,” Aubrey said honestly. “You were scared to tell me what you’ve been going through, and I can’t stop blaming myself for what you’ve been feeling. I don’t want either of us to carry that alone.”

Her girlfriend sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I’ll think about it,” she said quietly.

“That’s all I’m asking,” Aubrey said, kissing her hand.

After a moment, her girlfriend stood. “I need a bath. I feel gross.”

“Want company?” Aubrey offered with a small smile.

Her girlfriend nodded. “Yeah. I don’t want to be alone.”

Aubrey followed her into the bathroom, and they sank into the warm, bubble-filled tub together, with a book of y/n's choice as their worries temporarily melting away in the comfort of each other’s arms.

[oddthumbswetsleeves]

Hiding - Oneshot

Inspired by this post by @crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington <3

“Have you heard from B today?”

Elita-1 looked up from her datapad at her former-incompetent-subordinate turned leader. He looked stressed, or maybe nervous? It was hard to tell ever since he received the matrix.

“No. I haven’t seen him since the last time he messed up putting the supplies in storage.’ She looked back at the forms she was filling out. “He’s probably avoiding us cause he’s embarrassed.

“Embarrassed?” Optimus sounded confused. Elita realised she had neglected to tell the prime about B’s latest incident.

“He put a lot of the supplies he was sorting into the wrong places. I mean, seriously! I gave him possibly the easiest job I could have, and he still messed it up.” Optimus didn’t look like her answer had put him at ease. “He’ll be fine. If he’s embarrassed it might teach him to listen a little more.”

“Just-“ They met optics, “Tell me if you see him, or if you can get through to him. He won’t answer my comms.” He sighed. “I’m worried.”

He definitely looked nervous now.

“Yeah, sure.” Elita went back to reading. Optimus was silent for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but left quickly.

Once he was out of audial-range she tried B-127’s comm, certain Optimus was exaggerating. B never missed an opportunity to blabber.

“B”

Nothing

“B-127, respond.”

Still nothing

“B, this isn’t funny. Answer me.”

Silence

Elita never thought she would be able to use that word to describe the yellow bot. She started feeling slightly worried before it was replaced with something else.

How dare he hide away from his duties as an Autobot because he was embarrassed. He wasn’t the only one struggling with his new status. Being the Autobot commander and essentially second-in-command of Cybertron was exhausting. Every moment she wasn’t recharging or refuelling she was working. B was not going to get away with skirting his duties.

She was gonna find him.

Where the frag was he?

Elita had spent nearly half the orn asking around for the little mech. No one had seen him since she had. Not Jazz, not Ratchet, not even Prowl, who was usually aware of all Autobot activity. The other scouts had gibed her about B-127’s unrivalled skills in what they called “Extreme Hide and Seek”.

“If B’s hiding from you there’s no chance you’ll find him” one taunted. Primus, she hated being around the scouts, nosy bunch.

“Wait, why do you think he’s hiding from me?”

“Why else would you be looking for him? He’s told us about how busy you are.” Another one answered.

“Well, you’re not helping!” She stormed off before they could peeve her off more.

Elita was definitely getting hangry, so she decided to stop to get energon before anyone could risk mentioning it to her. Everyone had really been enjoying the abundance of it. The decreasing rations had been affecting the cogless bots hard. She remembered after being transferred to waste management seeing how some of the supervisors were stealing others rations off the delivery lines for themselves. That was one of the first things she fixed, especially since many of the bots on lower levels didn’t leave their stations during their breaks. Mostly the bots on the sub-

The sub-levels

“The best hiding spots are ones that other bots don’t know exist.” B-127 told her that once while he was training to be a scout. He was mostly talking about places that taller bots couldn’t get to, but almost no one knew about the 10 extra sub-levels.

“Scrap”

The elevator rattled more the lower it went. It was also getting noticeably hotter. The doors opened and after stepping out they surprisingly didn’t close behind her. Strange. She didn’t say anything at first, trying to hear any noise that wasn’t coming from the furnace.

She felt isolated.

Even though Elita knew she could contact anyone she wanted instantly, there was just something about the room emanated loneliness, but B had to be here.

She looked around. The room was small, nothing besides the furnace, the conveyor belt, and the trash chute.

Unless…

One of the walls seemed to have a handle, and when she moved it... Another room! She pushed it over.

What on Cybertron?

The walls were lined with multicolour string lights. The room had a table and chairs, but in the chairs were 3 piles of trash. They were kind of bot shaped. She guessed one of these were what “Steve” was, who Orion supposedly killed and D-16 insisted wasn’t real. Primus this guy was weird. Just before she turned away, she saw it. There was something golden-yellow barely poking up from behind the table. Elita had to stop herself from groaning. Some hiding expert he was.

“B” He didn’t move. Elita crossed her arms.

“B-127 I can see you.” He slowly ducked out of view. Elita’s face scrunched up, “Get out here right now or so help me, I will drag you back up to Iacon by your finials.”

The bot cautiously stood up, looking anywhere except her face. Neither one said anything for a few moments. Elita tapped her finger against her arm, making sure B could hear it. He still did not say anything. Elita started feeling nervous again, B didn’t even recharge this quietly. She wouldn’t show it though, he wasn’t getting any pity from her.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Why are you down here?” He asked quietly.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Elita leaned forward, but B still didn’t look up. “Why are you hiding? Do you think I’ll just forget your screw-up if I don’t see you for a few orns?”

“I’m not hiding. You know I’m here now, you can go back to work.” He fidgeted with his servos.

“What, so you can keep sulking here?”

“I’m not sulking.” His voice was low, but a bit rough.

Had he been crying?

“Then why are you down here?”

“You were really mad at me the last time I messed up. You said I was running out of chances.”

“So?” Her gaze steeled. His breath hitched.

Was he going to cry again?

“Well, that’s what supervisors used to say to me before I would get demoted” their optics met, “and you were a supervisor…”

“So, you came down here?” She gripped her arms a bit tighter.

“I’ve never had a boss who was my friend before.” He looked down at his servos, still keeping his voice low. “I just didn’t want to see your face when you decided to give up on me.” Fluid dripped from his optics.

“Give up?” Her voice was suddenly much softer. She cleared her throat. “Why would you think I’d give up on you? We’re friends, you said it yourself.”

“Megatron was Optimus’ friend, and he dropped him to the centre of Cybertron.”

Elita felt a pang in her spark. That might have been the scariest moment of her life, including everything that happened leading up to it. B had been the one to stop her from trying to grab Orion as he plummeted. In the frenzy she might have fallen after him. B had probably saved her life.

She was definitely failing to hide her pity now.

They were both silent for a while, the furnace rumbling softly behind her. Elita sighed and walked around the table. B shrunk under her gaze. This was the first time she had ever felt bad about making a subordinate scared of her. She put her servos on his shoulders, taking care to be gentle, and bent down slightly to be at optic level with the scout.

He was definitely crying.

Elita wrapped her arms around him tightly. He tentatively moved his servos up to her back. She felt him shake.

“Are you not mad at me?” B’s voice quivered. She sighed, squeezing tighter.

“I’m not sure I am anymore.” Letting go to hold his shoulders again. He sniffled and she moved her servos to cup his face. “Why haven’t you answered any comms? Optimus is practically beside himself.”

“I didn’t know you guys were calling me.”

“What?! Is your commlink broken?” She turned his helm to look at his audials. He pulled her servos away from his face. They had tears on them.

“No.” He looked towards the furnace. “I’m pretty sure no signals reach down here from the surface.

Elita’s face scrunched. She turned away, reaching a digit up to her commlink.

“Optimus, come in.”

No response. She swore quietly.

“We’re going back to Iacon before the boss starts pulling walls down to find you.” She held her servo out. B hesitated.

“He’s looking for me?”

“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” B tapped his pedes nervously.

“I thought you guys were kinda fed up of me.” Elita chose not to address that. She grabbed his servo and pulled him towards the elevator. It was still open.

“How come these doors didn’t close behind me?”

“Cause they don’t open from this side. It’s so if somebot comes down here to get something they won’t get stuck.”

“But that means…” Her spark sank in her chassis.

“Yeah, I can’t call the elevator.”

She stared at him. She felt the rage she frequently had for Sentinel and his lackeys build up.

“So you planned on staying down here forever?” B started wringing his servos again.

“I dunno”

“Well how would you have come back up if I hadn’t found you here?”

“Optimus, Megatron and I climbed up through the chute.” He pointed at it. “I probably could have done that again.”

“Would you have?”

B didn’t answer.

“You’re coming back to Iacon with me.” She put a servo on his shoulder. “I cleared my schedule when I went looking for you so we can do whatever you want, ok?” She led him into the lift. He shrugged. “There are a couple movies I’ve been too busy to watch. We can watch them in my quarters if you want.”

“Sure” He smiled for the first time since she found him.

“We do have to go see Prime first. I’m a bit worried he has actually turned headquarters upside down in my absence.” B giggled. Elita felt a weight lift off her spark. Once the elevator started moving, she pulled him into another hug, more forcefully this time.

“Never scare me like that again, or I will actually kill you.”

“Okay”

[nikethestatue]

Not Another Hallmark Christmas Story

@sirenarts

My dear Siren, happy Solstice, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year! I am your Secret Santa!

Please enjoy this dark Christmas story.

Summary:

Azriel Singer is my boss. My harsh, unpleasant, demanding boss. A boss that I want to avoid at all costs, but it's proving harder than I imagined. He's infiltrated almost all aspects of my life and there is no escaping him. Now, it's Christmas, and what I did not expect was having him in my house, uninvited and unwanted. But Azriel Singer doesn't care. He takes what he wants. And I fear that perhaps, he wants me?

A dark Christmas story where the hero is more of an anti-hero and consent is dubious.

*this fic is inspired by 'If I Can't Have You' by deathsdoll

-

Chapter One

There she was.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

Exquisite.

Soft and full, and just the right height.

She was everything I was looking for and if I couldn’t have her, I didn’t want anything else. 

My fingers itched to touch her. 

I wanted to bring her home with me immediately and adorn her in all the finery that I had prepared for her. 

I’ve been waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the opportunity to snatch her. Waiting to make her a part of my home, eager to have her greet me every time I stepped over the threshold and to be the first thing that I saw in the morning. She’d scent my apartment with her delicate aroma and would sparkle with a million lights.

I rubbed my hands excitedly.

This one was mine!

All About Last Christmas 

The blustery wind of Chicago winter was unforgiving today. It was only 4:53 pm but it was already pitch dark outside and soft snowflakes swirled lazily in the glare of streetlights. I had all but clawed my way out of the office this early–was it early? –requesting a 4:30 pm leave weeks in advance. 

My dreadful manager, Azriel Sebastian Singer, pursed his lips, like he was sucking on a lemon, when I encountered him in the hallway on my way out of the office. 

“Leaving early, Elain, is not how you get ahead,” he told me then.

“Sorry, Azriel,” was all I said. Why did I say that I was sorry? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t do anything improper or incorrect, but somehow, under his scrutiny, I always felt the need to apologise. For what? I didn’t know.

“Have a good day then,” he tossed dismissively.

Day. Not night. Because unless I left before 7 pm, it was ‘day’ to him. And therefore, I was ‘slacking’. 

“Thank you, Azriel,” was all I said. “You too.”

He strode off without further glance, his hand in his pocket, his perfect dark navy suit barely creased.

God, how I detested him. Avoidance has been my preferred and best option when it came to interacting with Mr. Singer, but as he was my direct supervisor, that often proved challenging. However, this time around, I did my due diligence. I’d emailed him weeks in advance–weeks, for god’s sake–only to request a reasonable leave on a Friday in early December. It was frustrating when he didn’t respond for four days and that forced me to ping him again, sending a gentle reminder. 

His response was predictably terse: If you must. 

That’s how he responded, if you must. Well, yes, I must. Problem was that it wasn’t exactly an answer. Was it a ‘yes, if you must’ or ‘I’d rather you didn’t, but if you must…’? He was impossible to read and I had no idea what his answer actually meant. The most logical assumption was that it was a ‘yes’, however, when it came to Azriel Singer, assumptions were a death trap. 

Hence, I was forced to face him, and ask the question directly. 

I really don't know why he filled me with so much anxiety. Perhaps, it was because of his superior bearing, and how he seemed to judge everything I did. Maybe it’s his look, intense and scrutinising, the eyes that seemed to be always watching. Maybe it was because he was always…excellent, at everything. No matter what, he just had It–as far as I knew, he jumped from promotion to promotion with remarkable ease, and nothing seemed impossible for him. He dressed well. He smelled delicious. He knew everything there was to know about sports, wine, whiskey, eating, cars, art, music, politics. He knew how to speak to anyone, about anything. He was never awkward, or unsure. And if he was–though I refused to believe it–he never showed it. 

But with all that excellence came arrogance, and unreasonable demands, and impossible standards. He didn’t tolerate imperfection at work. He didn’t accept sloppiness. I’d seen him send more than one associate home in the middle of the day because they weren’t wearing suits. ‘We are Night Capital Management, not Sizzler’ was his favourite expression when he berated someone for untidiness or incorrect data. And gosh, have I been on the receiving end of that critique! 

Redo, and pages marked up in red.

You are better than this

Sloppy work

Yep, that was pretty typical feedback from Azriel Singer. He never offered an explanation willingly. Never provided guidance. 

He just…waited.

He watched me and he waited.

And when my tongue wouldn’t move in my mouth, and tears pricked my eyes, and I couldn’t bear to ask him for help, he simply ordered ‘Fix this’ and left me to break my head trying to figure out what the issue was.

On Monday, I couldn’t wait any longer. ‘If you must’ wasn’t cutting it. I’d wracked my brain all weekend long trying to figure out how to avoid him, and still get the ‘early’ leave permission, but ultimately, I decided to man up and just ask directly. And still I stalled until almost 5 pm, before finally mustering enough courage to walk to his office.

He was seated behind his large desk–devoid of any personal items, of course–staring at his computer. Uncharacteristically, his suit jacket was off, and the sleeves of his pale blue shirt were rolled up almost to the elbows, exposing his thick, muscular forearms. And the scars. Of course everyone was aware of the scars, though not the story behind them, but when I glanced at his arms, I realised just how far the burn scars extended. It wasn’t just his hands. Streaks of glossy scar tissue reached almost to the elbow.

He glanced at me, and then followed my gaze and when he saw me looking at the scars he actually shifted in his chair. Didn’t say anything, but his expression hardened.

“Azriel, sorry to bother you,” I told him, because he hasn’t said a word just watching me stand there. “But, do I have your approval for Friday, the 5th. To leave a little earlier?”

“Didn’t I already give it to you?” he asked indifferently. 

“Ummm, I guess,” I responded stupidly.

“You guess?” he repeated. “Did you not get my email?”

“I did,” I stammered. “I just wanted to confirm.”

“Well, perhaps if you need verbal confirmation to emails, then you might as well not bother with them and just run back and forth asking me in person,” he suggested.

I flushed.

God, he was an asshole.

“Okay then,” what else was I supposed to say to him, other than call him names? “Thanks.”

Just as I turned to leave, he suddenly asked, “Where are you going?”

“What?” That was a weird question. “I am…back to my cube?”

“No, I mean on the 5th? Are you going somewhere?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms on his chest, effectively covering the scars, though I saw the gesture for what it was–he was uncomfortable.

“No, not really. I just have some things to do,”

“And the weekend isn’t enough time for you to do those things?” he pressed.

I didn’t know why he suddenly decided to interrogate me about this. 

“I just…” I sighed. “Just things, for Christmas,”

“You are taking time off work to do Christmas shopping?” he actually raised a brow in my direction.

“Is it so unusual?” I demanded at last, losing my patience with him. Why was this any of his business anyway?

“So you are going Christmas shopping? Alone?” he repeated. 

Alone? Why did he care if I was going alone? “Um, yes. I have things to take care of, alone.”

He hummed under his breath, sizing me up with his heavy gaze. 

“Is that so?”

His probing questions drove me crazy. What did he want?

“Are you going to tell me then that Graysen Nolan taking the same day off has nothing to do with this?”

Graysen?

This was about Graysen? I was bewildered by the mention of our co-worker. Graysen Nolan was an analyst on the team, and yes, he’d been flirtatious with me during meetings and lunches, and had even attempted to ask me out, but I wasn’t particularly interested.

