#I have an employee with a very thick accent and I hate for her to feel like she can't easily communicate w me

[creepyscritches]

I wanna thank you for your post about being nice to customer service people as someone who works in a customer service call/text center 🫡 people who say please and thank you to us are so rare! I was so shocked, I thought Americans just didn’t use please and thank you as a cultural thing or something, it really breaks our morale when people are rude for no reason 😣 not only that but also being xenophobic and generally mean. We’re already being exploited by the companies lol we don’t need more mistreatment. Thank you and everyone who is kind ❤️

It is not a cultural thing in the SLIGHTEST to not say please/thank you. You are experiencing inexcusable rudeness and you shouldn't be expected to "get used to it"!

Almost ALL of my IT assistance comes from India and I've worked in tandem with Indian medical coders several times over the years. It's insane to think even my colleagues were griping and moaning about working with ""offshore employees" " 🙄 in my personal and professional life, these employees have been incredibly helpful and kind to me and it's just basic decency to thank them!

Just today I had to call our offshore IT for some convoluted/botched IT update, and it took 5 minutes of polite conversation + trouble shooting to correct everything. IT WOULD HAVE TAKEN ME WEEKS ON MY OWN!! I don't understand how people are so shitty to people that actively fix their most frustrating problems. Like it's already insane to be so rude to strangers, but strangers that are bending over backwards to fix YOUR annoying problem? Go to jail 10,000 years.

I hope you have polite and courteous customers this week, anon! You deserve conversations that make you smile.

[15-lizards]

More southern ASOIAF headcanons for my mental health

Robb: star football player who gets drafted for a D1 college. He is absolutely the sweetheart of the SEC world. Definitely the next Joe Burrow. Has a million followers on insta and all of his posts are professionally edited. On the outside there’s nothing wrong with him but he actually has a dark secret (he’s just dating theon). Margaery is absolutely his sorority girl gf before they both realize they’re gay.

Arya: absolutely insane. Begs Ned to go along on hunting trips and can shoot a rifle like a grown man. She’s one of those kids that eats the heart of the first deer they kill. Runs around barefoot in the backwoods and the gravel roads. Sustains herself on bug juice from the gas station and honeysuckle plants that grow outside the house. Just true southern trash I love her.

Dany: Weird horse girl to the MAX turned highschool overachiever. Still rides horses but had a breakdown and a personality 180 after middle school and is now class president bc she wanted to make friends. Is in like three thousand clubs and is somehow the head of all of them. She has such a nice speaking voice but her accent only slips out when she’s angry. Ridiculously active in the local community. We all know that girl. We all know she needs Xanax and we love her.

Catelyn: Facebook mom. Keeps their suburban front lawn looking SPOTLESS. Always cheering Robb on at his games, makes the rest of the Starks dress in the school colors and take family pictures. Doesn’t like to gossip unless that person deserves it but when she does she absolutely tears them apart. Always hosts the neighborhood block parties. Ends up feeding half the neighborhood children when her kids bring them home after they were out playing when the streetlights come on.

Theon: Drug dealer who lives in the backwoods I’m sorry. He barely graduated highschool and likes to chew dip so thick you can’t understand what he’s saying. Actually kind of smart but didn’t care enough about school. Always showed up in his stupid lifted truck. Always smells like either cigarette smoke or weed. Just gives off dirty vibes but he was always pretty chill to hang around with surprisingly. Always had weird respect for the smart kids or the ones who didn’t want to do drugs. Somehow this is all appealing to Robb

Cersei: Evil Facebook mom. Passive aggressive to your face like she isn’t even going to be fake nice. Everyone’s always kissing her ass in her comments section as she humble brags about Myrcella being on the honor roll or Joffrey making the baseball team (the Lannisters have the stadium named after them). She knows if you don’t show up to church and makes sure all of her friends (who she hates) know about it too when they have brunch afterwards. But she is so fine. True southern milf. All of Joff’s classmates never shut up about his mean hot mom.

Davos: Your nicest old man neighbor ever. He’s Theon’s closest neighbor (two miles down the road) and is always trying to set him on the right path. Will def lend you money if you need it. No one’s really sure what he does for a living but he’s probably good at it. Always letting the nearby kids run around in his yard while he keeps an eye on them from the porch. He woodworks in his spare time. Everyone nearby has a swing set or a crib or a table he carved for them. Also gives the wisest, most sage advice ever uttered by anyone ever. He dropped out so he can’t read very well but Shireen always walks down the road after school to teach him :,)

Lysa: god she is just. Batshit crazy. Slightly normal until you walk into her ugly suburban mansion (that her old ass husband paid for) and she starts talking about Qanon. Such a conspiracy theorist and Robin is most definitely not vaxxed because those give you autism duh. Tries to return clothes she got like three years ago to Target and gets mad when they won’t refund her. Gives fast food workers a hard time. Or any service workers really.

Dolorous Edd: That man is a Waffle House employee. Trains Jon how to cook while taking an order while smoking a cigarette all at once. Cleans up questionable needles in the bathroom and needs to take a smoke break outside afterwards. You have never seen a man look so jaded yet make you the most fire fucking hashbrowns you have ever eaten in your life. No one knows what he does off the clock he’s a mystery. He just comes in, complains, makes waffles, leaves. Has thrown hands with a customer. Multiple times. Never loses.

[heymrstargazer]

hi hello i don't know nearly enough about your oc's so would you mind telling me about them?

WOULD I MIND??? PFTTT

we're gonna be here for a while

gonna do physical descriptions from the actual notes doc w/ little info dumps about all of them (more actual story details can be found at @wcygswhia​ and some better details in this post)

~~~

Colin Rian O’Hanlon: 22, 5′6″, pale af with lots of freckles cause he’s very Irish, had a thick accent when he was really young but has mostly gotten rid of it (except for when hes shitfaced drunk), dark red kinda burgundy hair that looks more brown than red in darker lighting, quite a few scars

overall colin’s kind of a dick. he pisses people off on purpose, gets in their way, touches their things without asking, and makes them question just about everything they stand for. that’s for the employees of his parents’ business, at least. colins parents run an elite service of highly-trained hitmen, and at one point he was supposed to take over the company and was trained as such for many years. unfortunately colin decided killing people was wrong, and has been ostracized from the family since and is either used as a punching bag or completely ignored. but, because he’s an asshole, he doesn’t get much sympathy for the way hes treated. in all actuality, the things hes doing are his very backwards attempt at getting the employees to see what theyre doing is wrong and that they should leave as soon as possible

~~~

Ross Jaymes Masters: 22, 5′9″, lots of tattoos, from wisconsin and has a midwestern accent (literally says ope every 5 minutes lbr), has bleached his hair to hell and back but is letting it grow out (finally)

ross is overall amazing in every way possible, very kind and caring but can be cocky at times (in a lovable way though). is basically a genius, almost has his phd in psychology because his schooling, along with colins, changed a lot when he moved in with the o’hanlons at 13 or 14. i wont get into all that, its pretty sad, but essentially moving in with them was treated as a boarding school type thing, and him and colin learned mostly through private tutors and didn’t really do summer breaks. hes incredibly charismatic and charming, and he knows it gets him more than it should. ross is also very private with his accomplishments because he knows how privileged he is to have all these things, especially in comparison to his 12 siblings and growing up as one of the very, very few pocs in the incredibly white, christian, conservative town he was born in

~~~

Lynette Brielle Dawson: 21, 5′8″, really dark brown hair, some tiny tattoos here and there

lynette comes off as very professional, and saves any arguments or problems for when she can talk to the individual in private. she grew up with her family working in the same business as the O’Hanlons, so she has a lot of knowledge and training already covered which is why she so easily gets accepted into the O’Hanlon’s company. colin and lynette are sort of each others worst nightmare. lynette is like the child the colins parents wish they had, so it causes a lot of friction between them there, and they just started off on the wrong foot and somehow manage to trip their way to another one every time they talk. lynette is trying so hard to do everything right and make a name for herself so colin is there every step of the way messing that up. theyre really the only thing keeping the other from succeeding, cause lynette could do her job if he was out of the picture and colin would be able to stay under his parents radar if she stopped showing him up (unintentionally) in every way possible. eventually they do agree to stop making each others lives miserable, but of course shit hits the fan right after

~~~

Vincent Cohen Brenner: 5′11″, 20, definition of straight white boy (blond hair and all)

oh how i hate this dickhead. hes manipulative, rude, arrogant, overly privileged, and knows he can get away with anything. he originally was just accompanying lynette to the masquerade (where she was hired) because she didn’t want to drive hours to the middle of nowhere alone. unfortunately the end of the masquerade didn’t end how lynette thought, so she ended up asking if vincent could be hired as well. hes careful not to show that hes an asshole around her, but colin can see it from a mile away. its another big clashing point between all of them, and hes so willing to do anything for lynette because he has a very creepy stalkery crush on her. dont get me wrong, he comes off as a very nice, respectful person, but some of the fucked up parts show through in his humor and such

~~~

Austin Elliot Keller: 6′, 25, also the definition of a straight white boy but like the lovable himbo version (light brown hair)

austin has worked at the mansion for a few terms, and has managed to make friends with ross, and somewhat colin (a feat in and of itself). hes incredibly dedicated to his job, which can put a strain on some of his relationships, but overall hes very considerate and genuinely a good person (despite his profession). he takes a liking to lynette right away, not in a creepy way, and shows her a lot of respect and offers to help her through the first few months at the mansion because its all so new. while its subtle, its very different from the friendship she gets from vincent, and because lynette is very her, the two of them mesh very well together. they become friends very quickly and its kinda obvious that theres the possibility of something more there, but neither of them rush into anything and they really build a good relationship before going into anything romantic

~~~

Valarie Marie Grimshaw: 24, 5′5″, a sweetheart honestly, pretty much looks like emma roberts

ugh as i said a sweetheart. she just wants to be friends with people and loves making connections, but isnt entirely a people pleaser. she knows she cant make everyone happy and is okay with that. she makes a very quick connection with lynette, like instantly they become best friends, but she also starts hanging out with colin early on. she develops a bit of a crush on him, very curious as to what he has going on especially being stuck in the mansion despite that his parents hate him. lynette makes fun of her endlessly for it, but valarie also makes a bit of connection with him (as friends) and sorta coaxes lynette into giving him a chance (not that either lynette or colin want it, but still)

[babbysquid]

Not A Whiskey Drinker

Author’s Note: Okay weeee I’m super excited about this. I’m really happy with how this first chapter turned out and I already have plans for future chapters. I am such a sucker for Whiskey and I can’t wait to write more.

Warnings: some slight cursing

Length: 1,934 words

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For as much as you loved New York City, you absolutely hated its winters. Snow in the countryside was beautiful; white and fluffy, it stayed perfect for days on end. Snow in the concrete jungle however; wet, slushy, and turned disgusting in a matter of hours. Trudging your way through Central Park, the snow and salt crunching beneath your feet, you mind drifted. You had just been let go from you recent job, a personal assistant at a high end marketing office. Sighing to yourself and thinking about the possibility of moving back home your foot slipped. Before you could catch yourself you shut your eyes tight, preparing to land hard on your ass. But that smack never came. Opening one eye you were standing face to face with…

“A cowboy?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow at the man in front of you.

“In the flesh.” came the sweetest accent.

Opening your other eye you realized that the cowboy in front of you had snaked a hand around your waist. No wonder you hadn’t fallen. A beat passed and you realized the cowboy still had his arm around you. You stepped away and out of his hold.

“Thank you.” you said, giving an awkward cough and taking a closer look at you savior.

Not to be a cliché, but he was tall, dark, and handsome. Atop his head was a black Stetson, an odd sight in the middle of New York City. He had a perfectly trimmed mustache, and a small smirk underneath it. You silently thanked the cold for hiding the blush that crept up your face. The redness could easily be passed off as a flush from the biting wind.

“Anytime darlin’.” he said, shooting you a wink with eyes that you felt could swallow you whole. “Anyways, I best be on my way.”

Giving you a dazzling smile, he tipped the end of his hat with a gloved hand and brushed past you. You could’ve sworn that his hand grazed yours, but because of your thick mittens it was hard to tell.

Shivering slightly to yourself, you pulled your coat tighter around you and continued your walk to your apartment.

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

Unlocking your door and sighing to yourself you looked around your small studio apartment. It wasn’t much, but over the past year it had become your home. Shucking your jacket off you headed to the couch and sat down to pull off your shoes.

‘Guess I won’t be here much longer’ you thought to yourself.

After making yourself a steaming cup of tea you decided you may as well look at your email. Two days ago when you were told of your “dismissal” you had signed up for a couple different job search sites. If you were lucky enough maybe someone would offer you an interview, but your hopes were low.

You crossed your legs underneath you trying to generate as much heat as possible. As much as you loved your tiny apartment, it was an older building so the heating was shit to say the least. You clicked on the mail icon on your desktop and silently prayed to yourself. 10 new emails. Maybe there was hope.

10 Kale Dishes That’ll Be Sure To WOW Your Houseguests!

WARNING — WE HAVE DETECTED MALWARE

Most of the emails were similar to those: junk and spam, until your eyes landed on the last email.

RE: Y/N Y/L/N Job Opportunity FOUND!

Your eyes widened at the subject. Clicking on the email you realized that it wasn’t a scam, it had really come from one of the job search sites. Swallowing hard you hoped that it wasn’t just an offer from one of those salad making chain restaurants. You had your fair share of beginner jobs; barista, Subway, etc. After getting a taste of something more professional, you knew that that’s where you were meant to be. Besides, the pay that Starbucks gave was certainly not enough to live in New York City on your own.

Dear Ms. Y/L/N,

My name is Mr. Daniels and I am writing to inform you of opening at Statesmen Brewery, the New York City branch. I have been in search for a PA since my previous one left. After reading your resume I have become very interested in your skills and talents. Please let me know what days you are free in the coming week.

Jack Daniels

Head of Statesmen NYC Branch

You snorted at the sign off. There was no way someone’s real name was Jack Daniels and worked for a brewery. It was comedic to say the least, but there was no harm in responding to his email and getting an interview. Maybe this was your chance to stay in the city you loved, even if its winter was disgusting. Taking a sip of your tea you started to write out your response.

Mr. Daniels,

Thank you so much for your offer. I am very interested in an interview and am free Monday all day. Please let me know what time is best for you. Is there anything specific I should bring besides a printout of my resume and documents?

Thank you for your consideration,

Y/N Y/L/N

It was currently Friday so you had the whole weekend to prep yourself for the interview. If you were honest, the idea of an interview created a small pit in your stomach. It had been over a year since you’d been interviewed for a job.

May as well do some research on Statesmen.

Pulling open a new browser you typed in ‘Statesmen Brewery’ and clicked on their website. Clearly the company had some tech savvy people working for them as their website was modern and easy to navigate.

Statesmen Brewery has been brewing fine whiskey since 1885 and serving people all across the country and world.

No wonder you never heard of the company, you had never been big on whiskey.

The brewery had its start in a small barn in Kentucky and has since expanded to include two offices in New York, New York and Los Angeles, California. While our reach is wide, we consider every employee and consumer of our alcohol a close family member.

The rest of the front page went on to describe their whiskey and how smooth it was, as well as some fun facts about the company. You closed your laptop and picked up your tea, holding it close to your face and letting go of the tension in your shoulders that you didn’t realize was there. Before you could fully relax you heard your phone buzz on the couch cushion next to you.

It was your best friend Parker. When you first moved to NYC you decided to visit a small bookstore/coffee shop and accidentally grabbed the wrong drink. Turns out that drink belonged to Parker. She had come to the coffee shop to work on a script for an up and coming TV show that was set to be filmed in the city. The two of you became fast friends. You were slightly jealous of the girl as she really had landed her dream job.

Opening the text she had sent it was a photo of her holding a script she had written. Her round face was pulled up into a smile, her auburn hair slightly frizzed from what seemed to be an all nighter. You smiled at the photo and read the text that followed.

Guess who just finished her first script for SVU!

Quickly you typed out a response:

Congrats! Proud of you P. I have some good news too. Landed an interview with a fancy brewery.

Suddenly your phone buzzed nonstop, Parker was calling you.

You pressed the button to answer the phone and before you could say anything a scream hit your ears.

��AHHHHHH I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!!!!”

“Haha, thanks Parker. Honestly I’m a bit nervous. I did some research and the company seems to be a pretty big deal.”

“What’s the company?”

“Statesmen Brewery.”

“Oh shit my parents love their stuff.”

“I literally know nothing about whiskey other than the fact that I don’t like it. I feel stressed. The interview is on Monday.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow and help you with prep. Also you know I gotta help pick out the perfect interview outfit.”

“Thanks babe. You’re the best.”

“I know.”

You snorted at her response. Parker was confident, and more importantly confident in you. The thought of having her help you prep eased the knot in your stomach.

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

The rest of the afternoon was spent talking to Parker over the phone. Eventually the two of you ended your call and you were left to do some random chores around your place. As you mopped the floor you slipped a bit but caught yourself before you fell over. Your mind flashed back to earlier in the day.

At the time you didn’t realize how strong the cowboy’s grip was, but it was not overpowering. You remembered how gentlemanly he was. Looking back on it you tried to remember his face. While it was a short interaction, you couldn’t deny that he was easy on the eyes. Sighing softly you tried to remember the last time you went on a date. It had been several months ago. Your busy PA job never really allowed for romantic relationships. Shaking your head you got on with your day, finishing your chores, eating some leftover Chinese food for dinner, and sinking deep into your bed.

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

You were awoken by a knock on your door. Grunting as you got out of bed you swung open the door. The only person who would bother to come over without letting you know was Parker. Your suspicions were correct as she walked through the threshold and made herself at home, talking a mile a minute the entire time.

“Okay so first we need to talk about clothing options.” she said dumping her bag on your couch.

“Not prepping for the interview?” you said giving her a confused look.

Parker sighed.

“Look, I already know you have this interview in the bag. Sure, you may not like whiskey, but you are a wonderful person. While you may be stubborn” you frowned at her comment, “that can be super helpful in interviews. You are a go getting Y/N. I have no doubts about that.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Fashion show time!” she said, opening the small closet and rummaging around to find something suitable.

After an hour had passed the two of you finally settled on a suitable outfit. It was professional but still had a touch of you in it. A simple black skirt with a fun silky button down shirt that had a cool pattern on it. As you looked at yourself in the mirror you couldn’t deny that Parker knew what she was doing when it came to fashion.

“Okay finishing touch time.” she said as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt.

“Parker! This is a job interview, not a date.”

“Ugh. It’s a brewery, they’re gonna be more relaxed about these things. Plus you never know, this Jack Daniels could be a cutie.” she said, giving you a wink.

You chuckled and shook your head. Parker was eccentric but you really did love her. You still had a small bit of anxiety running through your body, but the help of your best friend made you feel more positive about Monday. Maybe you’d be able to stay in New York. Maybe this job might be better than the previous.

[jessicajonesrp]

Public warning

Patricia Walker does not do well with lack of control. It’s a tendency passed down from life with Dorothy Walker, easily the most controlling non super-powered person she had ever met. For the first eighteen years of her life, most of Trish’s actions, from her clothes to her work to her every public word and expression, had been chosen for her by Dorothy, and the only real choice she had for herself was whether to give in and make life easier for herself or rebel and suffer Dorothy’s wrath.

 Her desire for the control she had lacked had left her with severe insecurity, eating disorders, and self medication through drugs, all issues she struggled with for a good ten years before channeling her need for control into efforts at bettering herself and helping others. She had finally reached a place where life was stable, heading in a direction Trish could be content with, if not fully satisfied.

 And then Kilgrave happened. First to Jessica only, without Trish having any idea why her best friend had suddenly vanished without contact for eight months, and then with the shattered mess it left her once Trish did know and struggled to support her. Then to Trish herself, when she, against Jessica’s orders and even pleas, involved herself in trying to draw him out and capture him.

 Trish knew she had not suffered anywhere near the level that her sister had from Kilgrave, but it was still enough to make her feel sick and cold when she remembered. She still occasionally had nightmares of his cold, snapping voice, telling her to shoot herself in the head, telling her to kill people she had never met before out on the docks. She still shivered in disgust when she remembered the feeling of his hands on her face, his lips on her skin, the terrible ambivalence of wanting to kiss him, enjoying it, even as every part of her true self screamed out in horror. And she could never forget Simpson’s hands around her throat, choking her nearly to the point of death at Kilgrave’s command.

 She had hated and feared the man from the first moment Jessica managed to stutter out what he had done to her. No, she had hated him before then, when she first saw the unnaturally shocked, broken state of her sister when she finally broke free from his initial control. Anyone who could hurt Jessica so deeply and so permanently earned her hatred without needing to know their identity.

 And now he was back. Again. As much as Trish feared for herself, for being used or even killed in his obsessive pursuit of Jessica, she feared even more that Kilgrave would damage Jessica even more deeply, that he would continue to pile up dead and damaged bodies around himself and place the blame at her feet. Jessica didn’t need this, not again. And if Trish could do anything to help or stop it, it would help her feel just a little bit more of a sense of the control she knew she didn’t really have.

 She made her way to her recording studio after first sending some of Heroes for Hires guards ahead of her to thoroughly check out the studio for any signs of danger from Kilgrave or any of his like, giving them a code phrase to use to insure that they would be able to alert her if he did show up and control them or others.  Trish had already called ahead to insure that all people were thoroughly searched for any possible weapons and passed at least twice through the metal detectors already installed before being allowed entrance. After receiving the all clear, she went, Jessica insisting on accompanying her, via one of Danny’s cars to the studio, passing through the checks put in place and heading straight to her recording studio and instructing the techs to set up for a live broadcast. She was aware of Jessica skulking behind her, hands shoved in her pockets, as Trish rapidly read from the speech she had just finished churning out.

 “Good afternoon New York City and beyond, this is Trish Walker with an urgent report coming to you from Trish Talk, by way of myself and all our associates at Heroes for Hire. Soon, a follow up broadcast will be coming your way via Channel 5 News with more information, but please, listen very carefully to this announcement for your safety and those of your loved ones.”

 Trish paused, swallowing, and snuck a glance back at Jessica’s impassive expression before facing the mic again and continuing. “Most of you may remember the terrible events of last summer, when the man whom called himself Kilgrave provided mass terror and destruction in our city and in far too many of our own lives and homes. It is to my great sorrow that I inform you that Kilgrave is not, as was believed, deceased. Kilgrave has made personal contact with myself and with-“

 Jessica made violent throat slashing motions behind her that Trish saw out the corner of her eye, and Trish edited her intended words smoothly.

