#how do you go from working customer service > to an office job or something IT

[lovecom]

anyone else in a deadend job and has no idea what theyre doing with their life. no? just me? okay great

[lampregistration3000]

how do i explain to a woman whos daughter that is my age who is currently actively dying that i Do Not want to help her clean up her mess because she can't plan worth a damn and makes it everyone else's problem.

[dailymanners]

Most people who don't live under a rock can tell you that customer/employee relations have gotten more strained over the past four years.

I worked food service and retail pre-covid, so I know as well as anyone that there have always been difficult customers. But as per my pinned post a lot of evidence suggests there has been increased hostility, especially towards customer service workers, but if you work in a public facing customer service job you probably don't need any studies to tell you that, but having the evidence backed up by studies does help.

There's been some discussion on the why, with anything from "people lost their socialization and ability to behave themselves in public" to "covid affected people's brains and made them more aggressive" to "people were threatened by having rules enforced against them by people they felt should be below them, aka food service and retail workers" and it's likely some combination of the above.

But one thing I think is severely underdiscussed is that, at least in the Western countries I've lived in and/or have friends/family/loved ones living in, is it just me or have companies gotten lazy about giving their employees proper training??

I mean, years back, way before covid, even for minimum wage food service job, I'd get some sort of orientation and proper introduction and training to really make me feel prepared to answer customer's questions about the food and the company. There were people actually designated to train the newbies and answer their questions. So obviously I felt more competent and ready, and obviously I was better able to help the customers and do my job properly.

Now, "after" covid (which I know is still ongoing so for all intents and purposes let's define after covid as just meaning after the start of the pandemic and the shifts to society it's been causing) when I start a new job, whether it's retail or even an office job? I'm just thrown to the wolves. No proper orientation or training, nobody specifically designated to train me, just "yeah, you'll figure it out as you go, you can ask your co-workers if you have questions (ahaha but none of them are specifically designated to or being paid extra to train you so they'll get annoyed and snippy when you need help from them) good luck!"

And I ask around and a lot of people who have started new jobs after the start of the pandemic feel the same way. No proper training or guidance. Just lots and lots of mistakes resulting in lots and lots of pissed off customers.

I don't think this is a stretch to say this has contributed to worse relations overall between customers and employees. Customers are fed up that everywhere they go none of the staff know how to do their job (not saying this justifies being a jerk to customer service workers, ofc it doesn't!) and this results in employees everywhere being tense, stressed, and on edge. They don't know what they're doing, they can't get the proper help or guidance they need, and they're tired of being constantly snapped at by customers when they make a mistake and don't know what to do.

Nobody's happy. Something about the pandemic made companies more lazy about actually properly training their employees, and now everybody is stressed and unhappy about it, but the companies continue to get away with it.

[beefrobeefcal]

Tommy Miller's Stall feat. Marcus Pike & f!Reader

Prompt: Marcus Pike + BBQ + "It's a Surprise. Close your eyes."

a @pedgito challenge fic | Rated: 18+ | word count: 2,852 warnings: swearing, talk of drinking beer, eating, bathroom stalls becoming shrines, Barbequed meats (consumed), broken AC, lack of air circulation, sweating, oral (m receiving), pork steeple in ham wallet (unprotected), bathroom shenanigans, pre-term ejaculation, cumming undone too soon, grey t-shirts

A/N: I know I am a day late with this and I know bc of that, it's probably not going to be included in the challenge, but I needed to release this! Apologies to @pedgito for my tardiness. This is not the previously met Marcus - he's a Marcus all of his own.

Thank you to @strang3lov3, @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their love and support.

Traveling for work meant Marcus got to know all the random hole-in-the-wall eateries and Miller Bro’s Boy Howdy BBQ in Austin was one of his favourites. He loved the laid-back atmosphere and the story of why Joel & his brother Tommy bought the place from the previous owner – Tommy lost his virginity in the bathroom to a line cook named Rhonda and begged his brother to help him buy this drive of a restaurant and save it from demolition. There was even a plaque in the stall where Tommy ‘became a man in Summer ’89’.

Over the years, he’d gotten to know the menu and the Miller brothers. Joel was more aloof, preferring to stay in the kitchen or at the BBQ pit out back, while Tommy was happy to sit out with the customers like they were old friends, playing cards or sharing a few stories and laughs with them. The few times that Marcus had interacted with Joel were mainly to compliment him on the menu and tell him how much he liked the place; Joel would grunt and nod in thanks and head back into the kitchen.

There was another reason he liked coming to this place – you. From the first time he laid eyes on you as he darkened this place’s doorway six years ago, he knew he was hooked. You’d flashed your smile at him, flipped your hair and told him to, “Take any available seat, handsome. I’ll be right wit’cha!”

He’d learned that your nickname was ‘Peaches’ on account of your penchant to recommend the peach and bourbon barbeque sauce that was house made. He also learned that Joel kept an eye on him when you were around - he would catch Joel narrowing his eyes at him through the kitchen service window when you were at his table taking his order. It used to make Marcus nervous, thinking he might get something extra hidden in his food, but he decided that it was too delicious to care.

He'd taken a temporary position in the Austin office and for the last six months, he’d eaten at Miller’s every night and it was apparent. Marcus had assumed you were being kind when you called him handsome, especially now that he was barely fitting into the oversized summer attire he’d packed in late December before he’d come out to Austin and discovered that eating large portions of charbroiled meats at least once a day would alter your waistline so drastically.

His middle had filled out enough that the suits he wore throughout the day had to be tailored repeatedly before being fully replaced to accommodate his new weight. And the summer clothing he was wearing, formally loose-fitting for the heat, were anything but. So, when you winked at him when he entered today and said that you’d be with him in a minute, he internally reminded himself that you were just doing your job.

Marcus sat heavily down and slid into the booth, then waited for you to come over to his table. As he sat, he noticed how warm the dining area’s temperature was and took in the slight sweat ring and patches that were forming on your grey Miller Bro’s Boy Howdy BBQ branded shirt. He also realized he didn’t hear the tell-tale whirling and churning sounds of the too-old AC unit that normally filled the vacant spaces between conversations. He looked up to the vent in the corner, and the streamers that normally danced in the airflow hung limp, and he wiped the back of his hand over his damp forehead. He was getting hot.

“Hey handsome.”, you smiled, a slight weariness in your eyes but your smile shone bright. “Usual or you wanna see the menu?”

Marcus smiled back, and not wanting to make you work any harder, nodded and responded, “The usual please, Peaches.”

His eyes trailed down your body, landing on your butt as you walked back to the service window, then smiled to himself. He looked up, then made direct eye contact with Joel who only offered a scowl followed by a judgemental head shake before he disappeared back into the depths of the kitchen.

*****

Marcus was sweating. After finishing his meal, Tommy had come around and sat with him, ordering more barbequed goodness and beers, telling him the beer was ‘on the house, ‘cause the fuckin’ AC shit the bed.’ This exclamation was followed by you reminding Tommy that the AC was broken because he spent the repair funds on a ridiculous crystal duck as a gift to impress a woman – a woman who happened to be the AC repair tech’s wife.

Even with the cool beer, Marcus felt overly hot. A belly stuffed to the brim with smoked and charbroiled meats while sitting in a hot, stuffy room with still air was getting to him. As Tommy stood, slightly wavering on his feet from all the beer he was consuming to match the beer he was giving away to customers, he heavily patted Marcus on the shoulder and muttered, “Take it easy, big guy… I’ll be back ‘round soon.”

*****

You were hovering around Marcus’ table, checking in on him and Tommy, and every time you moved towards the kitchen with another order, Joel would shake his head at you, much like he would at Marcus.

“One of y’all better make a move soon… fuckin’ pathetic.”

You huffed in response, cheeks heating up. “Shove it, Joel. Mind your business.”

“Jesus, Peaches! It’s my fuckin’ business if I’m payin’ you by the hour and have’ta watch this horse shit pussy footin’ between you and fat boy over there. Just go sit on his lap an’ get it over with.”

You gave him a warning glare and a smug grin tugged at one side of Joel’s mouth. He nodded to you, signaling to look and you saw Tommy leaving Marcus’ table.

“Gonna close early on account of the heat and the fact that I’m fuckin’ done roastin’ myself in this kitchen.” You heard Joel chuckle behind you. “Get’er done, Peaches.”

*****

Marcus stood and stretched after he finished his beer, feeling the weight he'd consumed in his stomach, and looking down, he could see the bulk of it, too. You watched him stand and stretch, exposing a sliver of his rounded-out middle between his shirt and shorts.

Tommy tsk’d, startling you. Turning around, you were met by his slightly drunk, glazed eyes, and a dopey smile. “Joel’s right, Peaches. Just bite the bullet and take that man for a ride in my stall.”

“Oh my god, Tommy!”, you exclaimed with a frown a little too loudly, shoving him back.

Tommy laughed and handed you a shot of bourbon. You rolled your eyes and slammed it alongside him. He then grabbed your shoulders, turned you to face Marcus’ direction and said in your ear quietly. “No harm, no foul in helpin’ him take in the sights Austin has to offer, Peaches.”, then shoved you towards his table.

You caught yourself from stumbling and cleared your throat as you approached him. Marcus turned and looked at you; a small smile spread on his face before a pink blush crept up his cheeks as he tugged his shirt down, closing the slight gap his stretch had caused.