There was nothing wrong with him–he was handsome, in a preppy boy sort of way. Tall, but not as tall as Azriel, fit, with a heap of brown hair on top of his head which made him look like a llama. Great teeth and blue eyes. I had nothing against Graysen, but I was too mentally exhausted and stressed out to really consider any kind of dating right now. Especially someone from my own team. 

And I guess that I was right to do so, considering the interrogation that Azriel was putting me through currently. 

“You know that interoffice romances aren’t encouraged,” Azriel reminded me sternly, watching for my reaction. 

“I know that,” I said quickly. “I am not…I am not with Gray. I am not with anyone. I am not dating,” it all came out in one sentence. IamnotwithGrayIamnotwithanyoneIamnotdating. I sounded deranged. But I wanted to make sure that Azriel didn’t think that there was any impropriety happening on his team and that I wasn’t involved with a coworker.

He sighed at last, seemingly relieved.

“Good to know. We wouldn’t want you dating. Anyone…”

“No, no,” I agreed quickly.

He sighed again and finally nodded, “Alright then, have fun.”

“Thank you, Azriel.”

He didn’t mention it for the rest of the week, but as I was leaving today, he just happened to appear in the hallway and offered his unhelpful rebuke about leaving early and my career. 

It’s not that Azriel Singer was an awful man. He wasn’t. It would be unfair to characterise him that way. In fact, to most, he was irresistible: at a towering 6”5, he was muscular and extremely fit, his expensive dark suits always bespoke and made to accentuate his excellent physique. He carried himself confidently and with natural ease, and despite being a quiet man, who never said more than necessary, I also watched just about everyone at the office gravitate towards him. He was magnetic in how he moved about, his head bobbing above the line of cubicles, his voice distinct and attractive because of its deep, gravelly quality and timbre. But it was the face that really was unforgettable. Listen, I might not like him, but I am realistic. The man is devastating. Cheekbones that could cut glass, and a jawline as sharp as a knife’s edge. Big hazel eyes, more green than brown and full lips which softened the cruel set of his mouth. 

He was the kind of man who succeeded in everything, it would seem. Men were desperate for his approval and women were desperate for his attention. 

I don’t really know when it started. I suppose a year ago, last December.

At the last Christmas party, held at the enchantingly lovely The North Pond, there was a trivia game that our Senior Managing Director Rhys Darling had organised, and insisted that everyone partake in. There were groans and moans of discontent and no one wanted to go against Azriel, until they pushed me forward and told me that ‘you are so smart, you can take him’. It’s not that I am exceptionally smart, though Azriel and our Director seem to think so, but the questions were relatively easy, and if you had a good memory, you could take Azriel on. I didn’t want to. I really didn’t. I didn’t want to be scrutinised by those hazel eyes and I didn’t want to see that tiny smirk on his lips. I would’ve rather disappeared completely. But I played along and both of us received the same scores. I think that he was surprised that we came head to head. I wasn’t surprised, but I didn't let him or anyone know that. Azriel only won because of ‘sudden death’ and he shouted the correct answer a fraction of a second before me. The question was tricky–what country that doesn’t directly border the US (aka Canada and Mexico) is closest to America? Everyone was shouting their incorrect answers, most assuming that it was Cuba. A good guess, but an incorrect one. Apparently, only Azriel and I knew the right answer–and he was just a hair faster than I. In case you were wondering, it’s Russia. Only about two miles separates Russia and the US. I know, it’s a fun fact–use it at your own holiday party next. 

My colleagues seemed surprised, but they yelled excitedly and High Fived me, like we were at a frat party and not at the North Pond. I supposed that considering the amount of money the company was plunking into this party, a little yelling was allowed. Besides, we rented out the whole restaurant.

It was then that he’d approached me, after a good fifteen minutes of humble bragging about how he is ‘just a dilettante’. I mean, who even uses ‘dilettante’? I noticed a few confused glances, and spotted a couple of people reaching for their phones to check on the meaning of the word.

In case anyone's wondering, a dilettante is a person who cultivates an area of interest, such as the arts, without real commitment or knowledge. A dabbler.

“Elain, a word.”

I remember how I shuddered back then. It was involuntary. I couldn’t help it.

The dreaded expression. It haunted me. Haunts me to this day, really.

Let me explain a little about my background.

I am twenty-seven years old, born and bred in Chicago. I didn’t go away to school, but attended Northwestern, before being accepted to the Kellogg School of Business. I received my MBA and at 26 joined Night Capital Management–one of the top five investment firms in the world. The fancy description of what we do is that we provide investment, advisory and asset management solutions. The short of it is simple–we manage money. Everyone’s heard of BlackRock, Vanguard, State Street, Citadel…We are like that, only more exclusive. 

I was hired as a Senior Financial Analyst, in Asset Management specifically. Obviously investments have to do with how to invest the money, advisory is where to invest it and asset management is all about growing the existing funds. And that’s what I do–I run reports, analyse risks, look at projections and calculate the best possible financial option for my clients. Well, our clients. I am not a hedge fund manager. I am just an analyst. 

The actual manager is Azriel Singer.

When I was interviewing for the position–seven rounds, no less! –thankfully, he wasn’t in his role yet. He was still a senior manager, a step below what he currently is, which was the manager of an entire fund. For lack of a better term, Azriel Singer 'inherited’ me, and he’s been tormenting me ever since his promotion back 13 months ago.

“Elain, a word.”

And that’s how we met.

I didn’t know who he was. I was in my role only for two months, so I was still getting my bearings and learning who was who and what was what. We received an email regarding him being promoted and that it would be effective in 90 days. We then received another email, this time from him, stating that he was looking forward to meeting us and that we’d be part of his team. He’d schedule individual introductions with each one and discuss ‘deliverables’ and ‘performance expectations’. 

I raised my eyes from my screen and was faced with an enormous looming presence, which threw a shadow over my cubicle. He stood there, like some warrior of old–huge, broad-shouldered, pristine, but also wild somehow, his arms so big, they were like tree trunks. He was just so big. And I caught myself thinking that I’d never met a man more handsome than him ever in my life. It was almost obscene. 

I blinked at him. 

He just looked down, his gaze both disinterested and intense. His eyes, forest-green and brown like hazelnuts, considered me for a long time, as he assessed me wordlessly. I didn’t know what to say, or who he was, and why he was standing here. 

“Elain?” he asked at last.

“Yes?” my voice came out sounding thin and small. 

“A word,” he said impassively.

I swallowed. Suddenly, my throat felt impossibly dry. 

“Yes?”

“Better be done in my office,” he ordered curtly, and then turned around and headed down the hallway, expecting me to follow him.

I jumped up from my seat, still unsure of what he was and who he was, though I suspected that this was my new boss.

His wide, powerful back flexed with muscles beneath the dark charcoal suit that he was wearing. I could see that the suit was bespoke, and British. My younger sister Feyre is a fashion designer and I know all about various styles and cuts of suits, because menswear has very rigorous schools of design. You could never mistake a Caraceni for a Henry Poole. 

He didn’t look back to see if I was following. I suppose he just expected me to. 

The name plaque outside the door said Azriel S. Singer, Esq. 

So he was a lawyer too. Great.

By the time I reached the office, he was already inside, seated behind his bare desk, a wall of windows behind him, overlooking downtown Chicago. 

Quite the corner office he got.

“Sit,” he told me. I sat.

He folded his hands on his stomach, lacing the fingers together and I noticed the scars. Obviously I said nothing. He made me nervous. His presence was dark and overwhelming, like he swallowed the air around him.

“Elain Archeron, a Senior Analyst,” he stated the obvious. “You started in Investments, worked there for three months and then were recommended to Asset Management. That’s quite a quick promotion.”

“I wasn't promoted,” I argued quietly. 

He shot me an unamused glare, silencing me and making it known that he wasn’t pleased with my interruption.

“Nevertheless you are here now.”

I nodded just once. 

“I usually don't do this with my subordinates,” he said meaningfully, implying that I was the exception. “But I will do this for you. Ask me anything.”

“Pardon?”

“You have two minutes of my time. Ask me anything.”

I felt hot and was sweating beneath my black jumper. I had no idea what his game was and why he was bothering me, and I certainly didn't have any questions for him, but I knew that he was expecting something. Something smart. Something that he wouldn’t consider a waste of his time.

“What’s the secret to achieving success?” I asked at last. My heart was beating wildly in my chest and my palms were sweaty.

A small smirk touched his mouth, as if he was pleased with my question.

“In this company?” he said and then rubbed his chin. “Come in first and leave last.”

That seemed deceptively simple. 

“That’s all?” I repeated.

He nodded.

“They basically want to see how much pain you can take. How dedicated you are. How bad do you want it.”

Then he peered at him with his penetrating eyes and asked, “And do you want it bad, Elain?”

I looked behind him, at the stunning view behind the windows–the blue waters of Lake Michigan, the greenish ribbon of the Chicago River, the gleaming skyscrapers all around us.

“I do,” I said at last.

His handsome face changed and turned cold and unreadable.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“I am,” I insisted.

“Well, we’ll see if you will tell me the same thing in a few months,” he stated menacingly.

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but then he spread a stack of reports on his desk and said, 

“Let’s start with this. Because you are not going anywhere with a report like this. This is pathetic. I expect better from a Senior Analyst.”

And that’s how it began.

Three months later, we were at the North Pond, champions of the trivia game. And just like I did every day prior, I heard the cursed expression ‘Elain, a word’. 

What did he want? Again?

He already won! I lost. There was nothing else to talk about.

I was hoping that I could sneak out soon-ish and disappear and go home and get into my sweats. 

Listen, I am an ambivert. I don’t mind socialising with others, it doesn’t bother me, but I was running on empty and the trivia game took a lot out of me because of the pressure. Not only did I have to lead my team (who were useless), I needed to do that against Azriel, my terrifying boss.

And now, he was yet again, looming over me, probably here to berate me or gloat. Again, in his defense, he has always been reasonably respectful to me, and didn’t put me down publicly. When we were in our 1:1 that was a different story. He never lost his temper, was never unprofessional, was never outright mean or improper. It’s just that he had this ability to destroy everyone’s self-esteem and pride with two-three well-placed words. And it usually began with the words ‘Elain, a word’. I knew that I was about to be annihilated. That my reports would be red marked all over the place. And that I was going to get a dispassionate ‘you can do better’ comment, with him expectantly waiting for me to ask him ‘how’. I never did. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I didn’t care that this job sucked the life out of me and that I spent most of my weekends working. I didn’t want his help. I didn’t want him near me. I didn’t want to see his stupid gorgeous face and hear this stupid gravelly voice. I didn’t want any of it. 

“Good job out there,” he said suddenly.

Y’all. I just about fell over. 

What was this?

Did I just transport to the Bizarro World? Azriel Singer giving an unsolicited compliment out of his own free will?

I forgot how to speak for a moment or two. I really had no idea what to say and he expected me to say.

“Thank you?” I managed at last, desperately looking around to see if anyone was available to save me. But of course no such luck.

“Please don’t say that you were surprised,” I begged him suddenly. I am not sure where it came from, but I desperately wanted him to acknowledge that I was…good. At something. I was good at trivia, at least.

He looked at me with genuine surprise and even took a step back.

“Why would I?” he asked.

I sighed.

“Because…because…I don’t know,” I truly didn’t. I didn’t know what he actually thought. 

“Contrary to whatever you are thinking right now, or in general about me, I respect you, Elain,” he told me and his expression was sincere and kind. Something in his face softened at that moment. 

“Do you?” I confirmed.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he raised his dark brow at me. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to think most of the time, if I am being honest,” I admitted.

He looked at me, and then, shockingly whispered, “You look beautiful today, Elain.”

I gasped.

Did he just actually say this to me right now or was I hallucinating?

He smirked and then offered, “let me buy you a drink! We fought valiantly and we came out on top. As expected.”

“As expected,” I whispered. 

Smiling conspiratorially, he moved closer to me and suddenly, I felt his large, warm palm on the small of my back. He never touched me before. Even when we first met, when he ambushed me at my desk, we didn’t shake hands because we were not properly introduced. I was used to him and his nearness because he often stood behind my desk or sat near me while showing me something, or when we prepared for meetings together. However, this was the very first time when he touched me and I remember feeling very warm and very secure at his side. He was so large and I knew that if anything, this is the man who’d protect me from anything. I mean, who’d even challenge him? But still, the feeling was pleasant and novel. He smelled good, his cologne clearly expensive–Armani? Tom Ford? –and I scented him like a loon, like I always did when he was near. I am not exactly sure why and what compelled me to smell him, but there was something alluring in the combination of his masculine musk and cedar.

He guided me towards the bar and out of the main dining room, his hand never leaving my back. It wasn’t just his fingertips that touched my burgundy dress–he had his whole palm planted just above the curve of my behind. It felt intimate. Possessive, in a way a boyfriend or a husband might touch his woman. But I wasn’t his. And he didn’t want me to be either.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked, leaning over the bar. With one hand, he pulled a bar stool closer and then handed his card to the bartender, opening a tab. “Whatever she wants,” he jerked his chin towards me.

“You don’t have to!” I exclaimed hurriedly. “I am not much of a drinker,”

“I am,” he winked at me. “What’s your poison, Elain? Whiskey? Tequila? Vodka? Gin?”

“An Aperol Spritz?” I blurted, even though I didn’t want one. But it seemed like a safe, cheap choice. It wasn’t a winter drink. 

“She’ll have a dirty martini,” Azriel said easily, ignoring my lame order. “Gin. Two measures of Gordon’s. One measure of Gray Goose. Half a measure of Kina Lillet. Olive brine. A spritz of lemon zest and three anchovy olives.

“And I’ll have a Macallan, neat.”

“You got it,” the bartender nodded, clearly impressed by Azriel’s order. I didn’t even know half of the things he said. Also, I didn’t like anchovies, I don’t think.

“Trust me on the anchovy olives,” he said, obviously reading my mind. 

“What if I wanted the Aperol Spritz?” I insisted, not liking him taking all the control away from me.

“No one wants a spritz in December in Chicago. But if you insist…should I get you one?”

I pouted.

“No.”

He smiled at me and while we were waiting for the drinks, he unexpectedly wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the floor, placing me on the stool. 

“Wait, wha-,” he began saying, but he just smiled at me again.

The drinks were set in front of us, and I couldn’t finish my thought. Azriel picked up his tumbler and raised it, lightly clinking it with my martini glass. 

“To the victors go the spoils!” he announced and then watched me take a sip of my martini. 

Oh god. Even now, I think of it and I can’t forget how lovely it was. Crisp  and sharp and enticing. Kind of like the man who’d ordered it.

He didn’t sit down and remained standing, still towering over me, his hazel eyes keen and penetrating.

“I want to ask you a question, Elain. And I’d like an honest answer,” he requested, taking me aback.

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you like me?”

“No! What?” I scrambled for answers “I am…I don’t,”

“I asked for you to be honest,” he cut me off and then sipped his whiskey.

“It’s not true,” I argued, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and overwhelmed. It wasn’t a fair question and he shouldn’t have asked me that. What was he expecting me to say exactly?

He didn’t wait for me to continue, but instead, said,

“Because the thing is that I like you.”

I swallowed my drink hard, stunned into silence by his admission. He didn’t seem fazed and continued,

“I think that you are brilliant. You are sharp, intelligent, highly accomplished. You are the best analyst on my team–by far. Look, I have a few reasonably good people on the team, and a few who aren't worth my time.”

“Then if you think so, why are you so harsh with me?” I asked boldly. 

His brow furrowed and he shook his head, “No. I am not.”

“I think that you are,” I insisted. “You criticize me viciously. You are mean. You berate me for every little infraction,”

“I am doing my job,” he said plainly. “Which means getting the best results and the best work out of my associates. I am not going to baby you, if that’s what you are asking. And I don’t ‘berate’ you. I correct you. There is a difference, you know. In fact, I will expect even more from you.”

“Why? How much more can I give?”

Coldly, he said, “you’ll give as much as I take, until I am satisfied.”

“And when is that going to be?”

He chuckled darkly.

“Not any time soon, Elain. Not anytime soon. In fact,”

My heart dropped.

I was vaguely aware that his palm was pressing to the small of my back again. I felt his thumb stoke the few lower knobs of my spine. 

“It’s not official yet,” he said at last. “But I wanted to tell you and give you a heads up.”

I swallowed the rest of my martini. I drank it too fast. It was going to my head. I was feeling hot and mellow. 

Azriel snapped his finger and said to the bartender ‘another one for her’. 