 “With myself and my colleagues, and we have evidence to support that this is no hoax. Please be aware of yourself and those you love at all times. Know their whereabouts, establish coded phrases and patterns of behavior in order to test out the level of control the people in your life may have at any given moment. Kilgrave is a white male with a British accent, last known to have short medium brown hair and brown eyes. He tends to dress in a professional manner, especially in dark purple suits and ties, and he is considered a threat of the level of nuclear war. Do not approach him should you see him; instead do all you can to get away and call in our hotline at Trish Talk or Heroes for Hire to report a possible sighting. If you suspect that someone you know may be controlled, treat them in the same manner, do all you can to subdue them without causing permanent harm to them if necessary. Kilgrave’s powers last up to 12 hours, so do not under any circumstances try to reason with anyone you suspect to be controlled. If at all possible, wear ear plugs or head phones or listen to loud music when necessary to go out in public. Kilgrave cannot gain control of those whom are not within his direct path and whom cannot hear his commands. He-“

 “Stop,” a voice suddenly came over the ear, and both Trish and Jessica jumped, recognizing the voice after a moment as not Kilgrave’s, but female and American. Trish quickly identified the voice a second later as belonging to one of her tech support assistants, Chloe Ash. “The information is over.”

 “What the fuck?” Jessica hissed, shooting Chloe a vicious glower and striding towards her quickly. “Will you shut up, even I know to shut the hell up on a live recording, over something this damn important!”

 Trish tried to recover, giving a somewhat forced chuckle and speaking over them. “I apologize, there are some technical difficulties, but if you’ll bear with me I will make sure you all get the information you need. As I was saying, Kilgrave cannot-"

 “This information is too much, this recording is over,” Chloe repeated, more loudly and forcefully, standing up and taking the headphones off of her ears. She fairly shouted out her next few words, speaking loudly enough that Trish’s words were drowned out.

 “Loyal listeners, you will now hear the sound of a suicide by Chloe Ash, Patsy Walker’s employee. More are to follow in the names and as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones. Goodbye, loyal listeners, and know that Kilgrave is a patient man.”

 She head butted Jessica in the face when Jessica grabbed for her arm, ducking under her and weaving to the other side of Trish. As Trish leaped up, expecting Chloe to grab or try to harm her, the young woman instead ran to a small cabinet against the walls containing little more than sound equipment and various office supplies. Throwing it open, she grabbed a pair of scissors from its contents, opened the blades wide, and closed them around the front of her throat.

 She made no sound, showed no pain as she dragged the scissor blades more deeply into her skin, sawing back and forth to make as rough and deep a wound as possible. The live recording now picked up the sound of Trish’s horrified scream, her outcries of “Oh god, no, no!” as blood spattered in a wide arc just short of reaching her, and the noisy scuttle of multiple feet moving towards Chloe as others tried to reach her before it was too late.

 Jessica got to her first and wrenched the scissors out of her hand, breaking them in half and throwing them down so Chloe could not get them and use them any further. Tearing off her oversized sweatshirt, she pressed it against the woman’s throat, grimly noting how the blood immediately stained through its thick material and onto her fingers, how it had sprayed hot and thick over her arms and chest before she could touch her at all. The woman didn’t try to speak, likely couldn’t have, but she was losing all color in her face, her eyes already growing glassy and lifeless, and as Trish sputtered and tried not to vomit or pass out in the background, Jessica held onto the almost useless bloodied sweater, as though she could somehow keep the woman alive just by holding on tight enough.

 It didn’t matter. Within another minute the woman was clearly dead, limp and unmoving under Jessica’s hands, and she could hear the shrill noise of sirens in the background. Jessica let her drop to the ground, stumbling back and nearly yelling out loud when she bumped into Trish and felt her hands latch onto her arm.

 “We have to go, now,” she mumbled, giving her sister’s arm a rough tug.” Before someone else of his comes through in the aftermath.”

 Even as she lead Trish out of the room and building, she could still hear the dying woman’s words echo in her mind. More are to follow, as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones…

[loveissupernatural]

                             To Love in a Foreign Land

                                Draco Malfoy x reader

Chapter Three: Friends and Enemies

[ Read Part 1 here ]  [ Read Part 2 here ]

You woke up bright and early the next morning, unable to sleep any longer because of the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The greatest adventure of your life was to start today; you’d get to ride on the Hogwarts Express, see the famous castle, and meet so many interesting new people. You took your time bathing, enjoying the scented wash you brought from home and letting the warm water relax your tense muscles. The bubbles from your magical soap floated through the air, sparkling and turning themselves into various shapes of magical creatures, earning an amused giggle from you.

Eventually you stood from the cooling bath water with a content sigh and dabbed your wet skin with a fluffy towel. You dried and lightly curled your hair with your favorite magical brush, although you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t wait to get to Hogwarts so you could just use your wand – it was so much faster and more versatile.

You applied your makeup the non-magical way, thinking of your mother as you did so. The summer after your father’s death, she’d come into your bathroom early one morning as you were brushing your teeth. She didn’t say much. She’d brought her set of makeup and sighed, reaching up to dry the fresh tears from your cheeks.

“Why don’t we do something fun?” she had offered, giving you a watery smile.

You’d spent at least two hours in the bathroom with her that rainy morning, learning all of her fun tips on how to apply makeup. It was the first time you’d smiled, really smiled, since your father’s passing.

It was a happy memory for you and a lovely bit of bonding time with your mom. In the years since, you’d learned a lot from No-Maj magazines and television shows on how to improve your makeup, and you’d even shown your mother the new tricks you’d learned. It was a regular thing now.

You decided to start thinking of something else, considering that you were doing your eye makeup and getting emotional would only make your mascara run. You applied your concealer, highlighter, and lipstick, then quickly sprayed your face with setting spray. You’d learned to apply your makeup magically from your friends at Ilvermorny, but you still enjoyed doing it the No-Maj way sometimes. The motions were repetitive and relaxing.

A quick knock at your door made you jump, but then you heard Eleanor’s sleepy voice.

“Hey, what’re you wearing today?” she asked through the door. You opened it to see her standing there in a fresh robe that matched your own, her hair still wet from the bath. “Oh, wow, you look great!”

“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Want me to do your makeup?”

“Oh geez, yes please,” she laughed, stepping into your room. She started shaking the towel through her wet locks as she observed the outfit laid out on your bed. “I suddenly hate every piece of clothing that I packed and I need all of the help I can get.”

“Sure,” you said, running a hand over your soft green t-shirt and fitted distressed jeans that were laid out. “I’m not going too fancy today, we’ll have to change clothes on the train after all. But I still want my look to be flattering, ya know?”

“Teach me, oh great one,” Eleanor grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

After helping her find a cute ensemble out of the incredible amount of clothes she’d managed to fit into her large trunk, you got dressed. The jeans hugged your hips and legs in all of the right places, showing peaks of skin here and there through the distressed fabric. You slipped on a pair of modestly-heeled black booties, giving you a bit of height and your backside a bit more definition. You tucked in your olive green cotton tee and smiled at your reflection. You thought you looked attractive yet approachable, which was exactly what you were going for.

Eleanor wasn’t much of a makeup wearer, but she asked you to help her apply the smallest bit. You brushed some mascara over her lashes and lightly tapped her cheeks with a bit of blush. She was happy with it.

“Oi, well don’ you two look brigh’ eyed,” Hagrid greeted as you and Eleanor met him downstairs by the bar. “Excited fer ya trip to Hogwarts, I reckon?”

“We’re so pumped,” you beamed, nodding in thanks as Hagrid bent to pick up your luggage with ease.

“Is the Hogwarts Express as beautiful as everyone says, Hagrid?” Eleanor asked. The both of you followed the large man out of the door, waving goodbye to a sleepy-looking Tom that was wiping the bar.

“Oh, she’s a beaut,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Had a bit o’ trouble fittin’ in th’ compartments after me firs’ year, but lots o’ good mem’ries on tha’ train.”

Kings Cross Station wasn’t a long walk from the Leaky Cauldron, considering Hagrid’s knowledge of some shortcuts not far from Diagon Alley. It was hard to keep up with his enormous strides, though. In no time, you all were walking into the sunlit and busy station, surrounded by bustling men and women on their morning commute. Many were staring at Hagrid, equally in awe and frightened.

“Now, yer gonna find Platform 9 ¾,” Hagrid told the two of you, leaning down to place your luggage at your feet. “You’ll know wha’ to do. Reckon you’ll see sum other students goin’ through.”

“Thank you so much, Hagrid,” you grinned, briefly squeezing his enormous arm. He smiled back kindly through the bushy beard.

“You rock, Hagrid,” Eleanor said. Hagrid tried not to beam, swatting his garbage lid-sized hand in modesty.

“It’s nothin’,” he grumbled. “I’ll see ya at Hogwarts, yeah?”

“See you later!”

Hagrid waved goodbye and turned, his long strides carrying him away from you in seconds flat.

“Hope everyone at Hogwarts is as nice as Hagrid,” you told Eleanor, turning to her and pulling out the Hogwarts Express ticket from your pocket. Platform 9 ¾ shined back at you in metallic gold lettering.

“Well, let’s get a luggage cart then try to find this weird-ass platform,” Eleanor sighed, picking up her luggage with a huff. You did the same, the two of you waddling towards a group of empty carts beside a nearby barrier. After loading all of your trunks, the two of you began searching for the magical barrier in the midst of all of the normal ones.

“I’m so glad that Cinna will be at the castle when we get there,” you mentioned absentmindedly. “She’d be hooting like crazy with all of this traveling.”

“Same with Bebe,” Eleanor agreed. Bebe was her black cat with piercing green eyes and a very fluffy tail. “She would be throwing a fit and attracting all kinds of unwanted attention.”

You stopped abruptly, throwing out an arm to stop Eleanor as well. Both of your trunks swayed dangerously on your luggage carts from the sudden motion.

“Hold on, there’s Platform 9,” you said, pointing toward the clearly numbered sign hanging from the brick barrier.

“And there’s 10,” your friend nodded, pointing as well. “Okay, now where’s ours?”

“Hagrid said we’d know what to do and to look for other students,” you said, almost to yourself. Your eyes darted around, looking for anyone that would stick out from the crowd. Wizards weren’t always the best at selecting inconspicuous No-Maj clothing.

“Let’s see who’s wearing something ridiculous,” Eleanor snorted, leaning on the handle of her cart and resting her chin in her hand. “Someone’s mom or dad is bound to be wearing a lime green fur coat or something.”

The two of you waited for a few minutes, watching the area around the barrier and nervously glancing at a nearby clock on the wall. It was drawing closer and closer to nine o’clock.

Just as you were beginning to worry that the two of you would miss the train, it happened. A group of girls that weren’t much older than you walked toward the platform, laughing at something casually. One leaned back against the brick between platforms 9 and 10, and boom, it happened. She disappeared through the wall. Each girl, in turns, subtly slipped out of sight, the surrounding No-Maj’s none the wiser.

“Thank goodness,” Eleanor sighed in relief.

The two of you approached the platform with caution, doing your best to remain inconspicuous. You’d learned after many years of living with your No-Maj mother that ordinary people tended to miss out on subtle magic even if it was happening right in front of them — because they weren’t looking for it.

You let Eleanor go first while you played lookout. She backed her cart against the barrier and leaned against it like the group of girls did. In a moment, she’d disappeared. You glanced around nervously, but no one had taken any notice. You breathed out a relieved sigh, then copied her movements exactly.

It felt like a warm, soft breeze as you sank through the brick. Suddenly, the station dematerialized and was replaced by a huge black steam engine and a bustling crowd of robe-clad witches and wizards. You grinned at Eleanor in excitement, looking up to see a red sign that read Platform 9 ¾ in slanted gold lettering. The platform was incredibly busy, filled with families hugging goodbye and the sound of rolling luggage and the hum of excited chatter.

“This is it,” you sighed dreamily. A huge smile broke over your face and Eleanor matched it. Your adventure to Hogwarts was officially beginning.

You and Eleanor rushed to the train in excitement, dragging your trunks along behind you. With a bit of difficulty, you both unloaded the carts and heaved your suitcases through the open door with the help of a station employee. Seeing your evident confusion, he told you in a thick Irish accent to take the trunk containing your school robes and to leave the rest with him.

The inside of the Hogwarts express was cozy, but not incredibly roomy, and you recalled Hagrid’s comment. You snorted at the mental image of the giant man trying to squeeze down the car hallway.

“Let’s find a compartment,” Eleanor whispered to you excitedly, grabbing your hand to pull you along. Her palm was sweaty and so was yours.

You both walked past many students in the train corridor, some looking at the two of you curiously. It was obvious that most of the students seemed familiar with who was in their year at this point, so two new faces that weren’t first years caught some attention. You heard some whispering as you passed, but none of it seemed unkind, at least that’s what you were hoping.

Some compartment doors were open, filled with chatting and laughing teenagers, others were closed. A few glanced curiously at you and Eleanor as you walked by and peered in.

“Is there not a single empty compartment on this train?” Eleanor complained, frustration seeping through her tone.

“Hey, maybe that’s a good thing,” you told her hopefully. “It’ll force us to talk to people, right? Maybe make some friends?”

“That’s all well and good,” she shrugged. “I was just kind of hoping we could avoid the staring for a while longer.”

You hummed in agreement. A few heads were poking out of compartments that the two of you had already passed, not bothering to hide their curious stares. You weren’t sure if you were flattered, uncomfortable, or a weird combination of both.

“I do feel a bit like a zoo animal,” you laughed uneasily.

“Damn it, Y/N, we should’ve looked less hot today,” Eleanor joked, lightly shoving your shoulder. “Now the Brits can’t keep their eyes off of us.”

You laughed aloud at her sarcasm.

“Are the two of you lost?”

You almost jumped in surprise at the unexpected voice coming from behind you. You turned to see a bushy-haired, proud-looking girl that was already in her Gryffindor robes with a shiny red badge pinned to her chest. A tall, freckled and red-headed boy stood behind her. He seemed a bit uneasy.

“Oh, hi,” you smiled, a bit surprised. “We’re just trying to find a compartment.”

The girl’s eyes lit up at your American accent, and the redhead suddenly seemed a lot more interested in the conversation.

“Are you two exchange students from Ilvermorny?” she practically gushed, clasping her hands together in excitement. You and Eleanor exchanged amused smiles.

“Yeah, that’s us,” you replied. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Well, the accent gives it away a bit,” the boy grinned, and the girl turned and lightly slapped his arm.

“I mean, it’s that obvious that we look lost?” you corrected yourself, laughing at his smart remark.

The girl smiled sympathetically. She reached out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Ronald Weasley. We’re Gryffindor prefects.”

Ron seemed to stand up a bit straighter at that and puffed out his chest. You and Eleanor each shook her hand in turn, introducing yourselves. Ron waved a bit awkwardly but not unkindly.

“So, what’s a prefect?” Eleanor asked curiously, pointing to the badges on their chests.

“We were chosen out of a select number of students in our year to guide our peers and help to uphold the rules,” Hermione stated proudly. “A boy and girl are chosen from each house. I’ve read about Ilvermorny, but couldn’t find anything about student guides.”

“In our fourth year, three students are chosen to help the younger kids with their studies and stuff,” you shrugged. “They’re a bit like glorified tutors, but I don’t know if that’s the same thing.”

Ron’s chest puffed out again, pride in his stance. “We do a bit more than that, I’d say.”

At Eleanor’s giggle, he seemed to remember that he needed to look cool and crossed his arms, leaning against the nearest compartment door as casually as he could. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, we’re here to help,” she said, an excited glimmer in her brown eyes. “There’ll be prefects to help you two in whatever house you’re sorted. But you’re always welcome to come to one of us! I’d absolutely love to hear all about America’s magical education. Doesn’t that sound positively fascinating, Ron?”

He shrugged, not hiding his disinterest well. She was obviously a bookworm and he very obviously was not.

“Anyway, there are normally a few empty compartments toward the back of the train,” Hermione said, seeming to remember that you four were standing in the middle of the almost empty hallway.

“Awesome, thanks,” Eleanor smiled.

“I’d truly love to stay and chat, but we’re expected in the prefect’s carriage,” she sighed apologetically, and you had no doubt that she really was sorry to miss the chance to ask you as many questions as possible. “It was lovely to meet you.”

“You too,” you said, and stepped aside so that Hermione and Ron could walk toward the front of the train.

The floor lurched, almost knocking you and Eleanor off balance, and the steam engine whistled. The train was slowly beginning to move.

“Hogwarts, here we come,” Eleanor squealed, clapping her hands. The two of you hugged in excitement, ignoring a few of the people still sneaking peeks at you from their open compartment doors.

You and your friend practically skipped down toward the end of the train, taking Hermione’s advice and finally finding an empty compartment. With a great heave, you swung your luggage up to the top rack and removed your wand from one of the zippered pockets. You hadn’t done magic all summer and the itch was almost irresistible. Eleanor was obviously thinking the same thing, flicking her wand silently at a small magazine she’d pulled from her bag.

“Did you ever get the hang of non-verbal spells?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of the magazine that lay motionless on the bench beside you.

“Eh,” you said noncommittally. You were modest. “We learned it right before break, and most of the class didn’t get it anyway. I’m always a bit rusty when summer ends.”

“Same,” she muttered, flicking her wand relentlessly in repeating patterns. But the magazine still didn’t move.

You pulled a book out of your trunk: Hogwarts, a History: The Revised Edition. You wanted to learn as much about the school as you possibly could before you got there. Not only would the knowledge make navigating the castle a bit easier, but you could almost feel your father inside of the pages. With every new experience, like meeting Hagrid, staying in the Leady Cauldron, and boarding the train, you felt closer and closer to him.

“Oh, shit!”

Eleanor’s scream made you jump, and you realized with a whiff of smoke that the magazine had burst into flames. You bolted out of your seat and quickly drew your wand.

“Aguamenti!” you exclaimed. Water rushed from your wand tip and extinguished the burning pages. You both were panting as you turned your irritated gaze to her. She grinned sheepishly.

“Told you I was rusty��”

“Were you trying to catch it on fire?” you questioned, adrenaline starting to retreat. Your heart was still pounding.

“Um, no,” she practically whispered. “I was trying to freeze it.”

You snorted, holding back a laugh. “Keep that up and you won’t end up in Ravenclaw.”

“I’m just nervous! Horned Serpent won’t let me down. I’m sure the Sorting Hat will see that.”

She waited for you to agree, craving your confirmation. You smiled at her, understanding her nerves. You were not-so-secretly terrified that the hat wouldn’t be able to sort you at all.

“Of course it will be able to tell,” you said kindly, and Eleanor let out a breath she’d been holding.

Determined to help her with her uneasiness, the two of you practiced simple non-verbal spells for the next forty minutes or so. When you froze a magazine page on your first try, Eleanor seemed to deflate. You then purposefully messed up on every attempt until she successfully covered a page in ice. She pumped a fist into the air, overjoyed. You smiled.

Then your compartment door slid open, revealing the bushy-haired prefect.

“Hello,” she smiled. “Our prefect meeting just finished. Would you like to join us in our compartment?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, thankful that a kind student was already taking you and Eleanor under their wing.

The two of you pulled your belongings down from the racks above your seats and followed Hermione down the hallway. The compartment was only a few paces away from yours.

She slid open the door and walked inside, reaching to help Eleanor slide her trunk onto the overhead shelf. A boy with dark, somewhat messy hair and glasses looked up in surprise. He was sitting across from Ron, the redhead that you’d met earlier. Ron greeted you with a short wave, whispering something quickly to the raven-haired boy.

“Don’t be rude, introduce yourself,” Hermione scolded. She sounded like a disappointed mother.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” the green-eyed boy muttered. He stood and stuck out his hand, albeit awkwardly. “I’m Harry.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you smiled, shaking his hand. It was calloused, but warm.

“Eleanor,” your friend said, shaking his hand as well.

“They’re exchange students from Ilvermorny,” Hermione gushed, sitting down beside Ron. You sat down on the opposite bench next to Harry, then Eleanor sat beside you. “Isn’t that so exciting?”

Harry looked mildly confused. “Ilvermorny?”

“Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Hermione said, waiting for him to catch on. He didn’t. “It’s the magical school in America,” she explained, looking a bit put out that he didn’t know this. “Honestly, Harry, we learned about other wizarding schools from Professor McGonagall last term, remember? After Christmas she posted the I.W.S.E.P. signup sheet in the common room.”

“I was a bit distracted with the tournament last year,” Harry said, a bit defensive because of her gaze.

Hermione sighed, suddenly looking sad. She looked to Ron expectantly. “You remember, don’t you, Ronald?”

Ron grinned uneasily. “Sure, yeah. Good ole I.W.S.E.P.”

“What does I.W.S.E.P. stand for, Ron?” she asked flatly.

“Uh… well, International, uh, Witch… Witch Switching Event—?”

“Honestly! Just admit you didn’t listen either, Ron!”

“It’s not a big deal,” you cut in, grinning uneasily. “Most of my house didn’t listen either. A lot of the students who ended up doing the exchange program already knew about it way beforehand. I’d decided I was going by my third year.”

Hermione was suddenly very interested in what you had to say, and Ron shot you a thankful look. You could see that Harry was doing his very best not to laugh at Ron.

“Tell us all about your school!” Hermione squealed, scooting to the edge of her seat and resting her chin in her hands. She reminded you of a small child watching their favorite television program. “What’s it like? I’ve read all about the sorting process, it is absolutely fascinating. And that you don’t receive your wand until after your sorting ceremony?”

“Wow, you know a lot about it,” Eleanor said, mildly impressed.

“Hermione knows loads,” Ron interjected. Hermione tried to hide her flattered grin, but the slight flush of her cheeks betrayed her.

Harry was looking out the window, his brow furrowed. His mind was obviously elsewhere.

“Well,” you began, looking away from Harry and back to Hermione and Ron, “Ilvermorny is modeled after Hogwarts, ya know, so not too much is different.”

“Oooh, yes, I read about that too,” Hermione nodded. “The founder, Isolt Sayre, dreamed of going to Hogwarts in her childhood, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “that’s why one of our uniform colors is blue. She wanted to be a Ravenclaw.”

“Same,” Eleanor sighed. Hermione grinned at her.

“Are you academically inclined?” she asked Eleanor.

“I’d like to think so,” Eleanor shrugged. “I’ve just heard that my house, Horned Serpent, and Ravenclaw are kind of alike. I’ll be happy no matter what house I’m sorted into, but I think Ravenclaw may feel a bit more like home.”

“I was almost sorted in Ravenclaw,” Hermione said, and you weren’t surprised.

“Really? Then why are you in Gryffindor?” Eleanor asked, scooting to the edge of her seat too.

“I chose it,” she said simply. “Books and cleverness are important, of course, but there are more important things.”

“So, the Sorting Hat will let you choose your house?” you asked quickly. Hermione noticed the desperate twinge in your tone.

“Well,” she said gently, “to a degree. But only if you truly belong there.”

You sighed. Hermione looked at Eleanor questioningly.

“She’s nervous that she won’t be sorted,” Eleanor explained, rolling her eyes but squeezing your arm.

“Everyone gets sorted,” Ron assured, certainty lacing his tone. “My whole family’s been in Gryffindor, I remember as a First Year being terrified that I was gonna end up in another house. But it all works out, doesn’t it?”

“Why are you afraid that you won’t be sorted?” Hermione asked curiously.