You could feel the energy, electrifying and crackling like a late July thunderstorm, raging in the space between your bodies, pulling you together with a gravitational field that would rival the one caused by Jupiter’s giant spot. Marcus opened his mouth to speak but any words he was going to say were lost in his throat as you moved forward and kissed him. The soft exhale that came after his surprised gasp tasted like beer and barbeque sauce on your tongue that pushed against the seam of his lips. His hands, sticky and smoky, were tethered up in your hair, holding your face against his as he deepened the kiss, granting your tongue entrance in your tongue’s long anticipated dance.

You barely heard Tommy spit his beer out and sputter out choked coughs as Joel grunted then nodded in approval at what you and Marcus were up to. After depriving yourselves of full breaths for long enough, you parted, panting, staring at one another. Marcus’ shoulders and chest were heaving and his lips, parted and pouted, were wet from your combined saliva.  His face was flushed, glistening in the low glow of all the tacky neon lighting adorning the walls, one side of his face pink from flamingos with sunglasses on, the other side flickering orange and yellow from the broken Corona promotional neon sign. He was beautiful.

At that moment, you didn’t think what you looked like, completely enraptured by the huffing and panting man sweating in front of you.

“Peaches…”, Marcus murmured, eyes wide and pleading. “I wanna do this right. I-”

You couldn’t let him finish, not if his next words could dampen the fire that had erupted in your core, making your hole twitch hard enough that you felt it in behind your belly button. You shook your head and shushed him, pressing your index finger against his lips. You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the men’s washroom, directly into Tommy’s stall.

Thinking back, you would wonder how differently things would have gone if you’d pulled Marcus into a private area that wasn’t designed for single occupancy. The stalls in this restaurant were small, given that the original design of the washrooms did not include stalls at all, and Marcus was no longer a small man. But good god, the feeling of your body pushed up against his as he was backed against the stall door, mashing your mouths together.

You were still taking the lead in this dance, setting the pace and motions, while Marcus finally allowed his hands to touch more than anywhere above your collarbone. He gripped your waist with one hand and the other pushed its way between your bodies to clumsily try and shove it down the front of your pants. You both awkwardly tried to undress one another as you kept your lips and tongues attached, panting and grunting. If someone walked into the bathroom, they might assume there were two dogs quietly fighting over a piece of beef in the stall.

Once your jean shorts were open, Marcus wasted no time in shoving them down enough to shove his barbeque-tinged fingers into them. He eventually found what he was looking for when the tip of his finger grazed your sensitive and twitching nub, eliciting a gasping moan from you as you involuntarily bucked your hips. It was what tipped you over the edge, prompting you to swing him around and fumble with his button fly. He pulled back and his hands gently held yours, halting your mission to get his pants off.

“Marcus…”, you panted against his mouth.

“I haven’t… it’s been a while since…”, he stumbled through his words.

It seemed like time was slowing and you smiled softly at him. “Close your eyes.”

He hesitated, sucking in a breath nervously. “Why?”

“It’s a surprise. Close your eyes.”

His brows twitched and did as he was told and you sank to your knees, sliding your hands down his torso and thighs, and he let out a soft whimper once he realized where you were headed. Once on your knees, you pushed up his shirt and pressed a kiss right below his belly button and steadied yourself with your forehead against his full and rounded out stomach, your hands now free to get his shorts opened and down. His cock was pushing an impressive bulge in his grey boxer briefs, and you could see where the tip was pressing, a dark, damp patch at its peak.

Pulling down his underwear, his cock popped out and slapped up against his heavy underbelly, and without any hesitation, you grabbed it and sucked the tip into your mouth.

Marcus moaned out a surprised gasp and his hand gently rested on the crown of your head.

“I-oh fuck! I won’t… I wont last long. Peaches, please, honey.”, he whined, his fingers curling into your hair ever so gently.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t last long. His balls had just started to lift and tighten as you pulled off, and you looked up at him, marveling at the sight above you. Marcus was leaning back against the stall door, and you could only see his tented brows above his closed eyes before his belly obstructed the view.

Standing up, you smoothed your hands over his middle and leaned in to kiss him. He smiled against your mouth, and took a chance in moving away from the door and his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you into him. He maneuvered the both of you, now facing the stall door, ready to push you against it, to get on his knees for you, and pulled your shorts and underwear off completely.

But you stopped him, shoving his shorts and boxer briefs down his thighs, and pushed him back to sit on the toilet.

He fell back on to the lowered seat with a grunt, and you straddled his lap.

“Marcus,”, you breathe out as you start to seat yourself upon his cock. “I’ve wanted this for -oh god! for so long…”

He nodded frantically, and his fingers dug into your hips once your hips were finally flush with his.

“Oh…oh fudge…”, he moaned, clenching his eyes closed.

His breathing was quick and staggered, and his hips twitched and bucked under you. All you had done was allow your pussy to swallow his cock whole. He wasn’t kidding when he said that he wouldn’t last long, and the strain that reddened his face and the sounds leaving his mouth as you began to rock your hips slowly, trying to give him some time to adjust, but you needed to move.

“P-Peaches -”

You shushed him, and gripped his shoulder, starting to pick up the pace. His cock felt amazing - not too big or thick, but absolutely a perfect fit for you - just like him.

“Peaches - please, baby!”

Marcus tried to slow you down, tried to hold you down, tried to gain leverage by grabbing anything he could, tried shifting underneath you, but you were determined. You hushed him again, reveling in the harsh way he finally gripped your waist and hip with his large hands, and the rhythm you’d found bouncing on his cock. It was hitting just the right spot at just the right angle, and you could feel the early stirring of your climax.

But the sound of the toilet flushing from him sitting forward enough to set the sensors off and the loud, long groan that Marcus let out, followed by the feeling of warm cum shooting into you made you still in his lap.

He gripped you tighter, panting ‘Peaches!’ over and over, and pushed his face into your t-shirt covered chest, and his belly contracted and relaxed at an alarming pace. 

“Oh god… oh no. I’m-I’m so sorry!”, he whined and whimpered into your cleavage, still unloading spurt after spurt into your pussy. “Oooooh! oh my go-I’m sorry…”

He panted out grunts and groans, and his face twisted against the front of your t-shirt in blissful agony with his brows furrowed and his mouth open. Wet, hot breaths and saliva heated up your chest, and his hips bucked a few times, the final drops of cum finally spitting out.

“P-Peaches - I’m sorry.”, he murmured, weak and breathless. “I-I couldn’t - it’s been a-a while… for me.”

You sat silently, feeling his cum leaking out of you. You’d never had a man cum that quickly before. Sure, you’d had guys finish first, but this was a record, and yet, you weren’t mad. You couldn’t be.

“Marcus – “

“Just too pretty... I-I tried… I-“

“Marcus – “

“I didn’t mean to… just so pretty and I-“

“Marcus!”

He finally pulled back and looked up at you, his big brown eyes pleading for mercy. “I really like you and I wanted to do this right; ask you out properly, and - “

“Take me home and finish me, Marcus.”

“I just - wait, what? You want me to-”

“Take me back to your place. Make me cum.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, and his mouth moved slightly, but no words came out, only small, confused breaths.

“I like you, too, and-”

“I want to take you for dinner first.”

You smiled and huffed out a laugh. “You just ate!”

He nodded, raising his brows and offered a small shrug. “Well, yeah, but you- uh, well you got me working up an appetite. And I -”, he looked a little bashful as he continued. “I want to - uh - perform well and I can do that after we get some food in and the beer out of my system.”

You pressed a sweet kiss onto his lips and both of you couldn’t help the giggles that started. 

The door to the bathroom opened and slammed against the wall; Tommy’s slurred voice boomed out, “You two done? I wanna piss’n my stall.”

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[cmdrfupa]

Tend to me

Barkeep!Nanami x Salarywomxn!Reader

“That's what I do. I drink and I know things.”

a/n did this come from talking in a server about how post college Nanami needs a job and simping over how hot he’d be with his sleeves rolled up? You bet your ass it did. Thank you Court and Nana for your beautiful brains 🩵💜

MDNI +19

Five rejection emails, no callbacks, and his interview today turned into a scene from a novela after the receptionist barged into the boss's office, exclaiming that she was pregnant. All in the span of one week.

Kento pressed his forehead to the linoleum. table as he groaned.  

“Don't give up! It's like, 10,000 other bank jobs! You'll get one.” Haibara squeezed Kento’s shoulder as he watched his form slump into itself. 

"Yu, it seems like I’ve been turned down for 10,000 jobs. At this rate, I’ll have better luck getting a job as a cab driver.”

“But you don't have a car—”

“Shhhhhh.” Kento turned his head to the side, still keeping it on the table and looking at Yu. 

He knew Yu was trying to help, but it’d be more helpful if he didn't speak.

"Look, Ken. If nothing else comes up, I can talk to my boss to get you hired.” Yu stuffed the last of his tuna onigiri in his mouth, smiling as he attempted to cheer his roommate up. “You won't have my role as a trainer, but you could be one of the guys who clean off the sweaty machines! Pays pretty decent.” 

Clearing his throat, Kento sat up, eyes still closed before he spoke up. 

“Yu.”

“Yeah?” His big brown eyes were only filled with genuine care; Kento looked over at him and sighed.

“Thank you. I'll let you know if I need you to do that.

 Yu gave a toothy grin as he gave Kento a swift pat on the back. “It's all gonna be okay! Just breathe.”

Kento stood with a wry smile. “Thanks. I'm gonna go for a walk. Clear my mind a bit. See you tonight.”

The stroll served its purpose. It reminded Kento he wasn't a poor interviewer, nor did he lack the gusto. The job market was over-saturated and relied heavily on personal connections; Kento did not know a soul in the finance world. 

He stopped; a ‘Now hiring, Inquire within’ sign on a heavily tinted window caught his eye while Gojo watched him from the other end of the FaceTime call.