“Nooo,” I protested. “I am buzzed…”

“I know,” he said calmly.

“What do you want from me?” I whined, emboldened by the alcohol that I had consumed.

“You know that I am officially moving into my role on January 1st,” he stated.

I nodded. I hoped that he wouldn’t be my manager anymore.

I hated hearing ‘Elain, a word’. I hated the red Montblanc pen that he used on my reports and calculations. I hated his critiques. I didn’t want to hear him tell me how I messed up and where I went wrong. I wanted a nice boss, who’d be kind and supportive of me.

“And I have the opportunity to build my own team. And I want you, Elain.”

I got another drink handed to me. He was staring at me, his hand now on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. My shoulder was bare and his hand was hot and dry. The silvery scar tissue on his palm felt smooth and if he had calluses, I couldn’t feel them. His fingers were long and strong. His hand was very heavy. 

My heart dropped.

He wanted me.

“On my team,” he added. “Under me. My...tutelage.”

I looked up at him. There was something like triumph blazing in his eyes. 

His hand tightened on my shoulder. 

And I knew then that I wouldn’t be escaping any time soon.

All About This Christmas

I approached her, huddling into my scarf, wanting to do this quickly and get back in my car.

Typically, I took the Blue Line downtown where the office was located, but today, I drove, spent $56 on parking, which made me sick to my stomach, but it was worth it.

She was so fluffy.

I smiled to myself.

Perfect size.

I hurried over to the seller and pointed, 

“I want this,”

“One,” to my horror, utmost, undiluted horror, Azriel Singer’s voice sounded behind me.

I had to be hallucinating. This was PTSD, right? I was hearing his voice everywhere! Right? After a year of working with him, and him being the dominant man in my life, whom I saw more than I saw anyone, including my sisters, I was just hearing his voice in my head. 

I couldn’t…I couldn’t turn around. It was impossible. I was definitely hearing things.

Maybe, maybe it was Cassian?!?

A little glimmer of hope lit up in my chest. Yes, it had to be Cassian. Obviously. How didn’t I guess that? Azriel would never leave work early and wouldn’t be here, buying a Christmas tree.

Cassian Wilbur Singer, Esq. was Azriel’s younger brother. 

After Azriel casually handed me my indefinite sentence that promised that I would remain under his control and on his team for the foreseeable future, I had to grin and bear it. Short of quitting the company, which is something I was absolutely unwilling to do, I resigned myself to serve at Azriel’s feet for lack of a better term. 

I’d learned a few things about my new boss fairly quickly. He was incredibly patient–surprising, I know, but also ruthless. But mostly, he was just demanding. 

Elain, redo the projections for the 4th quarter

Elain, did you consider the new data? I sent it to you yesterday 

Elain, you are using too much finance jargon in this report

Elain, walk me through your analysis

Elain, send me the numbers before 10 am

Elain, let’s walk through this together before the meeting

Elain, what are you doing for lunch? Let me know if you have time to discuss?

And on and on and on.

My sister Feyre said that I was ‘the victim of my own success’ and that I’ve made myself ‘indispensable to him’ and that he grew to rely on me too much.

My other sister Nesta was harsher in her assessment and said that ‘he uses you like a crutch’ and ‘he knows you are a pushover, so he is taking advantage of your inability to say ‘no’ to him’. 

I didn’t really want to say ‘no’ to him. And maybe I was a pushover, but I just felt that it was easier to let him guide the team and be responsible for the decision-making. At work, Azriel Singer was a star, and I trusted him. As hard as he was, he was also fair. And maybe, just maybe, I liked hearing his praise, or when he hummed under his nose and smirked to himself. I knew then that he was pleased with my work. Receiving his approval was incredibly difficult, and when it came, I was going to take advantage of it and enjoy every morsel of his good will. 

What did not create any good will with him was when he caught me a couple of times asking my team members for assistance, or an explanation. Especially if it related to something that he sent back or corrected on my report. 

I wasn’t sure why, but for whatever reason that set him off. He wouldn’t say anything. He never confronted me, and if I hadn’t learned how to read him, I might have missed it entirely. But I did pick up on a few scoffs, the subtle changes in his expression, the annoyance that he tried to hide. What was an even better indicator of his displeasure, was how rough he became afterwards, and how harsh his critique and his demands were towards me. I knew that he wanted me to ask him for directions, and I knew that he liked to make decisions for me, but I couldn't bring myself to do it most of the time. Firstly, I liked figuring things out myself, and secondly, he was intimidating as hell.

I met Cassian Singer one morning, following an early call with a client, which was held in Azriel’s office. By the time the call ended, I was tired, hungry and cranky. While Azriel did most of the talking, I needed to speak to some of the numbers and explain two parts of the report. It wasn’t difficult, but the client was asking a lot of questions, and while Azriel was helpful and guided the conversation, I was expected to deliver my part flawlessly.

“Good job, Elain,” was all he said when I got up and unplugged my laptop.

I smiled. I pressed the laptop to my chest and left his office, heading to the break room with a pep in my step.

A very tall, very handsome, very muscular man was in the break room, laughing with the other men from my team. He was broad, his shoulders spanning nearly the width of the fridge. He had the same bronze skin tone as Azriel, the same hazel eyes and the same black hair, though his was longer. And the voice was the same. It was jarring to hear–watching another man speak in Azriel’s voice. 

He looked at me, while I went to pour myself a cup of coffee. By the time I was done with the cup and tossed the creamer in the bin, when I turned around, I saw Azriel standing in the doorway, arms crossed on his wide chest. He was watching me with his typically unreadable expression. I thought that I looked good that day–I wore a dusty pink dress, a little flowy, so it didn’t hug my body too closely, and my brown suede pumps. My hair was smooth and sleek, tied in a high ponytail.

“Az, care to introduce us?” the man swaggered towards me.

Azriel pursed his lips and then simply said, “Elain Archeron, this is my brother Cassian Singer.”

“And the pleasure is all mine,” Cassian murmured and extended his huge hand to me. I hesitated for a moment, and he urged me on, saying, “come on, Ellie, I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

“Cass!” Azriel snapped at him, almost angrily. I wasn’t sure why. Cassian ignored him and pumped my fist in his. 

“So, this is the brilliant Elain that I’ve heard some much about,” he added. “Nice to meet you, Elain. Finally I am putting a face to the reputation.”

I had a reputation? Also, brilliant?

“Cassian, you are being weird,” Azriel sneered, while he went to grab a bagel off the tray. Cassian argued,

“Why? Poor Ellie is stuck here with you bunch, the drollest and the dullest finance bros of all finance bros,”

I snorted a laugh at that and Azriel didn’t look amused, while the others booed and shouted.

“Come work for my department, Ellie,” Cassian offered. “We are rich and successful and we are all lawyers!”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Azriel hissed through his teeth. “What are you doing here? Don’t attempt to poach my best analyst either,”

At that, Cassian snatched my cappuccino muffin from my plate and saluted me, before swallowing the muffin top all in one bite.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whistled. “My glum brother is not fond of many people, Ellie, but he is fond of you,” he winked at me and then sauntered away, devouring the rest of the muffin.

I sighed and went to get another muffin, before rushing back to my desk. As I was walking, I overheard Azriel and Cassian whispering to each other.

“I see it now,” Cassian said to him.

Azriel didn’t respond right away, but then warned him, “Back off and don’t piss on my territory.”

Cassian laughed, “Wouldn’t dream of it. Seems like you fully staked your claim.”

I didn’t know what they were talking about, but that’s how I met Cassian.

“I’ll take this one,” he said again.

I whipped around and shouted, “Cassian, that’s mine! I saw it first!!!”

And then I was frozen in place by a pair of hazel eyes.

Azriel Singer stood right in front of me, so close that I figured that he was able to put his chin on my head if he wanted to. 

His expression was bland, but I could see the vein bulging and ticking in his temple. Slowly, he crossed his arms on his chest and glared at me from his height.

“Expecting Cassian, are you?” he asked slowly.

My cheeks flamed and I took a steadying breath.

Why was Azriel here???

It made no sense for him to be here. We were in Wicker Park, and surely he didn’t live anywhere near here. Not with his money and status. Surely he lived in River North? Lincoln Park? He was too young for the Gold Coast, but Wicker Park? There was no logical explanation for his presence here. 

“Waiting for Cassian?” he repeated, his voice cold.

“Why are you here?!” I cried out instead. 

He stepped even closer, and suddenly got in my face, all but snarling,

“I swear to god, Elain, if you are fucking my brother behind my back, I will,”

He didn’t finish his threat, because the seller stepped forward and exclaimed, “whoa, whoa, buddy! Chill!”

Then he looked at me and asked, “Miss, is he bothering you? You want me to,”

“Am I bothering you, Elain?” Azriel asked sarcastically. “Do you need to be rescued? The gentleman here is ready to spring up and fight for your honour,”

The venomous expression on his face took me aback. His vein kept bulging, though he appeared normal outwardly.

“No,” I stammered, and looked at the seller, “he is…he is okay. He is my boss…”

“Your boss?!” the man scoffed. “Maybe you should look for another job.”

Azriel shrugged, and then said calmly,

“I’ll be on my way. Let me get the tree and I’ll leave you to meet Cass.”

“No!” she snapped. “NO!”

Azriel seemed confused for a moment and looked at me quizzically.

I clarified, “it’s my tree! I found it first. You aren’t getting it.”

He huffed an incredulous snicker.

“Excuse me? I am taking the tree,” he insisted. “You can get that one,” and he waved towards a bunch of ugly trees stuck in the corner. “I am not getting another tree. Go away, Azriel,” I dared to say, tears pricking my eyes. 

I know it was absurd. I know that I was acting petulant and ridiculous. But I wanted that tree. It wasn’t fair that he could just sweep in and take it. He already demanded and took too much from me. And I wanted the tree. I wasn’t going to let him have it. 

“Go away?” he repeated, eyes popping open wide.

I propped my hands on my hips and resorted to a fighting stance.

“Yes, go away. You are not my boss here.”

“I am always your boss,” he argued snappily.

“No, you aren’t! I am not working right now and I am going to buy this specific tree. You can step aside and leave me alone.”

“I am not leaving, Elain. And I am getting the tree,” he pressed. 

I was shaking my head. 

“No. You're not my boss out there and you can’t have it. I was here first!”

Before the seller could interfere again, Azriel wrapped his massive hand over my upper arm and carefully, but firmly pulled me aside. 

“Don’t sell that fucking tree to anyone,” he ordered the man, and the guy just stared, but didn’t say anything.

I’ve never heard Azriel curse before. He was always highly, scrupulously professional at work. Was it something that I unexpectedly liked? Perhaps.

Once we were out of the way, Azriel didn’t release my arm, but I felt his thumb making small circles over it through my jacket sleeve. He was very close and his crisp scent invaded my nostrils. His eyes assessed me, but they weren’t cold and disdainful right now. There was warmth in them. Amusement too. And I couldn’t think of why that was. 

“I think that we need to reevaluate your attitude, Miss Archeron,” he semi-whispered in my ear. His lips were so close, they were almost touching me.

“What?” I stuttered, not sure what he meant and feeling overwhelmed by his nearness. He was too close. Like last Christmas party. Which I preferred not to recall or think about. 

“What do you mean?” I finally managed to ask.

“It means that you will respect me always, at work and outside of work. At work, I am your boss and out here, that doesn’t change. Just like I will respect you always, regardless of your… imperfections.”

Imperfections? Screw him.

I tried to jerk my arm out of his grasp, but it was like an iron claw around my sleeve.

“Furthermore,” he continued, ignoring my movements, “please do remember that I am the one who makes all the decisions. You follow my guidance. Because I know what’s good for both of us.”

“No you don’t!” I argued instinctively.

“Oh no?” he challenged. “Who’s been helping you with everything at work? Guiding your career? Offering you advice? At times protecting you from mistakes and scrutiny? Yeah, me,” he snapped. “Not that you’d noticed!”

I blushed.

He wasn’t wrong.

He has been incredibly helpful and patient with me, even when he was harsh and demanding. 

“Not that you’d ask me for help,” he ground out under his breath.

Defensively, I argued, “I asked you many times! All the time!”

He scoffed, 

“Yeah, only when there is no one else left to ask!”

The back and forth was exhausting me.

I was tired and he still hadn’t explained what he was doing here. 

“I need to get the tree and go home,” I told him at once.

His grip on me finally eased up a bit and he said thoughtfully,

“Hmmm,”

“Not hmmm,” I taunted. “Let me go. I will see you on Monday.”

“No.”

“No?” I repeated. “What do you mean, no?”

“No means that I have something else in mind,” he offered. “And I suggest that you take me up on my generous offer to you.”

I was feeling a bit hysterical and laughed, my voice dry,

“Oh, how gracious of you. And what is this offer that I cannot refuse? Pray tell!”

“I’ll let you have that tree,” he pointed at my perfect tree. 

“Let me?”

“Stop interrupting me every sentence!” he didn’t look amused. “Yes, I will even help you hoist it up on the roof of your car. Then, we’ll go to your house, you will be a gracious hostess, we’ll have dinner and we’ll decorate the tree together.

“That’s the only offer you are getting. If you reject it, you aren’t getting the tree. Your choice.”

What the hell?

What. Is. The. Actual. Fuck??

He was inviting himself to my home? Or, more like, forcing himself, and ordering me to cook him dinner and decorate my tree, with him there?

“We can’t do that!” I cried out.

“Why?”

“Because…because…We can’t! You are my boss,”

“Glad to see you remembered, finally,” he snorted a chuckle.

“You can’t be at my home. People will talk!”

Not to mention that I didn’t want him there.

I didn’t want him inside my sanctuary. The only place that was actually free of him. My god. This was the worst idea in history!

“Take it or leave it,” he shrugged callously.

I attempted to dissuade him again, “Azriel, I cannot let you–it’s improper,”

“Is it? I was in your apartment last year,” he reminded me and my heart jumped in my chest. “And somehow, we managed.”

He tapped his feet on the pavement and said,

“Let’s go. I am freezing.”

“You said that I get to decide,” I tried feebly.

“I did. And you decided that I will be coming along and we’ll be decorating your tree together. Come on.”

He extended his hand to me.

I just stood there, trembling.

He flexed his long, powerful fingers in the space between us. His arm was a bridge. And somehow, I knew that if I took his hand, if I crossed the bridge, nothing would ever be the same. 

[petersasteria]

That's That Me Espresso - G-Dragon/Kwon Ji-Yong

Pairing: Senior barista!Ji-Yong x New barista!Reader Summary: Coffee shop AU. Haters to lovers.

A/N: HEAVILY inspired by my life bc i work as a barista and it's my first job and i've been a barista for like a year and 6 months

You're a fresh graduate with a degree of hospitality and restaurant management. You've always wanted to start your own business, but you wanted to have enough work experience first. Lucky for you, your favorite coffee shop near your apartment is hiring. After you did your chores, you got ready and went to the coffee shop.

Upon opening the door, you were immediately greeted by the warm welcome of the baristas there with an award-winning smile. Of course, you smiled back as you approached a man behind the counter. He smiled, "Hi! What can I get you?"

"Um, hi," You squinted and read his nameplate, "Ji-Yong! I saw that you were hiring and I was wondering if that position has been filled already?"

He looked at you and smirked, "No, it hasn't been filled yet. Though, if it were up to me, you can start today and I'll personally train you. I've been a certified barista trainer for 5 years." He looked very proud of himself. You scrunched your face a little bit before saying, "Anyway, I'd like to leave my resume here." You handed him your resume and he gladly took it from your hand.

He skimmed through everything and nodded a few times with an impressed look on his face. He glanced at you and said, "Cool credentials." He placed your resume on the counter and looked at you, "Listen, I'm like the second senior barista here so I'm basically like a supervisor at this point."

Why was he telling you this?

"Um, okay. Good for you." You said. He chuckled.

"I'm telling you that info because I was going to let you know that you can sit down and I'll tell the manager. It's a bit of a slow day, anyway. I'm sure she can give you an interview today." He smiled.

"Oh, that'd be great! Thank you, Ji-Yong." You gave him a curt smile.

"Maybe next time, you'll call me 'baby' instead." He flirts and winks at you before disappearing in the back office to talk to the manager. You shook your head and sat down on one of the tables near the counter.

After about a minute, you hear footsteps approaching you and you look up to see a different barista holding a tray with a cup of warm latte adorned with a beautiful, simple latte art. "Here's your complimentary latte, miss." He smiles.