You shrugged, tucking your hair behind your ear shyly. You never enjoyed talking about this, afraid that you’d come off as bragging.

“Well, this thing happens at Ilvermorny sometimes, during the sorting ceremony,” you began hesitantly. Harry turned his head towards you, the conversation catching his interest. “It doesn’t happen super often…”

“Like, once every decade or two,” Eleanor added. You blushed a bit.

“More than one house can choose you,” you explained, wringing your hands together. “The houses show that they want you when their wooden statues come to life. You stand in the middle of the circle and the whole school is watching from the side and the balconies above.”

“Do you have four houses like we do?” asked Ron.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Horned Serpent, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, and Wampus.”

“What happens if more than one house chooses you?” Harry asked. Hermione seemed glad that he was taking part in the conversation, relieved even. You wondered why.

You turned to Harry. “If more than one house chooses you, then the student gets to choose where they want to go.”

“A bit like the Sorting Hat,” Hermione added. “So, what happens once every ten years?”

“It’s not uncommon for more than one house to choose a student,” Eleanor said, “but it only happens once every few years that three houses will show interest. Even rarer that all four want someone.”

“All four wanted me,” you said quietly, a bit embarrassed by the attention. Ron’s eyebrows shot up and Hermione seemed very impressed. Harry seemed impressed as well, exchanging a loaded glance with Ron.

“Imagine the Sorting Hat announcing that it can’t decide,” Ron said to Harry, laughing in disbelief. “Can you imagine? I think McGonagall’s head would explode.”

“Has that ever happened?” you asked worriedly. “I mean, what if the Sorting Hat doesn’t know where to put me?”

“It’s never failed to sort a student in Hogwarts’ history,” Hermione assured you, putting a comforting hand on yours before pulling it away. “I’m quite certain it would just allow you to choose.”

You sighed.

“What house did you go with?” Harry asked you.

“Thunderbird,” you answered, a smile creeping onto your face. You were proud of your house.

“And what kind of person goes to Thunderbird?” asked Ron.

“Well, it’s said that Thunderbird leans toward adventurers and represents the soul.”

“The soul?” asked Harry, brows pulling together.

“The houses at Ilvermorny aren’t exactly like Hogwarts,” Eleanor explained, biting her lip as she thought. “I’m not sure how to explain it. Ilvermorny houses are said to represent parts of a human being. Horned Serpent usually leans toward scholars, so it represents the mind. Wampus leans toward warriors, so the body. Thunderbird favors adventurers, so the soul. And Pukwudgie favors healers, so people who lead with their heart.”

“It’s such an interesting take on things, don’t you think?” Hermione said dreamily to no one in particular. She was like a sponge, soaking up every word that came out of your mouths.

“Why did you go with Thunderbird?” asked Harry.

“People ask me that a lot,” you smiled. “What I told Eleanor is… I guess I see the soul as the root of everything? I mean, it all goes back to that. When we’re born, when we die, our souls are who we are at the most fundamental level. They last long after we leave this earth.”

Harry sighed, nodding almost imperceptibly. His eyes were filled with some sort of pain that he was making an effort to hide. Ron and Hermione watched him, concerned.

“I think that’s a lovely sentiment,” Hermione said to you, “that souls are the beginning and never-ending. That the people we care about never really leave us after they die.”

You smiled, your father’s joyful face flitting through your mind. “Yeah. That’s actually one of the reasons I wanted to come to Hogwarts. My dad was a student here.”

“Blimey, really?” Ron laughed. “Knew you weren’t so bad, you’ve got a bit of Brit in you.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, Hermione turning to Ron and slapping his arm again. You gathered that this was a common occurrence between the two.

“He was in Hufflepuff,” you said.

“Oh, Gryffindors get along swimmingly with Hufflepuffs,” Hermione chirped. “We normally have a few classes together every term.”

“Bet your dad’s rooting for you to get sorted into Hufflepuff, yeah?” Ron questioned.

Eleanor looked down at her shoes, clearing her throat uncomfortably. You bit your lip and Hermione seemed to instantly detect that something was wrong. Ron, of course, was oblivious.

“Uh, actually, he died a few years ago,” you said quietly. Harry turned to look at you, understanding in his green eyes.

“Oh, damn. Sorry,” Ron mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“No, you’re fine, Ron,” you said quickly. “It’s not like it’s a taboo subject or anything. I just don’t talk about it much is all.” You shrugged halfheartedly. “I should probably get used to talking about it more anyway, I guess, now that I’ll be at a new school where my dad used to go. I’m just hoping to, I don’t know, get closer to his memory somehow? I know it sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Harry said quickly. You were a bit surprised by the intensity of his tone. “When I hear things from the professors about my mum, or see a Quidditch trophy that my dad won, I can feel it. Like I’m getting a glimpse at them.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged sad glances. You didn’t miss the gloomy air that the three were giving off.

“Your parents…?” you asked quietly.

“Are dead, yeah,” he answered. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and then you saw it. With an audible gasp, you didn’t understand why you didn’t realize it before. He’d introduced himself as Harry, after all.

“You’re – oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” you stammered, “… that was a stupid question, I shouldn’t have asked. I just didn’t know who—who you were.”

Eleanor seemed confused, then her eyes fell upon the lightening scar that was no longer hidden underneath his dark hair. Her mouth dropped open quite unabashedly.

“It’s alright,” Harry shrugged. “It was actually sort of nice, meeting people who didn’t instantly know who I was.”

“Well, uh, it’s cool to meet you,” you said awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah! Like, beyond cool,” Eleanor grinned behind you.

You couldn’t believe this whole time that you were discussing worries as silly as sorting to The Boy Who Lived, the boy who, as a baby, defeated You-Know-Who and survived the Killing Curse. Your problems and fears must seem so small and trivial to him.

Harry offered an awkward but understanding smile. You realized that he must deal with this reaction every time he met someone new. It must’ve been exhausting.

Just then, the compartment door flew open with an unpleasant bang. In strutted two large boys that reminded you of stunted gorillas, following a familiar handsome face and perfectly styled light blonde hair. The atmosphere of the compartment poisoned; you could feel the instant shift in the air. Your three new friends were glaring at Draco Malfoy with all of the hatred and disgust they could possibly muster. You exchanged a glance of recognition with Eleanor, the two of you sinking back into your seats to avoid whatever confrontation was obviously coming.

“Potter,” Draco spat, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse, “just thought I’d drop by to show you this.” He stood up straighter in his fitted black suit, a green prefect pin glinting on his chest. “Someone needs to remind you of your superiors.”

“Big whoop, Malfoy, we’re prefects too,” Ron spat back, pointing to the pin on his chest. Malfoy sneered.

“Obvious lack of judgement, Weaselby,” he smirked. His grey eyes pierced through Hermione, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “If they allow mudbloods to be prefects now, then what’s a blood traitor?”

You and Eleanor gasped at his use of the slur. Even then, he didn’t seem to notice the two of you, too intent on causing chaos.

“And what does that say about you, Potter?” he smirked nastily. “That they get chosen as prefects over you? Not Dumbledore’s little golden boy anymore, are you?”

Draco’s cronies laughed behind him, fueling his ever-deepening smirk.

Harry shot up from his seat, rage radiating off of him in waves that were almost visible. This was obviously what Malfoy came for. His face was twisting into a superior smile. Harry’s wand was clutched in his shaking fist.

“At least my father’s not a cruel, murdering, prejudiced piece of—”

“Harry, he’s not worth it,” Hermione begged, standing to grab Harry’s arm and pull him back.

“Keep my father’s name out of your mouth, Potter,” Draco threatened. He stepped closer to Harry as Hermione continued to attempt to pull her friend back with little success. Harry’s grip tightened on his wand so much that his fingers turned white, causing a few sparks to fly out of the tip. Malfoy’s cronies were beginning to crack their knuckles in anticipation.

You weren’t sure when you decided to do this, or why in the hell you thought it was a good idea, but you suddenly stood. Malfoy and his bodyguards finally seemed to realize that there were two other people in the compartment. Recognition flitted across his face, and you knew that he recognized you from the day before in Madam Malkin’s.

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think anyone in this compartment gives two damns that you’re a prefect, Draco,” you snapped, a confidence in your voice that you certainly weren’t feeling. Harry, Ron, and Hermione gaped at you in shock, both surprised by your involvement and the fact that you even knew who Malfoy was.

Draco was taken off guard, but quickly recovered.

“I heard whispers of Americans on the train,” he said unkindly, eyes glinting but holding the slightest bit of fascination. “I suppose Hogwarts is officially scraping the bottom of the bin nowadays.”

Anger curdled in your stomach and boiled in your blood. You could easily see why Harry was so quick to anger the moment Malfoy stepped into the compartment—he was getting under your skin, too.

“Well, I guess they are if you’re here,” you said, crossing your arms, “and named a prefect no less? They’re obviously lowering their standards. I mean, damn, I just met you and I already think you’re a waste of space.”

Ron snorted behind you, not bothering to hold back his laugh. Hermione even had to slap a hand over her mouth not to giggle. Draco’s scowl was venomous, far more intimidating than the one he’d given you in the robe shop when you’d called him an asshole.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he said, dangerously quiet. His blue-grey eyes drilled into you, and the most conflicting sensation of butterflies and hatred trickled from your stomach to your toes. “Already associating with mudbloods and blood traitors before you even hit the grounds? Pity.”

“Ya know, I really don’t like that word,” you said, sickeningly sweet. Your wand was at Malfoy’s throat before anyone could react, and Draco’s cronies didn’t seem to know what to do. They drew their wands and pointed them at you, looking at each other with confusion.

Draco’s surprised eyes were locked with yours, his chin tilted up and his Adam’s apple bobbing with a nervous gulp. He was doing his best to act tough, but you could tell that he was uneasy. He didn’t know you and didn’t know what you were capable of. He had been banking on a fight with Harry, not on a fight with you.

“Nah ah ah,” you smiled, shaking your head at the drawn wands of the gorillas flanking him. You pointedly twisted the tip of your wand into Draco’s neck a bit – not enough to hurt him, of course, but enough to make your point. “I’ll hex him before you can even open your mouths.”

They exchanged fearful glances again, their wands wavering. Draco didn’t dare turn his head to look at them, but seethed through his teeth, “Lower your wands, you morons!”

They did as they were told, and you smiled at them. “That’s better.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t seem to know what to do either, but their faces were filled with gleeful astonishment. Eleanor was staring at you in awe. You didn’t blame her; you weren’t one to get into fights at Ilvermorny. Actually, you’d never been in a fight; you’d never done anything like this. But the adrenaline rushing through your veins was a heady combination when it mixed with the butterflies dancing in your gut.

“You know what my specialty is, Draco?” you asked, tapping your wand teasingly against his Adam’s apple. He gulped again and closed his eyes, breathing loudly through his nose. “I’m pretty good with non-verbal spells. You’d never know what was coming.”

He nervously licked his lips and stared back down at you, eyes filled with distaste, anger, and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

“And non-verbal as in, ya know, making you non-verbal,” you added with a smirk reminiscent of his own, pressing the tip of your wand into the side of his neck. Again, not enough to hurt him, but enough to make his heart race. Yours was racing too.

You had no idea where this surge of confidence was coming from, but you sure as hell weren’t stopping now.

“If I hear that nasty, disgusting word come out of your mouth again… well, you won’t be saying anything for a while,” you whispered sweetly. Draco’s clenched jaw, the vein popping out of his neck, his furrowed brows and gaze so intense that you couldn’t distinguish between the adrenaline and the butterflies anymore – you realized with overwhelming shame just how hot you thought he was.

You hated yourself.

“You’ll regret this,” he whispered venomously, meant for your ears only.

“Will I really?” you asked, tapping the wand against his throat again. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for your wordless hex. You stood there for a moment, anticipation building, letting him think that you were going to do it. Then, with a satisfied laugh, you lowered your wand and stepped back. You’d never planned on hexing him, not really, but you wanted him to know that you could, at any moment, without any incantation to warn him.

Draco’s eyes popped open, feeling the sudden loss of contact. He let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, reaching up to rub at his neck. He eyes darted around the compartment, taking in the smug faces of the Gryffindors and the confused faces of his cronies. With intense anger, he realized just how embarrassed he was.

“You better watch your back, Potter!” he spat, pointing a pale finger at Harry’s amused face. “Your luck is running out. He’s got plans for you. He’s going to kill you, just like your boyfriend.”

Harry’s face darkened. Then Draco’s furious eyes darted to you.

“And you,” he whispered spitefully, “you’ll regret ever leaving your backwoods trailer!”

You had no doubt that he meant it, but you hid your apprehension at his words, only raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.

With that, he stomped off down the hall, tailed closely by his muddled friends. You could hear him cursing the whole way.

“Y/N!” Eleanor breathed in disbelief, gripping your arm like a vice and dragging you down to the seat beside her. “What the actual fuck was that? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was pretty awesome—but what the fuck?!”

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat in joy. “Will you marry me?”

You all busted into laughter.

“Malfoy might have it out for you even more than Harry,” Hermione giggled, but there was an air of uneasiness. “Not that I don’t think you’re capable of defending yourself, but are you sure that was clever? He’ll be out for blood now.”

“Come on, Hermione,” Ron rolled his eyes, “you’re ruining the moment!”

“Yeah, take the victory, Hermione,” Harry agreed with a grin.

                     ________________________

Thirty minutes later, Harry grabbed a silvery-looking cloak from his trunk, tucking it under his arms and murmuring something about returning in a few minutes. You didn’t think anything of it, but Ron and Hermione seemed a bit skeptical and irritated by the action.

The rest of the train ride was peppered with questions about Hogwarts and Ilvermorny, funny quips about what happened with Malfoy, and a delicious helping of sweets from the friendly trolley witch. Harry never returned.

You hadn’t realized just how much time had passed when Hermione stood up and stretched, instructing Ron to change into his robes. They needed to go back to the prefect carriage toward the front of the train before arrival, she explained. She recommended that you and Eleanor change into your school robes as well.

The Hogwarts Express pulled into a small wizarding village called Hogsmeade at dark, just as you finished adjusting your new robes and helping Eleanor fix her hair. You could hear the chuga-chuga of the wheels slow, and the train lurch as it came to a full stop. Compartment doors were banging open and students were talking, laughing, and running down the hallways as they trickled out of the train.

You and Eleanor grabbed your luggage, stuffed your wands into the pocket of your robes, and set out into the night. The enormous castle loomed before you, quite visible from the village. The lit windows winked at you against the backdrop of the inky night sky.

“It’s Hogwarts,” Eleanor whispered in awe.

You were content.

[ Read Part 4 here ]

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Shakedown pt. ii

Summary: The shakedown begins. 

A/N: series cross posted from my ao3

James Buchanan Barnes liked to think he was something of an expert problem solver. He always had a knack for getting out of trouble-almost a strong a talent as his ability to get into trouble but that was neither here nor there. Since he was a child, he was looking out for others and doing whatever means necessary to look out for those he cared about. Becca needed school supplies? He'd mow lawns. Stevie couldn't afford his inhaler? Bucky pawned his pocket knife.

Bucky handled things. Prior to life as a made man (and in his time proving himself) he handled a lot of things. He did time as a clipper and found he had a very good aim. With each kill he was an entirely different person. Once he became a made man, he worked his ass off and built his own goddamn empire. With a family he made entirely on his own, he became a king; he became the boss.

As the boss, a man in his position oversees a variety of business. So when Stevie called, he knew it was yet another thing to handle.

"What kind of trouble, Steve?"

There was a pause. "Better come on down yourself. Might be worth your time."

So Bucky took his bike and left his brownstone and headed to the apartments he had stored as a slush fund (that's another story for another day). Lighting a cigarette, he kicked the kickstand down on his motor cycle before approaching Steve. "Doesn't seem to be a problem."

Steve tossed Bucky a look that was just a smidge too fond to be a scowl. He hated when Bucky smoked. Maybe it was jealousy from having had such shitty lungs or maybe it was the great fear of losing him. "There's a little bird." He pointed to the apartment window you called home.

"Yeah?" Bucky hadn't scored in a while, could make use of the situation.

"Heard something fall while I was negotiating with Loki, think the little bird made herself a nest outside."

"Is she stupid?" Bucky didn't think he knew anybody who would sleep out on their balcony in New York City. Or at least do it willingly. He and Steve had their fair shares of nights outdoors when their families were too poor to afford air.

Steve shrugged carelessly. "Hell if I fucking know. She waited till we were gone to run back inside, saw the light on as I circled the block."

"You think she heard?" Bucky asked scratching as his beard.

"Most likely." Steve crossed his arms, waiting patiently for orders. His blue eyes widened so suddenly it almost made Bucky laugh. "I found this too, went snooping under her window." Reaching into his pocket he drew out a chipped piece of porcelain.

Looking it over, Bucky raised an eyebrow, "She drop it?"

"That's what it's looking like. Teacup maybe?" There was a pause, "What's the plan?"

You were probably a young one, filled with hopes and dreams of starting anew in New York. Most likely harmless. Threat level was low. Potentially a snitch. Also potentially hot. "Let's just give her a good shakedown for now."

After a night of restless sleep, you scurried about your apartment trying your best to get ready for the day. Every time you'd make the slightest bit of progress, a wave of emotion would crash through you. You weren't scared necessarily, the previous evenings events certainly hadn't directly involved you nor posed any immediate danger to you. But was it legal? Fairly certain that was a big no.

Organized crime was outdated though, right? Something long forgotten and kept alive through Hollywood. The Sopranos wasn't taking place in your apartment building. Were you required to report it? Did you have plausible deniability? To snitch or not to snitch remained the question at hand.

As you went about your morning commute, you remained unaware of the red head that trailed you. You didn't see her snapping photos or talking to Clint. You certainly didn't see her sneak into the employee entrance. Despite the previous evening, you managed to go about life as normal and that proved to be your second mistake, or third, whose keeping track at this point?

"Morning Mary!" You chirped entering the library. Every morning you were determined to make the old hag smile and every morning you got the same look that edged on happy.

"Story time is at 10." The usual reply. Everything seemed fine. So you sat your stuff down and went about preparing the children's library for the day. Dutifully, you arranged the book display for the day, moving the books around in a way that would hopefully engage some of them. You laid out the rainbow mats for the kids to sit on and searched the snack cubbies for the alleged free ones.

As the little ones rolled in, you forgot all about the two men in the alley and hoped they forgot all about the evening as well.

Except they didn't forget. Or at least Bucky didn't. Legs propped up on his desk, crossed at the ankle, he waited for Natasha with Steve. He puffed on a cigar as Natasha entered the room without so much as a knock.

"Sweetheart, you know I need you to knock."

Red lips curled into a sultry grin. "Don't sweetheart me, Barnes."she said, her accent thick. She gently eased herself into one of the leather chairs that faced him, "You know I don't respond well to that."

"Forgive me, my dear." He teased a wolfish smile. "What did you find out about our little bird?"

The report from Natasha was thorough, everything about you rolling off her tongue. Name (Bucky couldn't help but test it out on his lips), age, income, everything.

"A librarian?"

Nat shook her head. "Children's librarian. Everyone else in that building were stuffy, looked dead inside."

"Huh." He leaned back in his chair, inviting Nat closer with a pat on his thighs.

"In your dreams, boss." She smirked glancing over to Steve. "Might take Cap for a ride later." Steve's cheeks turned the softer shade of pink. "Besides, if I were you I'd consider the librarian if I were you."

Bucky smirked, drumming his fingers on the large cherry desk he sat behind. "I think I might just spice this shakedown up a bit."

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Normal Love and Superheroes: Two - my city

Summary: Leena gets a meeting with the Bruce Wayne himself and a call from John Blake. 

Pairing: John Blake x OFC (Leena Duckett) 

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: none I think...characters discuss Sexy Times and getting drunk but like that’s it I suppose

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

“Why the heck would he want a private tour with me? He asked for me specifically?”

“Look that’s what he said over the phone, Leena.”

“But did he say why?”

“I’m so terribly sorry I didn’t take the time to ask Bruce frickin’ Wayne, one of the biggest patrons of the gallery, why he asked for a tour from you specifically.”

Leena blushed. “Sorry, Adeline. I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.” The blonde sitting behind the welcome desk smiled with a closed mouth. “I’d react the same way if I were in your shoes. A whole hour or more with Bruce Wayne….”

Another tour guide jogged up to the front desk from the bowels of the gallery. Leena turned and watched her approach. Phoebe had a look of conspiracy and impression on her long face. She came to a halt beside Leena and elbowed her in the side.

“So are you gonna take Mr. Wayne into one of the more….Private rooms of the gallery?” Phoebe asked with a wicked smile.

Leena rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the hot feeling that was spreading from her neck into her face. It was no secret about Gotham that Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, was extremely attractive and constantly single. She saw the tabloid covers as she stood in line at the grocery store. She even ran into him outside of a restaurant one time. But his sexual promiscuity was not what bothered her about giving him a private tour. It was more the fact that he was Bruce Wayne, billionaire enigma businessman that seemed to have intimidation come out of his very pores. Who was she to be giving him a tour of the galleries that he often bought from? A no-name artist who worked two jobs, one of which she hated, to make ends meet? That didn’t sound like the kind of girl that should be giving a Wayne tours of anything.

“No I will not, Phoebe, Jesus!” Leena laughed.

“Oh, come on, have you seen him? Plus, you know he’d be open to it. He’s slept with every hot girl in Gotham and beyond.”

“Just cause he’s slept around doesn’t mean he’d be open to swapping spit in a broom closet with a random gallery tour guide.” Leena rolled her eyes. “Maybe he wants just a normal day out. Like anyone else.”

“God, you’re no fun,” Phoebe groaned.

“I think we know from after hours drinks just how fun Leena can be,” Adeline, the front desk girl, pitched in.

Leena rolled her eyes again and smirked. She always told herself, after those nights out, that she would never fall into the temptation of going again. She always got way too drunk, being a lightweight that fell very easily under peer pressure. And because she always got way too drunk, she always ended up doing something she regretted. Like dancing on top of a table, kissing some random person in the dark corner of the bar they frequented, or possibly recreating dance scenes from Chicago with very little success.

“Please stop,” Leena begged with a red face.

“Excuse me ladies.” An older gentleman with an English accent approached the front desk. He looked very nice in a dark suit with white thinning hair. “I’m here for my tour of the gallery.”

“Of course, what’s the name attached to the tour?” Adeline asked.

Phoebe squeezed Leena’s arm and wiggled her eyebrows before she trotted off, back into the gallery. And Leena was about to do the same, but —

“Bruce Wayne. I run his house and am looking for some new work to be put up. I believe I set aside a tour guide already?” the old man said.

“Oh, yes, you did.” Adeline typed on the computer for a moment, giving Leena a bit of side-eye as she did so. “You’ll be touring with Ms. Duckett.”