“Where does that leave you now?”

 “Well, I’ll get some experience in the meantime, become a math teacher or tutor while I look for something more sustainable.” 

"You? A teacher? Nanamin, don’t make me laugh.” Gojo propped his phone up, “You’ll have the students' brains bleeding out if you do that. Think of the children, Ken-doll.” 

Kento rolled his eyes and watched Gojo clean his desk. Literary motifs littered the wall behind Gojo. A large poster of Yevgeny Zamyatin hung in the center. “Math isn't supposed to be fun anyway. It's not teaching Dr. Seuss. It teaches objective truths and concepts.” 

Gojo feigned a yawn. “Wherever there is objective truth, there is satire.”

“That’s not how Wyndham Lewis meant it.”

“You don't know that! He's dead. It's all about interpretation.”

“I’m hanging up now. Gojo. Goodbye.”

Gojo smiled. “I can pull some strings and see if Yaga has a spot in the math department.” he nabbed his phone, seemingly prepping to leave his classroom. 

“And remember dinner this weekend! See you Nanamin!” he blew a kiss into the phone pushing Kento to immediately hang up. 

Kento looked back at the building. The 3-story building had hints of older Japanese architecture with European accents. 

"The Zenith" was carved into a wooden pillar adjacent to the entry, with a simple design. 

“I can just see what they're hiring for. No harm in that.”

The bar inside was the epitome of luxury and sophistication, designed to impress the city’s most discerning clientele. In the hotel's heart, Kento felt out of place. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed breathtaking views of the Tokyo skyline. He waited for the hiring manager to end her dumbfounded stare. 

“So no previous barkeeping history, no customer service work, and no idea how to run a till.” The dark-haired woman named Utahime looked up at Kento. “What qualifications do you have?” 

Smoothing his hair back to think of what he could say to seem qualified, he looked around the room. Older individuals who appear established. Business-minded. 

An older woman, in a meeting, smiling at the blonde-haired man. An older man was on a call. His younger companion crossed her legs and batted her lashes as Kento scanned. 

"I could boost revenue and upsell your best bottles to those who don't care about the price."

“Mr. Nanami. How could you do that? Most of our clientele just order one drink and maybe a listening ear.” 

There were a lot of things Kento lacked but looks were never one of them. The gift of having the perfect genetics made academics a breeze. But, it was now time to use his good looks and gift of gab, inherited from his grandfather. 

“I learn quick. Hire me today and I’ll have every stool filled and the register overfilled in 7 days. I guarantee.” 

Polished, calm, and precise. Nanami excelled behind the bar, his steady hands mixing drinks for the city’s elite. With his sleeves rolled, he perfected the craft of keeping up with mundane conversations mid-shake. His bulging veins, as he held the shaker, made every woman calculate their tip before he served their martinis.  Muscles flexed when he noticed some of the older men who could care less about the young women in cocktail dresses attempting to be mysterious and wanted to know if the blonde keep could do more than be heavy-handed on the gin. 

He was the bar's eye candy, something they should've thought about hiring months ago. 

It's a world where he realized he can control every variable, crafting experiences one cocktail at a time. 

After his first week, they offered him a permanent position. Working midday during the week to keep businessmen and women pleased and one Saturday evening shift a month to keep the younger crowd in.  

The low hum of conversation and soft jazz music filled the dimly lit bar as Kento worked behind the sleek marble counter, expertly mixing another round of drinks for the evening's guests. He wore his usual stoic expression, with the usual white button-down shirt and well-fitting slacks to match. 

He placed a completed cocktail on the bar top, and wiped his hands while checking what needed to be refilled. “Utahime? Could I get some more ice and a few more lowball glasses, please?” he spoke into the earpiece he donned on his left ear. “They seem to be disappearing, and Choso isn't back from his break."

"Yeah. Give me 20. I'm running tables for catering. I'll send it by Takuma.”

“Thanks.”

He wiped down the bar top; a figure slid onto one of the high-backed leather stools in his peripheral with an aura that turned heads without needing to demand attention. 

“What can I get started for you this afternoon?”

“I’ll have a French 75, please. Thank you.” Smooth and assured, your voice rang like a hymnal in his ears. 

Kento gave you a nod, his ability to indulge in small talk temporarily taken from him by your presence. He set to work, measuring gin and fresh lemon juice with his usual care, topped with a flourish of champagne. The drink landed before you in a delicate, chilled glass.

You took a sip, eyes never leaving his. Your nude-colored lips curved into a small but telling smile. "Not bad... but not quite perfect either."

Kento raised an eyebrow, subtly intrigued but keeping his expression neutral. “I take it you have high standards.” 

You chuckled, low and sultry. “I’m a person who knows what she wants, and I don’t settle for anything less.”

Nanami leaned in slightly, his tone dry yet teasing. “Perfection is subjective. Some people might call that 'almost' drinkable."

"Almost isn't in my vocabulary," you replied, eyes gleaming with challenge. You pursed your lips. “Not in business, not in life... and definitely not in drinks.”

He smirked, just enough for you to notice. “I’ll keep that in mind for your next order.”

You swirled the drink in your glass, the fizz of champagne catching the low light as you appraised him. “A man who can admit he’s not perfect? You must have been raised well. Refreshing.”

Nanami met your gaze, unruffled by your attempt to throw him off his game. “I prefer precision over perfection. Perfection tends to make people complacent.”

Your eyes narrowed but with a hint of amusement. “Interesting perspective, coming from someone who works behind a bar.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Someone has to remind people that the best things in life have room for improvement. Even when they think they’ve already got it all.”

Tilting your head, glancing at the way the simple silver chain rested against his collar. You were impressed but clearly enjoying the game. “You might be onto something. What’s your name?”

“Nanami Kento,” he said simply, as he wiped down the bar.

“Well, Nanami,” your voice is softer but no less commanding, "next time, why don’t you make me a drink that I can’t critique?”

He gave you a rare, almost imperceptible smile. “Challenge accepted.”

Your eyes lingered on each other, the tension electric. You raised your glass, with a smile so poised and self-assured, before taking another sip.

"Looking forward to it," you murmured, low and teasing. Then, you stood and left a 50-dollar tip with your card. You walked away, your perfume lingering in the air.

Kento read your name on the card. His curiosity ran wild with every possible scenario as he watched your backend disappear into the lobby

_

A few days later, the bar's golden lights glowed softly. They reflected off the dark marble counter as Nanami wiped down glasses. His thoughts drifted to the usual routine. He’d swapped shifts, which resulted in watching the evening crowd trickle in, primarily corporate types and high-society guests, and Nanami managed the situation with his typical efficiency and calm demeanor.

But as he adjusted a bottle of whiskey on the back shelf, a familiar presence caught his eye.

You were back.

You entered with the same quiet confidence, this time fitted with a far more casual, sleek outfit paired with heels that clacked against the polished floor. 

Moving with ease, you slipped into the same seat as last time, your gaze meeting his immediately. Your lips curled into a slow smile, almost as if you knew he’d be expecting you. 

“Good evening," Kento greeted, his voice calm with a slight edge of anticipation. 

"Nanami," you replied, leaning forward. Your self-assured energy was hard to ignore. “It's a pleasure to see you tonight. I think I’m in the mood for something a bit more... complex.” 

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone dry but with an undertone of curiosity. “What are we talking about? A Negroni? Maybe a Vieux Carré?” 

You smiled a glint of challenge in your eye. “Surprise me.”

Kento studied you for a moment, then nodded and began his work. 

His movements were precise but fluid as he grabbed a bottle of mezcal and began crafting a Smoky Margarita, layering complex flavors—mezcal for smokiness, lime for sharpness, and a touch of agave to round it out, all topped off with a rim of chili salt. The drink was bold and nuanced, like the woman before him.

He placed the glass in front of you with hushed confidence, waiting for your reaction. 

With a slow sip, your lips brushed against the glass as your tongue sampled the salted rim. Eyes closed momentarily to savor the taste.

When you opened them, your gaze locked onto his. 

“Now this,” you leaned forward, "is much better.”

Kento leaned on the counter slightly, his smirk more visible this time. “Glad to hear it. Looks like I’m learning.”

“Seems like you’re a quick study.”

You held each other’s gaze, the air between thick with tension that had only grown since your last encounter. Your voice dropped to an intimate murmur, barely audible over the ambient music. “So, Nanami... what do you do when you’re not making perfect drinks?”

He raised an eyebrow, amused by the shift in your tone. “I don’t get much free time. I like structure with very little change. But I do have a break coming up.” 

Your smile widened, and there was a glint of mischief in your eyes. “Is that so? And what do you usually do on these breaks?” 

Kento straightened, glancing around the bar. The crowd was calm tonight, his usuals with a small group of beer drinkers. He certainly wasn’t going to be missed if he disappeared a little earlier than usual. “Not very much. But there’s a private spot upstairs. Quiet.” 

“Lead the way.”

Kento signaled for one of the other bartenders, wordlessly handing off duties as he made his way around the bar and approached you. You stood and walked alongside him through the bar.

Turning the corner without paying attention, an inattentive passerby bumped into Kento, a glass of what he could guess was whiskey now soaking the front of his shirt. “Holy shit, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” 

You pressed your lips together, smiling as Kento didn’t let the incident interrupt your determined ascent up the stairs. 

You didn’t speak as you made your way to a barrier, secluded alcove on the mezzanine floor—a quiet corner with a view of the city through tall windows, framed by rich drapes. The world outside was glittering and alive, but here, away from prying eyes, it felt like their own little escape.