"Thanks you..." you trailed off. He didn't have a name tag.

"Oh! Sorry. My name is Daesung."

"Thank you, Daesung! I'm Y/N." You both shook hands and conversed a little bit. You learned that he only started working there the week before and you were quick to learn that he's quite funny. After a quick chat with Daesung, he went back to work after Ji-Yong told him to come back and help make drinks.

The manager walks out of the back office, sees you, and smiles. She walked over to you and said, "Y/N Y/L/N?"

You nod before standing up. You reached out your hand for her to shake, which she did, and said, "You must be the manager."

"Yes, I am. Let's take a seat and talk about your application."

-

Needless to say, the interview was a success. Today's your first day and you were excited and nervous at the same time. It's your first job, after all. You dressed in a simple outfit and when you arrived there, your manager was quick to inform you that Ji-Yong would be your trainer.

Oh, how you found him annoying as hell.

Since he's your trainer, all your breaks are scheduled together. Every chance he'd get, he wanted to be close to you. It started with small things. He would stand next to you and guide your hands to steam the milk correctly, he'd sit next to you on your break time and take a peek on who you're messaging, he'd take a bite of your food before running off laughing. You'd always roll your eyes and just let him be. It was clear that he wanted a reaction from you and you didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

After a pleasant month of working at the cafe, Ji-Yong decided that it was finally time to train you on the ins and outs of working behind the register. You were extremely nervous. When you asked him for advice, all he said was, "Just don't press the wrong thing."

One day, your manager didn't come in for work because her son was sick and didn't have anyone to take care of him due to her husband being away for business. That would mean Ji-Yong had to step in and play the manager role. After all, he was currently on store manager training.

Throughout the day, many people came in and out of your store and at one point, the line reached the door. Daesung was absolutely busting his ass off making drinks as fast as he could, Taeyang was quickly calling out people's names for them to claim their drinks, and Ji-Yong was jotting down advanced orders and placing them down next to the register for you to see while he heats up the pastries customers bought to quickly hand it to them as they wait for their turn to pay.

And you? Well, you were doing your best. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, you wanted to have a mental breakdown. But you sucked it all up because you were NOT going to cry today. Especially not now when your trainer, Ji-Yong, is stressed. Of all the days the manager's son could've gotten sick, it had to be on a busy weekend. Ji-Yong was on his wits end.

There were actually two registers, but Ji-Yong decided that since you're under-staffed, that would leave Daesung the only one left to make drinks if he made you and Taeyang transact customers. He had enough compassion and empathy to know that it wouldn't be nice for Daesung to be left like that. That's why he chose you to transact customers as part of your training.

'Taeyang got off easy.' You thought to yourself.

Ji-Yong was quite intimidating and scary. You've never seen him like this before. He was usually fun and relaxed. Not today. He moved so quick. When he joined Daesung to make drinks, he got the ice blended drinks while Daesung worked on the simple hot and iced drinks. In the span of 5 minutes, Ji-Yong was able to make 20 drinks all by himself (tricky promotional drinks included). Daesung was only able to make 10 drinks. A bit irate by that, Ji-Yong sternly said, "Taeyang, you know Daesung's only been here for only a month and he's not that quick yet. You've been here for a year and you know it's a rushed day. Switch."

It was chilling to hear. Taeyang and Daesung immediately switched places, not wanting to be killed by Ji-Yong's intimidating gaze. If they were nervous around him, they can't imagine how scared you are of your trainer. It was at this moment you wanted him beside you because when he left to help make drinks, it felt chilly and you were scared.

After he was done with the ice blended drinks, he wiped his sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, wiped his hands on his apron, took a deep breath, and walked towards you. By now, the line is shorter, but it's still a lot of people.

"How are you?" He quietly asked as he looked for his notepad; preparing to take advanced orders.

"I'm hanging in there." You replied meekly. He snorted before taking advanced orders again. You glanced at him as he plastered a fake smile on his face while conversing with customers to make them less irate. He was quite charming, even though you hated to admit it. You were grateful for him despite the annoying shit he does.

Eventually, peak hours were over and it was now time for a break. Coincidentally, there were no people left. Just then, Ji-Yong did the unthinkable.

"Everyone, gather around." He called out. You, Taeyang, and Daesung left your posts and walked towards him. He was standing by the pastry case, his hand on top of the glass as he leaned over, deep in thought.

"What I'm about to do, shall never reach our manager. I trust you all and I know you guys have trust in me. I wouldn't be here if you didn't." He said quietly. It was almost dramatic like in some Captain America movie where he's going to sacrifice himself or something.

"What're you gonna do?" Taeyang asked, curious about his actions.

He removed his hand on the glass, turned around to face all of you and said, "I've decided to close the store for an hour to get our much needed and long awaited lunch breaks. Because of all your hard work and commitment, I bought all of us lunch and you're free to get your complimentary drink. I'll make a sign that says we'll be closed for an hour. Until then," He trailed off.

He looked at you, "Y/N clear the register. Make sure nothing's on top of the counter, not even your Sharpie. Wipe the pastry case's exterior with glass cleaner and replenish what is needed in the pastry area."

You nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Well? What're you waiting for, Christmas? Go!" He said and you hurriedly did what you were told.

"Daesung, replenish what is needed in the production station, clean them, replenish the milk in the fridge, and for god's sake replenish the beans!" He said and Daesung immediately did that.

"Taeyang, you've always been really quick at lobby duty. You know what to do." Ji-Yong said coolly.

Taeyang nodded, "Yes, sir. Clear the tables, sweep the floor, mop the floor, and throw the trash."

"Good job, now, go." Ji-Yong said as walked to the back office. "I'll make the sign now and once you're all done, remove your aprons and put it in your lockers, wash your hands, and get settled on the table. I will join you shortly."

When all of you were done, you all watched as Ji-Yong taped a sign that said: "BARISTAS ON BREAK. COME BACK AFTER ONE HOUR."

Just as he placed it there, a delivery boy came and Ji-Yong immediately paid the guy as he got the food. Ji-Yong locked the door and made his way towards you with a big smile.

You all decided to share a table because it made no sense to separate. He sat next to you and he distributed all your food.

"Thanks, Ji." Taeyang said as he took a bite.

"Thank you." You and Daesung said at the same time. You all ate in silence when Ji-Yong asked, "Just wondering, how am I doing so far? Y'know, as the manager for today's shift?"

"Ji, you're very skilled." Taeyang started. "You wouldn't be running our shift today if you weren't. You're doing great. I'm actually pretty glad that you're not like our manager. I mean, she's nice and all, but she just stays in the back office the whole day until she decided it's time for her to go home. You stuck with us and ran the shift effectively as you see fit."

"You were quite scary." Daesung admitted. Taeyang chuckled at his confession and Ji-Yong laughed.

"Daesung, I'm only scary when I need to be. I can't be your buddy-buddy barista forever. I'm on manager training now. There are boundaries I have to put if I want our shift to be smooth. However, I'm still your friend and you can still count on me if you make a mistake and want to keep it a secret." Ji-Yong said with a real smile. He turned to look at you, "My wonderful and beautiful trainee... how did I do?"

"You're a natural born leader, that's for sure. I agree with Daesung; you're quite scary, but now I understand why." You said.

"Thanks, guys." Ji-Yong grinned.

After lunch break was over and your table was cleared, Ji-Yong waited for all of you to settle in your stations before removing the signage he put. To his surprise, a long line was waiting. He turned to all of you and said, "Long line again! Be your best selves. Our goal for this part of the shift is to not get a complaint about behavior and attitude. We all just ate, so we have all the energy." He turned to face the customers waiting as he unlocked the door. Immediately, people came in.

Time passed and it was now near closing time. Taeyang was already on his planted position in the lobby area. He was spraying unoccupied tables, wiping them down, and flipping the chairs. Daesung was already cleaning one of the espresso machines and he already shut off one of the blenders in the station behind him. Ji-Yong was removing the empty plates inside the pastry case and removing the signages of food that isn't there anymore. You were transacting the last customer of the day.

"I'd like 5 of your ice blended mocha with 5 additional pumps of salted caramel syrup on each. I'd also like 6 slices of your cheesecake and 5 cookies." Your customer said with a vibe you didn't like. This customer was so full of it. Ji-Yong and Daesung didn't start preparing anything because you didn't endorse anything yet.

"Um, sorry to ask, what size will you be getting for the ice blended mocha?" You asked nicely.

"Ugh, are you stupid? I said large!"

You swallowed the lump on your throat and asked, "As for your food, um, you never clarified what kind of cheesecake and cookies you wanted. For the cheesecake, we have New York cheesecake, blueberry cheesecake, and cookies and cream cheesecake. For the cookies, we have chocolate chip cookies, red velvet cookies, and oatmeal cookies."

"What did I say earlier? I said cheesecake, right? Which means it's plain. It also means that I meant it's the New York cheesecake. As for the cookies, are you really THAT dumb? What's the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word, 'cookie'?? It's obviously chocolate chip. Can you stop being dumb?!" The customer shouted.

The other customers looked up in shock, even Taeyang stopped mopping the floor. Daesung put a hand on his mouth, not knowing what to say. And Ji-Yong? Well, he's had enough. You were his trainee and you happen to be his work crush. No one treats his trainee and work crush like that. He looked up from what he was doing and coolly walked towards you.

"What's going on?" He asked sternly.

"This cashier girl is stupid! She-"

"I heard you the first time. What I meant to ask was, what's going on and why's your underwear in a twist, huh? You think shouting at people who work in customer service is good? You think so highly of yourself, is that it?" Ji-Yong asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She's my trainee and people I've trained are not stupid. Every barista you see on duty right now, I've trained. They turned out fine. She's just doing her job like I taught her how to. I heard everything. You never said the size you want for your drink, you never said what kind of cheesecake you want, and you never said what cookie you want."

"I'm a regular here! She should know my order by heart!"

"I've been working here for 5 years. I've never seen you before. If I have seen you before, I would know because I would've warned everyone here about your shitty attitude, so don't come here pretending like you own the place because you don't. If the barista says you're not being clear, then you're not being clear. How are we supposed to do anything right, if you can't order properly?" Ji-Yong argued. He wasn't holding back at all.

You looked at him. His veins were popping on his neck and his forehead. Oh, he was MAD.

"How dare you talk to a customer like that?! Where's your manager??"

Ji-Yong smirked, "That would be me."

The customer looked in horror and said, "I'm leaving! I don't want to order anymore!"

"Good! We don't need a customer like you. You're the only customer with many demands that aren't clear. So, yes, do us a favor and go home." Ji-Yong said with a proud look on his face. The customer scoffed and left.

-

As Ji-Yong double checked all the stations, all three of you were outside of the cafe, waiting for him.

"That customer was intense, no?" Taeyang said. Daesung nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I thought the customer would bite your head off, Y/N. I mean, thank god Ji-Yong was there to speak."

"He's always had a smart mouth." Taeyang snickered. "I wouldn't put it past him to do shit like that, especially if he's going to be a manager now."

"He was so quiet in the back office. It was weird. I mean, thank goodness the dishwasher made white noise. Otherwise, I'd go insane." You said. You closed the backroom area and you'd glance at Ji-Yong from time to time. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he typed away on the store's computer.

When Ji-Yong was done checking the stations, he closed the air conditioner and the lights before exiting the store. He looked surprised, "Oh, I thought you guys left me already."

"Ji-Yong, you bought us lunch and became our star barista of the day. Of course we'll wait for you." Daesung said with a smile. He's always so positive and joyful.

Ji-Yong's cheeks flushed in a pink color when Daesung mentioned that he was a 'star barista'. He smiled to himself as he locked the door of the cafe. "If you guys want to leave already, you can go now." He said. He looked at the three of you, "Thanks for trusting me today. I hope I didn't let you down. I'm very open to feedback and if you have some feedback for me, well, don't hesitate to send me a message. It's been a pleasure manning our shift."

You all thanked each other and just like that, Daesung and Taeyang left. He looked at you expectantly and asked, "Aren't you leaving?"

"Well, I just wanted to thank you for standing up for me back there." You said in a small voice, afraid that if you spoke louder, you'd cry. His face softened and pulled you in for a hug.

"Aww, it's no problem." He pulled away and looked at you as your tears start clouding your eyes. "You're not stupid because if you're stupid, then you're trainer's stupid. Lucky for you, I'm your trainer and I'm not stupid." He playfully winked, making you chuckle.

"You did great today at the register. I half expected you to cry. I was ready for you and Taeyang to switch places and I know he can transact customers 10x faster than you." He confessed.

"Well, why didn't you?" You questioned.

He shrugged and gave you a boyish grin, "I believed in you. If you trusted me enough to know that I won't fail you as your trainer, I should also trust you not to fail me as your manager. This is a give and take thing, Y/N. Just like how you trust Daesung to make drinks correctly or how you trust Taeyang to give the customers their orders correctly. So, don't be so hard on yourself especially when you're still getting the hang of it. You'll get there eventually."

You nodded, speechless by his encouraging words. "Thank you, Ji-Yong... for everything. I'm learning a lot from you."

"I'll be absolutely terrified if you don't learn anything from me." He laughed. "I'll walk you home. It's not safe to walk this late. Which way are you going?"

You pointed in the direction you usually walk on and he nodded, "Oh, I use the same route too. Where do you live?"

"I live in the apartment nearby, actually."

"...Is your apartment building beige with a random blotch of blue paint?"

"Yes... how did you know?" You eyed him suspiciously as you both started walking.

"Two reasons. One: it's a weird design and two: I live there too." He laughed. "What a coincidence."

"Wow, it's like I can't escape work." You joked, causing him to laugh really hard.

"Wow, and she jokes!" He laughed, kicking a random pebble. "You really are something, Y/N."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I like you, Y/N."

You stopped in your tracks and he stopped too. Neither of you looked at each other.

"Um, sorry for saying it like that. I just-"

"Well, that's that me espresso." You shrugged and continued walking. He chuckled and jogged a little bit to catch up with you.

"What was that?" He chuckled.

"I just mean that you liked me for me, I assume. So, that's that me espresso." You giggled. "I will admit that it does sound silly, but it makes sense to me."

He smiled, "So, would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Isn't it bad to date your co-workers?" You questioned, both of you entering the apartment building.

"Lucky for you, I won't be your co-worker for long." He trailed off sadly. "No one else knows this yet except our manager, but I've submitted my two-week notice three days ago. I got a job offer to be a manager at a bigger cafe and the pay's better."

"Well, in that case, I'll be sad to see my trainer go, but I'll be happy very happy to see you when we're going on dates." You flirted as you pressed the elevator button.

He stared at you in surprise and exclaimed, "So, is that a yes?!"

You shrugged, "I don't have a trainer that's stupid."

"Wow, using my words against me." He laughed. The elevator doors opened and both of you entered. He watched as you pressed the floor number you're going to and said, "I'll take you out when I'm not working at the cafe anymore."

"That sounds fine to me."

"In the meantime, can I call and text you?"

"Ji-Yong, we live in the same apartment building." You snickered. The elevator dinged. Both of you got off on your floor and walked to your door. "You know exactly where I live. You can just come over."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that I want to start off on a good note... preferably, not when I'm your superior. That's not going to look good, especially on me."

You pulled out your keys, unlocked your door, and hummed. "Okay. We can call and text, but since you want to start off on a good note, maybe we can call and text as friends? Y'know, just until you're settled in your new fancy schmancy bigger and better cafe."

"Sure." He laughed. "It's been a pleasure to walk you home, beautiful. Good night, Y/N." He took your hand and kissed it before dropping it gently.

"That's not very friendly." You smirked.

"I know. I just wanted to give you something to remember me by in hopes that you'll miss me tonight." He winked before walking away. "Good night again, Y/N." He called out.

"Good night, Ji-Yong." You smiled to yourself before entering your apartment.

