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starshideurfics · 11 days ago

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Thirsty Thursday - Stevie’s Garage

steddie, omegaverse, 1960s, omegas entering the workforce, single parents, cw: vague references to suicide

Steve liked working with his hands. As a child that meant playing with lincoln logs and tinker toys, after he presented it meant baking a sewing. Then his no-good, two-timing alpha left him for his secretary, with two pups, Danny (6) and Jenny (7 1/2). Steve won full custody in the divorce, and at least his ex pays his alimony on time.

But it isn’t enough to live on, not with the mortgage and the kids. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to worry about the house falling apart; he’s been doing home repairs the entire time, learned to change his own oil in his car, can fix a flat tire with ease.

More and more omegas are driving now, and Steve figures they would appreciate service from someone who won’t talk down to them. He gets a loan from his aunt, a maiden omega who invested well, and opens his own automobile service station: Stevie’s Garage.

Robin helps him get set up: painting the sign, ordering supplies, answering phone calls, while Steve gets under the hoods and gets his hands dirty.

He does well enough that after the first month he puts an ad in the paper to hire a second mechanic. He figures it will take a while to find an alpha (or even a beta) who can stand working for an omega.

Much to his surprise, a man with dark curls and a shy smile comes by later that week asking if the job is still available. Steve has Eddie check the car on the lift, and he finds the loose fan belt in a couple minutes, changes it out.

Steve hires him on the spot.

It turns out Eddie’s got a pup, too. Carrie’s in Danny’s class at school, and all Eddie will say is that her mother isn’t around anymore. Steve doesn’t pry. It means the three pups ride the bus to the garage after school and play together there until the workday is done. Jenny’s bossy, a bit feral, and loyal to a fault. The first day Carrie gets off the bus with them, she asks why she isn’t going home to her mom, all childish bluntness.

“Mama died in the bathtub when I was really little, then I went to live with Daddy,” Carrie answers, just a statement of fact.

Steve’s glad he didn’t pry.

After that, Jenny is as protective of Carrie as she is of her brother.

Three months after he hired Eddie, Steve admits to himself that he likes the alpha. More than likes him. Eddie smells nice, and he’s gentle with the pups, never raises his voice in anger—only in excitement or fear—he tells jokes and stories to pass the time, sings along with the radio. But mostly, he looks at Steve like a starving man looks at bread when he thinks the omega isn’t looking.

Steve wants to feed him.

They both have engine grease under their fingernails, are covered in heavy-duty cotton, Steve’s hair is under a kerchief; there is nothing particular sexy about the moment. But Steve can’t wait any longer, and he presses up against Eddie, pins him in place and kisses his mouth.

“I’m dead, yeah? The lift fell and I was crushed by Mrs. Wheeler’s Bel Air, and I’m dead,” Eddie babbles when their lips part.

“Not dead,” Steve replies with a grin. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve leans in for another kiss, one that Eddie deepens, his tongue slipping easily between parted lips. “I’ll need to get Robin to babysit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Munson. You’re taking me out dancing.”

✨✨✨

Steve answers the door with his housecoat still on, crouching down to say hello to Carrie first, the pup throwing her arms around his neck. “Head into the living room, honey, the kids are doing a puzzle with Robbie,” he says, watching her scamper past him into the house. He turns to Eddie with a soft smile, “Just give me a couple minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie agrees, smile just as soft.

Steve disappears to his bedroom, and Eddie waits awkwardly in the doorway. He hears laughter from deeper in the house, followed by Robin saying, “Hey there, Care-Bear, come sit by me.”

He’s ruminating on how nice it is to have people who adore his kid as much as he does around, to give her that big family feeling, at least a little bit. Then Steve comes down the hallway wearing a proper dress, and Eddie quite literally stops breathing.

Dressed to the nines, Steve is a revelation, but he simply takes Eddie’s hand and says, “So, where are you taking me?”

“Enzo’s,” Eddie answers, no longer worried that it’s too much. Steve deserves the nicest restaurant in town for their first date. Steve deserves the best of everything.

Not that either of them has fancy tastes, not knowing what half the things on the menu are. Eddie gets spaghetti and meatballs, and Steve gets a chicken dish with some kind of red sauce. They talk and trade bites of food, both careful as they eat—Steve due to a lifetime of practice, Eddie because he realized as soon as the waiter took their order that he’d made a mistake and that leaving without marinara on his shirt would be a miracle.

After, he tells Steve to order dessert, and they split a tiramisu. Eddie pays the bill without really looking at it, having kept a tally in his head of the prices by habit, leaves a nice tip, and helps Steve up from his seat. “Ready for that dance?”

Steve smiles and nods, following Eddie to the dance floor. Enzo’s has a live band on the weekends; “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole starts just as Steve steps onto the parquet dance floor, his arms settling easily around Eddie’s neck. “I love this song,” he murmurs as they start to sway.

“Makes sense,” Eddie murmurs, “You’re certainly unforgettable, Steve.” They’re silent after that, moving to the music, bodies pressed close. A new song starts, and they keep swaying, dancing merely an excuse to hold each other in public, to trade small kisses.

“Robin’s planning to spend the night at my place,” Steve says once they are safely back in Eddie’s car.

“Oh?”

“We still have plenty of time…”

“Steve?”

“Take me back to your place, Eddie.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, driving on autopilot, as Steve rubs his hand up and down Eddie’s thigh.

Steve pounces on him as soon as they get through Eddie’s front door, kissing him hard and reaching for his belt. They shed clothes down the hallway, until they reach Eddie’s bedroom, leaving the lights off, everything illuminated well enough by the nearly full moon.

Eddie stops breathing again. Steve is a vision in only his slip, white satin and lace showing off so much more of his skin than Eddie’s ever seen. Carefully, he reaches out, suddenly nervous—a crass, unworthy man standing before the loveliest omega on earth—and pinches a bit of fabric at Steve’s waist, afraid to touch more.

“Hey,” Steve whispers, placing a hand over Eddie’s, “It’s okay. I’m still just me. Not gonna break, Ed.”

Everything after that is slow and sweet. Perfect.

Eddie cries tears of pleasure as he sinks into Steve’s wet heat. Steve mewls at being properly knotted for the first time in years. They fall asleep tangled together, the most relaxed either of them have felt, possibly ever.

Steve wakes early, before the sun is up. Eddie stirs beside him as soon as he moves, and Steve is happy to take a couple minutes to kiss.

There’s plenty of time to get home before the pups wake.

✨✨✨

Big thanks to @itcanbepalped for sharing the inspo with me and then riffing for a bit! Love you, Mads!!!

#steddie #omegaverse #fanfiction #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #stranger things fic #ficlet #thirsty thursday

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gguk-n · 4 months ago

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Hii i think your requests are open

Can I request a Logan Sargeant fic (cus he needs more like fr 😭)

An angst fluff where the reader is Alex's sister that just graduated with a engineering (related to cars for f1) and since the reader just graduated she's been following Alex for all the GPs and she sees how williams doesnt really focus much on Logan and she realised they didnt look at something crucial so she just took over one day and it made him get a points and they end up together?? Idk if that makes sense but i hope it does

Thank youu 🫶

I had this in my inbox for ages and didn't know how to write it; then I decide I'll write it, Williams kicks Logan out. So, now finally, I've recovered, here's the fic.