Kento stopped near the window, turning to face you as the ambient glow of the city lights bathed them both in soft light. You stepped closer, the subtle scent of your perfume mixing with the full scent of whiskey that stuck to him. He unbuttoned his shirt, uncovering his lean torso and square pecs. 

“You have a talent for choosing the right spot.” You said, your voice lower now. 

“I don’t waste time.” He replied, his eyes locked on yours. 

You smirked, stepping even closer until the space between you was nearly nonexistent. “Efficient. I like that.”

Kento’s pulse quickened though his exterior remained composed. The heat of your presence never wavering as he watched your every move. 

You lightly brushed his arm, a deliberate move to see his reaction. 

“I knew you’d be interesting,” you uttered, your voice soft, teasing, but laced with something deeper. “I just didn’t know how interesting.”

Kento’s lips quirked into a small smile, one that carried more weight than any words he could say at that moment. “You’re not so predictable yourself.”

Your eyes locked. The city lights flickered around you, but neither of you noticed, too caught up in the magnetic pull of something new, something charged. 

You reached up, your hand brushing his collarbone. You licked his whiskey-flavored chest. You languidly licked up to his neck as he sucked in a sharp breath. "Hmm." You whispered while your lips hovered close to his. “I like a man who can keep up."

Nanami’s voice was steady, but there was a rough edge to it now. “I don’t plan on slowing down.”

With a final, knowing smile, he closed the gap between you. His lips brushed yours in a kiss more electric than the city lights below. 

“Nanami Kento.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“When you clock out, my room happens to be on the floor above this one.” You slid your room card into his pants pocket as his hand slid down, pressing you into him. 

Kento pushed you to the wall with a quick yet gentle motion, nudging his knee between your thighs. "You've surprised me."

“How so?" The sudden closeness brought a surge of anticipation bursting in your chest.

"I didn't take you for someone who would enjoy a bit of public play."

You rubbed your wetness on his knee, lost in thought. A simpering moan escaped you. "I don't know what you're talking about, Nanami."

Amused by your attempt to keep it together, he moved his knee forward to elicit another moan from you. "The dampness of my slacks says otherwise." He drowned out the sounds of the late-night rush with the pants he pulled from you.

"Tell me how to please you with precision and I'll follow every direction."

Thank you @/saradika-graphics for the dividers ✨

[sanjoongie]

Downtown

ღPairing: Kim Hongjoong x Reader (f)

ღAu: office worker au, club goer au

ღTrope: strangers to lovers, age gap (10 years between younger Hongjoong and older reader)

ღRated: 18+ MDNI, smut, angst

ღWarnings: alluding to sleeping with Hongjoong, somnophilia, oral (f), alluding to being fucked by Hongjoong on his kitchen table

ღWord Count: 3,229

ღSummary: when you stumble out of work late on a Saturday, a curious club goer wonders who you are and what you're doing and it's all downhill from there

ღBeta's: @flurrys-creativity @mejuii @downtoamagicalland

You raised your hand to rub at your tired eyes but quickly brought them down to not touch your beyond-twelve-hours make-up. The last thing you needed was to rub your mascara in and add to the dark bags under your eyes. You pulled the lapels to your jacket closer to your neck and pulled out your phone. What would be quicker, flagging down a taxi or ordering an uber?

This wasn’t your first rodeo, working on reports in your office until 2am on a Saturday. The repeat of the schedule wasn’t preferred but when your job was always on the line and it was expected of you, you did what you could to maintain a paycheck incoming to your bank account. All you wanted to do was shuffle home and get into something comfy and--

“Do you have a lighter?”

You blinked slowly at the heavy make-upped face in front of you. A shock of blue hair haloed his face and the charming grin calmed your beating heart that one of the homeless wasn’t here to harass you. By the look of this guy's clothes, he was stumbling out of a club at 2am. 

“I don’t smoke, sorry,” you mumbled and started to side walk away from the stranger. 

“Ah shit, there it is!” The guy smiled triumphantly, having dug into his pant’s pockets for a flashy lighter that had the initials of either a rich person or an expensive label. “Wait!” His face fell when he saw how far away you were. “Where are you going?”

You pulled a tight, customer-service smile at him. “Look, I’m sure you’re looking for a good time, still half-drunk and making your way home when the bar closed, but I’m just trying to go home after a long day, if you don’t mind…” You ducked your head and walked a bit quicker down the street.

“I’m not looking to harass you or anything, come on!” The guy called after you. You winced when you could hear the clicking of his dress shoes on the sidewalk behind you.

You stopped abruptly. “I don’t know if you’re into an older woman type thing but,” you paused to wave vaguely at the skimpily dressed girl across the street cooing at him, “they seem primed and ready to take up your offer.”

The guy took a drag of his cigarette, contemplating you. “I don’t want them.”

You had to laugh at his audacity. “Well, I don’t want you, sir. Goodnight.”

“Just call it late night curiosity!” He continued to follow you. “If you’re not coming from the clubs, where did you come from in your high heels and felt jacket?”

“My job,” you replied curtly.

“Your…?” That made him stumble. “You were at your job until 2am?!” He said in disbelief.

You stopped again. If you just had to answer a few questions to get this guy off your back, maybe that was better than him following you late in the night. “Listen,” you raised your eyebrows, indicating it was his turn to give you his name.

“Hongjoong,” he grunted, eyes still wide with curiosity.

“Hongjoong,” you continued, “my life is clearly not the same as yours.” You motion to his one-of-a-kind suit. “We’re cut from a different cloth. If I don’t finish typing up reports or doing invoices or other boring office activities, they’ll fire me and hire someone fresh off the street. They don’t care, as long as the work is done and on time. So if it takes me until 2am on a weekend night, so be it.”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you sure I didn’t catch you leaving the office late after blowing your boss or something secretive like that? Maybe digging for corporate secrets to sell?”

Maybe it was your brain almost being dead, but you let his suggestive thoughts roll off your back. You snorted in response. “You’ve watched too many movies. Yes, I’m sure you didn’t catch me doing a plot to a porno or a spy documentary. Now, have I satisfied your curiosity?”

Hongjoong watched as your toe tapped in impatience. “What are you going to do now?” He shot back a question, ignoring your own.

“I’m trying to go home so I can get into something baggy and comfortable and hopefully sleep until the late afternoon,” you intoned. 

Hongjoong visually perked up. “Hopefully sleep?”

You sighed heavily. “I’m an insomniac.”

He smiled happily, for what reason, you hadn't a clue, until: “Me too.”

You offered your hand to him in a professional handshake. “Nice to meet you, fellow insomniac, now, can I please--?”

Hongjoong’s phone dinged and he pulled it from his pocket. “Car’s almost here.”

You winced. You looked up and down the street, which was almost ghosttown-like in its cold abandon. You had not flagged down a cab nor ordered an Uber like you had planned. Your feet hurt and your shoulders ached and you were still talking to this stranger--

“Wanna share a car?” Hongjoong tossed the half smoked cigarette to the ground and snubbed it with the toe of his shoes.

“I--” The no was begging to roll off your tongue but a shiver went through you. “You don’t even know where I’m going?!”

Hongjoong shrugged with one shoulder. “If you want--”

“No.” This time it was prudent that you stomp down on that thought.

Hongjoong smiled but it was a little sly. “I can offer you late night ramyun and a blackout room.”

You hummed in sarcasm. “Uh huh, and no strings attached too, I suppose.”

A car pulled up and Hongjoong opened the door. “The carriage is leaving, Cinderella.”

Curiosity was killing you now. What would his place look like? Ramyun sounded real good right now and you knew you would be up as soon as the sun rose because your bedroom barely kept the light out. If you could get one good night's sleep-- 

“Fuck it! Fine, let's go.”

Oddly enough, the night was as PG as an adult night could go. Hongjoong’s curious questions didn’t hold a sliver of maliciousness to them. He told you about his life as a trust fund kid with a passion for fashion and you told him about your ridiculous coworkers over the steam of spicy noodles. Once your stomach was full, Hongjoong showed you his guest room and offered you some of the softest pj’s you had ever had the pleasure of putting on your body. And you slept like the dead. 

When you woke up the next day, however, you were starting to feel a little stupid. Why the hell did you sleep in some stranger’s place without even the benefit of actually sleeping with said stranger???

You tiptoed across the polished hardwood floor and past the exposed brick walls, having made up the bed you had slept in and folded the pajamas. You really didn’t want to encounter the owner of said pajamas, fearful he would hold you down with more questions and not let you leave like last night. 

“How’d you sleep?”

You jumped a foot in the air and squealed. You turned around and your breath caught in your throat. Along with the husky voice, sleepy Hongjoong really cut a figure. His hair was mussed and he was currently trying to rearrange it to no avail. His tired smile was charming. He moved to the island where a French press was clearly waiting for him. 

“Uh, surprisingly well,” you offered.

“Surprisingly?” Hongjoong wondered.

You wobbled on your ankle, having toed on your heels. “Listen, Hongjoong…” Hongjoong gave you his full, undivided attention and it was a bit unnerving to be on the receiving end of it. You stuttered, faltering on your firm words. “A-about last ni-night.”

“You don’t owe me anything, if you’re worried.” Hongjoong gave that one-shoulder gallic shrug of his again. “I just wanted to help out a fellow insomniac.”

“Right,” you said lamely. 

Hongjoong sipped his coffee, peering over his mug at you with unreadable eyes. 

“So… I’ll see you around,” you tried again.

Hongjoong dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Downtown. Same time, same place?”

A ghost of a smile pulled at your lips. “If I know my job,” you huffed.

“Then it’s a date.”