Leena let out a breath. A sudden wash of relief and disappointment running through her. She knew that the gallery was the place for many of Gotham’s most elite families to buy art for their various homes throughout the world. Rich folk wanting to support local artists. But she had never given a tour to any actual members of those families. It was always the butlers, the house runners, the managers, the publicists even. But they always state that it is the butler or the house runner coming to assess new pieces that have been put up. So when Bruce Wayne’s actual name was logged into the system, Leena really thought it was going to be him walking through the halls of their gallery. Really laying his eyes on the art and choosing it for himself rather than someone else choosing it for him and barely even noticing that it was hung in his manor. The disappointment didn’t last long, however.

Leena stepped towards the old man with a smile. “And I am Ms. Duckett. A pleasure to meet you…”

“Alfred, miss.” He held out his hand and she shook it.

“Well, right this way, Alfred.” She gestured for them to enter the gallery and she began to lead. “We’ll start with our glassworks suite — “

They entered the first room of the gallery. The Shefield Gallery was extensive, housing several different mediums of art from a variety of artists. Pure white walls to off balance the bright pops of color that the artwork created, heightening the customer intrigue. In this first room there were at least fourteen pedestals strewn about the room, each one holding a different piece of glass artwork. Leena liked to look at glasswork, but would probably never attempt creating any herself. Molten glass just seemed a little too dangerous for her taste.

“Actually, sorry to be a bother, but I was hoping to look at something specific on this trip.” Alfred pulled a piece of paper from his suit jacket pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to Leena. “A piece specifically requested by Master Wayne.”

Leena stopped them and took the piece of paper with raised brows. It was a print out from the gallery’s website. Her eyes widened.

That was her painting. Put up in the employee suite of the gallery after much begging and finally the curator taking pity on her for being a slightly hungry artist.

She looked back up at Alfred to see him smiling at her. She quickly regained herself and asked, “Um — are you sure it’s this one that Mr. Wayne wants?”

“Yes. That’s the one.”

With a resigned nod and a thick swallow, Leena led Alfred to the employee suite. She could feel her fingers going numb. Bruce Wayne wanted her painting? Really? He asked for it specifically? She was sure that the old man had to be lying to her for her benefit. Playing some sort of weird joke that ended with her humiliated and a playboy billionaire laughing at the footage of her misfortune. Or maybe there was no farce and the man really did like her painting so much he wanted to buy it and hang it in his home. Leena rubbed at her neck. He would be the first person to ever like her work enough to do so.

They came to the employee suite and Leena stopped them in front of the painting in question. She put her head down as Alfred looked at it. His thin lips were quirked up in a small smile but she couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

“Pick your head up, miss,” he said, “I know you painted this.”

“Is that why you asked for me for your tour?” Leena asked.

“It is indeed.” His smile widened. “Master Wayne wanted me to see what kind of person could paint something like that.”

He pointed to the canvas and Leena furrowed her brows. She turned to the painting herself. Was there some vulgar message she, the artist, had missed? No. She couldn’t see it. All she saw was a portrait of Gotham at night. Done in oil paints on a medium sized canvas, Leena had always been told she leaned too far into her impressionist influences. But she couldn’t help it. Ordinary subject matter with a heightened sense of romanticism and color was something that Leena was just drawn too. The painting was Gotham at night, looking out over the skyline with the lights from the offices and apartments shining brightly, as if the viewer were looking down from the highest story of some building or other. In the glowing rooms in the foreground, people could be seen. Families, tired office workers, friends getting together.

She had titled the painting My City.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she said, turning back to Alfred.

“Master Wayne sees Gotham as a dark place — a place full of hate, injustice, and cruelty,” Alfred said.

Leena pulled a face. “While I will not disagree with Mr. Wayne — Gotham is full of the worst kinds of things — but it is also still worth saving. And loving. And living in if only to save it and love it more.”

Alfred smiled, a soft and knowing thing that made Leena’s eyes narrow.

“And Master Wayne would agree with that sentiment as well.” He turned to the painting again, hands clasped behind his back. “Which is why he was drawn to your work so much. You share similar views on a city that many have lost faith in — a rare find, especially in art form.”

Leena was puzzled. Bruce Wayne grew up in Gotham, just like she did. But they saw completely different sides of Gotham. Wayne saw only the elite, the rich, the famous side. The side that lived in penthouse suites, owned entire blocks of buildings, and could afford to eat at those fancy restaurants downtown. The faces of Gotham City. While Leena saw the hands and feet, the workers and the heart and soul of Gotham. The side that worked fifty hour weeks, lived in the slums, and had to cut up and burn their own furniture to keep warm. Gotham wasn’t worth saving because of the side that Bruce Wayne saw, that made it worth damnation. Gotham was worth saving because of what Leena saw.

“Um — well — uh — I…I don’t really know what to say. I wish I could tell Mr. Wayne thank you in person.”

Alfred seemed to get an idea. “How about you deliver the painting in person to Wayne Manor? Tomorrow perhaps? You could thank him in person and he would get to meet the artist behind the painting that has captivated him for so long. That is, if you are free, of course.”

“Well, if he wanted to do that he could have come himself today.” Leena couldn’t stop the words before they came out of her mouth.

Her eyes widened as she stared at Alfred. God, she really needed to learn how to control her mouth. She could feel her neck heating up and her face paling all at the same time. Her face scrunched up as she closed her eyes. Maybe if she didn’t look at him he would just go away or she would just sink into the floor. Either option would spare her from the agonizing embarrassment ripping through her right now.

“I’m so — “

Alfred chuckled. He actually started laughing. A polite and somehow very British thing that had Leena’s eyes flying open.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Ms. Duckett,” he chuckled out, “But Master Wayne has turned into a bit of a recluse as of late. And I really do think he would appreciate meeting you.”

Leena bit down hard on her lip. If it meant making the $500 the painting was priced at, she was willing to do anything honestly. Even it meant borrowing Jamie’s car and meeting the actual Bruce fricking Wayne himself. That was enough money to pay her half of the rent for the month and she only had to do one thing. Not work her ass off at two different jobs. Her need for the money more than outweighed her apprehensions about meeting a billionaire and talking to him about her art and her thoughts on Gotham.

“Alright. Tomorrow at three o’clock. Is that an okay time?”

“Oh, yes. Just in time for tea.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Please could you stop the noise? I’m trying to get some rest,” Leena sang as she cleaned her paint brushes, “From all the unborn chicken voices in my head!”

She moved back to the canvas she had set up by the windows overlooking the city. Who knew getting a meeting with one of Gotham’s most influential men would give her inspiration for a new painting? The reference photo of Bruce Wayne was tacked into the corner of the canvas. She had gotten the idea on the train ride and subsequent bus ride back to her apartment when her shift at the gallery was over. Something about Bruce Wayne being a recluse and seeing the good in Gotham just gave her a spark of inspiration. A spark of inspiration to lesson her fears about meeting the man by painting him as a vigilante sasquatch.

It was at least making her feel better about the whole thing. Jamie had walked in from her own work shift with many questions about it. But Leena had only held up a finger for patience and put her headphones back in. Jamie knew what that meant. Her roommate had had a weird day and needed to vent through her art.

Leena continued to paint for some time. Lost in the music and the colors and shapes that flowed from her paintbrush. Leena’s mother had given her paints and paper when she was very little as a distracting craft while she tried to clean around the house. But her mother could not have known that that would have sparked a lifelong love for art and painting. A dedication to get better and better and find her own style. Winning contests, medals, and even studying art in college. Leena felt the most at home when she was painting. Felt the most herself when she had a brush in her hand and a vision in her head that just needed to be let out.

This was one of those ideas she just knew would consume her every waking, and possibly sleeping, thought until she got it out and onto the canvas. Vigilante sasquatch Bruce Wayne was going to camp out in her cerebral cortex until she had brought him to life. Trekking through the woods, covered in body hair, wearing a stupid bright red face mask. If he thought the city was so worth saving, then why didn’t he give money to the police department so they had the tools to catch the criminals loose on Gotham’s streets? Why didn’t he donate money to improve Gotham’s infrastructure, education, hospitals, mental health services, or literally anything else besides funneling money into his own company?

If she were to see him right now, she would have a piece of her mind to give him that was —

Her phone started vibrating in the pocket of her apron. Leena groaned. She had gotten into such a good groove, too. She pulled out her iPod first and paused her music. Then she flipped open her phone and held it up to her ear. She didn’t even bother to see who was calling. Her mother usually called around that time of day anyway.

“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” she asked as she pinched the phone between her cheek and shoulder.

“Uh — “ A distinctly male voice came through. “Sorry, this is John Blake. Were you expecting your mom to call you? Cause I can call back later.”

Oh, God. After realizing that, in her euphoria, she had forgotten to get his number, she had been waiting to hear from him for nearly two days.  

“Oh, shit,” she said, quickly wiping her paint stained hands off on her apron, “Um, no — sorry. Sorry. I wasn’t — with my mom. I can talk now. Officer Blake — John. Officer Blake?”

At the mention of that name, Jamie peeked her head out from the gap in the curtains surrounding her bed with a look of pure interest on her face. Mouth open and her eyebrows raised as she looked across the room. Leena shooed her away with a wave of her hand and an uncontrollable smile.

“You can just call me John,” he laughed, “You getting around okay without the bike?”

“Uh, yeah. Taking the train and the bus — definitely throwing my budget out of whack but — that doesn’t matter…At all.” Leena glanced over at Jamie, still listening in, only to see her roommate roll her eyes.

When did she get so terrible at talking to men?

“Well, I have some good news for you.” Leena could feel her heart jump into her mouth, making her physically stand on tip toe and stare out the window as he continued to speak. “I found it. So — uh, where do you wanna go for our date?”

Leena squeezed her eyes shut, the smile on her face nearly hurting her cheeks as she tilted her head towards the ceiling. Was this really happening? After Jacob, she didn’t know if she would ever find anyone else. If she would be willing to put herself out there like that again. But with John, something felt different. He was safe, kind, and somehow she just knew that he would never hurt her like Jacob did. She twirled around once and she could hear Jamie whispering, asking what was going on. Leena ignored her roommate.

“How about Superdawg?”

Superdawg? Jamie mouthed with an unbelieving face.

“That hotdog place over by Robinson Park?”

“Uh, yeah.”

She heard him chuckle. “Sorry. I just suppose I expected you to pick something a bit more…I don’t know…”

“I’m not a fancy kind of girl, trust me.” Leena laughed. “We could eat and then maybe take a walk around the park or something? If that sounds good to you — I don’t — “

“No, that — that sounds great, actually.  Honestly, kinda glad you didn’t pick something fancy.”

“Okay, cool.” Leena looked over at Jamie with raised brows and a wide smile. “Uh, what time?”

“Saturday — tomorrow at six? I can pick you up?”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then, Leena.” She loved the sound of him saying her name. “Bye.”

“Bye.” She flipped her phone closed and turned to face Jamie with fists triumphant in the air. “I have a date! And I’m getting my bike back!”

[okk--maaan]

Bad Kitchen Dreams

Hi. This is very dumb. But I couldn’t help myself when @ellelaconi​ threw out a Pale Kitchen Nightmares AU. So here you go. Feel free to imagine him in a blonde Matt wig and chef’s coat with a British accent.

WC: ~1.7k (whoops)

CW: you’re a really bad chef, Pale degrading you because you’re such a bad chef, pussy eating, fingering, PIV, brief drug mention, OSHA violations

Pale has traveled all over the country doing this. Helping desperate restaurant owners resurrect their businesses from the ashes. But in his twenty years, he’s never seen a situation as dire as this. As dire as yours.

When he pulls up in his big black car, he can tell the restaurant isn’t open. “Who the fuck ain’t open at one o’clock in the afternoon? Fuckin’ bullshit,” he mutters to himself. And sure enough. When he tries the front door - locked. He bangs on the glass and yells, “Hey! Hello! Anybody in there?!” After like five fuckin’ minutes of this, you finally appear -- wearing a dirty disgusting chef’s coat, your hair haphazardly pinned up, shit on your face. You wipe your hands down your front, smearing something orange across the little bit of white left on your apron.

As soon as you turn the lock, Pale pushes his way through with his big body. Without the barrier of safety glass, he can really get a good look at you. Even with all the mess, you’re pretty fuckin’ hot. Stunning really. Makin’ his cock twitch in his dark jeans, with your soft fuckin’ eyes and lips and shit. But he can’t think about that right now. He’s got work to do. Clearly.

He sticks a fat hand out and greets, “Hey doll. The name’s Jimmy. But call me Pale. Everyone calls me Pale. Hate that fuckin’ name in fact. Jimmy. Only person call me that is my fuckin’ wife.” You’re flustered with how quickly he rambles, but you take his hand and introduce yourself. “Well let me ask you something. Why the hell ain’t you open? It’s the middle of fuckin’ lunch,” he wave his hands all over the place like this is the most atrocious thing. And honestly, in his opinion, it might be. “Uhh well no one’s in here,” you try to explain. He scoffs, “Yeah no shit. Kinda hard for people to get in with the door locked and all.” He did have a point there. You wring your sweaty palms together, trying to fight the utter embarrassment. “Thank you for agreeing to help me, Jimmy - uh Pale. Please tell me what I need to do to fix this.” He leans in real close, jabs a thumb behind him, “Why don’t you unlock the fuckin’ door first?” You chuckle nervously and walk past him. Pale can’t help but glance at your ass as you do, just can’t help himself. And damn. You look just as good from the back as you do from the front. And again, his dick agrees.

With the restaurant officially open, you give Pale a tour. But the condition of the dining room is so deplorable, he doesn’t want to go any further. “Nah doll. I ain’t going in that kitchen. I got half a mind to even let you cook for me,” he throws his hands up in protest. He pulls out the cleanest chair he can find and plops down. Dusting off the tiny table in front of him, he asks, “So what kinda food you serve here?” “I create Mexican Italian fusion dishes,” you respond quickly and proudly. But that pride is short lived, with the way he’s staring at you. “Huh. Fusion. Well I’ll be the judge of that,” he purses his lips as he opens a cloth napkin and sets it in his lap. You take that as your cue to bring out his first course.

“Here we have a baby squid, steamed with lemon and capers,” you say in your best chef’s voice. Steamed? Squid? Pale thinks - knows - what’s sitting in front of him won’t be good. But you’re too fuckin’ pretty for him to flat-out refuse. He wishes he did a bump before coming in this place. By the way he has to stab the fish with his fork, he instantly knows it’s not cooked. “Look, I ain’t eating this. This squid is so raw, I can hear it telling Spongebob to fuck off.” Hot tears prick at your eyes. And he can see it. “No. Come on now. Don’t start that shit. Just - just bring me the next course,” he dismisses you.

You set two overly stuffed enchiladas in front of Pale. They look better than the squid, but his hopes aren’t too high. When he finally musters up the courage to take a bite, he wants to spit it out right away. “These are the worst fuckin’ enchiladas I’ve ever had,” he throws down his fork. You go to remove the plate, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you to his eye level. “Look doll. I know I said I didn’t want to go into that fuckin’ kitchen, but you’re going to take me back there. Right now. Show me with the fuck you got going on.” The way his breath blows over your face and his eyes bore into you, you can’t refuse. “Oh-okay,” you stutter.

As you walk to the kitchen, Pale follows, and you can feel his gaze locked on you. And he is truly mesmerized by the way your hips swing. As soon as he crosses the threshold, he demands any and every other employee leave. “Go clean something. And don’t come back in her til’ I say so. Got it?” All life - including the cockroaches - scatters. Except for you. And him. He stalks over to you liek a wild animal. And you’re his prey. Your ass back up against the metal counter, where he cages you between his strong arms. “How’s this sweetheart. Your restaurant is disgusting, your food is even worse. This place ain’t gonna stay open another month. But you? You’re the best damn thing I’ve seen this side of the Hudson.” He steps in even closer, pressing his hot hot body to yours. “Pale, I-” your eyes drop between your bodies. You can feel the bulge in his pants, insistent on your stomach. Before you can choke out another word, his fingers are digging into your soft hips. In one swift instant motion, he lifts you to sit atop the cold counter and mashing his mouth to yours. Demanding. Hungry. You part your lips for him without protest, let his tongue slide against yours. Your fingers comb and twist into his slicked back hair. He moans and thrusts into you when your nails scratch at his scalp. A sudden burst of confidence implores your hands to move to work at undoing his jeans. But he swats you away, pinches your cheeks between his forefinger and thumb. “Nuh uh doll. You’re not ready for my big cock yet.” When you nod in agreement, he releases your face and finds your own waistband, yanking down your pants and panties at once. With those around your ankles, he spreads you open and admires your glistening cunt. “God. Are you always this wet for every Joe Blow that walks in this joint?” You can feel your face heat up at the comment, but Pale ain’t paying not attention. He’s too busy dropping to his knees and wedging himself between yours. And he wastes no time diving in. You gasp and hiccup at the sudden contact. He licks and sucks at your silky folds, drinking down everything you give him. Occasionally, his proud nose nudges your stiff clit, sending shockwaves down your spine. He grunts and pulls away with a wet pop, “Finally something edible. Finally some good fucking pussy.” Fuck he really wishes he had some coke or a cigarette or a drink, something. He’s already too worked up and he doesn’t want to wait anymore.

So he doesn’t.

Pale stands back to his full, towering height and makes quick work of his belt. He uses one hand to free himself, while he coats two fingers on the other in your slick. “Are you ready to take my big cock sweetheart?” he asks before shoving his thick digits deep into you. You inhale sharply and groan at the intrusion. “Yes Pale. Please.” He shakes his head, his dick now in his hand, where he strokes it slowly. “Nah doll. I want to hear you say it.” It takes every last brain cell not focused on the sensation of his burning hand pumping into you to find the words. “Yes - ah fuck - yes. Please fuck me. I’m ready to take your big cock.” Before you even finish your sentence, he’s lining up and thrusting into you. Hard. Deep. Your head falls back and knocks the steel service pass at the same time his cock head knocks your cervix. “Fuck. Fuck me. I like the way you beg sweetheart.” As he sets his brutal pace, the only sounds you can return are moans and whimpers and gasps. Your sounds of pleasure mix with his grunts and groans and curses and the delicious sound of bare skin smacking on bare skin. The symphony you create together bounces off pots pans plaster walls. “Fuckin’. This tight little pussy is gonna make me bust. Mmnh - fuck. Play with yourself doll. Make yourself cum. Make yourself fuckin’ cum on my cock.” You think you nod your head, but you’re not really sure. Either way, you brace your weight on one hand and use the other to draw perfect tight circles into your needy clit. The extra stimulation, added to Pales’ filthy words and steady driving driving into you, pushes you right over the edge. “Unnhh Pale. I- I’m gonna cu- I’m gonna-” “Yeah. That’s right. Cum on my cock. Cum on my cock in your dirty kitchen. Add to the mess. I’m gonna fuckin’ add to the mess. I’m gonna cum all over you. Fuck it’s disgusting in here,” he babbles and rants. You don’t even care that he’s continuing to insult your restaurant, even when he’s balls deep in you. You don’t even care because you can feel your cunt tightening around him and that ball of fire tightening around your insides. He fucks into one, two, three times more and everything explodes. You lurch forward, eyes pinched tight, cum with a shout. He follows right behind, pulling out of your still convulsing cunt, fucking his fist fast. Shooting sticky thick streams of cum onto one of your thighs, your exposed belly, and the counter. As he groans through the end of his climax, he smacks your undefiled thigh and grunts, “Shut it down doll.”

And you do.

You never enter another kitchen. Never cook another meal.

And never hear from Jimmy - Pale - again.

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

Tagging a couple other pals who expressed interest for some reason lol @direnightshade​ @poetic-solo​ @blackredrose27​ @find-me-with-orion​

[originofjaehyun]

Interlude: No More Drama | Part 3 | Boom

Interlude: No More Drama Masterlist

Word count: 3,178

Warnings: None except for mentions of cigarette I guess

Part 3 | Boom

“It was rather good baby, the day you were standing there again like a picture.”

Prev • Next

Jaehyun’s used to girls flocking around him.

He never meant to boast about his look, but it would be a lie if he told people that he's not confident with it. His pale skin, combined with the defined jaw, decorated with a pair of brown eyes that could penetrate with just a look, he is chiseled to perfection. 

There are many times where he would go to clubs, either with a friend or with his clients, just to have the rest of the night pretending he’s having a good time when he’s not. He is sick with the same pattern, girls trying to steal his attention, trying their best to seducing them. He has witnessed more than a handful of women that wore something that could barely hold their breasts. 

Jaehyun hated these types of girls. But he would hold them just for the sake of temporary satisfactions. What is wrong with hookups, as long as both parties gave their consent? They would feel like they owned Jaehyun the next morning, texted him even when they were already back at their respective homes. But Jaehyun would never respond, seeking nothing more but just a one night stand.

Not until he saw you.

He was sitting right across you, so he had a full picture of how you look that night. You were pretending, just like him. He saw a glimpse of him in you. When you made eye contact with him, he thought you would be another girl that he would bring home for the night, expecting you to send back another flirtatious peek just like how other girls would. But no, he was just another indifferent person for you. You’re back, talking with your best friend and letting out the most genuine smile of the night.

Curious.

He thought as he continued to observe you. In the end, he saw his opportunity to find you, as you walked towards the balcony for a smoke. The moment Jaehyun’s lips touch yours, he feels like a bolt runs through his vines. His heart beats faster as the kiss becomes more intense. Your kisses feel like the first spring for Jaehyun.

Jaehyun woke up with the absence of your presence. So she left, he thought to himself. This is nothing new to Jeong Jaehyun. Every time he had those casual sex, there are times where his partner would just storm outside without even bothered to say goodbye. He’s used to it.

It’s a shame, he thought there’s something different... from you.

It just makes sense for him to flinch when you suddenly opened the door with two glasses of water on both hands.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” You said to him, apologetically. Worried that you’ve woken him up from his slumber because of the ruckus you’ve made.

You put the glasses on the side table, “I thought you’ll wake up feeling thirsty after… Uhm, last night.” You gulped, feeling slightly embarrassed as you remembered how he devoured you just a few hours ago.

“I’m sorry for barging your apartment, but you look so content in your sleep that I don’t want to wake you up. I promise I didn’t steal anything.”

Me, content? 

This is something new to Jaehyun. This is the first time he sleeps longer than his partner. Even when they left without trying to not wake him up, he would pretend that he’s still asleep, just for the sake of being polite.

He stared at you, scanning how you look, before letting out a soft hoarse simper.

“There’s nothing much in my place anyway, but I’m guessing you’ve taken a liking on my shirt?”

You blushed, “Well, I technically passed out last night, and you refused to let me go after the fourth round.”

“We left our clothing in the hallway, so I just grab whatever is lying here. I hope you don’t mind, here’s yours.” You passed the already-folded shirt and trousers to him. “Uhm, your boxer is in the middle. I left your coat at the coat hanger.”

He blinks repeatedly, without replying to your statement. Realizing he might still be collecting himself after being woken up, abruptly, you continued your speech.

“I’ll be gone before long. I hope you’re ok with me changing here, I don’t know where your bathroom is and I’ve been barging long enough.”