I made a few changes to the request if you don't mind🫣

Engineering Love

Alex Albon, driver for Williams Racing had a younger sister; everyone knew about. She was attached to Alex like his shadow. She was a golden retriever in human form. She would always make it to all of his races and was his biggest supporter except when she was away at college getting her bachelors and then masters in Automobile engineering.

In the fast paced world of Formula One, finding a job opening in a position you wanted and with the pay that you liked was a little difficult unless you had connections. Y/N had the connections, she was sure her brother would help her land a nice starting gig in Formula One but she was adamant on doing everything herself. She was fierce and strong and fought people when she was only 21 and Alex had lost his seat at Red Bull. So, Alex knew better than to mess with her.

Y/N was the same age as Alex's team mate, Logan Sargeant who had made his Formula One debut this season. Alex saw Logan as his younger brother the same way he would treat his sister. His sister had taken a liking to Logan and he could see that. He saw how annoyed she got when some one was rude to Logan or people talked badly about him after a crash or particularly bad race. She was currently Logan's defender more than Alex's. He didn't mind it since Logan was a nice guy and would probably bend over backwards for his sister.

After a particularly bad race and every one was bashing Logan, she had a fight with James Vowels on why he wouldn't defend his driver and why did he have to bare the brunt of Williams short comings. She wasn't willing to listen to anyone until she felt a hand on her shoulder, "Y/N, it's ok. Stuff happens" Logan said. "No" she replied and turned back to Vowels but before she could say anything, Logan sweeped her off her feet and carried her away. Y/N's heart was beating really fast while Logan carried her bridal style away from the chaos she had created. She looked at Logan and studied his features for the hundredth time since she had met him. There was a slight stubble on his face, his blond hair shined under the building's yellow light, blue eyes looked like a deep ocean she didn't mind drowning in. Logan looked down but she quickly looked away, "Can you put me down now?" she whispered. Logan put her on her feet. "Why'd you stop me?" she asked while fixing her clothes. "Can you stop it?" Logan said slightly annoyed. "What" she asked. "Stop interfering in my business. I'll handle it" he said sternly. "I just wanted to help plus they weren't being very nice" she said while biting her lower lip. "Y/N, this is my team. I'll deal with it. Stop trying to be some saviour" he said now running a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to help" she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "Well, you didn't do anything but make stuff more difficult for me" he snapped and walked away.

Y/N headed back to her hotel room, where she couldn't stop crying until she heard a knock on the door. "Y/N, I got us pho" Alex said in a sing-songy tone. "I don't want it" she hiccuped out a reply. "I'm not leaving until you open the door or I'm calling mum" he said sternly. She shuffled towards the door and let Alex in. He placed the food on the table and sat with his sister on the bed; "What's up?" he asked. She just shook her head as tears started to fall. "hey, hey" Alex cooed while wiping away her tears and giving her a hug. "The Y/N I know made others cry. It feels weird to see you cry" he stated patting her back. She hit Alex's back while he continued to hug her. "Logan got angry, I mean annoyed at me for taking his side and fighting James." she cried. "Don't take what he says to heart, he's just stressed." Alex reasoned. "I know but I've never felt this way about anyone and when he got annoyed with me, it hurt" she mumbled. "Does little old Y/N have a crush?" Alex teased. "Yeah" she said now pulling away to look at her brother. "I think I love him Alex and that's what's freaking me out" she finally admitted. Alex just smiled at her.

He had had a similar conversation with his team mate a few days back, albeit with a few less tears. "Your heart eyes are so obvious" Alex chuckled while he saw his teammate stare at his sister. "What? No" he stammered. "It's ok. I know my sister's sweetheart. But I still don't get what you see in that devil reincarnated." he said while a shudder ran down his spine. "No, no.....I....was I that obvious?" Logan asked. "Kind of, I think even Gunther knows that you like her at this point" Alex stated solemnly. "What?" Logan asked shocked. "Mate you need more words in your vocabulary if you want to woo that woman, she loves all these fictional men, who talk eloquently" Alex laughed. "Really" Logan asked. "Dear God, the both of you are hopeless" Alex said as he walked away.

It was during the United States GP, Y/N was watching Logan race; he was doing so well, 3 of the 20 drivers had retired, if he over took a few more drivers he would finish in points. Logan was starting to lose focus and got flustered; Y/N saw that. She took the microphone in her hand started talking to Logan just to keep him going. Even though he finished in P12 after the stewards disqualified Lewis and Charles; Logan was the first American in 30 years to finish in points. He was over the moon; he wanted to see Y/N, the only person he wanted to see right now.

After everything, Y/N was sat in the Williams hospitality. Logan almost ran towards her and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry for the other day and thank you for calming me down" he whispered into her ear. "It's ok, Congratulations Logan" she said. "No it's not ok, I should not be able to treat you so poorly, no one should" he stated. "You were annoyed, you didn't mean it" she reasoned. "I was annoyed that the woman I loved only saw me in all my downs and that I couldn't share my ups with her. Now that I've scored my first point in F1, I wanna keep going up and share all my ups with you." he rambled. Y/N's eyes were wide, "You like me?" she asked. "Uhh" Logan's mouth was open. "I like you too" she smiled widely. Logan breathed a sigh of relief. "Can I kiss you?" he asked. She nodded. Logan leaned in as his nose brushed against her cheek, he pressed his lips on her while she wrapped her arms around her neck; "I'm gonna make you a race winner one day" she mumbled in between the kiss. "Can't wait to win races with you as my engineer" he laughed now kissing her again

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nonclassyparty · 5 months ago

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sweet and right and merciful (c.s)

summary:

(A STARRING ROLE SPIN-OFF) Choi San deals with the mortifying ordeal of falling in love.

playlist (tba) // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

notes; i bet you thought you'd seen the last of both me and sr!san well you're wrong! tell me if you want to be added to the taglist

snippet;

As he didn't have a disgustingly large amount of generational wealth to back him up nor parents who dabbled in political meddling and occasional blackmail like some of his peers, San always knew that he would have to fight tooth and nail for his spot in the world.

This would seem fairly overdramatic if all he was seeking out of life was a stable job and paid bills, of course: he was, after all, the son of a middle school teacher and a man that had several jobs which he never did right because hey, they never had much so San should've been satisfied with anything.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one would look at it), Choi San was too ambitious for his own good. Having been born and raised in the small town of Namhae which was nothing more than an old supermarket some (nobody under the age of fifty) considered a shopping mall and a small beach - the moment he left for college, he swore that he'd never be back there again for nothing more but the holidays. And simply leaving Namhae wasn't enough, no, you see San's goal was money, more money than he would ever need. Bitterness could be considered a man's biggest motivator to get something done and spending his childhood and early adolescence watching his mother work day and night to make sure the bills are paid just for no money to be left spare sure did make San bitter. Call him shallow and materialistic but to San, money most definitely could buy some happiness.