-

A/N: this took me two days to write holy shit WAHAHAHAHAHA lmk if you want to be in a GD taglist! 🤍

[astrologanize]

august 2024 sun sign horoscope

aries sun: it's a good thing that you guys are usually able to find motivation for yourselves because this month you will have bouts of feeling down & out. within this year's lessons for you surrounding what is & is not worth the energy, subsequently there will be situations and opportunities that fall away from your path and leave you dazed. this month you're going to encounter a bypass/obstacles that make you feel hopeless, like you don't know what to do, and you may be tempted to become withdrawn. there may be something that falls apart or has already fallen apart and you need to try to put your very best foot forward regardless - time to get re-inspired! there may also be a situation that happens that is unfair or challenges you and it would be in your best interest to speak your mind. for the past few horoscopes your advice has been to not act, take a seat, but now it is time to stand up.

taurus sun: all year long there has been lessons for you in your one-on-one connections, the receptivity/give & take, conflict resolution, and hopefully you have been paying heed to such. this month has strong decisive energy coming through for you; your motivation may be increased to do something different with your life, to do away with certain things, you may have some chip on your shoulder that causes friction with others or you may just be involved in friction with others, you may be hasty or make hasty decisions, and its up to you to remember that you need to remain open (to the possibilities) instead of dying on hills. this is a great month for you to try new things, to plan new experiences, to consider alternatives, to listen to new perspectives, to have some spicy time & experiment in the bedroom, this is not a month to be persistent and/or endure.

gemini sun: lol transit mars in gemini wants cause some trouble for y'all i see. you geminis are gonna be feeling stuck like chuck this month, there is a situation or something going on for you in august that will make you have to put aside your feelings/wants and persist because there's not too much you can do about it - at least not at this time. but! you must try to keep up your productivity levels and do what you can with the hand you've been dealt, try not to shrug it off and be 'whatever' about it, get those gears in your head turning for good.

cancer sun: eh, i'm seeing potential carelessness for y'all this month because there are certain things that are being left in the air, there is a focus on options, and it's really on you to decide whether or not you're going to (continue to) struggle in vain or make the choice that is right/best for you - which of course will involve some difficulty for you in some way. it's time to straighten that backbone up, try to be proactive, try to have a good/healthy structure for yourself, and avoid letting things happen/come & go all willy nilly. rise above tomfoolery! very specific situation in my head but say you have a coworker that is shitty and this month something happens with them that puts you out and you have to take the high road. you've never gone to a supervisor about this shitty coworker but this time you need to say enough is enough and stand on business.

leo sun: for whatever reason i had a heavy feeling come through when i was reading for yalls month and i think its because this month the accumulation of everything that has come to pass is going to be nipping at you. you're not going to be in your feels in some woe is me way though, there will be a strong self-focus, you will be action-oriented this month, and you are going to be working towards finding or facilitating resolve. this isn't a month where you need to prioritize progress, what you need to do is take a step back and put the effort into tying up those loose ends - prioritize resolution indeed! try to avoid any crass behavior, you may experience crass behavior from others, find proper resolve where you can, and try to think before you speak (lol pretty similar to the june horoscope of needing to watch your words).

virgo sun: saturn in pisces has really had y'all out here like "what in the world am i doing?", huh? well, there's been a lot of floating for you throughout this year and this month will not be much different in that respect but you will be trying out new flavors for yourself! your expectations will be lessened and re-explored in august so that you can experience a new kind of freedom for yourself. it's like being on vacation in a foreign place and getting to experience all types of new foods and activities and spaces. lessen your expectations but try to have a healthy & flexible routine in place for this month so that you have a bit of balance as you slowly but surely rediscover what resonates with you.

libra sun: ooou la la look at y'all having a productive august. i'm seeing any petty emotions you had or may have being discarded and you actually choosing the mature path as you put your priorities in perspective and recognize the efforts you need to put forth. you have things to work on and by the end of the month you will definitely be far closer to your goals. amongst the productivity is also good rapport with others ; you will be cooperating with others and vice versa, maybe you hear people out more this month, perhaps you get closer to someone in your life, and your one-on-one interactions will be positive for the most part. it's a good month so don't waste it! don't try to control situations, avoid drama, avoid paranoia, and ultimately be open (even vulnerable perhaps).

scorpio sun: now why am i seeing potential messiness and you being reactive, hm? let's try to avoid that if we can buuut regardless. whatever you may have mind for this month i am seeing follow through so if you have a commitment to something then i do see you being able to step up to the plate. surrounding your month is a lighthearted energy and you may be more sociable this month, any plans to meet up with people will happen, there may be some notable gossip about you or adjacent to you or it's just somehow relevant to you, and there is potential messiness...you might get in your feels and want to be petty, you may have certain situations or connections in your life where pettiness is the norm and i do think it will be the same ol' same ol' with those connections (eyeroll emoji lol). you still have situations or habits in your life that you're needing to put an end to or are in the process of doing so and it isn't going to happen overnight, you just have to persist with choosing what's best for you.

sagittarius sun: well the good news is that this will not be a month you need to endure per se but it still involves growing pains nonetheless. this month is about being attentive to your life and any woes that are residual and/or current for you and being honest with yourself about them - i am emphasizing 'with yourself' because it's coming through very strongly that you should not confide or try harder with some connection in your life. either you have a connection in your life that you are struggling to distance yourself from because you're so used to the person (so it's a matter of comfort & familiarity) or you have/will take something more personally than you should. this is a time for you to stop enduring, to quiet your mind, to listen more than you speak, to attend to what you need to for yourself, and recognize any lack within yourself and your life.

capricorn sun: back in june you had a lack of certainty in yourself and the decisions that you were making but by this month you will be feeling, or will begin to be feeling, far more assured in yourself and ready to take life on again. you will have bouts of getting in your feels, you may get impassioned at times this month, but for the most part you're still in a space of trying to remain objective. there is something(s) in your life that you're wanting to let go of or you are in the process of letting go of and you're going to be feeling ready to find a new chapter. buuut like back in april, you need to remember to pace yourself instead of jumping in full force. not the best example but say there was a cat stuck in a tree, instead of you thinking you're a superhero and risking your own well-being in an attempt to retrieve the cat, it would be in your best interest to call the fire department to handle it - there are situations this month where you may have the urge to extend yourself further but try to refrain from doing so, you may feel a lil helpless at times and that is perfectly okay because you may need help this month!

aquarius sun: there is definitely potential for this to be a prosperous month for you if you choose to get inspired because there will be a new path formed for you in doing so. throughout august you will be making decisions to do things and to put things in place but you will also be having to rely on others at times, and this may create difficulty for you. for some of you, you need to be careful of taking advantage and using others this month but there may be an opportunity that does involve you relying on a connection to someone - it's like if you need a supervisor to vouch for you to help get you a promotion. you will have times throughout the month where you gain experience and/or you will feel more experienced or 'above' another. try to seize new opportunities, sign up for a new hobby/allow your energy to be released somehow, welcome in good energy.

pisces sun: there is something you have in mind or will have in mind this month that is not going to happen or it won't happen the way you want it to. whatever it is, you're going to deal with it and throughout august you will be dealing/having to deal with situations that force you to put your feelings aside. even when you have moments where your feelings pour out, you will be quick to suck it up and recognize that you have priorities to attend to. some sort of regret may come up, maybe it's one from the past or a regret that develops this month and again, you're going to deal with it - and by the end of the month you will have a more detached attitude towards it like 'what's done is done, i'm going to focus on what i can do presently'. try not to get in your head this month because that's how you make mountains out of molehills, focus on the reality in front you, be realistic, and be action-oriented in a practical sense.

[vodika-vibes]

I saw that you asked for crosshair requests, and I had an idea I figured I'd run by you in case it gave you any inspiration. I was thinking about a kind of friends to loves situation with crosshair and his casual flirting suggesting a friends with benefits situation, but the reader says no despite clearly being attracted to him, and when pressed confesses to being afraid of falling in love with him if they hook up. idk if that's smth you want to write, just hope you focus on stuff you want to do and don't burn yourself out :)

We Could Be More

Summary: Summary: You and Crosshair are friends, only the emotions are a little…more. You’re not really surprised when Crosshair comes to you with a proposition. Friends with benefits would make sense, it’s not as if the Empire will allow you more. You’re both surprised when you turn him down.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1577

Warnings: Discussions of a friends with benefits type situation, some adult discussion, Crosshair demands an explanation when the Reader says no, discussion of the lack of clone rights

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I hope this is close to the idea that you had. I had fun writing it, and I'm so glad that people are feeding my sudden, and surprising, crosshair obsession. RIP me.

You enjoy your job.

You’d enjoy it more if you had your own workshop, or even a workspace that wasn’t a small, unused, section of the ship.

Hell, at this point, you’d be happy with having a chair and a desk so you don’t have to sit on the floor while repairing the mouse droids. You’d also accept a cushion, or a thick blanket.

But no.

You have to sit on the floor with little mouse droids zipping around you while you make sure they work properly.

Still, you like working with droids. They’re easy. Easier than your co-workers.

Well, easier than most of your co-workers.

You flip the mouse droid back on its wheels, and it zooms around you, chattering happily. “Alright, you’re all set,” You say to the droid, “Watch out for more Admirals.”

The little droid chatters and then zooms out the tunnel that leads to your…hallway(?) and you sigh and stretch your arms over your head. Maybe if you send a very polite email to your supervisor you can get a desk…or at least a proper cushion.

“You know,” You yelp at the voice coming from the doorway, “I think you like those droids more than anyone else on this ship, kitten.”

“Don’t do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack,” You say as you press your hand over your pounding heart. And then you drop your hand and glance up at the much taller man, “I thought you were on a mission, Cross?”

“I was, and now I’m not. Funny how that happens.”

“Ooh, you think you're funny, don’t you?” You say with an amused grin on your lips.

“Funnier than most of the people on this ship, yeah.” Crosshair leans against the wall and slides down so he’s sitting next to you, his knees raised and his arms draped over his knees, “Busy morning?”

“Isn’t it always?” You ask with a sigh, “One of the mouse droids was in the way when a member of the Imperial Guard came though, and nearly crushed him to pieces.” You gesture to the side, “It’s over there, somewhere.”

“Bad luck.”

“Tell me about it.” You say with a sigh, “It’s going to take me days to rebuild it.”

“Hm.” Crosshair hums noncommittally. “What’s the Imperial Guard doing here?”

“Hell if I know. You think anyone tells me anything?” You ask with a grin.

“Nah, but I know the mouse droids pick up audio.” Crosshair replies.

“Crosshair, are you implying that I’m spying on my coworkers, because that would be very, very wrong of me.”

“Uh-huh.”

You keep his gaze for a moment, before a grin cracks your face, “Okay, apparently the Emperor’s ship needed repairs, some kind of space debris.” You shrug, “I dunno, I don’t work on ships, I work on droids.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they could fit a ship in your hallway.”

“Excuse you, this is my office, sir.”

“And you can’t even afford a chair, or a desk. Shame.”

You laugh and bump him with your shoulder, “Rude, maybe I like sitting on the floor.”

“Do you?”

“No. I think my butt is numb.”

Crosshair’s eyes glitter with mischief, “Want me to massage it for you?”

“I don’t think you’ve earned butt touching privileges.” You counter with a sniff.

“Shame. You have a really nice one. Very round and squeezable.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like a massage. It sounds like you just want to grope me.”

He shrugs, “Same thing.”

“Very different.” You correct him with a laugh.

“Not the way I do it.”

“Oh? You have a lot of practice then?”

“Well, I might be a little out of practice. I haven’t had the chance to practice my skills since the Republic fell.” Crosshair admits.

“Aww, poor thing. How ever will you survive?” You tease him lightly as a new mouse droid limps in and you grab it and flip it immediately.

“I have a pretty good idea,” Crosshair counters as he leans back against the wall, his gaze locked on you.

You hum thoughtfully as you examine the wheels.

You and Crosshair are friends, because that’s all the Empire will allow. It’s illegal for Crosshair to have relations with people. And actual relationships are out of the question. Which is a shame, you’d be interested in seeing where this, whatever it might be, could go if given the chance.

You pull a piece of metal out from the wheel well, and then set the droid back on its wheels, and it scurries away. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Crosshair stares at you, a small smirk on his lips. “I have a…proposition, of sorts, kitten.”

You arch a single brow, “Go ahead.”

His smirk grows, “When was the last time you got laid?”

Your face burns, “I’m not answering that.”

“Come on, kitten, it’s me.”

You fold your arms, “If you tease me even once-”

“I would never.”

“Yes, you will.” You grumble. Crosshair flashes, what he probably thinks is, an angelic look, and you huff and avert your eyes. “...fine, I’ve never actually-”

A broad grin crosses his face, “Kitten, are you a virgin?”

You scowl at him, “You heard me.”

He looks absolutely delighted, and you consider kicking him in the shin for half a minute. “That makes my proposition even better.”

“If you’re about to tease me-”

“How do you feel about a friends with benefits type situation?” Crosshair interrupts you.

Your words die on your tongue, and you blink at him, “...what.”

“You heard me.”

“I did, I’m just trying to process.” You admit, you hold up a finger, “I just told you that I’m a virgin, and you want a friends with benefits situationship. With me.”

“Did I stutter?”

“Just making sure I heard you correctly.”

“You did.”

You frown at him, rolling the idea around in your mind.

It’s not that you don’t want. Because you do. More than you’re ever going to put into words. Crosshair is so handsome and while he’s not kind, he is good. Good in a way that he doesn’t seem to see in himself.

You could love him, if you gave yourself the chance.

And you can’t risk that. You can’t risk him.

So, hating yourself a little, you focus your attention on him, “I’m flattered, Cross.” You say slowly, “But I think that’s a terrible idea.”

“Why?” His eyes narrow at you, “Because I’m a clone.”

“Of course not. That’s never been important to me.”

“Then what? You’re not attracted enough? I’m not nice enough?”

“Cross-”

“You didn’t flat-out refuse, you said it’s a terrible idea. Why is it a terrible idea?” Crosshair demands.

“Because.”

“Because isn’t an answer.”

“Because I’m afraid I’ll fall in love with you, and you’ll get hurt.” You say honestly.

Crosshair pauses, “...You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“I’m not dumb, Crosshair. I know it’s illegal for you to have sex with anyone. And it’s even more illegal for you to enter a relationship with someone. And the Empire isn’t the Republic, they will kill you before they’ll punish me.”

He leans back, his gaze calculating, “What if I said that I didn’t care?”

You frown at him, “I care, that’s enough for me.”

He leans in so that his face is only a few inches away from your own, “What if the Empire wasn’t a concern?”

You lean in as well, so that you're even closer, “You can’t bring down the Empire, Crosshair, you’re one man.”

“I could try, if you wanted me to.”

Your gaze softens, “As strong and broad as your shoulders are, that weight would still crush you, Cross.”

He searches your face for a moment, “What if we defected?”

“Please tell me you don’t want to defect simply so you can get laid?”

“I’m not dumb, it’s only a matter of time before they decommission me.” Crosshair says, “The Clones are expendable.”

Your hands curl into fists, your nails digging into the palms of your hands, “Cross-”

“So what do you say? If we defect, would you be willing to consider a friends with benefits relationship?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Hey, if I’m about to risk my life by running away from the largest government entity in the galaxy, I’d like to know if there are some perks on the other side.”

“Oh my god,” You push your hands through your hair, “Okay, fine. Yes. If we defected, and I knew you weren’t going to get yourself killed simply because you wanted to get your dick wet, then yes, I would agree to a friends with benefits relationship.”

He leans back, “Deal. We leave tonight.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Is it a good plan?”

Crosshair just smirks, “How many mouse droids can you call back right now?”

“...all of them, why?”

“Call them back, we’re going to rig them to blow up.”

Your jaw drops, “My babies-”

He rolls his eyes, “You have a better suggestion?”

“...no…”

“Great. Then get started. I’m going to come and get you tonight. We’re going to escape on one of the smaller ships.” Crosshair says.

“And go where?”

“Pabu.”

“I have questions.”

“My batch mates live there.”

“...I have even more questions.”

“They can wait.” Crosshair leans over to you and lightly kisses your temple, “You have work to do, kitten. I’ll see you tonight.”

And then Crosshair is gone, and you’re left feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.

[therulerofallpotatos]

Hannigram Fic Rec List

In no particular order, some hannigram fics I recommend

This is in response to @cassyglenn 's post from a few hours ago I just saw.

So Delicate the Bones by unrealshrike

Summary:

After her father's unsolved disappearance, sixteen-year-old Adeline finds herself at the mercy of a new school, serial killers, FBI agents, and an unorthodox psychiatrist. Meanwhile, Hannibal wants to provide Will with a child after the fatal incident at the Hobbs’ home, and who better than his opportune new patient?