Then it’s a date echoed in your head for a few weeks. How could a man be so clingy and yet let you go without any information? Why the hell did he let you sleep at his place? It was all so very weird.

And yet when you saw him after stumbling out of your office late at night once again, you couldn't help the flutter of butterflies in your stomach. You stomped them out immediately. He probably didn’t even remember you!

“Hey, Workaholic.” Hongjoong raised a hand to wave at you.

You let out some air. “Hey, Hongjoong.”

“Another late night with the boss again?” He teased you. 

You nodded studiously. “A blowjob a day keeps the hunger at bay.”

Hongjoong snorted. “Do you want to--?”

“Ah, Hongjoong, I don’t think--”

“What, the chance to sleep in my lavish pjs isn’t enough of an incentive?” 

You stomped your foot in frustration. “Don’t you think this is a little weird?” 

“Weird that I invited you to my place to let you get a little rest?” Hongjoong finished your thought.

“Yes!” You shouted triumphantly.

“No.”

You sighed. “Seriously, Hongjoong, it’s weird.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” Hongjoong persisted. “Oh look, the car is here.”

“I’m not going with you this time,” You said coolly and folded your arms over your chest.

“No?” Hongjoong lifted an eyebrow at you.

“No!” You insisted. 

“Okay,” Hongjoong did his one-shoulder shrug and moved to open the door to the SUV. “But just to let you know, I bought you slippers.”

“Slippers?” You screwed up your face in confusion.

“You’ll never know if you don’t come.”

So you found yourself in Hongjoong’s elaborate highrise place, still wondering what the fuck you were doing. “I have a whole bedtime kit for you, including some tea I find helpful and a playlist and--”

“Hongjoong, seriously, what the fuck?” You interrupted rather severely. 

Hongjoong looked slightly sad but hopeful. “I want to help.”

“Some random stranger who is also an insomniac?”

“Exactly.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that I'm a woman?”

“Nope.”

“Nothing at all.”

“Right.”

“You’d do this if I was a guy?”

“Yes.”

“You sleep with guys too, don’t you?” 

“Yup.”

You rubbed your temples, trying to understand with your sleep-deprived brain what this was. Hongjoong was a few steps away from you now. “Would it help if I actually slept with you?” He offered.

“Yes, actually, that would make a lot more sense,” you agreed without truly understanding what you said.

Hongjoong’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips curled at the tips and you felt those butterflies again. “No, that’s not what I meant! I just--”

“If I was fucking you, you wouldn’t be as confused,” Hongjoong supplied.

You scratched your neck awkwardly. “Yeah…”

“You know what also helps with sleeping?” Hongjoong persisted.

“A knock out punch?” You joked.

“An orgasm.”

Your heart skipped a beat this time. “Hongjoong, be serious.”

“I am serious.” Hongjoong had crept closer as you talked, an arm's length from you now. 

“I already told you, I don’t want you,” you insisted.

“You did.” Hongjoong's gaze said he didn't believe it.

“It is the older woman thing, isn't it?” You frowned.

“Nope, not an older woman thing.” Hongjoong caught his tongue between his teeth cutely.

“Hongjoong, please, help me understand why this is a thing?” You pleaded.

“Does it ever make sense, when two people are drawn to each other?” Hongjoong put two hands on your upper shoulders and pushed off your jacket. 

He had you there! 

“Let me help you sleep?” Hongjoong offered, genuine concern radiating off him.

“From one insomniac to another?” You said mirthlessly.

Hongjoong shook his head. “From someone who's wondering what you look like without bruises under your eyes.”

And thus your friends with benefits exchange began. Hongjoong honored your original situation and never asked for your number or contact information. If the two of you happened to stumble upon each other, him leaving the club and you from your office, you went home with him. It had an odd sense of intimacy with no strings. Hongjoong spoiled you rotten but then you never heard from him until the next fateful meeting. It still didn’t make sense to you but you were starting to assume that was how this was always going to go.

There were a few nights where you genuinely thanked Hongjoong but wondered if you couldn't sleep in the guest room by yourself. He’d shrug and agree, whatever was best for you, of course. But when you woke up with him kissing up the inside your thigh one particular night, you knew he had changed his mind.

“Please,” he murmured against your skin. “Please let me eat you up.”

“Ho-hongjoong!” You stuttered. 

His kisses didn’t stop, unbuttoning the silk pj top you slept in while you were over from the bottom up. He revealed your very normal underwear that absolutely had not matched your bra today. His nose dived into your cunt and he breathed in deeply. When he raised his head, you could tell he was still half drunk from the bar. 

“Please? Wanna eat you out,” he pouted generously. 

“You, sir, need to sleep this off,” you insisted.

“Let me take care of you,” Hongjoong whined.

You watched in wonder as Hongjoong hooked a finger around the elastic of your underwear and pulled them to the side. His eyes wandered over your exposed cunt and he pressed his lips inward. “I need this. Please?”

“Why?”

Hongjoong groaned and rolled his eyes. “Always with the why! Because I want to smell you, I want to taste you, I want to hear your deep breathing and know that you’re sleeping better because of me.”

You swallowed loudly, your throat tightening at his confession. “Okay, Hongjoong,” you allowed in a small voice. “Go ahead.”

Hongjoong used both his thumbs to hold open your labia so that he could go straight for your cunt. He moaned like he was feasting, as his lips and tongue sucked and nibbled on the flesh between your legs. Your hips practically lifted off the bed when his tongue slipped inside of you and his nose brushed your clit with his motions. Hongjoong simply wrapped his arms around your legs to anchor himself to you despite your movements.

“Oh god, Hongjoong,” you moaned, hand diving into his blue hair. 

Whimpers began to fall from your lips as you felt your insides coil with the orgasm he was coaxing from you. But it wasn’t until he sucked on your clit ruthlessly that you began to scream for him. The pleasure was unreal. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you away.  

You could hear your heart in your ears and your own panting as Hongjoong hovered over you to check in on you. “Sleep well, my darling.” And that was the last thing you remembered before you indeed fell asleep. 

You weren’t quite sure when it had happened, but you were pretty sure Hongjoong was falling for you. And you couldn't help but care for him. This man had no right being as gentle or caring or understanding as he was, but still he funneled energy into you, the only way you would receive it anyways. Everything was on your terms but you were starting to feel like you weren’t in control anymore. 

You could see it in Hongjoong’s eyes; how he felt about you. The care was moving towards love. His smile had morphed, even, and it felt… how the hell were you going to be able to introduce him to anyone you knew? Or tell them the weird way you had met? Could you even form a relationship with a man ten years your junior?

The more you stewed on it, the more your mind was made up. There was no way this could work. And if Hongjoong couldn't keep his heart out of this, well, maybe it was time you cut him loose. 

You couldn't bear to sleep with him, and this time you had received a hurt puppy dog look at the statement, but Hongjoong respected your wishes. That way you didn’t feel even worse for what you were going to dump on him in the morning.

“Hongjoong,” you started, sitting at the kitchen island.

“Bagel? Had them flown in from New York. You know what they say about--”

“Hongjoong,” you said more firmly. 

“What, can’t I feed you too?” Hongjoong teased.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore,” you announced.

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered with worry but he pressed forward. “Eat bagels? We can always switch it up if need be.”

“No, Hongjoong, us. I don’t think we should meet anymore.”

Hongjoong frowned heavily at you. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’re the most healthiest I’ve seen since I met you, in fact, I was just about to ask you to move in with--”

You laughed in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Hongjoong shook his head, still looking confused. “I’m really not.”

“Why would I move in with you?”

Hongjoong winced visibly like you had struck him. “Because I'm good for you.”

“So you think because you're a good lay that we should be together? Hongjoong, I don't even have your contact information!”

“That doesn't matter. Or can be fixed quickly. Why are you--? What's going on?” 

“You can't possibly think we could begin a life together? Based on a few months of sex and a good sleep? Hongjoong, come on. You're young but you're not THAT naive.”

“But we--I don't understand!” Hongjoong lamented. “Why are you doing this?”

“Being realistic? Hongjoong, this is what you have to do to live in this world.”

“No, why are you tearing down what we have? Making it lesser than it is. I know you feel--”

You squeezed your eyes tightly. “No, Hongjoong, I won't let you convince me into another fool plan. I can't afford to think like you! You have years to adjust and the money to support mistakes. I don’t!”

“What are you saying? That I was a mistake?” Hongjoong demanded.

“Yes.”

“No, I don't believe you for a damn minute,” Hongjoong denied. You could hear his slippers slide against the floor and his hands turn you around in the bar stool chair. “Look at me.”

When you refused to do so, Hongjoong pleaded. “Darling, open your eyes.” 

You pursed your lips stubbornly. “No.”

“And why's that?” Hongjoong persisted.

You felt weak. "Because if I open my eyes, I'll see your face,” you whispered.

“And what happens when you see my face?”

“I won't be able to say no to you.”

“Because?”

You opened your eyes. “Because I have feelings for you.”

Hongjoong giggled, then he pulled you off the bar stool chair and hugged you to his chest. He cradled your head against him and rubbed his cheek against the crown of your head. “I love you too.”

You had tears in your eyes but you refused to acknowledge them. “Can I have that bagel now?”

Hongjoong held you arm's length away, a sly grin pulling his features. “Only if I can fuck you on the island in celebration.”

“Hongjoong!” You squealed, slapping his chest.

“Is that a yes?”

taglist: @hijirikaww @starlitmark @stardragongalaxy @pyeonghongrie @k-pop-ology @mingsolo @flurrys-creativity

[varpusvaras]

If Fox could go back ten years in time and look at the barely twenty-year-old himself in the eyes and tell him that hey, you have a home office, his younger self would look back at him and tell him that he has lost his mind.