And so, with that thought in mind (placed by no-one else but himself) since the tender age of twelve when he first visited Seoul for a football game and saw what exactly he's been missing out on living in Namhae, San poured everything he had into his studies until he landed a scholarship for Seoul National University in the field of Electrical Engineering. He had been strategic in his choice of career. Electrical engineering required just enough work and brains for it to be considered a lucrative degree and used just enough engineering principles to keep him interested in the job.

And San was excellent at his job. He was quick and efficient, precise and absolutely never wrong. Getting hired to work at one of South Korea's most renowned automobile manufacturing companies not long after he got his degree didn't come as a surprise to no-one. He was competent. The problem with competence and climbing the business ladder though was that it was rewarded with increasingly complex projects almost every month.

And so, our opening scene: A Thursday morning, sometime in January. Amidst the white cubicles on the third floor of Zenith Motor Company, Mr. Kim was doling out new projects to his top engineers with a vengeance.

"Jung, this ones for you," He smacks Jaehyun over the head with the folder before dropping it unceremoniously on his desk, "And try not to get doughnut smudges all over this one."

"Byun, you're continuing the testing from last month." Jaebum nods his head, eyes barely moving from the computer screen in front of him. Mr. Kim continues with an eye roll, "Lim, new model that needs surveillance."

He continues down the room throwing down casefiles as he goes until he stops by San's desk with a smile, "Choi, since you did so well on the Genesis project I'll let you choose."

"What are my options?" San asks, leaning back in his chair as two files are thrown onto his desk.

Mr. Kim looks down onto his clipboard. "Mr. Jinyoung needs help with the 3D design for-"

Mr. Jinyoung is one of San's bosses.

"-the new model that we're ready to turn in for production. You could send him an e-mail but I wouldn't, he's a bit...difficult to be around these days."

Mr. Jinyoung is also the husband of one Son Danbi, the thirty-four year old woman that San got...very familiar with for a groundbreaking six times at his apartment before he learned that Danbi is a bit too clingy and his job actually might be at stake if she keeps calling the office asking for San instead of her husband. Three times in a row.

She didn't handle San deciding it's best to stop seeing each other very well.

Getting fired for sleeping with his boss' wife and probably getting his nose broken (for the second time over a woman) when his boss' wife inevitably has a meltdown and exposes how San fucked her into his mattress six times once San refuses to meet up with her out of newfound respect for the man she's married to (read: he's scared that he'll get sacked) or literally anything else. The choice was quite obvious.

"I'll take the second option." San quips with ease as he flips over the folder.

"Research and development for a new model! I was hoping you'd pick that one and am not disappointed, you never back down from a challenge." Mr. Kim comments with a grin that San returns because he's been kissing his ass too long to stop now. "You're working with another engineer from the second floor."

San nods and, as Mr. Kim keeps going down to the next cubicle, his eyes sweep over the file and stop at the bottom of the page where one out of two people tasked has already signed their name. In neat handwriting;

Y/L Y/N

He bites back a groan, eyes falling shut and he can hear the Head of the office keep rattling off assignments somewhere in the background.

Nothing registers because suddenly, San remembers honey skin, judging eyes and a sharp tongue and wonders if getting his nose broken a second time right before getting fired by Mr. Jinyoung and losing his entire career would've been the wiser option.

#san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #choi san x reader

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autotopic · 4 months ago

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1938 Mercedes-Benz W154

In September 1936, the AIACR (Association Internationale des Automobile Clubs Reconnus), the governing body of motor racing, set the new Grand Prix regulations effective from 1938. Key stipulations included a maximum engine displacement of three liters for supercharged engines and 4.5 liters for naturally aspirated engines, with a minimum car weight ranging from 400 to 850 kilograms, depending on engine size.

By the end of the 1937 season, Mercedes-Benz engineers were already hard at work developing the new W154, exploring various ideas, including a naturally aspirated engine with a W24 configuration, a rear-mounted engine, direct fuel injection, and fully streamlined bodies. Ultimately, due to heat management considerations, they opted for an in-house developed 60-degree V12 engine designed by Albert Heess. This engine mirrored the displacement characteristics of the 1924 supercharged two-liter M 2 L 8 engine, with each of its 12 cylinders displacing 250 cc. Using glycol as a coolant allowed temperatures to reach up to 125°C. The engine featured four overhead camshafts operating 48 valves via forked rocker arms, with three cylinders combined under welded coolant jackets, and non-removable heads. It had a high-capacity lubrication system, circulating 100 liters of oil per minute, and initially utilized two single-stage superchargers, later replaced by a more efficient two-stage supercharger in 1939.

The first prototype engine ran on the test bench in January 1938, and by February 7, it had achieved a nearly trouble-free test run, producing 427 hp (314 kW) at 8,000 rpm. During the first half of the season, drivers such as Caracciola, Lang, von Brauchitsch, and Seaman had access to 430 hp (316 kW), which later increased to over 468 hp (344 kW). At the Reims circuit, Hermann Lang's W154 was equipped with the most powerful version, delivering 474 hp (349 kW) and reaching 283 km/h (176 mph) on the straights. Notably, the W154 was the first Mercedes-Benz racing car to feature a five-speed gearbox.

Max Wagner, tasked with designing the suspension, had an easier job than his counterparts working on the engine. He retained much of the advanced chassis architecture from the previous year's W125 but enhanced the torsional rigidity of the frame by 30 percent. The V12 engine was mounted low and at an angle, with the carburetor air intakes extending through the expanded radiator grille.

The driver sat to the right of the propeller shaft, and the W154's sleek body sat close to the ground, lower than the tops of its tires. This design gave the car a dynamic appearance and a low center of gravity. Both Manfred von Brauchitsch and Richard Seaman, whose technical insights were highly valued by Chief Engineer Rudolf Uhlenhaut, praised the car's excellent handling.

The W154 became the most successful Silver Arrow of its era. Rudolf Caracciola secured the 1938 European Championship title (as the World Championship did not yet exist), and the W154 won three of the four Grand Prix races that counted towards the championship.

To ensure proper weight distribution, a saddle tank was installed above the driver's legs. In 1939, the addition of a two-stage supercharger boosted the V12 engine, now named the M163, to 483 hp (355 kW) at 7,800 rpm. Despite the AIACR's efforts to curb the speed of Grand Prix cars, the new three-liter formula cars matched the lap times of the 1937 750-kg formula cars, demonstrating that their attempt was largely unsuccessful. Over the winter of 1938-39, the W154 saw several refinements, including a higher cowl line around the cockpit for improved driver safety and a small, streamlined instrument panel mounted to the saddle tank. As per Uhlenhaut’s philosophy, only essential information was displayed, centered around a large tachometer flanked by water and oil temperature gauges, ensuring the driver wasn't overwhelmed by unnecessary data.

#mercedes benz

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redcoralpot · 8 months ago

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Hey!

May I request a Sally x male reader?

The reader has some ugly scars over his body, mainly thanks to self harm(you can change this part if it makes you uncomfortable!) and when Sal found out, he opened up about HIS own scars.