Chp 26/26 Word Count: 177,096 Words

So Delicate the Bones is one of those special fics in this fandom that introduces an original character into the main cast that is both genuinely interesting on their own and fits in with the established ensemble seamlessly. The story is riveting and I was sucked into it almost immediately. I highly recommend this. My bookmark notes (which I design specifically for me) were: An absolute epic of a novel. Adeline/Addie/Del

The Voices and the Shadows by darlinghogwarts, MaddyHughes, and slashyrogue

Summary:

“The Chesapeake Ripper? The serial killer? That's a grisly thing to find at the bottom of a drink. Most people say oblivion ...or possibly sex.” Hannibal sips his wine again. “Why are you thinking about a murderer on your birthday, Will? Is it part of your degree?”   “He is a part of my degree by my own choice. My supervisor didn’t approve, but…” He sighs. “I insisted.” AU where Will—a Masters student studying the Chesapeake Ripper—gets drunk on his birthday and meets an intriguing man at the bar.

Chp 36/36 Word Count: 114,625

My personal bookmark note that I wrote in 2017 when I made this bookmark: The sweetest slowest most infuriating and beautiful burn you will ever experience.

In all honesty I read this in high school when I first started reading Hannibal fanfiction. I might've even read this before watching the show. That said, I don't make a note like that lightly. I only ever write notes like these when I want to remind a me years in the future why I bookmarked something in the first place. Some of the best novels I've read were a handful of fics that I'd make that note for. I know that this enthralled me, sucked me in. I was invested. I was glued to it for days. If this were another fandom, I might expect for it to hit softer if I were to reread it now, but Hannigram in particular has a habit of hitting just as hard at 25 years old as it did at 17 years old.

Light Up the Torches by HigherMagic

Summary:

"We need to find out who this rogue agent is," Sutcliffe says. "Right now, I think it would be fair to assume they're one of ours or our allies', since only our enemies are being killed." Hannibal nods. "Hold briefings with all your captains," he tells them. "I want no stone unturned. Tell them that whoever is doing this will not come to harm; I would very much like to meet them."

Chp 1/1 Word Count: 7,197

My bookmark note was: Oh fuck yes

It must have been delightful. I know myself well enough to know this is just a good time to be had.

The Living Doll by Anna_Jay

Summary:

Will is aware of what he's getting himself into when he buys the dreaded Doll House. Because of the cursed doll, no one has been able to stay longer than a month. He doesn't mind. Perhaps death would be kind after everything he's been through. Over the next few days Will finds himself attached to the strange doll he's named Hannibal. After all, it is just a doll. Right?

Part 2/3 Chp 9/9 Word Count: 35,675

The Living Doll is a 3 part series in which part 2 is the bulk of the story. The link above is for the series so you can easily start at the beginning. This is hands down one of my favorite fics. Ever. Like across all fandoms. actually no. it's one of my favorite novellas I've ever read period. I actually wrote my own haunted ball joint doll fic for a completely different fandom because of this fic's inspiration (it is nowhere near as good but I can share it if you're interested I suppose. It's still a very different story). It's creepy. It's romantic. It's intense and classic. It could easily get picked up by Blumhouse Productions and make a very good movie out of it. If you read anything on this list, read this.

Darling, Don't Be So Shy by murdergatsby

Summary: Will is a paranormal investigator with a special gift. Hannibal is a demon swelling with boredom. Their meeting was supposed to lead to a simple exorcism, but Will has a nasty habit of getting attached.

Chp 13/13 Word Count: 34,571

This was also one of my first Hannigram fics I read back in high school. I adored this fic. I'm a big fan of haunting each other/possession/melding each other into one type dynamics and their distinct dynamic in this story drew me in like a moth to a flame. i read it more than once and saved it here for safekeeping. I will likely reread it after finishing this list.

How to Save a Life (The Cannibal-Friendly Handbook) by KittenDiamore

Summary:

There’s a man looking up at Will, who has clearly been distracted from - Oh. Throwing limbs into the river. Human limbs. Lovely, he thinks sarcastically. Then he thinks it again because it actually is kind of lovely. The man looks confident. At ease with what he is. He’s kinda hot, too. Or: Will tries to jump off a bridge but ends up offering himself up to a cannibalistic serial killer...as you do.

Chp 1/1 Word Count: 3,463

For a shorter rec, this is a delightful little one-shot with a different first meeting (I love different first meeting fics). Delightful premise. Delightful follow through. Had this in my bookmarks for years as well.

There is also one more fic I was expecting to find in my bookmarks and now am going to ask anyone to help me find because it isn't there. There was a series that I read early on (probably 2017) that was about Hannibal who had a 10yo son at the time of the show. The story evolved into a series that was about that son and it deserved to be. It was one of those special projects where an original character naturally stole the show and we were reading to see where his story would take him more than anything else. These were novels and they were epic and I would love to get my hands on it again. This child was cunning and devoted to his father and his own personal ambitions. Any help finding this fic and any fics similar to it would be extremely welcome.

Oh! and a link to my bookmarks as well because there are more fics there. I just listed the ones that stood out the most/that I remembered enough to write my own spiel about them. I have not actually read every single fic I've marked, but even those are interesting enough that I saved them for later.

[oh-saints]

Fellow engineer here! Thank you for not writing us off ❤️ Can you do an F1 engineer and that's how you meet Ruben Dias or Mason Mount?

i'm sorry this takes AGES but here's to you fellow engineers <3

paddock

rúben was only supposed to enjoy another favourite sport of his over the weekend in monaco and she was only supposed to drag george russell from the william’s garage, for the driver hung around too much with alex albon. but life, as we know it, never made it as simple as it seemed.

rúben dias x f1crew!reader

word count: 1.8k

note: good god, this has been sitting for far too long... time to let this out! mainly inspired by pictures of rúben watching f1 in monaco and as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read.

request still open & you can drop them here!

goddamn it, russell.

the young british racer was infamously known for his mischief way of life, pranking people here and there whenever he wasn’t driving his racing car, and—unfortunately—you happened to be on the other end of his antics, more often than not.

as the junior engineer to someone who didn’t bother to hide his distaste towards rigorous technical discussions, your job sometimes required you to flip the entire paddock upside down to hunt george down until he finished all of the nitty gritties he’d rather bypass.

it was another case of haas team finding out mick hang around in mercedes’ garage a while ago. except for you, it was more of a weekly case.

as soon as you spotted the bright blonde locks amongst brown heads, you forced your feet to move faster because your supervisor’s wrath wasn’t something you were fond of. especially when you were now tired from hearing it’s been weeks and you still can’t get him to work together with you? endlessly every weekend.

“george william russell!”

at your shout, alex albon and nicholas latifi immediately went into a disperse. they knew george was due for a wee bit of finalizing this weekend’s machinery, but the brit managed to coax them into playing with him, and now that you were barrelling towards them, they didn’t want any part of it.

you were already using george’s full name, anyway. definitely time to run for the williams racers.

“alright, alright,” the youngest between the racers, groaned. “I’m coming, okay?”

you didn’t say anything else as a response to that, other than dragging george by the hand.

“I said I’m coming, okay!” he shouted at you this time but you paid no heed. he wasn’t the one rolling your paycheck anyway. “let me grab my tumbler first, jesus.”

george stashed your fingers away before he walked away from you. only then did you realise that everyone’s eyes had been directed towards the quarrel between you and george, and you had never felt so small in your life.

this was exactly why you insisted on working behind the scene, despite your immense love for motor racing since childhood.

“hi, there.”

you were so startled that you jumped on your feet, almost knocking off someone in front of you that definitely looked like an important guest, suits and all.

“I’m sorry,” the man continued with a soft chuckle, and you melted in your place at the sheepish grin plastered on that gorgeous face. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

your eyes couldn’t help themselves when they scanned the hanging lanyard, indicating he was a guest of this side of the paddock. when your vision went back up, you noticed he was now flashing a full-watt grin—he’d caught you checking him out. well, sort of.

you coughed yourself while you straightened your spine and feet, in order to regain your composure, but before you could open up your beak to reciprocate his effort—you love a good banter—george shouted for your name from a far.

“let’s go!” with his wicked smile, george knew what he was doing to mess up your chance on scoring what could possibly your big shot

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“hi again, there.”

the meeting had ended well—it always did because george actually knew what he was doing and his feedbacks were always valuable. he was just too lazy to sit through the meeting, dealing with technical jargons and everything. so now you were back to the paddock, just in time for the mechanic’s pit-stop practice.

you had stepped aside, giving the performing team more space so they could work more freely under countless eyes of the VIPs and paddock-club owners who were interested with the whole ordeal. so certainly, you didn’t expect the man from earlier to sneak up behind everyone’s back so he could reach you.

it seemed like he had a knack for surprising you.

“oh, hi,” but you didn’t want to complain. you’d be too shy to come up to him if you had the chance, anyway. “fancy seeing you again, monsieur.”

seeing you weren’t giving off a bad signal whatsoever, he stepped in closer to you, which meant closer view to those fit, bulging arms he was folding in front of his chest now. you were about to remind yourself to breath when he spoke up, “you certainly look like you belong here more than william’s.”

“and white certainly looks better on you than blue,” you had been mentally taking note about the white Mercedes shirt he was now dangling messily over his own beige shirt, but you didn’t mean to say that out loud. realising your slip of tongue, you averted the conversation elsewhere. “sorry i haven’t had the chance to introduce myself.”

“rúben,” he replied after you said your name, welcoming your extended hand. “i’ve got to say i’m impressed with your garage more than william’s or mclaren’s.”

you had to remind yourself to breath and act normal after you felt his hands. it was pretty much what you imagined them to be—damn, you were swooning over a hand? that was the first. “why’s that?”

“well, beside the fact that you’re here?”

chuckling, you had to give this man a kudos for sporting no-nonsense. this indicated he knew what he wanted and for you, that was a very sexy aspect a man could possess. “here i am thinking to give you a pass to let you watch the race from here,”

rúben couldn’t help but laugh at your playful banter. you were exactly how he thought you to be and god, isn’t this refreshing? all these models on his DMs were giving him one-dimensional conversations. “oh no, i’ve blown my chances!”

you found it impressive that rúben was able to make you laugh effortlessly, despite the lame joke. is it because those big, brown eyes? “if you promise to be a good boy, i might cancel what i said.”

“of course i will, mother,” he stood up straighter, hands were now behind his back, in line with the act he was putting on.

the attractive gummy smile was still attached to the face, though.

“i was saying that mercedes’ better because i spot some different equipment and tools and other things i don’t see on other garages and it’s interesting you’re a part of why it runs smoothly here.”

“alright, alright, here’s your headphone,” you rolled your eyes as if you’d heard enough of the same pick up line, but in truth, you were trying to mask your palpitating heart from the last part of his sentence. “please stay behind this line right here and do not, at any circumstances, use the mic here. i’ll be very busy during the race so if you need anything, you can ask nicola here.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

the silver arrow gained 1-2 deadlock till the end of the most legendary street circuit and the whole team erupted in cheers. it’d been a long while since they’d last done it here, and it meant more for you because you got to soak in the experience as the lead engineer for george russell. another achievement unlocked for you, to stand winning amongst those brilliant group of men as your teammates.

the euphoria almost blinded you and swept you away to join the rest of the crew in the side line as the cars pulled up for post-race procedures. until you forgot your sunglasses so you could look up to the historic podium, and that was when you realised rúben was still standing not far from where your working post was.

the reality dawned on you.

“you’re still here.”

he did not move an inch from the post you’d designated for him, not far from you. he’d seen you working, through ups and downs of a stressful race. while deep down you felt ashamed he must’ve seen you cursing and cussing like those words were water to your tongue, you were more touched at the fact that he was waiting for you.

waiting for you while you worked, waiting for you while you celebrated with your teammates. all without imposing—the paddock had seen and invited so many celebrities inside, and the guests would jump as if they contributed to the win the team was achieving. but rúben wasn’t like that, at all, and you could feel whatever wall you were trying to put up, obliterated at that second.

noticing you were too stunned at whatever sight you were witnessing, rúben walked up to you. “you think i’m going somewhere?”

“well, would you wait? until the podium’s finished?”

you knew you were shooting for the stars because this man was a VIP guest, albeit for another team on the grid, but heck, you had to try. it’d been a while since the last time a man intrigued you the way rúben had been doing.

it’d been a while since the last time rúben felt the same way too. “for you? absolutely.”

you didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the longing feeling of a man sweeping you off you feet—you’d grown steel since being surrounded by men almost 7 days a week—that fueled you brain, and fuck did you not want to know. rúben’s cliché answer was enough of a reason for you to reach for those muscular, long arms hidden under his shirt and pulled him to join the crowd heading towards the podium.

you laughed as carlos’ manager spotted you dragging rúben almost like a ragdoll and the carefree, out-of-pressure laugh brought a wide smile to rúben’s face. he liked this, a woman handling stares thrown at them like a second skin to you, more than he’d like to admit. and maybe, he needed this more than he thought he would.

rúben used his huge, muscular figure to maneuvered you to his front, protecting you from push and shove from people around you both just because they wanted to see their favourite racer lifting the trophy. such gesture would usually scare you because you’d gotten used to such treatment during your trip to the club, but this time, you couldn’t help but melt under his ministrations.

feeling you getting comfortable, rúben dared himself to shoot for the stars this time. he dipped down, levelling his lips to your ears so you could hear him despite the loud atmosphere. “ditch the party tonight and have a dinner with me.”

it didn’t take you a second to respond, “where do you have in mind?”

[staybabblingbaby]

Janitor AU (Ambush Part) a1 d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Reader is a member of the cleaning staff at JYP. With a decent history of managing to avoid the idols on staff, Reader keeps to themself and keeps their head down. A chance encounter with SKZ in one of the practice rooms may change that...

Word Count: 1,293

Notes: LMAO Just saw that I already posted this and just didn't put it on the ML. RIP. I'm keeping this one instead of the old one <3

I remember spitting this out really fast and then hitting a dead stop and hating everything about it. Not sure what that was about, it's a pretty standard first attempt for me. Not feeling editing notes rn, so just. have at.

This was pretty heavily inspired by a BTS fic on Ao3 that was MUCH smuttier and about a Brat, but I can't remember the name anymore. If it reads as familiar to anyone, will you please tell me what it reminds you of? I'd love to give proper credits.

Original Notes: This is the first one that really looks like the w.i.p it is lol. The beginning is super awkward and I'll probably redo that entirely. This concept is inspired by another fic, but I'll have to hunt it down bc I can't find it rn. I saw that one and went "I want that but without the smut" and so I wrote it lol. This one needs a lot of work, but I probs got frustrated bc it looks like I left off in the middle of sentence lmao.

Warnings: None that I know of?

Masterlist link |

You hum lightly to yourself as you pull your hairband up from where it rested around your neck and push your hair out of your face. You double check that you have the appropriate ‘cleaning in progress’ and ‘wet floor’ signs up and turn to hijack the sound system every practice room was equipped with.

This was the most envied privilege of your assigned areas - you got to blast your music loud and proud as you cleaned instead of hoping your headphones can go loud enough to be heard over your machines without bursting your ear drums. It was envied in your opinion anyways. You wouldn’t trade areas for anything, even if the stink of sweat was overpowering sometimes.

You can’t help your amusement at the thought that there were some fans of the idols you worked for that would adore having to smell their stank every day. It was just an occupational hazard for you, though.

You’re sure being janitorial staff is no one’s dream, regardless of which building you happen to be cleaning. It works for you, though. You wouldn’t say it had been remotely in your life plan to be scrubbing huge mirrors, or airing out the smell of sweat from the JYP practice rooms, but you enjoyed the peace it allowed you.

Two years out of college, with an unrelated degree, in a country you’d never dreamed of moving to, and you still wouldn’t trade it for the world. The twists and turns of life that had lead you here hardly mattered anymore.

Besides, you don’t see the idols as much as you’d assume for someone who cleaned their practice rooms for a living. It was another privilege of yours, if anyone were to ask your opinion. Not that anyone asked you much of anything, aside from your supervisor. Your quiet existence as just another cog that kept everything running smoothly was soothing to you.

You could be loud and take up space outside of work. Not that you really did, but you could if you wanted to. Maybe you should. You were still virtually friendless a year and a half after getting this job. You only really spoke to your coworkers, and barely at that. Your homebody tendencies continue to sabotage your social life.

You had plenty of online friends, it was fine.

You’ve digressed. No idols equals privilege of your area. Right.

You knew several of the newer folks spent a few weeks after their hire giggling to each other when they got to see the idols just casually hanging around and doing their jobs, but you’d avoided them from the start.