You’ve sensed that his gaze has become softer, eyes gleaming.

“Don’t change yet.” He finally talked to you. “Can you come here instead?”

He stretched out his arms, adorably asking for your presence. He pressed both of his lips together, acting spoiled and forcing the dimples to come out. After last night, he actually asked, rather than commanding. You let out a small chuckle, before falling on top of him, cuddling with each other.

You took a moment to enjoy the silence between you. The room only filled with the sound of your breathing, harmonizing with each other. He casually caressed your hair, tightening his hugs while making sure you’re still comfortable in between his arms. This man could be gentle too, so you thought, after seeing him being so beastly last night. He placed a kiss on your temple, then playfully snuffling himself onto your hair.

“I should get going.” You stopped him from tickling you further.

“As much as I enjoy this and it’s Saturday morning, I think I’m overstaying my welcome.”

“Who said so? I can do this all day.” He put his head on the crook of your neck, continued to act spoiled. “At least stay for breakfast? I can cook for you.”

“You’re good looking, smell nice, extremely experienced in bed and now you can cook? God seems a bit unfair when he created you, huh?” You scoffed at his statement, making him burst in laughter.

“But really, I have to turn down the offer. My best friend will start hunting for me if she knows I’m at a stranger’s house. But thank you for your kindness.”

You raise yourself up, ready to change back to the attire you wore last night. He then limped himself back to the bed, staring at the ceiling as you changed. 

“Can I see you again?” He’s now sitting down again, watching as you continued to wear your pants.

You zipped your trousers.

“Oh Jaehyun,” You walked towards him, picking up the phone you left at his side table. “You’re a charmer, you’d find plenty of women like me.”

You plant a kiss on his forehead, before striding your way to his apartment door.

–

“Do you have everything ready?”

You rolled your eyes before replying to the owner of the sweet voice. “Joy, this is the fifth time you’ve asked me and yes, I have everything.”

She sighed, “Well, it’s only natural for us to be nervous, right? After all, we are going to meet a representative from NCT Corp., big bucks, y’know?” She rubs her thumb with her index and middle fingers, acting like there’s a dollar bill in between. 

“Well, my dear friend, you’re in luck cause the creative director is coming with you. Besides, ever heard a rumor that our clients would prepare a signed document beforehand if they knew I’m coming?” You said while shrugging your shoulders.

“Fucking show off.” Joy rolled her eyes.

“Language, miss.”

She then clings your arm, acting spoiled – in case you would ask her to go home early; which is not a good sign. 

Both of you then proceed to enter the car, provided by the company that’s ready to drive you to the potential client’s office, NCT Corp., located at the heart of Seoul. It is a commercial property services firm, the biggest in South Korea. It has managed billions of square feet in property and facilities management and has done over thousands of leasing transactions. No wonder Joy breaks to sweat when she’s told that she’s going to be in this project with you when the client is in such caliber.

That’s not the case for you. You love the challenge and you love the thrill, when you’re faced with something that needs more than just a simple multiplication, your brain starts to work in wonders and you love that feeling. You love being in control of your job and you take pride in every work you’ve done.

You aligned at the lobby. It’s very modern and chic, but you know that the marbles that they used to decorate the floor would cost a fortune.

“Hi, how can I help you today?” The lady at the receptionist greeted you with a wide grin.

“Hi, I’m here to meet Mr. Seo? We’re scheduled to have a meeting at three.”

“OK Miss, may I have your ID card?”

You swiftly took your wallet and gave her your ID card.

“It’s [Y/N] [Y/L/N], from The Paper Plane.”

She then scans your ID card and flips open the ever-thick notes, filled with the black ink marking the company’s busy schedule. She stopped at one of the lines, before handing over two guest cards.

“Ms. [Y/N], we’ve confirmed your appointment today with Mr. Seo. All you need to do is to tap the card on the entry, and press the number 27 at the elevator.” She continues and pointing the direction of her right, showing you which way to go.

You grab both of the guest cards, handing one of the cards to Joy, “Thank you very much!”

She nods, “You’re welcome, I’ll inform Mr. Seo immediately that you’ve arrived. Have a good day!”

You’re trying your best not to let out a loud gasp when you reach the 10th floor. While the lobby downstairs was leaning towards the grandiose side, the current floor opts for a more humbled tone. The space was designed with a monochrome palette with wooden accents. The pillars were painted in black, but what impressed you the most was the wide panoramic window, showing off the breathtaking view the employees got to see every single day. You are then greeted with another person, this time a young man with curly brown hair, skin washed in a healthy tan. His eyes flicker at the sight of you.

“Are you Ms. [Y/L/N]?” He asked you and you nod.

“Great, I’m Donghyuck and I’m Mr. Seo’s current assistant. Please, follow me.” He said quickly, refusing to waste any more second. 

“Nice office, by the way.” Joy jumped into the conversation. 

Donghyuck chuckled, while he continued to lead his way, “Our Mr. Seo hated it when we’re constrained in the same view every day, thus the wide window.”

“You’d be surprised by how many times he forced us to brainstorm with him near the window. There’s a reason why I have my tan on, despite not taking any vacations.” He put his hand next to his mouth, being extra careful not to be caught by his boss talking about him. Both of you just laugh at his remark, making sure you stopped before Donghyuck knocks the door in front of you.

“Mr. Seo?” Donghyuck asked the person in question, being replied with a muted ‘yes’.

“The people from The Paper Plane are here.”

“Oh, please come in!”

Donghyuck enters the room, leaving the door open so that you ladies can enter after him. You didn’t make him wait for long, as you stride your way in. You’re then faced with a very tall man, a handsome chap. His eyes were the color of the earthy brown, glistening like an old copper penny. He greets you with a smile, showing you a dimple that is located on one of his cheekbones. 

“Hi, I’m [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine. I’m Johnny Seo, Chief Marketing Officer for NCT Corp.” He said as he shook your hand, letting you smell his fragrance, noting the spicy and woody scent.

“I hope finding your way here was not difficult?” He continues as he made a gesture to let you and Joy sit on the couch at his office. 

“Not at all, Mr. Seo. There was a slight traffic jam at the corner of the street, probably because today is Friday. Otherwise, there’s no way we could miss such a beautiful office.”

A gum smile appears from his face, “Please, just call me Johnny. I might have the chief branded as my title, but I believe I’m too young for people to call me Mr. Seo all the time.”

“But you are an exception, Donghyuck, let’s try to make us look professional in front of these ladies, okay bud?” He then jokingly glared at the younger boy, causing him to hold his laughter. Both you and Joy are quick to realize that the person in front of you is definitely friendly, and kind for loosening up the atmosphere. He probably noticed how nervous Joy was.

“So, let’s get started, shall we? I booked my calendar for this, but surely I’m a busy person!”

You softly giggle, “Right, that is why I got you covered.” A brow raised from Johnny’s face, impressed with the amount of reference you brought with you.

–

“And that, finally concludes everything!”

A joyful squeal came from Joy’s mouth – no pun intended. You didn’t realize the sun was already set when you wrapped up your meeting.

“I know from the beginning I was right for choosing The Paper Plane.” Johnny smiles, followed by him stretching out his shoulder due to hours long of conversing with you. “Your portfolio impresses me, [Y/N], I’m looking forward to our project.”

You helped Joy, cleaning up the papers from the coffee table where you guys were pouring out your ideas. 

“Shit, it’s already this late?!”

“Hush, Joy!” You shrieked in panic, eyes wide open as a warning for Joy who just tragically cursed in front of their client. Thankfully Johnny signed the deal already. If not, there goes your hard work.

Johnny, as kind as he is, just laughs at it, “Please don’t mind me, it’s over our working hours anyway, so we’re allowed to be our personal self again.” He said as if he knows that you’re scared of offending him. “Regardless, is there anything wrong, Joy?”

It’s only because he is Johnny Seo and the charisma that he has that he could easily be casual with someone who just jammed hours-long meetings with him. Joy, glad that she ended up didn’t fuck this meeting, quickly grabbed her phone and texting someone before replying to Johnny. “I’m meeting my girlfriends tonight. We’ve planned this dinner since God-knows-when.”

“Wait, you got an appointment? And here I thought we always eat somewhere after our meetings! It’s our tradition, no?” You whined at the last minute change-of-plan, clearly unhappy with the sudden news.

Joy gasps as her eyes widens, “Oh no! I’m sorry I forgot to tell you!” She said as her eyes continue to move frantically, concerned because you would usually eat dinner with her and now the probability of you having your dinner alone is almost absolute.

Just when you’re about to say you’re going to order a delivery or something, Johnny cuts you off, “If you don’t mind, [Y/N], I’m meeting a friend tonight. You can join me for dinner if you want.”

“Oh, please don’t take it the wrong way,” worried that you might start to have a weird judgment about him. “The person in question is my long-time best friend. We’ve known each other for years and we’re constantly in touch. So a night without my friend whining and complaining about life would actually be a good idea.” 

You then look to Joy’s direction, telepathically asking for her advice. Her face said that you should go with it, but you’re still doubting.

“I’m sure my friend will like you,” he continues. “Also, I think your portfolio, combined with your personality will impress ‘em.”

“Well, uhm,”

It’s not that you hate meeting a new person, you’re just not sure how you could be comfortable by having dinner with a – if you dare to say so; a client that could secure your income for the rest of the quarter. Even so, the addition of his friend that you don’t even know what kind of high profile that person has tripled your worry.

“My treat?” Johnny looks at you, shoulders are now both ups, making it his last straw for you to come with him.

You finally laughed, “Oh dear, you surely know how to win someone’s heart.”

Johnny smirked from ear to ear, “Well, I trained for years. It’s only right for me to be able to do so.”

–

“You’re not treating me at Wolfgang’s.”

You stopped your step after you saw the restaurant sign. Wolfgang’s Steakhouse is a steakhouse that originally came from Park Avenue in Manhattan. Ever since it opened its chain restaurant in Seoul, it has been packed with celebrities and other VVIPs. You’re not the type of person who would be stingy with how you spend your money on food but definitely would think twice if you’re going to splurge that much money over a single meal.

Johnny then turned his way to you, before then a waiter opened the door for him.

“Well, consider it as a token of my apology for taking your time during the meeting, and for taking our time before making it for dinner. Besides, me and my friend are regulars at this restaurant. It’s always our go-to if we want to have a good meal. The steak’s awesome, the wine’s great, and the people here are relatively more, I would say, conservative in comparison to other places? So I can actually hear my partner talking, not some random gibberish from others.”

You just felt like you’re underdressed for Wolfgang’s. Not to the point where you’re ready to scoot your ass on a street-food stall at Myeong-dong (those are awesome, by the way), you’re glad that you still dressed properly to meet this client of yours. But you wished you’ve worn something fancier if you were to know your future patronage is going to treat you for an expensive meal.

But since you’re here and your stomach is clearly not on your side if you want to leave the place, you unconsciously follow behind Johnny’s tall figure, and even if you consider yourself not that petite, Johnny would still be able to hide your stature.

“My friend’s already here.” He said while looking at his phone. “He said he’s seated in our usual spot… Oh, there he is!” His eyes wide-opened at the sight of his friend.

So does yours.

“Jaehyun, buddy! Sorry I got caught in traffic!”

It’s been over a month since the night you left his apartment. He didn’t see you at first, no thanks to Johnny’s tall figure, but once he saw your face, his face perks up, you could’ve sworn you didn’t see his invisible tail wagging.

But whatever that has happened, you find yourself smiling without even realizing it, at the sight of him.

A/N: Sorry if this chapter was a bit too... slow in pace in comparison to the first two ones? At least this is how I envisioned Boom to be, just simply sweet. It was also hard to put the lyric into the chapter I literally squeezed my creative juice for this lols also im sorry the words are getting longer and longer by each chapter

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

You are Lost, Yet you are Here: Chapter 1

“I can't take this anymore!!”

He turned around and ran off, disappearing from view, as he did, Hazel realised he was on a full-blown emotional meltdown.

With no hesitancy, she ran after him, ignoring her parents calling both of them to come back.

“Alec!” She yelled for him, she saw him run through a door and vanished into that room. She followed him, determined to help him.

When she entered the next room, it was the main dining area with the animatronics on stage performing for the audience, she stopped briefly to see where Alec would have gone and had seen a door on the side of the room swing closed on such a way that suggested someone ran into that room.

This plan she had was failing.

She ran to that door and opened it, turning left as she heard hurried footsteps running in that direction.

“Alec! Come back!” She yelled after him, trying to catch up with but the fact she still felt slightly unwell, and Alec was 15 years old and would regularly skateboard to and from school, she couldn't get close to him, she heard the footsteps fading away as the distance between them grew.

Hazel started crying again as she felt like her chance to be Alec's friend was slipping through her fingers fast.

Eventually she stopped running.

Where was she? These were endless hallways, there was no noise, she couldn't hear who she believed was Alec running.

She had started to wonder if it was possible she wasn’t following Alec but maybe an employee.

Maybe if it was him. Why did he stop running?

She slowly walked ahead looking for a room where Alec could have gone hiding in.

It only now occurred to her that this was mostly the back hallways for employees to travel between the break room and the main rooms.

It was all backstage.

And Alec could be anywhere.

Calling for him wouldn't help, it seemed he didn't want to talk. She needed to talk to him alone without their parents.

She knew the way Alec behaved was defined as classic bad kid behaviour, but the last few days had proved Alec could fall into line when he wanted to: if he had a reason to.

She thought if Alec saw how his parents reacted to him being good, he'd change for the better, but instead her parents became a lot more stressed by them seemingly switching roles, their concern had made Hazel rethink it then she went back to acting normally but Alec caught on and his bad attitude had risen back to the surface as quick as it had vanished.

Her plan B? The Yarg Foxy.

She knew Alec loved Foxy, she had hidden in her room while their parents were out and heard Alec downstairs brilliantly mimicking a pirate voice and accent, but when Hazel moved to go downstairs, Alec had quickly gone silent, obviously hearing her.

She had tried to be nice, she pointed out to him when “Talk like a Pirate Day” was and he immediately soured up saying:

“I'm not interested.”

When she told Alec she wanted him to stop hating her so much, she saw real confusion reflected in his eyes, like he was taken off guard, and he hated that, she felt like her parents essentially added fuel to his anger.

Seeing him rip the arm made her heart break, she realised Alec truly did hate her and nothing was going to change that. He had always hated her.

But she always loved him.

That's why she was searching for him in these dark rooms, hopefully they could have a real conversation, that’s all she wanted. She could learn to accept Alec hated her because she knew their parents treated them very differently and Alec had noticed.

She had done so many subtle kind acts for him, hoping he'd realise just how much she loved him. She would compliment how good he was at skateboarding, she would leave him alone if he asked, she'd leave the Pumpkin Pie alone because she knew it was Alec's favourite at Thanksgiving and she’d keep out of his room when he was in there.

Now it would be for nothing if she didn't find Alec and have a private conversation without their parents.

She had looked into another room which was completely empty, it would have absolutely nowhere for Alec to hide so she left and went into the next one.

The next room had various props, a bin full of broken toys, folded up tables against the wall, some arcade machines which reminded her of the time Alec went to an arcade and got a high score on Pac-Man while she watched him intrigued, as the seven year old she was, while Alec being a pretty silent twelve year old just ignored her.

She stepped into the room, looking around at places where Alec could easily hide.

“I can't take this anymore!!” Alec's angry voice echoed in her head.

What couldn't he take anymore? Family? Expecting to be nice to Hazel? Being labelled a bad kid?

She replayed the moment in her head.

“She gets everything she wants, and she's still not satisfied!”

Is that what he thought? She didn't have what she wanted the most, and she'd give anything to have it.

“She's such a phony! Can't you people see that?? She's the worst kind of spoiled, bratty fake! How can you not see that?”

His perspective of her was warped because of their parents.

“It's so predictable that Alec would ruin the party. It's so evitable that Alec would spoil perfect little Hazel's good time!”

He didn't ruin the party.

“I can't take this anymore!!”

He was turned into a villain..... And that's now driven him to insanity.

She swore in the last moment Alec's face was starting to break into sadness seeing his parents were not giving him support instead they were trying to avoid the impending storm that Alec's emotions were.

Alec couldn't help how he felt, Hazel could tell Alec felt frozen out by his parents and it aggravated him and sadden him to see that.

It also sadden Hazel.

She was starting to cry again, she wiped away her tears and started to think about going back to ask Aunt Gigi for help to find him. She could see how their relationship was great and she might be able to get though to him.

At that moment, she heard something, footsteps, she thought for a moment it was Alec but when she turned to the direction she saw a two foot bear approaching her.

She remembered what these were called, Lonely Freddy, it seems one was in this room and had heard her, so it came towards her.

“Are you crying? Why are you upset?” It asked standing in front of her.

“I'm okay..” She wiped away any lingering tears then went back to looking around the room, she glanced behind a shelf and didn't see any indication Alec was even there.

“You don't look okay... What don't you tell me what's troubling you friend?”

It couldn’t hurt and Hazel was sure these bears were programmed to help sad kids.

She did feel sad.

Alec was probably sad also.

“What's your name little girl?”

“Hazel.”

“What's your favourite colour?”

“I like green,” Hazel answered.

“What's your favourite food?”

“Pancakes.”

“Keep telling me about yourself friend, what's your best subject at school?”

“I like art...”

She didn't mean to say that.

Maybe it was just the fact somebody was actually asking her about her that made her open up a little.

Alec.

She needed to find him.

How did she forget for a minute that he was still missing?

Those blue eyes were like an ocean.

“Who do you live with?”

That was too personal but Hazel had answered, “My Mom, Dad and my older brother Alec.”

She wanted to say she needed to leave, she needed to find Alec.

“Who do you idolise?”

“My brother.”

She could only answer those questions.

She couldn't move.

Alec had hidden in a room with a few props like unique costumes. He hid in a closet inside the room so he could sit alone.

“It's not my fault.... It can't be...” He cried, the realisation of everything he did was crashing down on him.

He wiped his nose, he was still carrying the ripped toy and looked at it dead in the eye, “If you never appeared, I would have never.... I would never.... Never....”

It wasn't true.

His tears got worse, “I've made such an awful mess...”

“Hello?” He heard a voice call out, he went silent as he heard footsteps getting closer.

The door flung open and Alec closed his eyes.

“What are you doing all the way back here?” The person who found him asked.

Alec opened his eyes, surprised to see it wasn't a human but actually one of those creepy animatronics, he was surprised it was out back here. It was.... The bear but not Freddy. It had thick poofy black fur with a red top hat and a red bowtie, a prominent feature was the fact it had only one eye, which was the colour of a warm yellow sunset, the empty eye socket had his red eyelid half closed over it.

Alec looked at him, “Can't you just leave me alone for ten minutes?” He didn't want to show how weak he was but he felt his tears coming back all over again.

The bear looked concerned and reached out his arms, “Are you Alec by any chance?”

Alec wiped his eyes, he didn't see a point in lying, “Yea.... Why?”

“Your parents are looking for you... You've been missing for about an hour.... The staff have been told to keep our eyes out for a 15 year old blonde haired boy.... Why are you hiding from your family Alec?”

Alec hesitated to tell a robot at this pizzeria why he was hiding in a backroom, he shook his head. The bear slightly lowered his head, “Alec.... What exactly happened?”

Alec sniffled, “I've messed up..... I ruined my sister’s birthday.... I've ruined my life... I've ruined my family.... Nobody would forgive a teenaged kid for that.....”

“Are.... Are you sorry for what you did?”

Alec nodded and chocked out, “Yes.”

He was so pathetic.

The bear replied, “I'm sure you can still apologise Alec.”

“Look.... Listen.... Mister...”

“I'm Lefty, Alec,” He told him.

He forgot they had names for a moment, “Lefty then.... I made my sister cry..... And it really hurt me to do that... I was so furious... Now I'm ashamed of it...”

Lefty extended out his hand to him, “An apology... Can go a long way...”

Alec looked at him dead in his eye, “Are you sure?”

“Of course! I've actually done some stuff I am now ashamed of.... You should be glad you woke up now Alec.... Your sister will forgive you if you express your regret of hurting her.”

Alec shook his head, “She would.... She would!” His face lit up and he stood up, stepping out and looking around, “I need to make this right! Thank you Lefty!”

“Alec wait!”

Alec turned to face him, “Would you.... Like that fixed? I know how to make it look brand new again,” He pointed to the Yarg Foxy he was holding.

Alec nodded and handed it to him, “Yes! I'll go back to Hazel with it fixed! Good idea!!”

She couldn't feel the floor anymore, everything was fading away.

Why couldn't she just turn her head and look away? Why didn't her body move at all?

Those eyes didn't look so pretty anymore.

She couldn't move at all.

She couldn't even call out for her parents or even Alec.

Would Alec even want to come and save her? She would do the same for him if he was in trouble.

Those eyes had captured her completely.

Alec was feeling a lot better now, he had watched Lefty perfectly stitch the toy back together and talked more with him. Lefty was able to make the rip appear as if it never happened, Alec was surprised and thankful he did such a stupendous job of the repair. He had the fixed Yarg Foxy in his arms, walking back to the party room, he knew he would give her what she had wanted for years.

Friendship.

He was now ready to be a better person.

To be a good brother.

He had seen his mother looking around kind of anxiously, so he called out, “Mom!”

His mother looked and laid her eyes on him, he stepped over quickly, she looked kind of relieved when she saw him, he was surprised Hazel wasn't around unless she was with her friends somewhere.

“Alec... Are your okay?” He had gone to give her a hug, which obviously surprised her, he didn't remember the last time he really hugged her without being annoyed.

“I'm sorry.”

They had both said it.

“What?” Alec asked her.

“I... I feel this is partially my fault Alec....”

“Mom... I'm sorry for how I acted. I’m sorry for ruining this day. I’m sorry for hurting you and dad... I just.... I don't know... I was tired....”

“Tired?”

“I felt like you ignored me.... Mom... I need to really talk to you, and Dad and Hazel.”

“Yes... We should all talk.. Once Hazel comes back...”

“What did she go to the bathroom again?” He looked around for her in the crowd.

“No... She ran off after you left... I think she was following you....”

“What...?” Alec felt his heart sink, did she actually run after him? He thought at one point he heard somebody calling his name while he was running, but he ignored it because he wasn't sure. Lefty didn't tell him his sister was also missing unless he didn't know about it or maybe he didn't know Hazel was his sister

“Meg, I've searched around the arcade- Alec,” His dad had appeared, “Are you okay? Is your sister with you?”

Alec immediately answered, “No.”

“Hazel ran after you, you have no clue where she is?”

“No, but if she followed me... She would be...” Alec turned around and walked back to whether he had come from.

“Alec! Ian for god sakes follow him before he gets lost,” He heard his mother behind him.

His father stepped up next to him and followed him.

“Alec, you didn't know Hazel followed you?”

“No, I didn't... Dad, I’m sorry... I do love you, mom and Hazel also but-”

“Alec, I appreciate you saying that, I love you also Sport but we need to look for Hazel.”