Some fluff, a bit of comfort if ur okay with that! ;)

Before the Wave Hits - Sal Fisher x M! Reader

Summary: You didn’t want to go too overboard with clothes on your first date with Sal. Even through your curtains, you could see the sun beating down on anything below it, birds singing from their nests. The plan was to go to the dollar store, get some snacks to bring back to your place, watch a half-butchered slasher film, and maybe kiss. To give yourself some credit, this day was nothing short of perfect, so why didn’t you feel perfect?

Warnings: Mentions of scars due to s/h and other accidents.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: This is just a warm up before I get back on Smudged! I did tweak it a bit to make the reader a burn survivor, but I did mention s/h in it as well. Tread with caution!

A hiss escapes your mouth as you apply gel to your shoulder, feeling the raised tissue ripple unevenly against your fingertips. You close the cap with a click and wind an elastic bandage around your torso, covering your collarbone, before taping it firmly on your bicep. Pink flesh peeked from underneath the fabric and your eyebrows pinched, turning away from the mirror to put a shirt on.

You didn’t want to go too overboard with clothes on your first date with Sal. Even through your curtains, you could see the sun beating down on anything below it, birds singing from their nests. The plan was to go to the dollar store, get some snacks to bring back to your place, watch a half-butchered slasher film, and maybe kiss. To give yourself some credit, this day was nothing short of perfect, so why didn’t you feel perfect? You sighed, tugging jeans past your boxers. The gel and remaining bandages were carelessly thrown into your bedside drawers as you sprayed cologne on your neck. Not too much; you had known Sal long enough to know he had some breathing sensitivities. The memory of when Neil had tried a new perfume in order to impress Todd in their shared apartment brought shivers down your spine.

Keys jingled in your hand as you locked the door behind you. Your neighbor waved as you passed by, water spraying everywhere as they dipped a sponge in a bucket of water. Somehow, their back was still in great shape despite driving a Dodge Caravan, and you respected that. You returned their gesture, unlocking your similarly uncomfortable car. Your father had absolutely zero taste when it came to buying automobiles and you’d rather take anything else on a date, but you were broke. A little less broke than before, thanks to your summer job, but if someone were to shake you upside down, only a few pennies would fall out. The engine hummed as you took the wheel, chip crumbs biting your ass.

Pulling into the parking lot of the shopping plaza practically made your heart beat out of your chest; Sal was sitting on a bench by the store’s main entrance, bangs covering most of his face. A portion of his hair was tugged back into a ponytail while the rest flowed down his shoulders, and fuck, he was handsome. College had changed both of you for better or for worse, but with junior year out of the way, you had some time to be curious. The slam of your car door broke his focus, the silhouette of his snake blinking, and Sal looked up at you. Sometimes, it was hard to discern his expressions through his mask, but you could guess he was quite unimpressed.

“Hey,” you grinned.

“Hi,” Sal said, raspy and muffled.

Gum was stuck on the ground beside his foot, so you offered him a hand, “Ready to go?”

“Sure. Though, you owe me something extra for ruining my high score.”

When Sal grasped your hand in his, you shook it, leading him inside the store. Newspapers were stacked by the counter, each detailing the latest trends and gossip with bright yellow font splattered all over. A grainy photo of the winter olympics, held in Japan this year, caught your eye. You held it up, “I remember when my parents dragged me to every ice skating rink they could find. Which, around here, there was only one.”

“You like ice skating?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, placing it back, “I kinda went for the food trucks.”

Sal ran his fingers over a cheap, small, plastic guitar on one of the shelves, “That’s pretty relatable. I was never into sports when I was a kid.”

You bumped your shoulder into his, wincing, “That’s ‘cause you were cool. Are cool. So, tell me, what kind of snacks do cool kids like?”

“Real smooth, man. I like applesauce and fries, but nothing chewy or coffee flavored,” he stated.

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t eat dill pickle taffy?”

He watched as you shook a suspiciously bright green bag, “Ew– what?”

“Maybe not as cool as I thought.” Your tone was playful while placing the bag back on the shelf, eyes immediately drawn farther down. Glass clinked against metal as you reached for an applesauce jar, hidden in the depths of the store, hopefully not expired. You passed it over to Sal. Your other hand grabbed a generic snack, hell, you didn’t even know what it was. You were too busy looking at Sal. He tilted his head when he caught you staring, rolling his flannel sleeves up to his elbows.

The cashier had his nose stuck in a newspaper as the two of you approached, and when you interrupted his reading, he glared at you as if you had thrown his children out a window. He certainly looked old enough. Regardless, his eyes lingered a bit longer on Sal’s prosthetic and the cashier carefully took the money from your fingers. Three dollars; one-fifty each. Kind of hypocritical of the dollar store, you chuckled. You almost said as much to Sal before the cashier interrupted you, “It’s a little early for Halloween, don’t you think?”

His breath smelled like weed and the bones in your neck popped as you turned to look at him, “What?”

“It’s a prosthetic,” Sal corrected, calm, much to your astoundment.

“Oh,” the cashier said, “close enough.”

Sal tucked the snacks underneath his arm and went on his way. You glanced at the cashier, already back in his reading, and then ran after your date. His one eye looked at you, while the other stared straight ahead. You unlocked your car door and Sal placed both snacks on a towel, then slid into the shotgun seat, fingers already toying with the radio knob. He switched through plenty of channels before settling on one that satisfied him; grunge with occasional death metal. You thought back to his electric guitar, always perched by his bed at his shared apartment. Sal was a funky guy. His fingers were moving once again, never still, wiggling as he hummed. You grinned, adding your own voice to join him. At some point, your voice cracked in a way that it hadn’t since you first started puberty, and Sal laughed. Laughed, with his full chest and his head cocked back to bounce against the headrest, eyes squeezed tightly shut. It wasn’t rare, per say, but definitely more scarce than in high school.

After a few seconds, Sal allowed himself to breathe again, taking firm inhales through his mouth. The image of the cashier was far in the back of your mind. Now, there were more serious matters to discuss.

“So, what movie do you wanna watch? I have Scream, IT, even Clueless and Interview With a Vampire if you’re into that kind of stuff.”

He paused, “Those are pretty random. Scream’s a hit but IT’s a total classic, so I can’t choose. Why do you have those last two?”

“Meh, I got them while fishing through the thrift movie pile. I thought Larry would appreciate, uh, vamp-ified Brad Pitt.” You pulled your keys back into your pocket, rushing to open the door for Sal.

“Jeez, now I gotta watch it,” Sal rolled his eyes, trailing behind you, watching in interest as he stepped into your home.

You raised your eyebrows, “You like Brad Pitt?”

“No, of course not! I like to get informed before I trash on something so I can trash on it expertly.”

You waved your hand in his direction, and then gestured towards the kitchen, “My mistake. Say, go get yourself a bowl of applesauce in the kitchen and I’ll get the movie set up, yeah? Vampire Brad Pitt it is!”