It's such a small thing to call someone crazy over, but for the Fox back then, even having an apartment he could be secure about was a big deal. Having an apartment big enough to have a home office? Having a job secure and safe enough that he could work from home? Absolute lunacy.

There Fox still is, now, sitting behind his desk in his home office and looking out of the window towards the trees blooming in the back garden.

That barely twenty-year-old Fox would've lost his mind if he'd see the place where he lives now. Hell, any version of Fox before the age of twenty-five would lose their minds. Even now, Fox remembers the cramped rooms with at least five other kids, sometimes his brothers, sometimes not. He remembers how all of this stuff could with inside one drawer and one box, because that had been the amount of stuff he had been allowed to have. Living in a place where he could have his own bedroom, a home office, and multiple other rooms to spare still?

All of that had been a simple, too good to ever be true-dream.

One that he is living now.

Who is he lying to? Fox at twenty-six had lost his mind after seeing the place for the first time. At that point he had been living on his own for a while, and not in a bad place either, but still. It had been...almost too much.

The way Bail and Breha had looked at him with soft eyes after Fox had asked if it would really be alright for him to have a home office had almost been too much.

They would've given him at least ten home offices if Fox would've just asked. Fox knows that.

Sometimes, Fox thinks that he is getting more than he deserves.

Not that he isn't working hard, or hadn't been working hard for his own success. He had, with too much cheap coffee and by scouring the grocery stores for expiring products and by studying through every waking hour and working through half of the hours he should've been sleeping. He had done it all, and it had gotten him here, in it's own way.

Now he can have the good coffee and sip it patiently, while he stops looking out of the window for a moment and attaches the floor plans and the concept pictures to the email and sends them away. He hopes that the customer is happy, now. The job had been interesting and quite fun with all the challenges, but he had other jobs too that he needed to work on, so he simply couldn't spend more hours on drawing entirely new pictures and doing all the math again because the customer had suddenly decided that they liked radius windows better to the picture windows instead-

Right on cue, his phone starts to ring.

Fox groans.

"Seriously?" He mutters, picking the phones up. "That was fast."

The record for the fastest call back he had received before this had been what, five minutes? It had barely been two minutes now, so there must be something egregious that he had managed to completely overlook, somehow.

He takes one last sip of his coffee, before he answers.

"Coruscant designs, Fox Organa speaking", he says.

"Hello, Mr. Organa." The voice that comes from the speaker is not the voice of his customer, and Fox blinks in surprise. Had he actually forgotten to see who had been calling? There's only a number on the screen when he quickly glances at it. "Is now a good moment to talk? I'm afraid that his would be rather time consuming."

"Depends on what this is regarding", Fox says. "I'm sorry, can I ask who this is?"

"Oh, right, my apologies", the voice says hurriedly. "This is agent Strass, I'm calling on behalf of Child Protective Services. Could I ask you if it is correct that your biological father was someone called Jango Fett?"

Oh, this is already not going how Fox would like any phone call to go. No matter how many years it has been by now, just hearing the words Child Protective Services makes his skin crawl, and the name Jango Fett makes his head hurt.

Those two combined have never promised anything good.

"I do want to make a correction, agent Strass, before we get any futher", he says, trying his best not to grit his teeth. "Jango Fett was my donor. I have never met him in person, nor has he ever had custody of me at any point during my life, nor does he even know that I exist."

"Oh", agent Strass says. They sound rather young, and Fox wonders if this is one of the first times they're making this type of call. "You're still listed as a genetic match to him through a DNA-test."

"I am, but I did not make that test to be in contact with him", Fox says. "I made it so I could be sure that my siblings were biologically related to me."

"Of course, of course", agent Strass says, and Fox can hear them turning some papers over on the other end of the call. "Now, I understand that this is a bit of an unique situation, since you do not have a prior relationship with your biological father, but we have received custody of a child that is, according to a DNA-test, also the child of Jango Fett."

Even though Fox already knows that it is the Child Protective Services calling, he is still surprised by the words.

"Have they been removed from the custody of Fett?" He asks.

"According to our records, no, a third party had a custody of him", agent Strass says. "They had done a DNA-test for the child themselves, and shared the results with us."

Fox can't believe this.

Someone is still using Fett as a donor? Or Fett is has suddenly decided to return from the dead and make more kids, but Fox doesn't think that is plausible. Fox is nearing thirty, and so are most of his siblings that he knows of, and the youngest he knows are still way past twenty. He really, really hopes that the child in question is in their late teens at the very least-

"How old is the child?" He asks.

"According to our information, three months", agent Strass says.

-and Fox hopes for the world to be healing are instantly burned down.

"Like I said, I understand that his is an unique situation", agent Strass continues talking, "but since we have the information on the child's biological family, it was decided that we would first reach out to you, to see if there would be anyone willing to foster the child, before we would turn to seek out long-term fostering options from unrelated people-"

Agent Strass's voice fades somewhere into the background, as Fox thinks. He thinks of the cramped rooms, he thinks of his drawer and box and the small amount of things he had in them, he thinks about his brothers, coming and going, being replaced with kids that were strangers, that would also leave if Fox ever managed to become friends with them. He thinks about the times it would be him leaving, thinks about how sometimes he had not even had a suitcase or a backbag, and had instead packed everything into plastic bags and dragged them around, he thinks of the drawer and the box and-

Fox looks out of the window, to the back garden with blooming trees, that he can see from his home office. His office, that he could have multiple of, and how they still wouldn't be out of space, and-

"Yes", Fox says.

"-in case that- excuse me?" Agent Strass stumbles a bit with their words.

"Yes, we will take them. Him. The child", Fox tries not to stumble over his own words as he hurries to speak. "We will take him. What do we need to do?"

Bail and Breha had been through adoption agencies already. They have been cleared to be fit to adopt and foster. Fox has not, but maybe he could ge through one if he applies right now, maybe two adults with qualifications would be enough in the meantime-

Agent Strass talks for a long, long time, and Fox now hangs onto every word with all the attention he has.

Agent Strass tells him to come to the office on Thursday. Fox cleares his whole day immediately.

The call ends almost an hour later, and by that time, his customer has tried to call him six times, and has left three emails. Fox sends them a message of three lines about emergency and sends it without checking if he even typed any of the words correct.

Then he sits down and he breathes.

He just sits there and breathes for a very long time.

"Alright", he murmurs to himself, finally. He needs to go ask Breha if she is free on Thursday, Bail at least only has work then until noon-

Oh. Right.

Fox stands up, and he walks to the other end of the floor, and knocks on the door of Breha's office.

"Come in, love." At any other time Fox would've been really endeared over the fact that Breha could recognise him from the way Fox knocks, but now he has too many other things in his mind.

Breha turns around on her chair as Fox slips in.

"Hello", she says and smiles, but her smile drops a bit when she sees whatever expression it is that Fox has on his face. "Is something wrong? Fox?"

Fox takes a deep breath.

"I've done something", he says. "Without asking you and Bail first."

Breha tilts her head.

"Have you sold the house and decided to move to Antarctica?" She asks. Fox shakes his head. "Then why do you look like you're about to uproot us all?"

"I agreed to have a baby", Fox says.

Breha blinks.

"What?" She asks.

"Not with anyone else", Fox rambles. "With you, I mean, to get a baby with you, I said that we could get a baby but I didn't ask-"

"Fox." Breha stands up, and Fox snaps his mouth shut. "Calm down, alright? Breathe in, and sit down. I feel like this is not a conversation to be had while standing up."

She takes his hands, and walks him over to the other chair next to hers that she keeps for visitors, and she lets Fox slump down on it for a good while before she gives him an expectant look.

Fox breathes in, breathes out, and starts explaining.

--- ---

They go to the office on Thursday.

Even arrives on Saturday.

His things are packed neatly into a little blue suitcase with cartoon ducks on it, and he is dressed nicely into clean overalls and a light coat, and has new, tiny shoes on his little feet.

Fox has only one, slightly tattered picture of himself as a baby, and he feels like he is staring at a live version of that picture when Even is taken out of the car and given to him.

Bail leans over, and he smiles at Even, who does a little smile back.

"He has the same forehead curl as you do", he comments, and brushes Fox's hair gently out of the way.

Fox can only answer with a nod.

He looks at the suitcase, and he thinks of the plastic bags and the drawer and the box.

Breha puts her arm on his back. Fox thinks about the cramped rooms and the drawer and the box as they walk upstairs and go to the room right next to their bedroom, with light green walls and vines growing on the wall outside the window, with a little cot and shelves and multiple drawers for only one kid.

Even's eyes dart around the room for a bit, before he looks back up at Fox. His tiny fingers grab at the front of Fox's shirt, and he smiles at Fox with a gummy smile.

Fox hoists him higher, presses his face against the little dark curls on Even's head, and he pushes the drawer and the box away.

(He only remembers that he had already agreed on things to do on Saturday, when Thorn calls him three hours later.

"Where are you?" He asks. Fox brings the phone further away, and takes a picture, which he sends to Thorn.

"Home", he answers.

"What are y- what the fuck is that?"

"It's a baby", Fox answers.

"I know it is a baby! Why do you have a baby?"

"Because I do now."

"That doesn't explain anything, where did you get it? You weren't pregnant!"

"How do you know I wasn't?" Fox asks.

Even is sleeping on him, and he makes a little snort and curls just a little closer to Fox. Fox smiles, and does not listen to anything Thorn is saying anymore.)

(Modern AU co-parented with @t3mpest98!)