Alec nodded as they travelled down the hallway.

They switched to green briefly before becoming blue again. She was panicked now, but she couldn't cry for help.

What was happening to her?

“Hazel? Hazel! Hazel!!”

Wait.

Was that Alec calling for her?

She heard a door open.

“She could be anywhere.... I think we need to ask somebody for help to look...”

“I know... It'd be too easy for a ten year old girl to get lost.....”

Those voices.

It was Alec and her father.

They were looking for her.

“Hazel? It's Alec.... I'm sorry...”

Was he really sorry? Hazel could actually hear regret in his voice, something she never heard before.

“I’m sure we'll find her... She's got to be around.... Maybe an employee seen her?” Her father suggested.

“Or an animatronic.... Dad, there's a character called Security Puppet... They are tied into the surveillance system.... Let's ask for their help.”

“How would you know that?”

“Those safety posters...”

“Ohhh right.... So I guess that will be a good option if we don't find her around here...”

“Yep that's what I think....”

Hazel could hear their footsteps getting quieter as they left the area.

Why couldn't she cry for help?? What's happening to her?? She wanted to cry for them to come back, she wanted to get away.

“What's your biggest regret?” The bear had asked her.

What did that question even mean?

“What's your biggest regret?”

Why did it want to know, this didn't make sense....

Unless this was a nightmare.

That meant this never happened, she'd wake up at home to her family.....

And a brother who still hated her.

“What’s your biggest regret, Hazel?”

She was shaking, she felt like somebody was squeezing her throat, tears began again and she weakly chocked out:

“Not being good enough to be my brother’s friend... I had to lie to him.. I tricked him into being good.”

Her throat was loosen but she still couldn’t talk.

This didn't feel like a nightmare.

I think you can guess what this AU is about.... Alec isn't the victim here.

[that70sbitchsstuff]

Is it just me or does anyone want to see a crossover between That 70s Show and the ranch. Like honestly I REALLY shkp Jackie and Rooster, I mean how can I not they would make the cutest couple. Imagine this, after season 8 Jackie breaks up with Fez, gets the hell out of point place and goes on a road trip to find something better, something new. Along the way she realised that she's basically broke and finds a small town named garrison. She arrives there at 6am and finds a bar named Maggie's with a help wanted sign, she goes in, walks up to the lady behind the bar and says... "Hey, look I'm just going to be blunt and say I'm normally not caught dead in places like these, but I'm really desperate and need a job and the sign outside says you need my help, so is there a manager I can talk to or something"Jackie said in a somewhat rushed and desperate voice.

The lady looks somewhat offended but also a little amused by Jackie's desperate tone, she didn't look like someone who was strapped for cash, in fact she look really young around 19 or 20. She had, her raven hair curled perfectly,her make-up done to a tee and she was certainly dressed to impress, in nee length leather boots, blue jeans tucked underneath and a clearly expensive red off the shoulder, only slightly baggy sweater and all of this to accommodated by a very pretty face with doll like features, she had big mismatched eyes one brown,one blue, full pouty lips, high cheeks bones but you could see that the girl was hurting underneath her innocent eyes. So the woman looked her up and down, raised her eyebrow, smirked and said....

"What in the hell makes you think ANYONE is gonna hire you with that attitude. Also do you even have the qualifications to work at a bar." The lady said in a thick southern accent. She looked to be in her late 50s or early 60s, her brown hair was short and curly and she had brown eyes and thin lips. She had on a pair of black Jean's, a denim shirt jacket and lilac tee-shrit that hung loosely around her body. In all honesty she looked a little bit like a hippie but she also didn't look like the type to take shit from anyone.

" Oh please" Jackie said offended, as she thought who wouldn't want to hire her."Firstly it's a bar, what 'qualifications' could I possibly need to-

"ok I'm gonna stop you right there" The woman said interrupting Jackie." I think we've been gotten a bit off track here and I'm on the verge of kicking your ass out of here. So I would like to know your name before I do that." She said very falsely sweet voice.

Jackie was taken aback, she was always so used to the 'customer is always right' motto. When she worked in the salon, the motto was practically engraved in to her mind. Her mother had also taught her to expect no less from employees or any kind of staff for that matter because their "basically our servants Jackie, we just dont have to pay them" her mother always said, to say that warped her young mind on how to treat people equally would be a understatement.

Her eyes widened a bit as she stammered out her reply, still a little caught off guard by the woman's bluntness" O-oh umm I'm Jackie, Jackie Burkhart" Jackie said confidently" And I'm sorry if I came on a little strong there, i just haven't gotten the hang of this 'job thing' yet. So what's your name." Jackie asked curiously.

The woman eyed Jackie curiously before giving her an answer.

"Maggie Bennett, and I am the owner of this bar".

After this exchange the two women quickly became acquainted with each other but cant help but be a little stand-offish. Jackie had learned that Maggie has been the owner of the bar for over 20 year which blow blew her mind but also that she was going through some martial issues and had two grown sons. Maggie had found out that Jackie was on something of a self discovery journey (something that Maggie envied) because of troubles back home. She had also learned that Jackie came from money and didn't have alot of job experience. This had helped Maggie in her decision in wether or not to hire Jackie but finally came to a conclusion......

"well kid your only 21, have had just three short job experiences and are pretty clueless when it comes to any manual labour other than fixing a car surprisingly." Maggie said in a toneless voice, which only made Jackie even more nervous. She knew she wasn't that experience but what she lack for in that she gained in determination.

Jackie looked at Maggie visibly worried now, even though she tried to calm her self down, she was afraid that Maggie was going to laugh her out of the building.

"Well...... you've got the job!" Maggie exclaimed happily but before she could anything else out, she had an arm full of Jackie Burkhart squealing happily and hugging the life out of her.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!" Jackie squealed gleefully and surprisingly she was really(excuse the language) fucking excited about this job. Because to her this will be her first job out in the real world, and yes you could argue that the cheese palace, the salon and working for that god awful woman who's name shall not be spoken (purely because I forget it), as real jobs but Jackie didn't because they were in that small town, that small town that took everything she loved, that small town that had been suffocating up until she left...she fucking hated that small town.

So she was excited about this new opportunity, this new chance to make something of her self to use her experience out in the rea-" wait, I have very little experience in these types of things, you even said it yourself self! why are you even hiring me". Jackie said curiously and a little self consciously, that was something was new to her.

"Well a number of reasons first one would probably be because you know how to make some pretty complicated drinks" That's right, Jackie remember telling her that she knew how to make alot of different drinks, not only from years of watching her own mother make 'special smoothies' but also from watching Mrs Forman make all different drinks." And well..... I'm low on staff and as long as you promise to not drink any of the alcohol, you can work here." Maggie said a little sheepish.

"Oh ok, well then I promise not to disappoint you and you dont have to worry about me drinking on the job, I'm more of a smoker than a drinker" Jackie said reassuringly"So when do I start."

"Right now" Maggie said "But its only 8AM dont bars usually open at like 6 or 7" Jackie asked confusingly.

"Oh honey not in this town, alcohol is kinda the only thing they have" Maggie said in a tone that was meant to sound jokingly, but something told Jackie that she was serious.

So for the next few hours Jackie worked as a bartender. She met all kinds of different people including some of the regulars. But it wasn't until 6PM when Jackie met the rest of the Bennett family.

Jackie had looked up from her place at the bar and saw three men walk in. The first one being an old man who looked to be in his 70s he full head of white hair and a white moustache, a khaki green button-up shirt and a pair of blue jeans with muddy boots. He had remained her of Mr Forman on account of him having a natural scowl on his face. The second man was tall and build, his face was very sculpted with refined features such as a builded jaw line, he had brown hair and a backwards red cap on, a blue and red check shirt with a grey shirt underneath, black jeans and a pair of muddy uggs that he could NOT pull off. He remained her of Kelso due to the goofy look on his face and the build of his body. The third man had her doing a double take, he looked so much like steven it was almost if he was right there. He had a full head of curly hair (although alot more tame than Stevens) and a bushy beard with squirted blue eyes, he had a light brown leather jacket with a red shirt on, navy blue jeans , with a pair of muddy cowboy boots? Seriously did these men not have any sense of fashion.

"Seriously I cant even shut a truck door right" the second man said flabbergasted. "I'm sure you could why you choose not to is beyond me" the first man replied patronisingly.

Judging by the tone of the conversation Jackie could only assume they were having a fight and honestly the old man reminded her so much of Red Forman that she was waiting for a 'Dumbass' or a 'foot up the ass' comment. Also both men had thick southern accent to them, like Maggie so she assumed they were from around here.

That was when the steven look alike spoke up." Hey, I'm gonna hit the bar. But in case you guys run out of things to fight about.." He paused as if he were about to reveal something important."Colt's Jean's cost 85 bucks" He said as he took his leave. His voice sounded almost like Steven's just older and had a southern accent to it.

As Jackie seen him approaching the bar she turned around and pretended to not have been ease dropping on their conversation.

I will post an update here and on fanfiction.net, hoped everyone liked it.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Burned Part 4

Summary: Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Chapter Summary: Alfie gets his own revenge on Louise’s husband and has to face the consequences. 

Warnings: Violence, mention of suicidal thoughts. 

         Even though Louise was prospering in Camden Town, Alfie didn’t let go of the grudge he had against her husband. He still noticed when the stitches on her stomach caused her pain. The slight wince crossing her features and the sharp gasp of discomfort. Tommy was hesitant to give the man’s name to Alfie. But he gave in as long as Alfie promised not to do anything more than just break his nose or few fingers. After all, Louise didn’t ask the Peaky Blinders to kill her husband.

           A few days passed and Alfie waited patiently, or as patiently as he could.

           One night, after everyone had gone home, sounds of a scuffle started to kick up in the warehouse. Puzzled, Alfie stood up and reached for his gun. He opened the door and saw a few of his boys. “What you doing?” He strode over to them, pocketing his gun. “Fucking go home.” His boots shuffled heavily across the concrete floor of the distillery. The metallic sounds of his cane echoing through the large warehouse.

           “We found the man you were looking for, Mr. Solomons, Kelly.” One of the boys shoved a lanky man to the floor. Offering him like a sacrificial lamb to their boss.

           “Oh…very nice. Go on, stand up.” Alfie poked at him with his cane as he tucked his gun away. He’d have to keep his finger off the trigger so he would limit himself to just physical force.

           The man staggered to his feet, clutching his stomach in pain having been jumped while staggering out of the bar. “What hell do you think you’re doin’?” He demanded.

           The man reeked of alcohol and he was disheveled. He was taller than Alfie but looked like a weed, easy to snuff out but annoying as hell. One of those gits that didn’t know when to quit. Alfie hated men like that.

           “Daniel Kelly, correct?”

           The man had dirty blonde hair sticking to his sweat covered forehead. He squinted and tried to size up the gangster boss through his gin-kaleidoscope vision. “Yeah, who’s asking?”

           “Well, that don’t matter, do it? All that matters is you’ve been a bit unkind to one of me employees, yeah?” Alfie cracked his knuckles and gripped his cane tightly.

           “Don’t know what you’re fuckin’ talking’ about.” The man was too intoxicated to see what sort of danger he was in. It was a shame what gin did to inflate the ego. Alfie had killed a lot of men who were so hopped up on liquid courage that they didn’t turn away when they had the chance. Pesky flies just begging to be smacked down by a biblical force.

           “Don’t even know who you are, mate. Where am I?”

           “Now why would a man harm his wife?” Alfie looked at his boys. “Any guesses, lads?”

           They didn’t respond, knowing their boss was just working up to the finale of caving the man’s face in. It wasn’t wise to interrupt his monologue lest they wanted to join the victim.

           “No? I’ve got one.” He raised his right hand as if he’d come to a divine epiphany. “Maybe, right, he’s a fucking lowlife and a drunk who don’t deserve someone like her. What you think, mate?”

           “Louise?” Daniel furrowed his eyebrows and his lanky body wavered, trying to stay upright. “You talkin’ ‘bout me wife?”

           Alfie didn’t answer. He was on a roll of working himself up, stroking his temper like a feral tiger ready to be unleashed. “Thing is, I like going through me day without having to come across fucking scum of the Earth, like you.” He jabbed his finger at his chest. “I also prefer women not get taking advantage of. You fucking think you're tough, yeah? Picking on a girl half your size. Think it makes you man?”

           “Bigger man than you,” Daniel smirked and looked down at the Jewish gangster. “Fucking little man.”

           Alfie just chuckled darkly. His associates knew that was the last straw and braced themselves for impact.

           “Right…” He passed his cane to his other hand and punched the man with a power that nearly caved his entire face in.

           Daniel’s nose made a sickening crack and blood poured down his face. He collapsed to his knees holding his face. “Jus’ tell me where she is, this ain’t any of your fuckin’ business!” His voice was distorted from his broken nose. Dark warmth pooling in his palms, streams slipping out between his fingers and down the front of his hand. Thick blood drops hit the concrete with a sticky sounding plunk.

           “It is me fucking business because look where you are. You’re standing in me bakery and ain’t no one gonna hear you scream, mate. You tried to kill my secretary. You dug your own fucking grave, mate, you put yourself here.” Alfie calmly wiped the blood from his knuckles. Blood spatter accenting his sleeves in a violent design. “Next time I hear about you doing something else like this, I’m gonna have me boys bring you back here, to me, and I’m going to fucking break your fucking legs!” His voice lost its frightening restraint. His shout rang loudly through the bakery, frightening a few birds from the rafters. “Yeah? Got it? Get up, and fuck off. Don’t fucking let me catch you doing this again.” Alfie turned and went to walk away. Despite the irritating nature of the man, he assumed his job was done and the message was clear. Although, Alfie had a sliver of hope that his threats didn’t get through Daniel’s thick skull. He decided he would want the pleasure of breaking a few more bones.

           He’d get the final laugh anyways.

           “Have fun with her then, she’s a fuckin’ whore, she’ll open her legs up for anyone, even a fuckin’ monster like you,” Daniel called out after him and spat at the ground. His saliva clotted with blood.

           Alfie stopped in his tracks. His hands curling into fists as his temper hit a peak. He threw his cane with a loud clang against the concrete floor. He walked over to him with the devil shaking beneath him. A storm raged in his ocean colored eyes. He reached into his waistcoat and retrieved a switchblade. It was typically for daily use but Alfie didn’t discriminate against weapons. If it could kill a man, he’d use it.

           Daniel gave him a look of confusion when he returned, trying to hold his shirt over his bleeding nose.

           “Right,” The gangster dragged Daniel to his feet and slammed him up against a nearby support beam. “Guess what I’m gonna do with this?” Alfie flipped open the blade and held it to the man’s stubble-covered jaw. “I’m gonna do the same thing you did to Miss Barnes. ‘Cept you’re not going to live. I’m sending you straight to fucking hell, you save a spot for me, yeah?” He hissed and thrust the knife into Daniel’s stomach. Dark maroon spread over the man’s white shirt, eliciting a scream from the man with every stab.

           After a frenzied vortex of time as Alfie blacked out from rage, the blade broke off in the man’s torso. So he let Daniel fall to the ground. He took out his gun, cocked it, and shot the man between the eyes.

           The gunshot echoed through the empty warehouse. Then a quiet settled as if nothing had happened. The night continued on.

           Alfie pocketed his gun and dropped the broken blade handle. Blood spattered over his shirt and soaked his arms. Painted with the aftermath of his crime. He sliced himself a bit in the fevered attack but didn’t feel the pain. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and took care of numbing his nerves.

           “Right, fucking get it outta here.” He huffed and shook blood off his hands, drops flying against nearby barrels. “Don’t care where you dump it. Then come back and clean up.” He waved the boys off and returned to his office to cleanse himself of sin.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           The next morning, Louise was unaware of her husband’s death. She walked into the bakery and found one of the men mopping up a dark, sticky puddle. Confused, she went to Alfie’s office.

           “Come in,” Alfie called after she knocked.

           Louise slipped off her coat and hung it up beside his overcoat on the hook. “What spilled outside?” She asked.

           “Just some resin, nothing too bad.” He lied through his teeth and continued reading. He should've known she'd pick up on the little things. Minor details like that didn't go over her head, she was as sharp as a whip.

           “Oh…” She sat down and took out her diary. His hands appeared in her line of vision and startled her. “What about your hands?”

           Fresh bandages covered the cuts on Alfie’s hands. “Splinters.” He muttered.

           The answer wasn’t convincing but she didn’t want to pry. That wasn’t her job. “Okay, well-” The telephone interrupted her.

           Alfie grumbled incoherently under his breath and picked up the receiver. “’Ello?”

           “What did I fucking tell you?”

           The voice on the other line was unmistakable. And it was far too early in the morning to listen to Tommy Shelby chewing him out. “Tommy, so good to hear from ya, mate, anything I can do for you?”

           “I said I’d give you his name if you didn’t kill him. Now you’re getting sloppy, couldn’t even get the body to the river to dump it?” The Blinder demanded. “Your boys dumped him on the side of the road!”

           “No fucking idea what you’re going on about.” Alfie’s eyes flicked up to see Louise patiently waiting across the desk. She had no idea.

           “Really? Right, well now you’ve got to tell his widow what happened. And you better tell her the truth, Alfie, of I will.”

           “You fucking what?” His fist fell onto the desk making his secretary flinch. He gritted his teeth and restrained himself as best he could for her sake. “You trying to back me into a corner, Tommy boy?”

           “She paid us for protection, she didn’t say anything about murdering him.” He retorted, not intimidated by his fierce opposition.

           “Had it fucking coming, didn’t he?” Alfie demanded. “Yeah? Don’t think he’s some saint, do ya?”

           “Right, I can understand, really, I can. But you need to tell her. You can’t cover this up or the police will start asking her questions. You want to save her the trouble of being a suspect?”

           The gangster looked at Louise. She appeared puzzled but not uncomfortable. “Fine.” He forcefully returned the receiver to the hook.

           “Everything alright?” She had a sinking feeling in her gut that the call from Mr. Shelby had something to do with her.

           Alfie sighed and interlocked his fingers on the desk. “Your husband was found dead.”

           Her eyes widened and a hand flew to her mouth. “What?” Her whisper muffled against her palm. “W-when? How?”

           “I uh…” He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. There wasn’t any telling what kind of reaction she would have. But he didn’t expect her to see how distraught she was. “He…”

           Louise hadn’t seen him so lost for words. The uneasiness on his face was unmistakable. Her jaw dropped in disbelief. The realization and horror spreading over her face. “You didn’t.”

           He swallowed and his eyes flicked down to betray his stoic expression. “Louise-”

           “Alfie, please tell me you didn’t. Tell me it was someone else.” She begged. The last thing she wanted was for her view of the man to be too utterly distorted to fix it.

           He shook his head. “I only meant to rough him up a bit.” He muttered. When had he ever felt shame for committing murder? Maybe his first time but it wore off soon after. He thought he was doing something chivalrous for her. But she was cut from a different cloth.

           “I told you.” Her voice shook violently as she glared at him, hints of fear behind her eyes. “I told you to leave it, didn’t I?”

           “Yes-”

           “I told you to leave in the past. You went behind my back. I didn’t ask you to do this, I didn’t want him dead!” She cried, her voice rising.

           Alfie dragged a hand over his face. “I was planning on just breaking his fucking nose-”

           “But I didn’t ask you to do even that! How did you even learn who he was?” She demanded.

           “If ya just let me finish me fucking sentence, I’ll fucking explain!” He couldn’t help but feed off her angry energy. His temper was always starving for a reason to go off. Even if it was Louise.

           “Don’t you dare,” She stood up and leaned over his desk, pressing her palms into the wood. “Don’t you fucking dare yell at me! Not after what you did!”

           He pressed back in his leather desk chair. It was the first time he’d ever heard her swear. It affected him more than he realized it possibly could. He clenched his jaw and composed himself. “I’m not trying to yell at you. But I have a reason for what I did.”

           “I can’t imagine you have a good enough reason when I explicitly told you not to get into it.” She spat. Her entire body appeared to tremble with anger.

           “He fucking wouldn’t shut his fucking mouth!” Alfie matched her volume and heaved himself up out of his chair.

           “And you’re so good at that?” She retorted. “You can’t do whatever you want, you don’t make up the rules. The world doesn’t bow down to Alfie Solomons!” She shouted.

           “He called you a whore!” He slammed his fist down on the desk making it quiver. “I ain’t fucking apologizing for giving him exactly what he deserved!”

           Louise flinched but didn’t back away from him. “I can’t believe you. I thought you were different, but people were right about. You’re heartless.” Tears formed in her eyes.

           Alfie tensed up and his heart froze over. He wanted to inform her that he cared so deeply about her and would do anything for her because he knew she deserved it.

           “I can’t even look at you.” She turned and roughly wiped her tears away with the sleeves of her blouse.

           “Louise!” He called after her but didn’t follow after she slammed the door to his office shut. “Fuck.” He mumbled and collapsed back into his chair.

           Cyril whimpered softly from his bed. The dog’s sagging cheeks resting on his front paws, his sad eyes looking up at his master.

           Alfie put his head in his hands, tugging at his hair out of frustration. “She’ll be the death of me.” He grumbled to his dog. “Mark me words.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Louise showed up at work the next day. Her face was plastered over, stuck in a stony expression. She wore a black dress as if to drive the blade further into Alfie’s chest. She didn’t ignore him; everything had to do with business though. Her voice was dull and emotionless. She wouldn’t show him any weakness.

           It crushed Alfie far more than he expected. Once the day finished, he was worn out even though he hadn’t gotten much work done. He was too preoccupied with Louise’s behavior. He wondered if he could ever make it up to her or ever have her the way he wished he could. Smiling and happy on his arm. Making him seem like a better man than he really was. Heartless. She couldn’t love a man who was heartless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           “Hello?”

           “Tommy, it’s Alfie.” The gangster boss muttered. It was about eight at night and had begun to rain. Alfie didn’t want to return home, he was afraid that without any distractions he would drive himself mad.

           “Something you need?” The Shelby asked curiously.

           “I want you to come pick up the money you gave me, the half of Louise’s inheritance.”

           Tommy went quiet. He knew it had to have something with Alfie murdering Daniel. “You should give it to her if you really don’t want it, eh?”

           “Doubt she’d take it from me. Fucking hates me guts now, don’t she?” Alfie’s hand tightened around the receiver of the phone.

           “Just add it to her paycheck then.” He suggested. “I don’t want to take it.” The man didn’t think it was right to take more money from the woman.

           Alfie grunted. “I fucked up, Tom.” His voice lost some of its usual sternness.

           “I know.” He wasn’t going to sugar coat it. “Can’t take it back now though.”

           “She’ll hate me. Thinks I’m this soulless thing. Fucking evil of the Earth, exactly what everyone else thinks.” It was a rare thing for Alfie to let his outer shell crack. But he knew Tommy had been in love and could sympathize even a little bit.

           “You could try to right it. Can’t buy yourself out of it though like everything else,” He warned. “Woman can see right through that, especially women like her.”