Sal’s footsteps grew fainter, slapping against tile as he entered the kitchen. You heard a thump and soft cursing, then cabinets opening. You shook your head, turning your attention to the tapes stored underneath the television, squinting at the messily written labels on faded cases. The Outsiders, E.T– you actually forgot you had that one– and many more from across the last two decades. Interview With a Vampire was in the very back, rarely touched, since your parents thought Lestat and Louis were a little too close throughout it. You snickered at the memory and slipped it out of its casing. When the television roared to life, it displayed a menu detailing a range of options, such as credits, extras, and playing the actual movie. With two clicks of the remote and an uncomfortable twist of your arm, the latter was chosen.

The carpet was soft under your feet as you waited, staring at a frozen, black screen. You shifted your arm back and forth, unable to find a comfortable position for it. Sal swerved the corner with a bowl, seeming to lean extra far to avoid the wall, and returned to your side. He placed it on the table, sinking into the floral fabric of your couch. Tension leaked from his body, practically making a puddle at his feet, before he reached his hands towards his prosthetic. You looked away, the feeling of intruding on something so private gnawing at your stomach, especially on the first date. Sal only loosened the bottom straps, slipping the spoon in the space he created. You released a breath that you didn’t even know you had been holding.

Finally, the movie played, and the fun started. Sal made comments throughout, but stayed almost eerily silent during what he deemed was important. Those times, you could only hear tragic music and the sound of his breathing. You tried to relax with him, you truly did, but the hot air had dried you out in more ways than one. Your bandages became itchy and dragged against your scars with every movement; you had to subtly try to adjust them every time the issue came back with roaring vengeance. You needed to change them, but the bathroom excuse wouldn’t suffice– Sal knew where the bathroom was, and it wasn’t your bedroom. Sal was anything if not observant. You could feel his eyes, or eye, trailing your every move when you attempted to be sneaky.

“You okay?” Sal asked, plainly.

You laughed, but it was humorless, your hand holding the collar of your shirt away from your body, “Sure, yeah, I’m just kind of uncomfortable, you know?”

“Obviously not with the movie,” he said, putting down his bowl, “but even that would be pretty understandable.”

“An old injury’s just acting up.”

He clipped his straps back on fully, “Scarring? Yeah, it can get sensitive sometimes.”

Does Sal know how on the dot he gets shit sometimes? You felt your cheeks, shoulder, and even self-made scars that you had all but forgotten about burning in the embarrassing spotlight placed on you. Too similar to the vampires you had witnessed on television. However, there was no judgment in his eyes; no malice nor pity. Sal just simply pressed the ‘pause’ button on the remote and spoke, “Do you have any ointment? I can help reapply if you need it.”

You really wanted to kiss him later.

@hexthemushroom @skitzomutt

#x male reader #male reader #lgbtq #gay #sally face #male y/n #sal fisher #todd morrison #ash sally face #fanfiction #queer pride #pride month

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thegeorgetelegraph · 11 months ago

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The Basics of a Car Design Training

Automobile engineering colleges dedicate a lot of time teaching students about the importance of the same. Automobile engineering jobs focused on research and development would entail these factors for sure.

#Automobile engineering #Diploma in automobile engineering #Automobile engineering jobs #Automobile engineering colleges #automobile engineering course #Best automobile engineering college #automobile training institute #learn automobile course #learn automobile engineering #automobile course #automobile repairing course #automobile mechanic training #automotive engineering courses

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thequeenofthedisneyverse · 10 months ago

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Technology from 1870-1899 (For Encanto fic writers)

So, A mutual of mine @miracles-and-butterfliess pointed out that everyone (including me) tends to forget that Encanto was literally made when the triplets were born. Which is literally 1900 or 1901. Regardless, it was the very beginning of the 19th century so let me tell you about the technology/things they would/wouldn’t have. (And please keep in mind that most of these may or may not have been imported into Colombia yet.)

1870 - 1879

1872—A.M. Ward creates the first mail-order catalog. NO

1873—Joseph Glidden invented barbed wire. NO

1876—Alexander Graham Bell patents the telephone. NO

1876—Nicolaus August Otto invents the first practical four-stroke internal combustion engine. NO

1876—Melville Bissell patents the carpet sweeper. NO?

1878—Thomas Edison invents the cylinder phonograph (known then as the tin foil phonograph). MAYBE

1878—Eadweard Muybridge invents moving pictures. NO?

1878—Sir Joseph Wilson Swan invents the prototype for a practical electric lightbulb. YES?

1879—Thomas Edison invented the first commercially viable incandescent electric light bulb. NO?

1880 - 1889

1880—The British Perforated Paper Company debuts toilet paper. YES

1880—English inventor John Milne creates the modern seismograph. NO

1881—David Houston patents camera film in roll format. NO?

1884—Lewis Edson Waterman invents the first practical fountain pen. YES

1884—L. A. Thompson built and opened the first roller coaster in the United States at a site on Coney Island, New York. NO

1884—James Ritty invents a functional mechanical cash register. YES?

1884—Charles Parson patents the steam turbine. NO

1885—Karl Benz invented the first practical automobile powered by an internal-combustion engine. NO (even before Encanto, Alma’s town looked rural so I doubt the automobile reached them yet.)

1885—Gottlieb Daimler invented the first gas-engine motorcycle. NO

1886—John Pemberton introduces Coca-Cola. NO

1886—Gottlieb Daimler designs and builds the world's first four-wheeled automobile. NO

1887—Heinrich Hertz invents radar. NO

1887—Emile Berliner invented the gramophone. YES

1887—F.E. Muller and Adolph Fick invented the first wearable contact lenses. NO

1888—Nikola Tesla invents the alternating current motor and transformer. NO

1890 - 1899

1891—Jesse W. Reno invents the escalator. NO

1892—Rudolf Diesel invents the diesel-fueled internal combustion engine, which he patents six years later. NO

1892—Sir James Dewar invents the Dewar vacuum flask. NO

1893—W.L. Judson invents the zipper. NO (zippers didn’t become popular globally until a little bit later; buttons, ribbons/laces and whatever else were still the norm/in fashion for fastening and tying (which is still the case in some places today)

1895—Brothers Auguste and Louis Lumière invent a portable motion-picture camera that doubles as a film-processing unit and projector. The invention is called the Cinematographe and using it, the Lumières project the motion picture for an audience. NO?

1899—J.S. Thurman patents the motor-driven vacuum cleaner. NO (if you're running from being killed, the last thing you're going to bring is a vacuum cleaner)

I remember a post listing the sort of jobs there would be in Encanto but I forgot so I’ll just list the ones I know (let me know if I need to add anything.):

Seamstress/tailor

Embellisher

Field worker

Teacher (of any kind; music, dance, art, etc)

Woodworker - wood carver

Toy maker

Construction worker

Joining a Local band/ Orchestra - being apart of a choir

Carpenter

Metal worker

Jeweler (though I’m not sure if Jewelery of the diamond/gem kind is common in Encanto)

bladesmith/ knifemaker

Inventor? (Inventors should exist in Encanto by now…just one other genius besides Mirabel?)

I know some of these are very obvious but I’m just giving people options okay?