At first it was just because you were shy and many idols had a bit of rbf going on. You’d been incredibly intimidated by both their beauty and their success, and your Korean hadn’t been as eloquent as you’d have liked it to be. By the time you’d spoken to enough trainees to relax around the idols, you’d still been unsure with your Korean. And then when you’d gotten that in order it’d been so long you simply felt awkward.

You’d been working in the building for a year and a half and had done a spectacular job at crossing paths with as few idols as possible. You weren’t about to seek them out now. You’d been sought out yourself a time or two, by idols that were close to the trainees you spoke with more frequently. Apparently you’d been labeled “the nice janitor noona with the snacks” and curiosity and food were fabulous motivators.

It didn’t happen frequently. When you’d asked about it, you’d learned that apparently you were being gatekept by the trainees. Ostensibly so they could keep your snacks for themselves, but you liked to believe they just liked you.

You finally get your phone connected to the speakers and start to blast your work playlist. You can’t help doing a little dancey-dance as you begin to sweep, mop, and wax the hardwood floor. What could you say? Your playlist was simply bop after bop.

You’re in the middle of dipping your mop handle low and pretending to sing along to Fall Out Boy when the door creaks open slowly.

You straighten quickly but there’s no way the person at the door didn’t see you goofing around.

“One sec!” You call out quickly, forgetting to speak Korean in your haste. You dash over to the sound system to pause your music, your ears ringing in the silence. When you turn around you’re confronted with the amused eyes of one Lee Know of Stray Kids.

“Ah, Lee Know-ssi!” You bow quickly but politely in greeting. “I’m sorry, this room is being cleaned right now, it’s not available for practice.”

Lee Know gives you a slow nod, looking like he was holding in a laugh.

“I know, I saw the sign,” Lee Know replies, tilting his head at you. You secretly let out a breath of relief at that. For a second there you’d thought you’d forgotten. “I was just curious who was playing music loud enough to hear outside.”

You immediately fluster at that, waving your hands in front of yourself, “Ahhh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to disturb!” You gesture at the floor machine sitting pretty in the corner of the room with your supply cart.

“I’ll be waxing the floor in a bit, usually the machine is loud enough to cover it. Hadn’t gotten there yet, though.” You laugh nervously, popping your wrists and fingers just for something to do with your hands.

Lee Know shakes his head, waving your apology aside. “No, you’re good, I got to see something fun out of it.”

You’re sure you flush bright red, and you cant help but bury your head in your hands with a groan. You can hear Lee Know stifle a laugh, but you’re too busy languishing in your humiliation to pay attention to him.

After a moment you peak at him from between your fingers. He still looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh at you.

“If I bribe you with snacks will you erase this from your memory?” You plead with him. He raises an eyebrow at you and hums consideringly.

“Depends on the snack.” He finally concedes, prompting you to start towards your cart, much more at ease with a potential solution in sight.

“I’ve got a couple kinds,” You start to explain, “Everyone likes to ambush me for them, so I’ve learned to come prepared.”

You hear another huff of laughter from far closer than you were expecting, Lee Know having wandered over while you were distracted with rummaging though your cart. You have to move several things out of the way before you can grab the small basket containing your prize.

You may have gotten used to being ambushed for snacks, but that also meant you’d gotten used to hiding them so that you’d at least get to eat some of them. You swore the trainees could smell when you had their favorites stocked up. Animals, the lot of them.

“Who’s ambushing you?” Lee Know questions with amusement.

“Everyone who knows I have them.” You reply with false despair. “The trainees have a sixth sense for them, I fear.” Lee know snorts at that and you grin at him with equal mirth.

“Ah, yes, as a former trainee, I can confirm that they do.” He tells you somberly. You click your tongue and shake your head.

“I knew it.” you say, “They only love me for my snacks. And here I thought they just liked to talk.” You place a dramatic hand over your heart, acting hurt and betrayed.

Lee Know chuckles at you, but doesn’t respond as he leans in to

[jetiisyandereclones]

Hey! I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your blog! Your writing is truly incredible and inspires me so much! Thank you for being here ❤️

OH MY GOD!

I havnt heard from you in ages! (Mostly my own fault.)

Life's been hellish this past year and I'm gonna take this opportunity to explain myself for why I've been so silent and non existent.

The year 2024 has tested me.

In the beginning, my brother in law had a mental breakdown due to a run in with the cops, threatened suicide (he's okay now) amd because of the association with the place he was living he decided he absolutely had to move.

Now, what this has to do with me is that I was boarding with him and my sister, in their spare room.

And i don't know if anyone here is familiar with Australian community housing, but you can't qualify for housing if the total income of the residents is deemed too high.

Because I had a job the income of the household was considered too high for my sister and brother in law to qualify for a new house so I was told that I would not be allowed to live with them any more.

So I had to make extremely last minute arrangements and ended up in a co tenancy in a week.

That turned out to be a bad decision as my housemate was in with... a bad crowd.

She also wouldn't pay any of her rent or bills on time.

By month 5 I had had enough and decided I would be leaving the tenancy at the end of my lease.

At the end of month five I got a knock at the door from the police telling me suspected drug runners had been seen peeling out of my yard.

I'd seen those bikes before, and they were definitely friends of my housemaid, although I am not sure just how deep in she was with all that mess (I suspect fairly deep, but I have no actual evidence)

I told the police I was just her housemate and worked nights so we didn't cross paths alot, and that I was planing to move in a month.

He basically told me that they were gonna be back to turn the place over, and that if I was leaving, I should leave sooner.

That was my 13th reason why. I quit my job at the petrol station, packed up my car and with the help of my sister and BIL was out of the house the next morning.

I moved back into my dads place where I went for my licence (and got it on the second attempt) and started job hunting. At that point I was looking for something with some actual perks so I looked into remote work.

A couple of months after applying around for any remote work I could find that included housing, I got an offer to work as a Cafe supervisor in a community in remote northern Territory and I jumped on it.

They flew me up to the other end of the country after my interview, for a recruitment trip so I could see where I would be living and working. At that point it seemed okay.

A month later I was moving and two days into starting my new job I realised I hated it and was horribly ill suited to do it.

So I spent about three weeks going through the right channels to figure out an alternative arenagement.

Now, getting people to work remote is a bitch and I was already up there so I was pretty confident that the company I was hired by was not gonna cut me loose, and they didn't.

I was moved to an office job where I was much better suited.

And I'm just gonna speed run what's happened over the last few months since moving up north (keep in mind my closest family is clear down the other end of the country, 5000 kilometres away, so it's just me up here)

I damn near fell in love with my team leader, and never said a thing about it cause I wanted to keep things professional and not weird in the office.

He has since left for a better paying job elsewhere.

I made best friends with a co-worker who has since been moved to the kitchen supervisor job that I didn't want, and she's so happy doing it.

One of our travelling support officers has left the company to work for a different business in the community where I live, the other Travelling support officer was moved to her next assignment.

All this left me the most senior staff member I. The office after only a month and a half. The only other staff member is also fairly... useless.

In my personal life,

My sister, who i lived with before is getting divorced soon, as she has had enough of him using her for free labor and not treating her with respect.

My brother is probably engaged to his boyfriend (who is a lovely guy) but I havnt heard any official confirmation

My mums had a health scare due to suspected complications after thyroid surgery. But she refuses to go to hospital cause she's the main carer of my young, disabled neice, and I suspect she's afraid she will be deemed physically unfit to care for her and my neice will be removed.

So yeah. After all that I managed to stumble my way into an extremely challenging, but very rewarding and secure full time job where they pay for all my housing and bills.

So... still got shit going on in my personal life but I'm in a much more secure situation now.

Between all this i just have not had time or energy to write. And I can't make any promises of anything coming out any time soon, but I still massively appreciate all the likes, comments and reblogs.

They really do make my day when I see them.

[supertwist-royalty-ttr]

I was writing an interaction between Auditor and President and I realized that nobody talks about the other supervisors bondings (If someone does, PLEASE LET ME KNOW 👀)

So, I'll show you...

✨ Mag's silly list of TTR Supervisors bondings headcanons which nobody asked for✨

I know I said that I'm a fan of the idea that they all hate each other, despite their bosses are besties, but how are the particular bondings for me? 😛 I think that ALL the bondings have a base of distrust, but they vary in another ways 👀

1. Foreman 🔥 — Club President 🏌️‍♀️

They HATE each other, SO MUCH, WITH PASSION, WITH THEIR ROBOTIC HEART ❤️‍🔥

They are the LEAST tolerated. Foreman has very little patience and President has a very intense personality, so their attitudes crash a lot and very often. Club President criticizes him A LOT about his work (OBVIOUSLY INSPIRED IN SUPERVISING THE SUPERVISORS PLEASE READ IT IF YOU DIDN'T), which Foreman obviously doesn't like. But all of this conflict, ends up with they thinking a lot about each other, maybe they can be confused with silly feelings? 😏

And, based on "Supervising the Supervisors"...They tend to meet to play golf ⛳ Maybe that's another reason of their beef (But he ends up repairing President's arm loses 💕)

2. Clerk 📚 — Club President 🏌️‍♀️

Very, very good friends! (I think we all assumed it after the 1st UNM announcement). They meet a lot in their facilities, they play golf together when they have time, and they talk a lot.

I like to think that they talk about how powerful they are, and gossip (In a moral and legal way) about what CJ and CEO do and say. And Clerk is very used to hearing the President's complaints about Foreman.

President always tries to ask her for Virtual Skelecogs for her, but Clerk always denies it.

3. Foreman 🔥 — Auditor 📈

They are good friends who tend to meet often. Auditor sees friends in people who don't want his money and Foreman is one of those. I like to think that they meet to have some drinks and talk about life and against toons (?)

But Foreman is the one who complains the most because of Club President, so Auditor is very used (And a little tired) of his venting, but he always listens to him :)

AND NOW THAT WE KNOW THAT THEY ARE BOTH BALD, they could comment about it HAHAAHA

4. Foreman 🔥 — Clerk 📚

In the same line of my headcanon of Clerk being a skilled programmer and knowing a lot of technology stuff, I think that Foreman is a very skilled mechanic (bc he works at the Factories, kinda obvious :U), so all of their conversations are based in cog making stuff.

He knows that President is her friend and tries to not talk about her too much because he is afraid of being silenced. On the other hand, she knows that if he gets angry, he will start to yell in a loud voice (Overtime reference), which she dislikes a lot, so they both talk with a lot of respect trying to not hurt the other.

5. Auditor 📈 — Clerk 📚

In the same line of my headcanon of Clerk being a skilled programmer (AGAIN), I like to think that they meet when Auditor needs to write stuff in excel, digitalize documents and all of the technology stuff that the Auditor might need (?) and Clerk can do. He doesn't pay her money because he STINGY (But pays with favors). They don't trust each other well (And Clerk doesn't like his voice), but they treat each other with respect.

Because they are friends with Foreman and President on each side, they end telling each other how fed up they are about their constant comments and venting of President and Foreman, something like:

— You know, I'm a little tired of hearing Foreman complaining about President...

— I'm also tired of hearing President complaining of Foreman, despite she is my friend.

And, as an extra, he tries to ask Clerk for Virtual Skelecogs to make his work easier, but she denied it.

6. Auditor 📈 — Club President 🏌️‍♀️

I like to think that they have one thing in common: ✨ BEING OBSESSIVELY PERFECTIONIST WITH THEIR OWN FACILITY ✨ Something like:

— I'm so done with these toons entering my Mint and trying to steal my perfectly organized money...

— I KNOW, RIGHT!? I HATE when toons enter MY countryclub, I DIDN'T ASK FOR THEM!

Besides that, I think that they get along well, with respect and maybe they can have a good time when they meet. I also think that she asks the Auditor about what Foreman says about her and he takes the chance to tell her in exchange for some money hehe.

I like to think that she invites him to play golf, but he doesn't like to leave the Mints because is afraid of being robbed (?

————

That's it! What do you think? Do you have more headcanons? I READ YOU 👀

[reineyday]

i posted this mishanks fic where shanks takes calculus 1 as an elective for fun thinking rayleigh's gonna teach it only to be confronted with ray's TA mihawk teaching the class instead.

in the a/n i mentioned that mihawk's having a bad morning and shares an open-concept office with the other warlords, all doing their phd's in the same department, and someone asked what they were specializing in. i thought about it enough that i figured i'd just post my reply here too. 😂 i am but a humble bfa-haver, so if any of these topics seem wrong or unlikely, let me know! 🥲 it's all based on their devil fruits (if they have them).

i was thinking mihawk is probably getting a doctorate of philosophy in mathematics, inspired long ago by his swordsmanship practice (both in meditation and in analysis of movement and connection) and tendency toward logic and rational thinking. he also likes problem-solving. rayleigh has a joint appointment professor job at new world, and while he teaches mostly hard mathematics, he also teaches philosophy courses. mihawk is following a similar path of research, and thus chose him as a supervisor.

i think it might be interesting if boa was studying philosophy as related to the subject of love and logic. rayleigh is her supervisor as well, because he did his own thesis back in the day on picking apart aristotle's body of research in the modern lens, and she's focusing on aristotle's three sources of affection/types of objects that are loved and lovable (the good, the pleasant, and the useful). she probably has to be talked down from some heavy-handed metaphors on turning to stone lol.

croc is probably studying something that has to do with the physical properties and manipulation of sand, especially in its power to change topographies over time, and perhaps branching into individual uses of sand as a method of force. he probably thinks about sandblasters too much.

moria... hmm, sciography (study of shadows) and the neurological and psychological effects differently-shadowed spaces have on a person. sciography is something that mostly architects use when designing spaces, but he's interested more in the effect on one's psyche in (un)lit spaces as opposed to the art and design of it all.

kuma uuhhhh actually kuma's devil fruit is already pretty philosophical, seeing as how he can repel actual concepts. if you can repel pain and fatigue, what's stopping him from repelling something like gender, or time? so he could be doing research on human constructs in society and challenging the way society is structured, but that seems more like a humanities subject so maybe he's researching actual physics and delving into something extremely niche about how things get repelled on a molecular level, even by the human touch.

doffy's doing something in the physics field as well. something about gravity and thread and force and manipulation. no one's actually sure, they just know it always ends in him tying invisible string to literally anything and everything in the office and saying it's for his thesis whenever he pisses someone off, which is always. and yes, the worst thing about him is he's always getting good grades, which makes them wonder if it really IS for his thesis, which then makes them somehow even more pissed off, because there shouldnt be any good reason for tripping over all this goddamn thread all the time in the office. 🤦🏻‍♀️

and jinbe is studying movement in water and the human kinetics of it all, also inspired by the martial arts that he does. benefits of training in water, how it strengthens the muscles in different ways, etc. etc. mihawk is very interested to read his paper when he's finished haha.

[songmingisthighs]

Ignominy

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lxxviii - private matter

hybrid!san × human!reader

buy me coffee ?

everyone wants to belong, it's basic human need to connect with people around them. what happens when you're responsible for someone who belongs to two worlds but at the same time belongs to neither ? worst part is, what happens when it's your ex ?

It was odd for Seungcheol to see the work floor so empty. Usually, the science department never took a day off when there were no public holidays. But knowing that the company was in a rather dire situation, Seungcheol didn't think much about it and just went in as he usually would.

It had been a while since he worked at the company for his own company's gain and frankly, he liked the vibe in High Breed. Truly, an inspiration as to how he wants his own company to be. He was sure he could achieve it and he was sure that if anyone were to achieve it, he would be able to do it. The proof is in the pudding, he had managed to save a company that was two and a half weeks away from official bankruptcy and even get enough money to buy his uncle out. Seungcheol was a born businessman and it was a true testimony of what the Choi's nature and nurture can do.

"Took you a while,"

Seungcheol jolted slightly as he opened the lab door, not expecting to see his cousin San to be sitting on the supervisor's chair whilst twiddling his thumb. "Fuck, you scared me," Seungcheol huffed, closing the door and standing in the middle of the room, "What are you doing here? I thought you were on administrative leave indefinitely?" San's ear twitched at the mention of him being put on administrative leave and he had to fight off the urge to smirk and immediately punch the guy down to the ground. But he held it in. For now.