           Alfie rested his elbow on his desk, putting his head in his hand. “She’s got my bollocks in a vice, she does. Haven’t even told her what I feel for her but she’s fucking got me wrapped ‘round her pinky like I was nothing but a toy.”

           Tommy was a little surprised he was being so honest. It showed the most humanity he’d ever seen in Alfie and it made him downright uncomfortable. “Well, you can figure it out, right? You know her better than me.”

           “Don’t know.” Alfie lifted his head and scratched the nape of his neck. “Still…you won’t take the money?”

           “No. You’ll find something to do with it if she doesn’t accept it.”

           “Don’t want the fucking money.”

           He wanted her.

~~~~~~~~~~

           That same night, rain spattered against the windowpane. Alfie had finally gone home. He sat in the parlor, trying to read. But he’d been stuck on the same paragraph for a while. His brain couldn’t absorb the information so he kept rereading.

           A banging on the door interrupted the struggle of his thoughts. Alfie set his book aside and heard Evelyn trotting down the stairs.

           “S’alright, Evelyn, I’ve got it.” He didn’t want the girl opening the door so late at night. He walked to the door and opened it.

           Louise was standing on the front step, looking like a wet cat. The rain had soaked right through her dress, her curls limp and sticking to her face. It was impossible to distinguish the raindrops from the tears on her cheeks.

           Her lower lip quivered. “Can I come in?”

           Alfie nodded. “’Course.” He said quietly and let her in. “Why’re you out there without a fucking coat?” He asked.

           She shook her head but didn’t answer.

           “Evelyn, get some towels, yeah?” He called up to the girl.

           “Yes, Mr. Solomons!” She replied.

           He led Louise to the parlor where flames blazed in the fireplace. He let her warm up a bit while Evelyn came downstairs with a heap of fluffy towels.

           “Miss Barnes, you look freezing!” She gasped and quickly helped the woman wrap up in the towels.

           “Thank you, Evelyn.” She said, her voice cracking.

           “That’s all, Lyn,” Alfie said steadily.

           The girl looked worried, not sure why Louise was there in such a state but left the parlor on his orders.

           Louise stood stock still near the fire aside from brief shivers wracking her body.

           Alfie backed up and sat down on one of the couches. He wasn’t sure what to say to her after their argument and subsequent coldness between them that day. He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his wide spread knees.

           She used one of the towels to do her best to dry her hair. “I’m sorry, I’m intruding so late.” Her voice finally came out in an ashamed tremble. The fire lit up her hazel eyes, glowing flecks of amber hidden in the irises.

           “S’not a problem.” He mumbled. “There a reason you’re here?” He didn’t want to sound cold, but he wanted to get down to the bottom of it. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to argue with her again. It hurt too much last time despite fully engaging in it without hesitation.

           She sucked in her lower lip, tugging on it between her teeth. “I have to apologize for how I treated you today and yesterday.” Her eyes were on his, holding sincerity.

           “You don’t need to apologize, yeah? Your emotions are your emotions, can’t change that.”

           “The truth is I’m not really angry with you. I don’t know what I’m really angry at.” She lowered the towel and folded it over her arm. Her chilled body slowly warming up beside the fire. “You don’t know what I went through with Daniel.”

           “You could tell me, yeah, if that would help.” He offered. “I’m all ears. I’m not angry and I’m sorry ‘bout all that yesterday. Weren’t fair for me to yell at you after what I did.”

           “No, I know.” She hugged herself close, keeping the soft towel around her shoulders. “I uh…I guess I should start from the beginning.” She swallowed the lump in her throat.

           Alfie patted the couch beside him so she would sit down.

           “I’m still damp.”

           “Don’t matter, it’ll dry, s’just water.”

           She nodded and walked over to sit on the couch. She kept her distance though, afraid he was still upset with her despite what he’d said. “My parents wanted me to marry this man that we’d known for a while, a family friend’s son. He was wealthy, Oxford graduate, with very good manners. But when I was with him...I felt like I was nothing but a little toy to tote around the events. He’d show me off and then act like I was just emotionless or nothing but a shell of a person.”

           Alfie furrowed his eyebrows and let out a grunt with a frown. He could get that impression from a lot of wealthy men.

           “I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with him, and if I married him that’s what I would have to put up with. My parents would look down on me if I tried for a divorce.” She reached up to brush her damp hair away from her face. Then she used the towel around her shoulders to try to dry her curls again. “I met Daniel, he was a driver for another family we knew. He swept me off my feet and I felt so excited knowing that there was something else to life. He’d take me out dancing and drinking. I felt like I was free. My parents hated him but I didn’t care. I eloped with him after six months. It was all right for a bit. He could never hold a job so I had to work too. I sold some jewelry, anything to keep us afloat. We had to move to Birmingham. But I was too stupid to see how things were changing. I thought he was just a down on his luck boy that would turn into my prince in shining armor. My parents would see that he was perfect for me.” She laughed bitterly. “I was such a daft teenager.”

           Alfie pursed his lips. He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault and that most teenagers were daft. He certainly wasn’t a wise and orderly chap. He could imagine her parents would disapprove of him as well. The teenager with an unstable temper, a penchant for stealing, and the gift of riling up police officers.

           “I guess a year or so into the marriage I couldn’t ignore everything. He rarely kept a job longer than a week. He’d take my earnings and go off.” She waved a hand in the air disgust pricking at her eyes. “Gambling, drinking, having an affair, I never knew. Kept me away from the people I loved most. Often told me that no one would care for me the way he did.”

           Cyril padded into the room after pestering Evelyn for a treat. He went over to Louise, resting his droopy face on her knees. She smiled faintly at him and began stroking his ears. The motion kept her grounded as she recounted her history.

           “After a while, he started asking why I wasn’t getting pregnant. He wouldn’t let it go and blamed me. He just kept going on about how I was damaged and worthless.” Louise’s voice caught her throat. Her late husband’s voice echoed in her mind, ranting and raving about how she wasn’t a woman if she couldn’t get pregnant. “Said I was only good for fucking.” A tear escaped down her cheek.

           Alfie’s jaw clenched as he took out a handkerchief and offered it to her. Part of him was beside himself that a woman would be told such things. The other half of him wished he had the ability to raise people from the dead so he could kill Daniel again and again.

           Since he didn’t say anything, Louise continued, unaware of his seething beneath the surface. “I got so sick of it. One day, I challenged him. I said maybe he was the infertile one, not me.” A cloud covered her face as the vivid memory resurfaced. Standing in the dark kitchen, Daniel stinking of gin, look of rage burning his face red as the fateful words left her mouth. “That’s when he first hit me.” Her eyes focused on Cyril to keep her composure. The memory kept playing because she knew Daniel didn’t just hit her. She remembered the brutal force against her cheek as he grabbed her by the back of the neck and slammed her down into the kitchen table.

           Her breathing became shallower as she scratched behind Cyril’s ears. The bullmastiff could sense something was troubling her so he leaned his body weight against her legs. The pressure was comforting and allowed Louise to pull herself out of her own memories and return to the present.

           Alfie stood stock still beside her. Everything twisted around in his stomach; his heart lunging against his ribs, Louise’s past haunted him. If only he’d known. If only he’d been there. He would put an end to it immediately so she would never see abuse. So she wouldn’t have to wake up every morning with the scars etched into her bones. He knew what it was like to open his eyes and all the traumatic memories flooding through like sunlight. Every time he wished he could wake up without remembering. It was torture enough to have gone through it. But the lingering effects were salt in the wound.

           “I kept threatening to leave but I never did.” Louise began talking again once she composed herself enough. “I was scared he would kill me. There wasn’t any way I could back to my parents either. I know they loved me so much but I defied them every step of the way and ruined my life. I never got the chance to amend. They were killed in an accident.”

           She revealed what she’d kept from him on a professional standing. And Alfie wasn’t sure how Louise had managed to be there, sitting next to him. It was as if life kept hurling rocks at her but she continued to get up every time. “Lou…”

           “Alfie, I won’t thank you for what you did.” She looked up from Cyril, her hazel eyes still blazing in the firelight. “But, I can’t judge you for it. I can forgive you.”

           “Dunno if you should.” He muttered back and reached back to run his fingers through the back of his hair. “I didn’t fucking listen to you like I should’ve…”

           “I thought about killing him.” Her voice came out in a choked gasp as if someone had been choking her but finally let her breathe again. It was something she’d kept to herself. No one around her could understand. But if anyone could it would be the man who had killed Daniel.

           Alfie blinked and almost asked if he’d heard her right. But there was no mistaking the words.

           Her eyes were hard as she nodded shakily, sensing his disbelief. “And not just like… ‘Oh, I wish he’d disappear’. No, I uh…I thought about taking a pillow and just-” She pressed her hands down on her thighs to mimic smothering someone. “But I wasn’t strong enough. So I looked for other ways out.” She looked down again in shame. She was delving into her darkest thoughts, shining a light on them. Everything looked so ugly when illuminated.

           The man beside her could think of many ways to dispatch of Daniel but he didn’t want to make her feel worse. Women like her didn’t need to hear the details of how he got rid of problems.

           “If I tried to kill him…he’d kill me. If I succeeded in killing him, I’d probably be hanged. So…” She twisted her fingers together, stray raindrops slipping between her palms. “I figured the easiest way would be to end my own life.” Louise couldn’t help but let out a small sob. She couldn’t contain it. The act of speaking those words was too painful but she felt a burdened eased off her.

           “Lou...” Alfie shifted a bit closer to her. He wasn’t the best at comforting people. Usually, he was the reason people needed comforting.

           “I know it sounds so silly. There are people who have it far worse than I-”

           “Louise.” He interrupted her sternly. “That’s ‘nough of that. Fuck the world, yeah, you have the right to feel how you like. World’s not a contest of who has it fucking worse.” He clasped his hands together. “You’re the one who went through it, not anyone else.”

           She sniffled and looked up at him. Her lashes were glossed over with tears. The very vision a painter conjured when depicting the grief of a woman. The weight of the world pressing down on her and continuing to cut pieces away from her. God always took from the ones with the best intentions. Alfie felt like he deserved his misfortunes. He personally carved out the hollowness inside him. Every action he took justified another stab to the gut. But Louise was like him. She didn’t choose to do what he did. She never fought back like him. She complacently took the pain, only dreaming of a way of out it. Alfie indulged in the sin and misery. For a brief moment, he felt full. Having a man’s life in his hand, soaking in the fear of others, adorned in jewels, and passing along high amounts of money. But it never lasted.

           Louise lasted.

           “You’re safe now, yeah, won’t let anyone hurt you. But if you ever feel like that again, you tell me, yeah?” He wouldn’t take suicide lightly. He’d seen men in the war ready to end the suffering. Some men who made it home were unable to cope. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Louise made that decision. “You don’t have to tell me. You could tell Evelyn, Ollie, fucking call up Tommy Shelby if ya need to. But promise me,” He held her gaze to ensure she knew how serious he was. “Promise you won’t keep it to yourself. Because you don’t need to.”

           Louise wiped at her eyes and nodded. “I will.” She whispered weakly.

           Alfie nodded. “Right, good. Need you around.”

           She cocked an eyebrow at him. The wording had come out a little desperately, much more than he intended.

           “Mean, who else could be my secretary?” He hurried to cover up any hints of affection towards her. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. She didn’t want him. “I mean, fucking hell, I can actually read your writing. Ollie’s was just chicken scratch, wasn’t it?”

           It drew a smile from Louise. A sunbeam breaking through the clouds. “I’m sure it’s just fine. You’re too hard on him.”

           “Nah, you’ve got great penmanship. Lovely, innit? Like art it is.” He praised her to bring out her smile even more.

           “Who thought penmanship would be so coveted in a gangster’s world?” She sighed and shook her head. It was something she had to come to terms with. Alfie Solomons was a gangster. She worked for a gangster. “I mean I don’t know my way around a gun to save my life.”

           He chuckled. “Business ain’t all blood. Keeping books, now that’s crucial. ‘Sides, I could teach you how to shoot.” He offered. “To protect yourself.”

           Louise made a face. “I will respectfully decline.” She reached down. “I have this for protection.”

           Alfie was startled as she hiked her skirt up to her knee. If that wasn’t surprising enough, she unsheathed a knife from a thigh holster.

           “Fucking hell, do you always have that?” His eyes were wide and she allowed him to examine the knife.

           “After I left the hospital I started carrying it.” She admitted sheepishly. Every time she put on the holster she felt unlike herself. She wasn’t shielded in the bubble of her upbringing anymore though.

           “’S’good, keep it.” He gave it back to her, taking care of the sharp blade. “No one in Camden will touch you though.”

           She bent down to return the knife to its holster. “What do you mean?”

           “You’re under my protection.” He straightened up and rolled up the sleeves of his loose fitting shirt. “Anyone who knows what’s good for them will steer clear.”

           Something pinched in Louise’s stomach. He was threatening the entire Camden Town area. Letting out the news that anyone who harmed her would end up like her late husband. It was startling and comforting. Something strange to behold. She bit the tip of her tongue but couldn’t stop herself. “That’s why you left him on the street? To send a message?” Her voice warped around the unfamiliar phrase.

           He grunted and tugged at his beard. “What I do, all my misdeeds, yeah, you don’t have to hear. I won’t involve you in nothing, never intended to. But you want me to be honest, then I will.”

           Louise smoothed her damp skirt down and crossed her ankles. “I want you to be honest.”

           He nodded slowly, almost in a dazed state. He stared ahead at the fire that was starting to lose its power. “Your husband was the last man to lay his hands on you.” His voice was full of conviction. Anyone who tried to defy that would meet a gruesome fate. But Louise didn’t need to know the details. “Anyone who lays a hand on you in Birmingham will have the Peaky Blinders on them. And I’ll fucking admit I wouldn’t want those fucking animals after me. Had that happen before and can’t have that happening again. Nicer when we have an understanding.”

           Louise didn’t want to linger on the fate of foolish men. “So…how many other…families are around?” She had no idea about underground criminal syndicates. She wasn’t even sure her parents knew.

           “Depends on where you are. You got the Italians, Sabini. Got a few more in Camden, allies with them though. They know I run the Town.” He said a bit cockily. “Fuck there’s a gang of all women and I swear they’ve got she-devils in them. Wouldn’t cross them.”

           It was funny to hear the brutal man talk about people he personally wouldn’t cross. “I thought you were the tough one around here.” She tilted her head to the side. She couldn’t imagine there was someone as ruthless as Alfie.

           “Well, don’t think they’d cross me without good reason.” He rested an arm across the back of the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “It’s about balance, can’t have one bloke have all the power. You can’t go ‘round killing everyone or you’ll have their mates coming after you. Everything’s calculated. It’s not a manner of who’s deadlier, it’s ‘bout who’s smarter, cunning, yeah?”

           The woman was starting to become a little nauseous at the idea. They were all walking a razor-thin rope. One misstep could kill them. She swallowed and gathered herself. “Well, it’s late. I ought to get home.” Her voice rambled out hurriedly.

           “You could stay the night. It don’t matter.” He offered and stood up.

           “No, I’ve pestered you long enough.” She said and cleared her throat.

           The rain was still pelting like bullets against the windows. It was pitch black and hard to see past a foot ahead.

           “Shouldn’t walk home in this.” Alfie shook his head. “Just stay the night, I’ll drive you in the morning if it’s still pouring.”

           “No, Alfie, thank you.” She patted Cyril’s head and went for the door. The cold rain wasn’t pleasant but she still needed to process a few things about it all.

           “Louise, just the night. S’fucking awful out there, don’t want ya to catch your death.” His blue eyes pled quietly.

           She sighed and nodded. “Okay, just tonight.”

           “Evelyn?” Alfie called up to the girl again. “Would you make up the spare room for Miss Barnes?”

           “Of course, Mr. Solomons, Louise, can I draw you a bath?” The girl appeared at the staircase landing.

           “No, thank you, Evelyn.” She smiled. When the girl disappeared, Louise turned to him. “Thank you for speaking with me.” She said quietly. “But, Alfie, I just want you to know that this won’t be easy for me. I will still work for you but you can imagine my…apprehension.” She didn’t want to mention her husband. She’d given him more than enough grief for that and felt like she didn’t have a leg to stand on when she realized how little she mourned the loss. But she wouldn’t become like Alfie. “I just…I wanted to apologize for yesterday and what I said. You’re not heartless. A heartless man wouldn’t let me in and listen.”

           He gazed at her, feeling more than conflicted. While he knew he could have compassion, he wasn’t sure if she still wasn’t seeing him in the correct light.

           “I think I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” Her lips pursed and she tugged at her dress sleeve. “You promised to protect me. But my trust is very small for anyone these days. I’m sure you could understand that.”

           He nodded stiffly. “Very well…I know that very well.” She was to be trusted though, even if it was blind trust. Blindly trusting her because she was something so treasured in his eyes. The key to a damaged and hellish man’s heart. Foolish.

           “Well, goodnight then.” She said and touched his arm, her fingertips grazing over the white sleeve.

           Alfie stood at the base of the staircase, watching her ascend. He put his hands in his pockets as if to hide the residual blood on his hands. All the blood from every man he’d finished off. Every heart he stopped from beating. Every last breath he’d snatched out of the air. Something Louise would never understand and never see as virtuous.

           He could never be virtuous for her. But he longed to have her anyway.

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[fiiore-blogs]

( lorenzo zurzolo , 20 , cismale ) i  just  bumped  into  fiore  gattuso  the  other  day  while  walking  down  north  kingsboro , where  he  lives . i  hear  they  can  be  charming  and  narcissistic , but  when  i  think  of  them  i  immediately  think  of  bloodshot  baby  blue  eyes , luxury  brands , an  enchanting  smile ( ari , 21 , she / her , est ) 

tw : homophobia , abuse

full  name : fiore emiliano luca gattuso ( first name pronounced fee-oh-reh, also see here! )

nicknames : fifi, emmy ( by people who know his middle name ), some people might say… flower boy ( fiore literally means flower in italian ) 😳

gender : cismale

height :  5 ′ 8

age : 20

birthday : may 30 , 2000

zodiac : gemini ( aries moon, libra ascendant )

right  handed  or  left  handed : left  handed

eye  color : baby blue

hair  color : basically dark blonde / light brown

piercing  &  tattoos : the gemini symbol on his left wrist, a cartilage piercing on his right ear

languages  spoken : italian  ( native  tongue ), english, spanish, pretty decent sicilian

sexuality : bisexual / biromantic

place  of  birth : livorno , tuscany , italy

last  3  songs  listened  to : dimmi che mi ami by dj matrix, almeno stavolta by nek, west coast by lana del rey

character  inspo : kat hernandez from euphoria ( huge muse ! ), adam groff from sex education ( think season 2 adam ), alyssa foley from the end of the fucking world, maeby funke from arrested development, lucrecia montesinos from elite

♡ so fiore was born to a spanish mother named martina & a fully italian father named gian gattuso in tuscany, but they later moved to rome when he was around four years old. his mother is a very well known politician & his father is a billionaire, heir of several gas, water & electric companies all over europe. besides that, he is also a preacher and very involved in church. both his parents are very well off financially

♡ fiore grew up with anything he’s ever wanted ( materialistically, of course ). besides that, his parents genuinely weren’t the best of people. his mother stole millions from the so called campaigns she ran & was a very corrupt politician, his father treated his employees like shit & was a pretty hateful person altogether

♡ they were people who expected a lot out of their only son, which made fiore feel an insane amount of pressure from the very start. at a very young age, he showed characteristics lots of boys his age didn’t show. he did things like peeing while sitting down instead of standing up, preferred to play with dolls instead of ‘boy toys’, favored the color pink, got along better with girls, preferred to watch shows that were considered ‘girly’, etc etc.

♡ they were very harmless things honestly, things that most parents would laugh about & turn a blind eye. however, fiore really wasn’t that lucky when it came to them any time he would do anything they claimed a ‘normal boy wouldn’t do’, he would get a huge lecture & a beating to go with it. needless to say, he learned to hide a lot of who he really was from a very young age

♡ he did a lot of things to seek the approval of his parents. he wasn’t smart academically ( dumb boi 101 tbh ), but he tried to make them happy in other ways. fiore was never fond of sports at all, but he started playing tennis when he was five, because it made his parents happy. truth be told, he hated tennis with every fiber of his being, but again, he did this, simply because it satisfied his parents

♡ he grew up trying to be the perfect son, often times putting himself in situations he didn’t want to be in or felt uncomfortable doing because he wanted them to be proud, but honestly? it was like? never enough. it was all smiles for the pictures, but behind closed doors, he really was pretty damn miserable

♡ simply put, he has always known that he likes boys. he likes girls too, don’t get him wrong, but he knew, literally since he could remember, that he also had a thing for guys too. of course, he was aware that this wouldn’t settle well at all with his extremely strict & unfortunately, very close minded parents, so he buried his feelings incredibly deep

♡ he has a lot of charm & wit & found himself getting into relationships quicker than most of his friends. he briefly dated a girl when he was fourteen, but it was when he was sixteen that things really began getting pretty #spicy

♡ there was a romanian boy new to his very #elite school & if you guessed it, they began to date! his first boyfriend at sixteen years old. fiore was basically living two lives at this point, sneaking around with a guy behind his parents’ back, but when he got home, the facade began. the way he would switch up as soon as he entered the front door to his house was honestly shockingly scary

♡ he really felt himself falling in love with this boy even though they were both fairly young. they snuck around forever. when no one was home, he would sneak him into his room to have sex, sneak out of his house when his parents were asleep, all that fun stuff. their relationship was forbidden ( at least to fiore’s parents ), but things go downhill pretty fast

♡ so one day, fiore & him get really really drunk & honestly? video record themselves having sex fjkgnfv they didn’t do this to post it anywhere or show anyone or anything, they really just did it for themselves. they made a few copies ( stupid boys, i know rip ), but they really felt like they would get married & all that gooey lovey dovey shit so they did it because yolo i guess? this was a pretty big mistake though

♡ one day fiore & him are walking back from his tennis practice. this is a time where fiore knows no one is home & no one is coming home for a while, so when they get to his house & see his father’s car parked outside, he lowkey panics a little. of course he makes the guy leave & goes inside to see what’s going on

♡ his father asks him to come upstairs & surprisingly, leads him into his room. this is when fiore’s entire life practically changes forever. his father turns on his tv & legit starts playing his sex tape with his boyfriend. just picture this though; your extremely homophobic, close minded & hateful father & you sitting on your bed, watching your gay sex tape with your boyfriend