@miracles-and-butterflies you seem to know a lot more about this kind of stuff so if you have anything to add/take away or me to fix please let me know. I tried to search up “When was X invention imported into Colombia” and literally nothing of use comes up.

#camilo madrigal #bruno madrigal #mirabel madrigal #dolores madrigal #antonio madrigal #isabela madrigal #pepa madrigal #encanto 2021 #encanto au #encanto fanfic

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kitixie · 1 year ago

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Little Girl Gone (pt 2)

Little Girl Gone / T.S. (part 2)

part three here

Synopsis: You agree to meet up with Tommy for dinner, but when it doesnt go to plan you find yourself in a dangerous situation.

warnings: violence (not extreme, very canon typical), tommy is not nice but i promise it'll make sense later, cursing

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @budugu , please let me know if youd like to be tagged!

information: Thank you all so much for reading, it warms my heart to know someone enjoys my writing! please leave a comment if you have a critique or anything else to say!

Around 4:30 the following evening, you began to get ready for your dinner with Thomas.

As you brushed and styled your hair, you thought of his strange mannerisms from the night before. He had seemed off towards the end of the conversation, and that was something that never happened, as nothing ever threw Thomas off. Just as the final touches of your hair and makeup came together, you realized the time. You had been so lost in your thoughts and in your indulgent hair care and makeup routine, that you had spent an hour primping and priming. Now only thirty minutes away from Tommy’s arrival, you needed to pick out a dress.

To a man, picking out a dress for dinner may seem like a small task in the grand scheme of his day, but all women know this to be false. First, you pick a dress. Then, you have to pick coordinating stockings, an overcoat, sometimes an undercoat, a bag, gloves, and depending on time of day, a hat. So what most men would deem as a quick process, isn’t a quick process at all. You did happen to be in luck though, as your favorite dress was one of the only items of clothing you’d hung up in your small closet after you moved in. You had your stockings from the night before, and they were a perfect match for your skin tone so that was also an easy choice. You decided to forgo a handbag, as you’d just be going to the Shelby’s, so you wouldn’t need any money. For shoes, you settled on a pair of well-broken-in kitten heels. This outfit was out of your recent rotation, given the odd jobs and such you had been working after your fathers death and mothers disownment, but Tommy always dressed to impress, so you thought you should too. Following that train of thought, you added a pair of your mothers white satin gloves, and awaited his arrival at your place.

6:00 pm

A loud knock sounded through your apartment, and you quickly jumped to open the door. There, in all his glory, stood Thomas Shelby. Looking good as ever in his black suit with a pressed white dress shirt, this time his hat folded in his hands.

“Y/N, you look lovely this evening.”, he remarked, eyes scanning you from head to toe.

“Thank you Tommy, you look handsome, as always,” you blushed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Tommy smiled, offering his hand to help you out of the door and down the stairs of your apartment. You accepted his hand, loosely holding it in yours, before dropping it to turn around and lock the door of your home.

Once the two of you had made it to Tommy’s car, he opened your door.

“Always the gentleman, aye Tommy?”, you laughed, giving him a soft smile as you stepped into the car and sank down into the passenger seat.

“For you, yes, always.” He nodded, reciprocating your smile, and gently closing the door.

He rounded the car, getting in on his own side and starting the engine up. It gave a sputter, then turned over, allowing him to put it in gear.

“I could take a look at sometime that if you’d like Tommy.” You spoke softly, wanting to offer your help.

“How do you know anything about automobiles? Did you work as a mechanic in your time away, Love?” He joked, a small laugh followed by a toothy smile coming from his mouth.

“Yes, actually. I did.” You said sternly, not appreciating the mans sarcasm.

“And what else did you do in your time away? I suppose you also learned to train horses, or fire a gun?” He joked again, clearly not understanding your short tone of voice.

“One of those I did, the other I am still clueless about. Feel free to guess which.” You stated, now having grown angry at his teasing.

Tommy feigned a sigh, followed by his imitation of a horses neigh. The two of you remained silent for the remainder of the ride to Watery Lane, only for the conversation to be interrupted by Tommy as the two of you pulled up to park in front of the house.

“Just so you know, Arthur and Pol are here as well. They wanted to hear all your stories about your time away as soon as I told them I was bringing you over.” He spoke, his gaze remaining on your face.

“Okay, Tommy.” You spat, still quite upset about the conversation at the beginning of the ride.

Before he could ask any questions, you pulled open the door to the car, getting out. He tried to catch up to you, but you made it to the front door of the Shelby home before he did, and let yourself in the house. Old habits die hard, as they say.

Once inside the home, you surveyed your surroundings. Not much of the decor had changed, a few updated photos here and there, but mostly everything was still in its rightful place. You made your way through the house at a leisurely pace, admiring all the once familiar details that now seemed new. You made your way to the dining room, while Tommy still trailed behind you, watching your every move.

“Oh dear, it is so lovely to see you again! It’s been so long, how are you?” Pol said, quickly rising from her chair to give you a warm, yet firm hug.

“I’ve been good Pol, thank you. How have you been?” You returned, not only as a formality but because you were genuinely interested in her life.

As Pol rattled off her answer, talking about ‘business this’ and ‘this family that’, you noticed Tommy move behind you. He came around to your left side, pulling a chair out. You remained standing, not wanting to sit if that was where he had wanted to sit, but the soft hand on the small of your back encouraged you to take the seat. You briefly nodded up at him and gave a soft smile, then continuing to listen to Pol.

After Pol had placed food for everyone on the table, you all began eating. Someone had made a delicious meal, one of your favorites. You first assumed it was Pol, but when you complemented her, she quickly told you ‘Oh dear, I didn’t make this’ and cast a look at Tommy from across the table. You didn’t put any effort into figuring out what that glance meant, rather you just enjoyed the food and answered their occasional question. The questions weren’t anything to outrageous, until one came tumbling out of Arthur’s mouth.

“So, Y/N, what made you come back to the grand ol’ town of Small Heath?” He said, smiling at his question.

“I, uh,” you swallowed. You had truly hoped no one would ask, but you should’ve expected it. You cursed yourself for not preparing an answer ahead of time.

Your mouth ran dry for a moment as you tried to formulate what to say that would keep you out of the most shit. You didn’t want to blurt out the truth, but they most likely already knew it anyways, they were the Shelby’s after all.

“My mother and I had a disagreement about my…life plan.” You spoke, satisfied with your answer.

“What life plan, dear? What does that mean?” Pol added to the questioning.

“Probably the same life plan that included her learning about cars and horses,” Tommy said under his breath, but not nearly quiet enough, as the entire table heard him.

“Now Thomas, you know women can do what they choose.” Pol reprimanded, giving Tom a stern stare.

“Yes, women can.” He spoke, “but not Y/N.”

“And why not Thomas? Am I not a woman?” You said, letting your fork clank against your plate. He had your full attention now, and not in a good way.

“You are, you’re just…different.” He spoke, his gaze now on you instead of Pol.

You scoffed, and shook your head at him. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You didn’t recognize the Tommy in front of you, your Tommy, the one from 5 years ago, would have been uncaring about your interests, and glad to have someone be so knowledgeable about certain topics. You just stared at him for a moment, waiting on him to say something, anything, that would explain his previous remarks. But nothing ever came, and when you realized nothing ever would, you stood from the table, thanked Pol and Arthur for the dinner, and headed for the door.