[cosmerelists]

If Cosmere Characters Had Real-World Jobs (But Not The Obvious Ones)

In this list, I wanted to try to give Cosmere characters jobs in our world while avoiding the jobs that would be the most obvious picks--like, for example, the real world equivalent of whatever their canon job is.

1. Kaladin: Professional Football Player

It's a dangerous job that Kaladin's dad would scoff at, but the other kids in town think it's really cool and also the recruiters are coming through town and, I mean, he's really good at football.

2. Lirin: Public Defender

If we avoid the obvious job (doctor), then Lirin still needs a job where he is doing good, but it's pretty thankless and the general public are suspicious and think he might actually be evil somehow. So I figure: public defender. He's highly educated, helping people who need it, and just getting nothing but grief as a result. Worst of all, his smart son wants to be a FOOTBALL player!

3. Marsh: Masseuse

I feel like people who are good at hemalurgy know about the body and its pressure points and things like that. And frankly, "acupuncturist" felt too on the nose.

4. Shallan: Park Ranger

Shallan HATES to be confined, so no way she's going into an office job. Plus, she likes nature and animals, but I'm trying to avoid the more obvious jobs (like botanist or ecologist). It's just too bad that Shallan is SO bad at staring a campfire, though.

5. Navani: Wedding Planner

Navani is VERY good at managing people and events, as seen when she had to manage everything while Gavilar was off plotting. She's also very organized and literally invented wristwatches. So I think she's be very good at this job.

6. Elend: Grad Student

This one may be too obvious, but I figure something like "politician" or "philosopher" are more obvious. But to me, Elend has major grad student energy.

7. Nale: Insurance Adjuster

Nale is a cop, of course, through and through. But if he wasn't a cop, then he'd need some other job where he uses the rules to screw people over. So I see him as, like, an evil insurance guy who's denying people medical coverage because the company wants him to.

8. Blackthorn-Era Dalinar: Debt Collector

If flashback Dalinar couldn't make a living mowing people down in battle and had to find a less obvious job, then I could see him being the guy to hunt down people and demand money they don't have. He doesn't really care about the money. He just likes the hunt.

9. Adolin: eSports Player

It's a job where you can head-to-head battle people and your dad is vaguely puzzled and thinks you should be doing something more important with your life.

10. Lightsong: Customer Service Agent

In canon, Lightsong's job is to face down a huge line of people and tell them "no" in response to them asking for something they want. So, I mean, I feel like that's equivalent to one of those shitty customer service jobs where you're not really allowed to help people (until, of course, Lightsong goes rogue and does start helping people, but that's another story...)

11. Stormfather: Bus Driver

He has his route, and he's not deviating from it. And if you miss the bus, he's not stopping. He's not going back. You can try to run, but you will not catch up to him.

12. Tress: Mechanic

As a Sprouter, Tress had to figure out how each of the spores worked and how to use them. I just feel like she'd be good at diagnosing issues in machinery and then fixing them.

13. Steris: Programmer

She's precise, she's smart, she likes rules. I think coding would suit her.

14. Yumi: Waitress

She could stack the plates SO high.

15. Marasi: Investigative Reporter

Which, honestly, is what I wish she had been rather than being a cop like in canon. I think it would suit her! She'd get to research, investigate, find the truth...

16. Kelsier: Motivational Speaker

He tells you about the power of smiling no matter what, so that you are never defeated. He tells you to carry something small, some memento or photo, to help you find your motivation. You tells you that no goal is out of reach--you just have to find the right people and the right steps to move forward. And he tells you that the most important thing is to survive.

[kingshovelbug]

Hii what is your best advice to younger adults trying to make it independently and make a living? In art, savings or anything you think of. Thank you in advance!

dont be too hard on yourself. its tough out there right now in regards to like everything regardless of what old people say. also this is going to be a lot so im slapping a read more on here

⭐️ first thing id recommend for anyone is to start figuring out a budget. figure out how much youre making monthly. keep all your food receipts for a month or two to see what youre spending on food. find out what youre paying for thats necessary like utilities and whats not

the goal for a budget (or at least mine) is to find a good balance of earning vs spending. im paying off my credit card right now because i ran through all my savings after we had to move last year but my goal used to be to save 1/4 of what i earned after bills and putting money into an emergency fund (usually an emergency fund is 3 months worth of expenses). but it depends on how much you can comfortably put away. if you can put more away do it. but if you never spend money and deprive yourself of joy youre going to burn yourself out regardless of what your job is

⭐️ if youre not already buy store brand for as much shit as you can. if its an ingredient i promise as someone who cooks and bakes you probably wont notice the difference. if its an actual snack it depends. again both from a money perspective and to boycott pro-isreal companies we get a lot of snacks from aldis and theyre awesome. i dont miss anything from mars, oreos etc when i have my chocolate coconut wafers

⭐️ if you have any subscriptions and you need to get rid of something you can probably cancel them. for *most* things theres some kind of free alternative. but again just like with a budget. there are going to be some subscriptions that make your life easier and while youd save money without them it would lead to extra work and burning out. ex willow has kofi gold because it has really cool extra features that help with running the shop. but for streaming services? im going to be so honest. both to save money and with how cheeky streaming companies (in a bad way) have been getting… you can find whatever you want to watch online for free

if you need to use anything from the microsoft office suite, but youre not required by youre job to specifically use microsoft, libreoffice is a free alternative that i actually like better. its what i use to help willow run their shop and its free

for art programs. if you still have photoshop switch. not just for money reasons. adobe is getting bold with what they can claim as their content and use from what people produce in their program. the switch isnt the easiest but there are a bunch of alternatives. some free some like csp offer one time licenses which are so much better than subscriptions. will has spent almost $2k on photoshop and after effects from using it as long as they have. when csp is $50 and they like csp better anyways. i also know of krita and fire alpaca which are free

⭐️ also theres stuff about being an adult that i thought you had to pay for but you dont? like for car insurance i went through an independent insurance agent and they found me a cheaper plan than i could find myself. i didnt pay the guy. they get a cut from the insurance company for finding them another customer. some banks or credit cards offer financial advising sessions to users. its boring but if you can get a copy of your health insurance see if they have any free shit on there thats available for you. my brother gets free doctor finding? like i can call them, tell them what specialist he needs and instead of me calling around to find one that can take him, they connect me with someone. my work offers 3 free therapy sessions (better than nothing) and free food that i take advantage of

⭐️ i think one of the biggest things that makes an impact for us is researching before buying stuff. sounds like a no brainer but you dont just want to find the cheapest deal. you want to find the best bargain, the best bang for your buck. whats the best quality thing you can get that you can also afford? itll prevent your from having to replace stuff all the time and by extension spending more than you need to. we have nonstick pots and pans that are scratched and starting to peel (which apparently can cause cancer??) that were cheap because of being on sale. now after looking into what makes quality cookware i know i should of just slowly bought stainless steel

⭐️ last big one. credit cards. unfortunately we need them so find one with a low apr and that offers decent cash back. use it up to like 20% of your limit and pay it off every month. focus on using it on things that will get you cash back so you can essentially get free money

im sure i could ramble more but this is already super long

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 45)

“Sooo Hal, what exactly do I do here?” N asked nervously, twiddling his thumbs as they walked through the halls.

“I’ll be giving you a shortrange frequency that you’ll monitor, our office takes reports from concerned citizens, and Khan, Dale and I take the ones most suited for our respective teams.”

“Crime here is usually pretty tame, petty theft, b and e’s, vandalism. Occasionally we’ll get more serious calls, domestic violence, occasional homicide, though that’s gotten rare thankfully, or an odd “crime of passion”. Hal continued, N listening intently, he understood most of that, but “crime of passion” seemed to escape him.

“Crime of passion?”

“Couples getting too frisky and damaging one or both of them. Usually young ones who dunno what their doing. Most of the time they just dunno how to disconnect and panic, not too big a deal.”

Except N was still lost, he knew what all those words meant separately, but together they made little sense in his processors. He blinked. He wanted to ask what he meant by “disconnect” but at the same time it felt like a private question, not one he should be asking to his boss on his first day of work. Maybe he’d ask Uzi, or Thad, whichever was less embarrassing.

“How’s your daughter doing by the way? Khan mentioned she was having mobility problems when she was first transferred.” Hal asked turning yet another corner to go down yet another hallway, it always surprised him how large the bunker actually was, even if over half the rooms seemed to be empty. A pang of guilt entered his core, how many of these empty rooms were his fault? Or V’s?

“She’s fine now, she was just a little stiff, now she’s clinging to Uzi like a little monkey.” N gave a soft laugh thinking about his family at home, he always missed the both of them even if he wasn’t gone for very long, he supposed that just came with having a job though.

“Ah, yeah, sometimes that happens… when my son was printed into his toddler body we had to take him to the medical wing and they had to do surgery on his neck for him to start moving.”

“I didn’t know you had a son, I’m sorry, I’m sure that scared you both.”

Hal seemed to slow down for a moment, like he just caught himself doing something he shouldn’t before sighing.

“I did have a son. He’s… agh, nevermind that, we’re here.”

He banged his fist on the steel door, sending the grating noise through the hall, they waited for a few moments, only for nothing to reply back.

“She probably has her damn hearing aid turned off again.” Hal grumbled, before knocking as hard as he could, enough to send a vibration through the floor that N could feel through his feet.

“I heard you the first time! Go away!” A croaky, static filled voice called back, sounding irate and just a little bit scared. Hal rolled his eyes.

“It’s Hal, Mrs. Hopkins, you called us in to check out a break in.” Hal put on a very practiced customer service smile, N felt a minuscule shiver go up his spine, being reminded slightly of J, before it dissipated, here, it actually made sense for someone to have that kind of forced smile, and it wasn’t being used exclusively to make him uncomfortable.