♡ obviously, this news isn’t well taken by his father. to make a long story short, he gets his ass beat. like, literally almost dies type shit. when this happened, he was eighteen and had just recently graduated school, with plans to travel. he knew if his relationship was ever discovered by his parents, it wouldn’t go well, but he really didn’t think them discovering his sexuality would be that brutal

♡ his parents basically disown him at that moment. they bought him a ticket to new york & told him they never wanna see him again. it’s sad, but he packed his things & left in two days to go live with his cousin 

♡ it doesn’t really take an expert to figure out that fiore did not take this move well at all. for months, he was really depressed. he wouldn’t go out & would just lay in bed for the longest time. he was really hurt by everything that happened & it took him a while to recover. he has also lived in italy his whole life & wasn’t really used to life in america at all, but after like the fourth month of just feeling sorry for himself, it was his cousin who snapped him back to reality

♡ he began putting himself out there. at first, he began working at a pizza place, but fiore slowly began to realize how much he despised working. his entire life, he received everything on a golden plater with pure solid gold spoons, he’s always had everything he’s ever wanted without working for it, so this? he was for sure not used to it at all. again, his life completely changed. he went from living in a three story mansion in the most prestigious part of rome to living in a very shitty part of new york, broke almost always, & working a job he hated with everything he had, splitting rent with his cousin

♡ fiore did not want this at all for himself. it wasn’t until he went out clubbing ( fake id & all ), that one his friends showed him the wonders of conning people. they walked into the bar with twenty bucks and left with four thousand dollars

♡ quickly, fiore began to learn his friends’ ways. his looks, personality & his thick italian accent helped him tremendously; it was like people literally couldn’t get enough of him. soon enough, he was conning & finessing the fuck out of older men & women for their money. he once walked into a casino with five dollars and walked out with over 12k

♡ finessing people became a huge hobby of his. he’s also very very lowkey done some camboy stuff, but with a mask on because he’s sneaky af ( legit think kat from euphoria ) like, these super lonely old men or even women are just sending him money for being hot? amazing! it was with all this money that he bought himself a luxury car & jump started his model & influencer career. it was also with this money that him & his cousin ditched the crap show that is south kingsboro & moved into a much better apartment up north. with his looks & persona, he gained followers like crazy & posted videos on youtube as well, getting sponsorships & recognition easier than he expected. he honestly makes a shit ton of money off social media & modeling, like, he’s basically living off his looks, personality & the content he post? we love to see it

♡ there is still a part of fiore that has a lot of issues & trauma. honestly mommy & daddy issues af, but he doesn’t talk about this at all. he literally refuses to talk about anything that happened to him before he was eighteen. no one really knows how he came up or where his family is & he keeps it this way, dodging questions about his personal life as much as he can

♡ in a way, he is kind of relieved with everything that happened with his parents because now, he’s completely free to be himself & do whatever the fuck he wants, knowing very well they can’t really touch him anymore. of course, it still left a mark that he’s never going to be able to erase or forget ( both in his heart & on his body too ), but he feels free for once in his life & he’s honestly kind of happier now, but also, low key needs therapy tbh 🥴

♡ relationship wise, he really doesn’t commit to anyone. after practically being forced to leave his now ex boyfriend, he kind of feels like he doesn’t deserve love? it’s really fucked up but he’s genuinely convinced that no one is ever going to really love him or want to be with him so he just avoids any romantic relationship of any kind, usually just hooking up with people & then leaving as soon as it’s over, or just stealing money from them and ghosting. the truth is that he really does want to be loved, accepted & cared for by someone he loves, accepts & cares for as well, but will it ever happen if he continues pushing people away? probably not tbh

♡ he is a fucking drinker & hella pot smoker!! legit give him some alcohol & weed he’s happy. he always has either one on him, or both tbh. he’s secretly a hella good cook too but this is something almost nobody knows really. he can make food or desserts, and he’s also taught himself to make weed edibles which is honestly iconic kvnfjvc even though he keeps this part of himself hidden

♡ he can be really sneaky & deceiving when he has to be, like, he’ll legit have 0 reason to lie but he’ll lie anyways? it’s like a defense mechanism lmfao

♡ very much conceited boy, honestly in love with his looks but it goes deeper than that. he feels like he has nothing to offer besides being hot so he dwells on looking good always, pretty sure he would rather die than wear sweatpants like vjkdfsvnfs literally always looks a1

♡ is actually? secretly blind af ndjvdfnv one of his many secrets tbh. has a vision of 20/50, nearly 20/60, but hasn’t worn glasses since he was seven, pretty much doing everything with contacts. he just thinks glasses look unattractive on him & honestly refuses to let anyone see him with them on. the only person who even knows he has vision as bad as he does is his cousin who is a npc sooo 🤡

♡ this is all that’s coming to mind rn but hmu for plots pretty pls jkfnvjnfv, this is his birthchart for some extra #tea

[in-scala-ad-caelum]

Organization XIII Goes to Target

I’ve been dying for some slice of life/domestic Organization crack and who doesn’t love Target? I have some more ideas I wanna add eventually but figured I’d post the first batch so I feel obligated to follow through! So without further ado...

Organization XIII Goes to Target ~ Part One

Target trips happen like twice a month for the Org. The employees absolutely HATE when they come in, but it always ends up being a very profitable day for the store

I’m talking entire shelves of product being cleared out here

Eleven whole ass adults and three children need a lot of groceries y’all

And of course everyone has some reason to go, whether they need something for themselves or just want something to do

They all wear their coats and the employees are preeetty sure they’re some weird group of BDSM LARPers

But again, the store makes big bucks off of them so they just put some alcohol in the break room and pray for their suffering to end as soon as possible

Xaldin stays out in the vehicle. He’s in a foul mood and knows how these trips end. He’s not sure why he came in the first place honestly, all he knows is he does not want to be involved

Everyone splits up pretty immediately. It’s not that they won’t get into trouble on their own (believe me, they will), but they would probably kill each other if they all stuck together in a big group

Axel and Roxas make a beeline for the electronics section

Zexion heads for the books. Lexaeus follows, but gets sidetracked in candles

Xemnas goes straight to guest service to make a return. He will spend the entire trip there.

Luxord sees a sign for some fancy tea drink they have on promotion at the Starbucks and doesn’t make it any further into the store

Vexen and Saïx are the only ones attempting to shop for the list of essentials. The former tackles groceries while the latter goes for domestics/housewares

Xion wants to be helpful so she reluctantly accompanies Vexen

Everyone else just kind of meanders around and entertains themselves

You know that jackass that takes a running start and zips around on the shopping cart? And inevitably crashes into a shelf knocking all kinds of shit over and doesn’t pick it up?

That jackass is Xigbar

Demyx opens up a soda or energy drink and walks around the store with it. It’s unclear whether or not he actually intends to pay for it

Something catches his attention and he accidentally leaves said drink on a shelf

Marluxia and Larxene end up in the beauty section. Larxene is just kinda there while Marluxia looks at the expensive hair care products. I’m talking the salon grade stuff

The women (and a few men) in the section are fawning over him. He’s absolutely preening. Larxene is rolling her eyes

In books, a teeny bopper is flirting with Zexion, giving him recommendations for a YA romance novel & talking about wanting to go see the movie adaption but having no one to go with. Zexion is oblivious

“No thank you, I prefer advanced lit”

Lexaeus is around the corner just *facepalm*

Meanwhile, Axel and Roxas are trying out whatever game is on demo and it turns into a very heated competition. Demyx shows up to watch

“Wow Axel you’re getting your ass kicked” “SHUT UP”

Axel loses and in a completely justified fit of rage, he breaks/fries the controller. The three slowly look at the game and then each other and bolt outta there

Xion is getting restless as Vexen takes like 10 minutes to go up every single aisle, debating the merits and nutrition info of the different brands (THERE’S ONLY THREE BRANDS OF CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP HERE VEXEN AND THEY’RE ALL HIGH IN SODIUM DOES IT REALLY MATTER)

She’s too polite to voice this opinion of course

He spends entirely too long in the freezer section and the temperature doesn’t make him uncomfortable in the slightest. Xion dips out to look for Axel & Roxas

Luxord is ordering his drink & the barista is smitten with his accent. He is aware of this and is laying on the charm extra thick

Back up at guest services, Xemnas has just finished giving his long winded explanation as to why he’s returning the item. Relieved that this exchange is nearing an end, the employee asks for a receipt. He doesn’t have one.

Xaldin checks his watch. It’s been half an hour. He leans the seat back and settles in for a nap.

[wildflowerirwin]

Love Me Back - a.i. (1)

Summary: Lacey Teller needed more, she found it in a sugar daddy

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Swearing, smut, men are shit

Words: 3k

The worst form of lust was that of an employee lusting for a life free of capitalist work. At least, it was to Lacey. She hated her job. She wanted nothing more than to be free of her current job. She despised her boss, hated her catty coworkers, and most of all, resented each customer that threw their coffees back at her. Lacey had been a barista at the local coffeeshop since she was a freshman in college, now a first year law student. “Lacey, I’d like to speak with you in my office.”

“Yes, sir.” Lacey sighed, following Ray into the office. He gently trailed his fingers down her back as he closed the office door, her shoulders tensing.

“We received another complaint today.” Ray said, sitting in the swivel chair.

“Sir, I can assure you that whatever they claim I said was taken very out of context.” Lacey defended, her heart racing.

“I’m not blaming you, Lacey.” Ray said, placing his hand on her lower back. “I know customers can be rather insensitive at times.” His thumb grazed the exposed skin of her back lightly.

“Sir, with all due respect, don’t touch me.” Lacey moved aside, Ray’s hand falling from her back to the bottom of her thigh.

“Lacey, you’re my longest employee. I’d hate to lose you over something like this?” Ray tutted, looking up at her from his chair.

“Lose me over what? Your inappropriate touches?” Lacey crossed her arms, anger rising through her veins.

“I wouldn’t call them inappropriate.” Ray shrugged, his fingers gripping into Lacey’s denim clad thighs. “They’re simply affectionate. You know, you’re my favorite employee. You always have been.”

“These touches are inappropriate. You know how I know that? Because I don’t want them.” Lacey said, struggling to keep her voice from faltering.

“Lacey, Lacey, Lacey..” Ray chuckled and stood up. “Just because you’re in law school, doesn’t mean you know everything. Now, either you accept my affections, or I’m going to have to fire you.”

“Oh, no need.” Lacey opened the office door. “I quit.” She pulled her apron off and threw it at Ray before storming out of the shop. As her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, she glanced at the bar across the street. The bright neon sign read ‘Babylon Bar & Grille.’ Below that was a wooden door, next to which was a window. In that window, a sign. The sign wasn’t just alerting the public to the need for workers, but it was a calling to Lacey. She tightened her jacket around her shoulders and faced the wind, making her way to the bar. She walked inside and up to the counter where a tall, soft faced man stood.

“What can I get for you?” His thick Australian accent stunning Lacey. He raised an eyebrow as she continued to look at him, but failed to speak. “Uh, Miss?”

“I.. Sorry. Uh, I saw the ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window. I’d like to fill out an application.” Lacey said, finally speaking. He nodded and placed an application down in front of her. She pulled a pen from her purse and filled out the application. She slid it back across the bar.

“Great. Lacey is it?” He looked down at her.

“That’s right.” She nodded.

“My name is Michael, I’m the opening shift manager. I’ll pass your application on to Ashton, the general manager, and we will see you Thursday for an interview.” He nodded, picking up her application.

“What time?” Lacey asked, putting her pen back in her purse.

“2:30. Don’t worry about wearing anything nice for the interview, you could come in sweatpants and still get the job. We’re desperate.” Mike said, shaking her hand.

“Cool.” Lacey giggled softly. “See you on Thursday.” She smiled softly at him and walked out of the bar. Michael walked into the back room and set the application down on Ashton’s desk.

“We’ve got a new waitress.” Mike said, lighting a cigarette. Ashton grabbed the application and gave it a quick glance over.

“Lacey Teller, aged 22, Harvard Law. Impressive. Nerdy.” Ashton shrugged. “Was she hot?” He looked up at Mike, a smirk falling on his face.

“Guess you’ll have to find out on Thursday. She’ll be in for an interview at 2:30.” Mike smirked, walking into the side alley.

*** On Thursday, Lacey walked into the bar at 2:15. She knew what time exactly to leave her apartment to be right on time, but she had to be early. If she wasn’t early, she was late. Even if she got there right at 2:30, she considered herself late. She walked up to the bar where Michael stood, typing away on his phone. Lacey cleared her throat and looked at Michael. “Lacey! You’re early.” Michael smiled and set his phone on the bar. “Let me go get Ashton.”

“I’m right on time.” Lacey muttered to herself and took a seat on a barstool. Michael walked into the back and knocked on the office door.

“Hey, your 2:30 is here.” Mike said and Ashton looked up from his work.

“Lacey Teller?” Ashton looked at him and Mike nodded. “Perfect. Here, this is the address for the delivery tonight. Be careful, cops have been patrolling the area pretty heavily since one of Aaron’s guys got caught.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be careful. Luke’s gonna be late today. Petunia’s got her vet appointment.” Mike said, walking back out to the front with Ashton.

“I told him to schedule her appointments in the morning.” Ashton sighed, and poured himself a glass of scotch. He looked at Lacey and licked his lips. “You must be Lacey.” He smiled softly at her.

“That’s me.” Lacey smiled and stood up, looking at Ashton. She almost lost her balance when she saw him. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. His dimples, his eyes, the chest hair peeking out of his button up. She couldn’t get enough.

“Awesome, follow me and we’ll get started with your interview.” Ashton nodded and led her to the back room. He walked into the office and took a seat at his desk, pulling up a chair for Lacey. “So, tell me a little about yourself while I get my shit together.” He said, pulling a binder down from the shelf.

“Uh, I’m 22. I was born in Kentucky, but I moved here when I was 18 for college. I have a bachelor’s degree in early childhood education with a minor in photography, but I’m back in law school now.” Lacey said, looking around the room.

“Interesting major/minor combination.” Ashton nodded. “Why education?”

“It was easy to get through.” Lacey shrugged. “I just needed a degree so I could go to law school.”

“Very interesting. So, why do you want to work in a boring restaurant that doesn’t get many customers?”

“Anything is better than my last job. I worked at the coffeeshop across the street for 5 years. I quit the same day I came in here.”

“Why’d you quit?” Ashton asked, looking at her.

“My boss was a pathetic excuse for a man. He threatened to fire me for not accepting his advances, so I quit.” Lacey shrugged and Ashton crossed his arms.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Luke is gonna be even later today.” Calum said, poking his head into the office. “He called and said Petunia is too sad to let him leave.”

“You tell Luke that if he’s not here by 3:30, I’m gonna make him go on deliveries instead of Mike.” Ashton groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll tell him to just bring Petunia here.” Calum said, walking away.

“Sorry about that. That was Calum, the assistant manager. Luke is our closing manager, who is far too attached to his baked potato.” Ashton sighed, looking back at Lacey.

“Oh, no problem at all.” Lacey said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Right, so, back to this shitty boss of yours.” Ashton said, looking at his notes. “Was he the only bad boss you’ve had?”

“No, but he was by far the worst. None of the others tried to touch me like he did.” Lacey sighed, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“I’m sorry, Lacey.” Ashton sighed. “Would you be comfortable working here? The management staff is all male, and we only have one female employee and you’d be taking her job.”

“I’m fine with male employees, especially when they’re as attractive as the ones I’ve seen here.” Lacey blurted, her eyes going wide. “I mean, as long as they’re respectful of women.”

“Alright,” Ashton chuckled quietly. “What are you hoping to be paid here?”

“Well, I am in law school currently, so I need to make enough to pay rent and save for tuition.” Lacey nodded.

“Well, I can offer you $12 an hour, plus tips.” Ashton said, looking at Lacey.

“That won’t be enough. I’d have to get a second job to afford rent every month.” Lacey shook her head.

“Let me finish.” Ashton said, raising a hand to quiet her. “I can also offer you $2000 a month in exchange for your services keeping me company.” Ashton leaned back in his chair and looked at her. Her jaw dropped slightly and she stared at him.

“You want me to be your sugar baby?” She gaped.

“If you’re comfortable with that. Otherwise, I can just pay you higher wages for your work here.” He shrugged.

“I..” Her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty. Her mind was running a million miles a minute, yet she couldn’t form a comprehensible thought.

“I can give you time to decide.” Ashton said, sitting up straighter.

“No, I’ll do it.” She looked at him, her words shocking both of them.

“You’ll do it?” Ashton asked, looking into her eyes.

“I’ll do it. But, just what will this entail?” She asked, leaning forward.

“I will give you as much money as you would like, in return you keep me company. You’ll accompany me on dates, to board functions, and if you’re comfortable with it, you’ll keep me company between the sheets.” He bite his lip as he watched the idea sink into her brain.

“Okay, it’s a deal.” Lacey smiled softly at him.

“Great. I’m gonna put you into the schedule and get payroll set up, I need you to go pack up your apartment. I’ll be there in the morning.” Ashton smirked, shaking her hand.

“Pack up my apartment?” She furrowed her eyebrows and looked at Ashton.

“That’s right.” He nodded. “You’ll be moving into a new penthouse much closer to campus and to the bar. I’ll pick you up in the morning and take you over there.” Lacey nodded and stood up.

“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning.” Lacey smiled softly and walked out of the office.

*** That following morning, Lacey awoke to Ashton knocking on her door. She rolled off her mattress on the floor and walked to the door, pulling it open. “When you said morning, I thought maybe you meant, like, 11am. Not 6:30,” Lacey yawned, rubbing her eyes.

“We’ve got a big day ahead of us.” Ashton said, walking into the apartment. He looked around, his features showing his disgust at the apartment. “It’s a good thing we’re getting you out of here.”

“Why’s that?” Lacey asked, closing the door.

“This place is a death trap. You’ve got exposed wires, windows that don’t lock. Anyone can walk into your building. I was expecting at least a code, but the door just opens.”

“It’s cheap.” Lacey shrugged.

“Well, you’ll be living so much better when we get you to the penthouse. Now, you go get dressed and I’ll start bringing these boxes to the truck.” Ashton said and picked up a box. Lacey nodded and walked back to her bedroom. It didn’t take long for them to get Lacey’s things up into the penthouse. The long part was the unpacking.

“Ashton?” Lacey asked, looking up at him.

“Yes, baby girl?” Ashton looked down at her, the new pet name causing her stomach to flip and a pool to grow in her thong.

“How can you afford this?” Lacey asked, her eyes not leaving his.

“I may not look like it, but I am a millionaire.” Ashton chuckled. “I just don’t use hardly any of my money. That’s why I offered you this arrangement.”

“I don’t need much either.” Lacey shrugged.

“Well, I do have something else for you.” Ashton smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“What is it?” Lacey asked, watching as Ashton walked out the door of the penthouse. She jogged to catch up with him, following him into the elevator. He pressed the button for the parking garage and the elevator slowly began moving. Lacey leaned against Ashton lightly, not wanting to put all of her weight on him. Ashton smiled to himself and wrapped his arm around her, slipping his hand into the back pocket of her jean shorts, squeezing gently. Lacey giggled softly and rubbed her hand over Ashton’s chest gently. The elevator doors opened and Ashton walked with her to the other side of the lot.

“Okay, close your eyes.” Ashton smiled. Lacey giggled quietly and covered her eyes. Ashton continued leading her, stopping her once they reached the other side. “Open them.” Lacey opened her eyes and looked out at the brand new car in front of her.

“You bought me a car?” Lacey looked up at him.

“You need some way to get around town, don’t you?” Ashton smiled down at her.

“Thank you, daddy!” Lacey squeaked, hugging Ashton tight.

“You’re welcome, baby girl.” Ashton grinned, pressing his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed back, her lips slipping against his. “There’s more.” Ashton hummed, sliding the keys into Lacey’s hands. She chewed on her lip as she unlocked the car, opening the back door.

“Oh, my God. Ash, you didn’t have to get all of this for me.” Lacey’s eyes widened as she looked at the shopping bags in the backseat. There were bags from places she could never have afforded before this. “This is amazing, thank you.” Her arms were around his neck again and her lips on his. Ashton hummed and pushed the bags into the trunk as he laid Lacey on the seats, settling between her legs. “I mean it, Ash. You didn’t have to get all of this for me.”

“I did.” Ashton said, cupping her cheek gently. “Things have been very lonely for me lately and having someone to spoil is going to help with that.” He smiled, pressing his lips to hers again. He slipped his hands under her shirt, pulling it over her head.

“In the car?” She looked up at him.

“Gotta christen it.” Ashton smirked, pulling his own shirt off.

“Our first time, though? In the car?”

“Do you not want to do it in the car?” Ashton asked, looking down at her.

“It’s fine, I just want to do it. I’ve been thinking about it since you asked me to be your sugar baby.” Lacey said, pulling Ashton down into a heated kiss. He smirked against her lips and unbuttoned her shorts, pulling them down along with her thong.

“Fuck..” Ashton bit his lip, the sight beneath him something he wished he could see for the rest of his life.

“Something wrong?” Lacey asked, a sudden wave of self consciousness overwhelming her.

“No. No, God, no.” Ashton shook his head. “My God, baby girl, you’re so fucking stunning.” Ashton brought his hands to her thighs, rubbing gently.

“Promise?” She whispered, looking up at him.

“Promise.” He pressed his lips to hers. She hummed against his lips as his fingers moved to her clit, rubbing slowly. Lacey gasped as his fingers rubbed between her folds. “Such pretty sounds.” Ashton’s lips attached to the skin of her neck as he pushed two fingers in, curling them upward.

“Oh, God..” Lacey moaned, her hips bucking against his hand.

“You like that, baby girl?” Ashton mumbled against her neck as he worked his fingers into her.

“Yes, daddy. Feels so fucking good.” Lacey moaned out, her head lulling back. “Please, daddy, I need your cock.” Lacey whimpered, digging her nails into his bicep. Ashton pulled his fingers from her and sucked them into his mouth, cleaning them of her juices. Lacey leaned forward and unbuttoned Ashton’s jeans, pushing them down. He pushed his boxers down and pumped himself slowly.

“Do I need a condom?” Ashton asked, rubbing the tip of his cock along her folds. Lacey moaned softly and shook her head.

“Mm-mm, I’m covered.” Her lips found his as he pushed in slowly, filling her completely. “God, yes.” Lacey moaned, her eyes falling closed as her head lulled back. Ashton groaned lowly and held her hips in his hands as his thrusts sped up.

“Your pussy was made for me.” Ashton grunted, pulling her hips up against his. Lacey wrapped her legs around his hips, pushing him deeper.

“Oh, fuck.” Lacey moaned louder, bringing her fingers to her clit.

“Mm-mm, baby girl.” Ashton groaned, pushing Lacey’s hand away and replacing it with his thumb. He rubbed his thumb against her clit in slow circles, matching the pace of his thumb to his thrusts.

“I’m so close, daddy.” Lacey whimpered softly, her walls clenching around his cock.

“Cum for daddy.” He mused, his hips pounding into hers. His name fell from her lips repeatedly as she came, her toes curling. “That’s it, baby.” Ashton moaned, filling her with his load.

“The car was a perfect spot for this.” Lacey hummed, pressing her lips to his.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Ashton grinned, his lips molding against hers.

Tag List: @lukescherrypie @calumculture @kinglycalum @babylon-corgis @novacanecalum @lfwallscouldtalk @dontdoitluke @isabella10028 @calumamongmen @dukesnumber1 @network5sos

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