Once outside the Shelby house, now all alone, you began walking. You were initially going to go home, but the dwindling liquor supply in your own cabinets encouraged you to find The Garrison. You walked down the streets, that still held a handful of people, mulling your thoughts. Tommy acted like a real jackass, especially given that he was the one who invited you over. By the time your anger had mostly settled, you reached the doors of The Garrison.

9:00 pm

You’d been sat at the bar of The Garrison for around an hour, and were plenty of drinks deep. You now held no anger towards Tommy; hell, you could barely picture his face in your mind. You hadn’t intended on getting drunk tonight, but the lovely barmaid by the name of Grace had been giving you all your drinks ‘on the house’, and who were you to turn down free alcohol? Especially given how you’d left your purse at home because you were ‘just going to the Shelby’s’.

A loud grunt came from behind you, followed by a man sitting down on the stool next to yours. You gave him a quick glance and nod, not recognizing his face.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing at the bar all alone, aye?”, he questioned, breathing his hot, putrid breath into your face.

“One, I’m not alone. Two, none of your business, aye?” You said, hoping to be forceful enough that he got the hint and left you alone.

Unfortunately, he did not. The next thing you knew, he had his fat arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his barstool.

“Now listen here, little lady,” he breathed, “You can come to the back alley with me on your own will, or I can make you.” He threatened, brandishing a bowie knife from his waist.

You sat for a moment, considering your options. You knew you definitely were not going into that alley, even if you had to die bloody for it. You quickly came up with a plan in your head, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you acted.

“Fat chance, ya bastard. Now let me go,” you said loudly, hoping to draw some attention.

The man laughed at you, and moved his hand up to grab your shoulder, encasing your frame in his large arm. There was no denying he had size on you, but you had speed. And speed always won. You quickly ducked under his arm, knocking your barstool over behind you. You grabbed his wrist as you slipped out of his hold, bringing his hand to the middle of his back.

“What do ya say now, you piece of shit,” you laughed in his ear.

Faster than you expected, he ripped his wrist from your hands, and turned to face you. You heard a loud pop, then the feeling of pain registered on your face. The fucker had just backhanded you infront of the entire Garrison. You gave a small chuckle, which spiraled into a full out laugh, leaving the man utterly confused. You turned your eyes up towards him, feigning doe eyes at the man, before you placed both hands on his shoulders. You moved in closer to his body, and before he could realize, you hooked your right leg behind his knee, and shoved his shoulders as hard as you could manage and still stay upright.

The large man tumbled to the ground, hitting his head on your now discarded barstool. While you had the chance, you snatched the knife from his hands and knelt down on top of his large body. You pressed the edge of his blade against his own neck, feeling a sense of pride swell through you. You had just taken down this very large, muscular man in front of an entire pub. But before you could get any witty remarks out to your fallen opponent, you heard one thing.

“Y/N, what have you done?”

Fuck. Tommy had found you, and no less, found you on top of man, with a knife against his throat, in his brothers pub.

“Y/N, get off of him. Now.” Tommy spoke, his voice sounding closer now. You turned your head to look at him, finally taking your eyes off of the assailant for just a moment.

Tommy was standing right behind you, with a look similar to what you could assume the wrath of God would look like. He stood poised, with his hands behind his back, peaky hat on top of his head, hiding his eyes. You turned back to look at the fallen man underneath you, seeing his own look of fear on his face. Then you noticed drops of blood splatting onto the man's face. He wasn’t bleeding, you hadn’t cut him, this much you knew. You tossed the knife to the side, far enough away where neither of you could reach it, and felt for your own face. A warm spot of blood came back on your hand; He had cut the corner of your eye open when he backhanded you. You felt angry at first, then ashamed. This man had cut you, and you kept fighting him like a crazed person. Hot tears bubbled at the corners of your eyes, before you climbed off of the man.

Tommy grabbed you, helping you to stand on your feet. You were still trying to hold back the tears in your eyes while he gently held your chin, looking over your wound.

“Love, go to the office. Wait for me, I’ll be there soon.” He spoke, softly.

You mustered a nod, and scuffled your way to the back office, to wait for him.

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #tommy shelby

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iimtgroup1234 · 5 months ago

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Job Roles and Salaries After a Diploma in Automobile Engineering

IIMT fosters a vibrant campus culture that is full of extracurricular activities, cultural events, technical competitions, and sports competitions, in addition to academic pursuits. Students have many options to explore their interests, display their talents, and create lifetime friendships, such as robotics teams and coding groups.

#Job Roles and Salaries After a Diploma in Automobile Engineering

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bullet-bumbles · 27 days ago

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Summary:

While making a hit at an underground auction, Tangerine finds himself in a harsh situation involving a young woman involved in a generational trafficking ring.

Notes:

For reference: Tangerine is 28 in this, Lemon is 27. I hope you enjoy, please let me know your thoughts in the comments below. Yes, even the negative ones. I appreciate constructive criticism.

Warnings:

Human trafficking is vaguely glamorized, cussing

Tangerine fucking hated this kind of job. Possibly more than Lemon did.

And that was saying a lot. Lemon had always held a stronger moral compass, even as children. Well guided by Thomas and his tank engine friends.

Tangerine sat amidst dozens of the richest and wealthiest names on the globe.

Right fucking snobs, all of ‘em.

He and his brother were here to kill one of the old geezers. Lemon had coined this, “The Easy Part.” Between the huge chunk of money they had been offered and the bustling environment, a quick slip of death into someone’s drink should be simple. Key word: should.

The hard part was getting through the auction.

These auctions often had the chance of getting extremely out of hand, extremely fast. Drama circled like sharks. So far it had been normal enough, nothing but overpriced, unnecessary furniture that some rancid historical figure used to own, and the occasional automobile.

Until they reached the final item.

A soft-faced woman stepped on stage, adorned in a simple black a-line dress and minimal jewelry. Most likely identical to the one her sisters wore, or will wear, if she had any, when their time comes. Once she reached the middle, she stood straight, hands held behind her back, no expression residing on her face.

The room went quiet, completely focused for the first time that evening.

Tangerine sat up in his seat, uncomfortable with the obvious change in mood. “Head down. Ignore it.” His mind voiced.

The auctioneer boomed the girl's full name followed by her age.

“Bloody, fucking, disgusting, wankers.” Lemon suddenly rang within his ear. Each word punctuated with a blow to some poor bloke's face. Tangerine could hear Lemon likely maneuvering the unconscious bodies into an empty room.

Tangerine tried to keep from flinching due to the sudden noise scraping past his eardrum.

“I say we kill ‘em all.” He continued. Tangerine figured his brother wasn’t joking, but they couldn’t afford to let this mission go tits up. No way they’d make it out alive.

“And the ancients over here won’t stop talking, way too interested in their drinks.” Lemon muttered entering the open bar area, surrounded by several attentive bartenders.

“I need a distraction.” He decided.