San shook his head and sighed, leaning back into the rather comfortable chair, "Technically I'm... Working from home, administrative leave is just something the HR director put on my file to appease the investigators, making it seem like I won't interfere which I intend to do until this whole damn shit blows over." At the mention of the HR director and his file, Seungcheol visibly stiffen and he even tried to mask it by turning his back on San and pretending to check the nearby file which upon inspection, was not even a work file whatsoever as he saw it was a doodle someone (most likely Yunho) made of a monkey riding a dog like a horse. Though usually, Seunghceol wouldn't care much about random doodles anywhere and whatever it is, San's presence made him want to have a full-blown thesis defence. But of course, that was not why San came in the first place.

"But to answer your question, I actually came here because I have some things I want to ask you," San stood up from his seat and walked over to Seungcheol, "Something I think you know concerning the current issue at hand." Seungcheol started getting nervous and the closer San gets, the more Seungcheol tried to move away to avoid being in near proximity. "Have you... Noticed anything weird about my employees?" San asked, casually trapping Seungcheol in a position where if he move more, San would DEFINITELY know something was up. Well, little did he know. "Employees?" Seunghceol raised an eyebrow at his younger cousin, "Can't say I do because I only worked with a few of them for my project and even then, I can't say I'm that close as to know what constitutes as... 'weird'." Now San knows his cousin quite well and when he rambles like that, he got him cornered. "Well, what about Yunho and Yeosang? You've seen them a handful of times at gigantic family events before and they're in your team. How have they been?" Seungcheol cleared his throat and pretended to fix and organize some things, completely avoiding eye contact but still responding to San. "Like I said, I don't really pay much attention," in Seungcheol's mind, he was trying to find ways to rush the conversation but not because he was afraid of getting caught. No, he just wanted to finish the conversation so he could go back to pretending like he knew and did nothing.

But at the awareness of how evasive he was being, Seungcheol looked up and unlike before, stared at San dead in the eyes, "Do you think they have something to do with your employees accessing files by hacking into stuff?"

San didn't think it would be that easy to catch Seungcheol in the act. For a guy who has been mining company secrets through illegal tapping for the past several weeks, he sure does get sloppy when he cockily thinks he's going to get away with it. "How'd you know we were hacked?"

Fuck.

It didn't occur to him that San hadn't said anything about hacking. Seungcheol's eyes widened and he replied with the first thing that popped into his head with a dismissive laugh as his eyes once again drop to the desk, "Please, you talking about this issue to me personally? I can only imagine Yunho and Yeosang were involved," San raised an eyebrow challengingly at his cousin, "How'd you know Yunho and Yeosang were involved?" he challengingly asked. Seungcheol had to force his breathing to slow down to not panic at San's retort. "I mean they're your friends, I'm just saying their names as a representation of your whole friend group," he shrugged. "Really? Are you sure it's not because you know exactly what happened because you have something to do with it?"

Seungcheol didn't like the tone of San's voice. It was (rightfully) accusatory and judging. "What is that supposed to mean?" the older man scoffed in disbelief. San rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, "Oh, come on hyung, let's not debase ourselves by pretending you don't know what exactly I'm talking about. You're smart enough to know I've caught you and you're smart enough to know that I have all the proof I needed." Any normal person would be sweating, getting scared or nervous over how relaxed San was considering what they did was something of a criminal offence. But no, as a wolf hybrid, especially as a Choi, Seungcheol has a significantly higher pride.

They both stared each other down; San challengingly wanting to get to the bottom of the issue and Seungcheol wanting to uphold his pride. For a moment, that was all they did. Until a smirk broke on Seungcheol's face, surprising San slightly as his facial expression faltered momentarily. "God, you really are such a goody-goody, aren't you?" he said mockingly. It was San's turn to not like Seungcheol's tone and he showed it, his chest puffed up and he stood straighter, shoulders squaring and eyes narrowing. "You found out I did something bad and you just HAD to swoop in heroically as if to make a point," Seungcheol scoffed. San stared at his older cousin in disbelief, "You leaked my private information to the press and made BASELESS accusations of my company whilst working in it for your own gain," San said matter-of-factly. "Rhetorics," San's fists balled at how easily Seungcheol waved the fact that he was so close to ruining someone's entire livelihood, "Point is, I want to show the world, and especially to Grandpa, how you're handling the company that you were oh so graciously given for absolutely no reason at all."

At the mention of their grandpa, San's furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes that showed the intensity of his anger and frustration melted into one of confusion. "What does Grandpa have to do with this?" he asked. "What doesn't he have to do with this? He made the wrong choice by giving the company to you because it's obvious that you don't have what it takes, you don't know what you're doing and obviously, under your care, your company is crumbling." With each word spoken, Seungcheol's voice got louder and with each passing moment it became obvious that Seungcheol had a lot pent up. San was about to reply but Seungcheol just kept going on and on with his rant. "I really don't get why Grandpa would just give you a position like that at his company. And not just you, our other cousins too. You all barely did anything and you were all just being handed everything on a silver platter without considering anyone else. I don't get why I, one of the oldest, cousins, had to work my ass off developing a failed company from the ground up and even then I got nothing, not even an acknowledgement or even scorn from Grandpa."

It took San a moment to completely comprehend what Seungcheol was saying because he was sure that he had somehow misheard him or something. Surely his cousin couldn't be this stupid, could he? The cousin had just stated that because their Grandpa had said nothing about his work to him directly, he was so hellbent on ruining his entire life. How can he not account for the fact that in the family, he's the cousin that's known to be such a huge success for being able to salvage a whole company with almost nothing?

"You have to be the stupidest person ever." Seungcheol's neck tensed and without sparing a moment, he pushed a nearby chair so hard to the floor that it made such a huge noise and one of the legs bent. "What the fuck did you just say?" "You have to be the stupidest person ever because you know so little about general knowledge for a person who knew how to be such a great success." The initial anger after San called him stupid dissipated and turned into confusion and he did nothing but stood on his spot, confused. "Hyung, you're one of the pride and joy of our family and even Grandpa said it, just not in front of you because he thinks complimenting anyone in front of them will just inflate their ego and then they will let themselves go because they received even just the tiniest bit of compliment. Trust me, I myself have never heard him compliment me to my face unless it's in front of non-family members to make a show. And for the record, Grandpa didn't give me my position because High Breed doesn't belong to Grandpa, it belongs to my parents so he didn't get a say in it. He only has 3 main companies and its subsidiaries but High Breed isn't one of them. So our cousins got their position and achievements here based on their merits, they were given the exact same treatment as any other employees and maybe even slightly worse because scrutiny is obviously needed so really, all of the crap you pulled were absolutely baseless. You thought you knew something and you ran with it, jumping into conclusions and pulling the trigger so quick, things just turned to shit. Things that weren't supposed to happen, happened because of you and it damn near ruined someone. You're already so successful in your own field in your own way, so this? What you've been doing to me? Is completely unnecessary and it will end up just hurting you."

Seungcheol was left stunned.

Embarrassment coursed through his body and he felt dread. It was true, he hadn't taken into account the possibility that maybe, just MAYBE, the situation isn't what it seemed and that he was wrong about what he initially thought he knew. Surely, he could've gone straight to his cousin or even talked to the other cousins be it San or not San. The thoughts running through Seungcheol's head seemed visible to San as his posture relaxed as he let out a long sigh, "I used to look up to you hyung. But when you started taking over for your current company and tore yourself away from us, I saw nothing but someone who is bitter and jealous despite his own magnificent achievements. It was as if your own self-acceptance wasn't enough, as if you did what you did so other people will give you recognition and frankly it's sad, hyung. It's sad for such a successful person to need affirmation from people he viewed as less than." he stated, leaving his older cousin speechless.

Though San got the answer he was looking for, he realized that it didn't feel as good as he hoped it would. Sure, questions were answered, but he was just disappointed that the situation got so out of hand for such a stupid reason. Maybe there was even a smidge of disappointment after he realized that his hyung could've come to him for help or to talk it out. San was not a perfect person, obviously, but he sure would have tried to do something. Granted, he wasn't completely himself a while ago, but still.

Before any of them could talk, San decided that he was done with the interaction and turned his body around to leave after letting Seungcheol hear what he was going to do next. "I'm gonna need you to clear your physical stuff in an hour or else the security will escort you out. Whatever files you have in our database will be sent over but I, as a representative of High Breed, retract our aid for your MFDS application and the progress of said application to MFDS will be retracted immediately pending legal involvement and a decision as to how this situation will be handled. And don't even try to do anything stupid, we have CCTV everywhere and there's a 24-hour automatic camera recording of activities in this lab."

"You're right," Seungcheol added suddenly, halting San in his steps just before he could get out of the room, "What I did was stupid." San was torn between turning around and giving his full attention to his cousin or just ignoring him completely, refusing whatever he had to say which he assumed was an excuse for his behaviour. So San stayed in his position, hoping it would pass soon enough and he could go conclude the mess that was still growing bigger. "But how could you talk to me about jumping the gun and creating a mess that should've never existed after what you did to (y/n)?" Seungcheol smirked.

Chills ran down San's back and his head whipped so hard and fast, he swore he got a whiplash as an impact. It was Seungcheol's turn to look cocky after seeing the look on San's face, visibly seeing the realization sinking into his brain. "Didn't you start your punishment on her that led to her resigning before you even realized what was going on?"

With shaky hands, San pointed at his hyung, trying to figure out what to say to him as he was left rather dumbfounded. As hard as he tried, San couldn't seem to get the exact words out. His bottom lip trembled and his throat felt dry, he wanted to defend himself for what he did but even he knew that it was no use, his action was inexcusable and frankly rather pathetic after realizing the truth.

"Get the fuck out before the hour ends," was all San said before rushing out, leaving Seungcheol who looked so satisfied despite everything, alone to clear out. His feet took him to the elevator back to his office as quickly as they can, he couldn't even remember if he pressed the button or not but it didn't matter, not really anyways. When the door shut, San had to brace himself on the railing, the realization of his action weighed heavily in his mind as if anchoring him down to the ground. A sudden wave of nausea passed and he couldn't help but punch a dent into the elevator wall before pressing his forehead to the cold surface, closing his eyes in hopes that he could calm himself down.

"Good fucking grief, Choi San, what have you done again?"

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[stuff-plus-textposts]

Nothing At All is a Good Song

Nothing At All is a song from How To Dance In Ohio the musical that I really really like. I have this whole animatic to it mapped out in my head, but I haven't got the skill or patience to actually draw it. But the song's singer Desmond Edwards said that they would want to read the outline I've written, so here it is! It's very long and I'm sorry.

I work in a lab at a hospital, and this is about my job.

I walk into the lab, into the break room, and put my purse down. On “It’s not like I’m shocked by the ableist cliches, but they do make me tired,” I reach into my purse and put on a barrette (which I actually wear everyday). The barrette then turns red and becomes a wisp of smoke following me. 

“Do I only exist on this planet to make somebody else feel inspired?” I’m grabbing a lab coat from the closet when the wisp flies away from me, I turn to follow it and see one of my coworkers waving at me. Said coworker is drawn with no eyes or nose, just a mouth and eyebrows - everyone in the animatic is drawn like this except for myself. I wave awkwardly back. 

“I’m no object of pity, and if that’s what you see, then clearly you aren’t seeing me” the camera circles around me, showing a hallway that looks like I’ve made it longer for dramatic effect but that actually is that long, and then pans around so you can see my face as I start walking down the hall towards the core lab. 

I pretend to be my own OCs a lot, so the characters I turn into are my own characters. As I turn into each one, the wisp of red smoke becomes an article of clothing on them. First is Jaimy, who has a big red bow. Then Tris, who has a red ring, and finally Jada, who has a red headband. As the line gets to “today’s look is nothing, nothing at all” I fade back into my normal self with the wisp of smoke at my shoulders, and walk over to my work station. I type at my computer with the wisp curling over my wrists, I grab a pneumatic tube that’s just come in with the smoke curling around the tube and my hands. 

“I try to have patience meeting folks where they’re at” I sit at my chair talking to my boss, who is on one knee in front of me because she's really tall. “But this gets under my skin” she stands up to walk away. “Cause if you’re writing about me, then getting to know me should be where you begin” my boss goes over to one of my coworkers, a guy who acts like and is treated like he’s a supervisor even though he’s not, and says something. The two of them look directly at me, then back at each other. 

“It’s so condescending assuming the worst” We see my hand reaching towards a piece of paper on a printer, which is me attempting to do an assignment that I’m capable of doing but don’t have permission to do. The wisp of smoke curls around my hand and pulls it back, forcing me to turn away and see my boss. I glare daggers at her but that’s all I can do. 

“When I’m Wanda Maximoff” My glare fades and I turn into my OC Taylor, the red wisp becoming a wand in my hand. “I can change my own reality” using the wand, I open up a centrifuge and remove the tubes of blood to float in front of me. Unlike most of the animatic, which is black and white, the tubes are in color. They’ve been spun already so you can clearly see the red blood cells at the bottom, the separator gel, and the plasma/serum on top. Some of the tubes have light green tops and some have gold tops (if you’re curious what I’m talking about, look up centrifuged blood gold top). “When I’m Gaga I’m ready to rehearse” I change into my OC Jodie, stepping forward into a pirouette, the red wisp turns into a rehearsal skirt, and the tubes of blood are still floating in front of me. “When I’m Miles Morales I really do believe I am a superhero in the multiverse” I change into my OC Cytherea and start to float, the wisp becomes glowing red eyes, and for a moment the tubes of blood turn into crystals in front of me. “But todays look is nothing, nothing at all” I morph back into myself and come back down to the ground. The tubes of blood become tubes of blood again and return to my hands. The red wisp goes back to being a red wisp at my shoulders. 

“Then come the voices of doubt saying right on cue” we see the core lab, where my coworkers are doing regular core lab stuff, like typing at computers and putting stuff into machines. “This world will never make space for people like you” my coworkers all look at me, now looking angry, and now shaded red. I take a step back. “I see my past rejections framed and hung on the wall” The tubes of blood fall out of my hands, not like I dropped them or anything but just like in a floaty way. I also start to float as the background becomes black behind me, and we see representations drawn in red of various crappy things that have happened to me. This includes F’s on papers, children laughing at me, and mean quotes people have said to me. They scroll by in the background. 

“And I wish I felt nothing, nothing at all” I start crying and I curl up into a ball. The background changes to say in giant red letters “Autism.” But then the red disappears from the actual word, turning it white; the red becomes becomes the wisp again, circling around my whole body. “Nothing at all” the black background fades, leaving me in a cloud of red. “So sick of good intentions, that only make me feel small” still surrounded by the cloud. I look up and see the lab in front of me, except I am literally small now, and it is huge. “Your good intentions all add up to” I fall to my knees with my hands over my ears. “Nothing at all” suddenly I am normal sized again, holding the tubes of blood like I was before. I shake my head a little bit and look startled, as if I was trying to shake myself back to reality after zoning out. 

In the instrumental break, I walk over to one of the stations in the core lab and put the tubes of blood in the rack. Then I’m seen getting my purse and leaving the lab. 

“That’s why tomorrow night I will not be at the formal dance” we see me driving home, coming inside, and walking upstairs to pull out my laptop. “though I’ve worked hard to get there all this year.” The red wisp settles around my shoulders, still weird and wispy but not floating anymore, just resting. I take a deep breath and open my laptop. “That’s right, tomorrow night I will be doing my first livestream” I open up a zoom meeting entitled ‘Ableism in the workplace’ and click join, “to discuss the controversy further here!” I wave at the people in the meeting, and you can see the clock behind me displaying the time 5:30. “Cause the whole conversation” we see a girl wearing noise cancelling headphones talking on the screen. “Needs a huge overhaul.” We see a boy talking on the screen. “And if we simply do nothing.” I wave again, and you can see that the clock reads 6:30 now. I close the laptop and look sad. The red wisp starts to float again “nothing will change at all.” The wisp becomes a single red tear which falls down my cheek. 

In the final instrumental, I wipe the tear away. My hand stays on my face as I move it up to rub at my head, like I’m pushing my hair away from my face. When I pull my hand away, the red is gone and it has turned back into the barrette that I put on at the beginning. I set the barrette down on top of my laptop, alongside my employee badge, and stand up to walk away. The end.

Don't worry though, this makes my job sound awful, but it's actually really cool and most of my coworkers don't suck. This is a picture taken for lab week a few weeks ago, I'm the white girl sitting in the front :)

@wakanda-never I hope you like it! I know it isn't exactly what the song is about, but it's what it makes me feel. Thank you for everything you did with HTDIO, it's one of my favorite musicals ever because it makes me feel so seen.