“Were they not just staring at the stage?” Tangerine asked coldly.

“Just got over here, mate. Was a bit preoccupied.” He responded.

The bidding started promptly, and the woman remained standing tall. Numbers called quite quickly, picking up speed while nearing the fifty thousand mark.

Girls would often go for hundreds of thousands of dollars. Millions at times.

“I need a distraction, Tangerine.” Lemon eventually broke through again. Tangerine searched for a possible one, the earpiece ringing through his ear once more.

“Now.” His brother reiterated forcefully. Their window to get this done was closing, the auction nearing an end.

The words, “Eighty thousand,” reverberated off the walls, some sleazy looking bloke upped his bid.

“Now.” Lemon stated even harsher.

Fuck this job.

“One hundred grand.” Tangerine announced to the room, standing.

So much for keeping a low profile.

The air went stale. Every single pair of eyes scathed over and landed upon him, picking him apart as he sat back down, all wondering what made Tangerine think he was so grand in comparison to the other bidders.

The same bidders attempting to buy this poor woman like a cut of meat.

And now he was one of them.

He prayed none of these fuckers had a good facial memory. Always the paranoid one. Being recognized here was practically a death sentence, if anyone had, they were keeping their mouths shut for now.

The heads slowly returned back to the stage, or wherever they were present before him. The worst part of this whole ordeal was that it wasn’t uncommon to find women like the one on stage in these underground auctions. “Purity offers,” they’d call them.

Some of the families opted into them due to commonalities, most because of dwindling wealth. The daughters often given little to no say in the fact, raised to believe that this was normal and simply something you did once of age.

Going once, Tangerine's jaw clenched, rigid with nerves.

Going twice,

“One hundred fifty.” Same gross bloke from the bid prior.

Tangerine exhaled, having no intention of remaining the highest bid, so long as a distraction was made, his job was done.

There was a bit of static before he could make out a brief, “Bigger,” from his brother.

Tangerine’s teeth ground down on themselves, lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re dead to me.” He voiced promptly.

“Two hundred.” He announced, followed by a quick raise of his hand, ringed fingers catching the soft light in glints.

More eyes found him at the sound of his counter bid.

“Three hundred thousand.” The other man across the room spit out with an ugly smirk, eyes raging against Tangerine.

Lemon wanted a distraction? Fine, he’ll get a fucking distraction.

In all honesty, Tangerine didn’t want this woman sold to the fate of this grotty bloke anyway. Given, he obviously didn’t want her fucking sold in general, but his aid was currently limited by his bank account.

Good thing that didn’t exactly have a limit.

“One million.” He voiced.

Take it or leave it.

The knob was silenced.

Tangerine and lemon were already well off as-is thanks to their many hit jobs over the years, and this hire didn’t disappoint. Price wasn’t an issue. Now, he didn’t feel great about dropping one million quid on this extremely illegal purchase. Not that the law had ever really stopped him from much. Even then, this was less about law and more so about morals. This was a morally wrong purchase. But Lemon wanted a distraction, so he provided, and by no means did Tangerine plan on even touching the woman. However, he didn’t want to be seen as some savior sent to her either, just hoped one day she’d understand her worth extended way past what some man might want of her.

After briefly fantasizing about strangling his brother to death, he was brought back to reality at the word “sold” ringing out through the dark, sterile, auditorium.

Lovely.

With that marking the end of the event, Tangerine rose to make a prompt exit. The satisfaction he got from putting that sorry excuse for a man in his place was short-lived. The stares continued as he left the huge stage room.

“The absolute fuck you do that for, mate?” Lemon's voice struck through his ear piece as he weaved through the designer outfits of those surrounding him.

“You wanted a distraction, I gave you a fucking distraction, didn’t exactly have many options.” Tangerine hissed back in a low voice.

Lemon attempted to refute. “What happened to just breaking shit? Or how bout’ the classic-“

“Shut. Up.” He wasn’t having it. “Let’s just get the fuck outta here, you got the mark right?” Tangerine looked back towards the bar, with no sign of Lemon he kept striding, “and the girl can leave here same way she showed up-“

“Oh, you have no motherfuckin idea how this works, do you.” Lemon deadpanned.

“Forgive me for not understanding the regulations of human trafficking-“ Just steps away from the exit hallway Lemon’s earpiece cut off in a static. Before Tangerine could open his mouth, he’s suddenly stopped by a man in a black tux, the same man that accompanied the auctioneer on stage. He stated the full name of the woman in the black dress yet again.

“She is awaiting in room 207, sir.” The man remained still in front of him, in a similar posture to that of a butler.

Stifling the urge to kill the bloke, Tangerine stepped away from him.

“Send her on her way,” He said while moving forward towards the exit again. “No need to keep her here.” He continued distractedly, not working to ponder what Lemon had meant by that last ominous comment, and instead worried about whether he had the car waiting outside or not.

Before he could make it far, a slimy voice bellowed through the corridor behind him.

“I’ll be happy to take her off your hands, brother.”

Tangerine stopped dead in his tracks. Jaw clenching down on itself before he turned around. It wasn’t necessary, as Tangerine could only assume such a repulsive voice to be accompanied by someone of similar looks. It was the disgusting geezer that had given the embarrassing attempt of outbidding him earlier.

He was beginning to wish he had gone against Lemon’s better judgment of not keeping a Glock on him. Knives really only go so far.

The tux’d man replied quickly, “If you’d like to transfer ownership-“

Ownership.

What the fuck was wrong with these people.

“Let her go, and I’ll get you the million.” Tangerine bit out.

“I’m afraid that’s not how things work around here.” The greasy man stepped forward, which took much work judging by the wits of him. The man still kept his distance, most likely due to the realization that Tangerine towered over him now that they were both in close proximity. The tux’d man stepped back, visibly unsure of the situation at hand.

“Either you fuck her, or pass her on to the next highest bidder.” His grin revealed a top row of gold teeth, paired with his beady eyes hiding behind thick black bangs of grease.

It had been a long time since Tangerine had fought this hard to keep his composure. The only thing stopping him from stabbing the man to death right then and there was the possibility of catching whatever disease he most definitely had.

Being in the same room as the man was enough to make his own skin crawl, and he was often surrounded by the scum of the earth while enduring stakeouts like these.

“I add another hundred thousand, and you let her go.” Tangerine replied.

Lemon was going to fucking kill him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The tux’d man shook his head.

“Guess that means she’s all mine.” The nauseating geezer cracked his knuckles before slugging a hand through his slew of hair.

Tangerine stared hard at the tux’d man and opened his mouth before he could talk himself out of it.

He wasn’t going to just hand her over.

“Take me to the room.” He stated.

The other man’s gold teeth disappeared as his mouth went slack.

“No, I- '' He was cut off again by nothing less than a spit of venom from Tangerine.

“Take me to her.” He glared straight into the man’s rat-like eyes before following the obviously disheveled man in the tux. “Yes sir, of course, right this way.” He started while leading Tangerine back further into the building, leaving the other revolting suitor behind to be escorted out by security.

Ironic.

Die a million pain-staking deaths, prick.

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