The door opened quickly, the drone responsible being so old her casing had started to yellow, her eyelights were white, behind a thick pair of glasses. And she leaned on a cane, she shook with just the effort it took to stand and she adjusted her glasses as she looked at them.

“Good morning Mrs. Hopkins, what seems to be the problem today?” The way Hal asked the question alluded to his multitude of visits, she didn’t immediately answer, instead looking up at N squinting.

“You’re a tall one. Are you new?” She asked, prodding him in the stomach with her cane, he grunted, still trying to keep his polite smile even as he glanced over at Hal for assistance.

“She can’t see very well” He whispered up into N’s audio receptors, covering his mouth with his hand. “Probably a good thing, don’t give yourself away.”

N nodded and smiled again, extending his hand to shake the old woman’s hand, having to crouch down slightly to do so as she was hunched over her cane. She took it, her casing was freezing and felt like sandpaper, N made a internal note to not live this long.

“Hello Mrs. Hopkins, I’m N, it’s nice to meet you ma’am.” He said, and the ancient drone looked at him again, before her face grew into a kindly smile.

“How polite! And such a handsome young man. I hope Hal here doesn’t ruin you.”

The man in question’s eye twitched, before the moment was gone and he cleared his throat, clearly wanting to be done with this as soon as possible.

“You called us in for a break in?”

“Hmm? Oh yes! I was woken up last night by some footsteps. Above me! Someone was clearly trying to steal my fortune!”

N looked around her apartment, the couch was antique, plush and covered in so many blankets and throw pillows that it was hard to see the color of the actual seating underneath, the coffee table was decorated with a lattice of lace, making using it as an actual coffee table near impossible. The same could be said for most the the apartment, nothing here screamed “valuable”.

“Right, okay.” Hal replied, tense but still playing nice, N decided to help him out, he may have been tired of dealing with this lady, but N wanted to make a good impression, to both his superior and this lady.

“Where did you hear the footsteps Mrs. Hopkins? I could go and check for any signs of forced entry.”

“In my bedroom of course, how else would I hear it?” She answered, and N nodded, turning to Hal who seemed to be asking what he was doing, N gave him a smile before leaning over to whisper at him.

“Even if nothing happened, she believes something did, let me just check out her bedroom and the vents, then we can tell her that nothing was there.”

Hal nodded, seemingly agreeing with this plan, he sighed, before adjusting his posture.

“Well we take every report seriously, may we investigate?”

“Be my guest, and if you find the little hoodlum, tell them to get lost!”

Both officers made their way to the bedroom, which at first glance, had nothing amiss. Aside from the abundance of rather creepy porcelain dolls, all staring at them from various angles, N felt unease, and also the need to voice it.

“Whyyyyyy….” He whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Hal to hear it and he snorted in response, giving him an amused smile.

“I’d be paranoid too with all these eyes on me while I slept.” Hal whispered back, sighing and scanning the room, running his hand over one of the only clear spaces on the large wardrobe that held the vast majority of the dolls.

“Seems clear to me, any difference on your end son?”

N scanned the room in both infrared and thermal, but neither showed anything out of the ordinary, but even still his eyes locked to large vent in the corner of the ceiling, he didn’t know why something felt off with it, but it was giving him some weird vibes.

“Lemme check the ventilation, she did say she heard it above her.”

Hal nodded, looked into the doorway to ensure Mrs. Hopkins hadn’t entered the room and have a thumbs up to N, who let loose his wings and zipped up the shaft after carefully removing the grate in his way.

He had always hated climbing through the vents, not only was it dusty and he’d have to spend an hour cleaning out his olfactory and audio receptors later, but it was a tight squeeze, even without his wings, his shoulders scraped the sides of the ventilation shaft uncomfortably.

It was almost impossible for a normal drone to get up in here unless they had a ladder or also had the ability to fly, so he doubted he’d find anything accept a colony of robo-roaches.

When he got further in however, that feeling of unease watched over him again, like something or someone was aware of his presence and he was disturbing them, but rationality still won out, the chances of somebody being in these vents were astronomically low.

Then, the vent opened up a little, allowing him to crouch instead of crawl, to his left was a slowly rotating fan, his front the vents continued forward, but to his right, there was indeed something out of the ordinary. Caught on one of the seams of the welded metal was a ripped piece of red cloth, stained with multiple layers of oil, the freshest layer though, smelled of iron, and seemed to create a glaze of crimson on top of the multiple layers of dried oil. Blood.

He plucked it from its resting place, dread mixing in with confusion, the oil made some sense, maybe whoever had been here had been injured and using this scrap as a bandage, but the blood made less sense. The only time he’d seen blood recently was when that weird fleshy thing under Doll’s bed bled when he poked it, well, and Uzi’s… head… injury.

He looked back down at the red strip, before he remembered what Doll usually wore, that red cheerleading outfit.

His dread grew, becoming a cold weight around his core, Doll was here? In the bunker? Sneaking around the vents doing who knows what and clearly some type of organic based on this blood. What did he do? V was here, she wouldn’t be expecting Doll if she just dropped down from the ceiling one night and tried to off her. And what about Uzi? She was home alone most of the day, taking care of Tera. Oh Robo-God, Tera, she’d be completely defenseless if the Russian decided to come after her as well.

You must go home, your family is in danger!

He wanted to, his worry sinking it's claws deep into him, but he couldn't just leave, Hal was still waiting for him, and he was on the job.

Who cares? Their safety is more important!

The voice was loud and demanding, far more then it had ever been before, it caused ringing in his ears, but still he had to control himself.

Then he got an idea.

He simply called his girlfriend, he was a phone. And even though his hands were shaking and the urge to go home was strong, the voice ceased, seemingly content with his choice.

“N? Why are you calling me through my system? Are you okay?” At the sound of her voice his worry lessened and his core soared, she was okay, Doll hadn't already come for them.

“I-I found a scrap of cloth in the vents. It's Doll's. S-she's somewhere in the vents, please warn V.”

There was silence on the other end, enough of it that he could hear his daughters light giggling through the other side.

“I fucking hate it here!”

Next ->

[traegorn]

hey! i'm looking for some advice on a complicated issue - sorry if it's weird for a stranger to ask this from you but i couldn't think of anyone in my community, and you're a leftist creator i follow lol.

basically i'm a teen who lives in a very red area; i'm by far more left than anyone i've ever met, and i'm still figuring out my stances and trying to do research. i've gotten involved in community and politics, and i've done volunteering- through that volunteering i managed to land an internship with a local politician. a lot of people wanted it and i felt really fortunate and excited to learn more about how things are run on the inside.

i'll be honest....i really disagree with this politician on everything. they are very conservative. it was my number one reason for considering just not taking the internship, but my family convinced me that because i'm not in a campaigning office, and my work would just be taking calls, helping direct people to the right organizations/people that can help them with issues, etc., it would be alright.

and sometimes it does feel alright! i get to help people who are really scared/confused, politics aside. i don't do canvassing or anything, i'm not getting paid, so i started off thinking that i could use this experience to get more insight and then go from there.

but more and more i'm getting calls from people who disagree vehemently with the politician in question - people that i agree with personally. and everyday it's me going "i'm sorry, i'm just an intern, i can't speak on that" and hearing them ask me how i can stand by and support this person, that i'm just as complicit and bad as them...it's really got me thinking about quitting.

i wanted to get involved in politics and i thought this was the only way in a red area, but i feel really guilty. i was wondering if you have any thoughts on this?

Okay, so, you're in a tough spot. I don't know that I would have taken that job myself, but I think it's perfectly reasonable that you did. Like you said, you're not campaigning for them, you're working for their staff. Also, this is an internship. You're not in a position to change policy, and long term it's something you're going to move on from.

So I wouldn't really feel guilty if I were you. I wouldn't have done it myself, but I don't think you're contributing to some net evil in the world. If anything maybe there's a small chance that the personal relationships you're building with other people on that staff might bring some folks around.

Personal connections are usually the only thing that ever does.

As for people getting mad at you -- I need to tell you a secret: you're working in customer service. You're going to have to just sort of take it. The people calling you are often not going to be able to rationalize the difference between someone who just works there and someone making decisions. You took an internship with this person's office, which means you're going to get all the vitriol spilled onto you.

That's just going to happen. But, like, it would also happen if you were working for GameStop.

If you want to get involved in politics, the one thing you need to develop is a thick skin. You're going to spend your life getting the foulest things said to you, and you just need to learn to not let it affect you personally if you're going to get anything done.

And heck, if it does get to be too much... quit? It's an internship. You're not getting paid.

[amberjazmyn]

make you feel my love 🫶💔🥹

pairing : max verstappen x fem!reader, lando norris x fem!reader, oscar piastri x fem!reader and charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary : through the lyrics of shane filan's "make you feel my love" we see four of the f1 grid (m. verstappen, l.norris, o.piastri and c.leclerc) loving their partner through everything and anything

warnings : tears, fluff, workplace harrassment due to gender, mentions of abuse, mentions of illness and dodgy google translations

a/n : this came out of nowhere lol, please enjoy! also bold italics is lyrics, italics is like flashbacks and everything else is the regular font. remember, don't forget to reblog and comment. you can also request one-shots as well!

max verstappen:

when the rain is blowin' in your face and the whole world is on your case, i could offer you a warm embrace, to make you feel my love.

today had been the worst day in the world for you and you wish you could understand why. first off, it was raining cats and dogs outside, so loud you personally thought your work building would collapse in on itself and it utterly terrified you. and two, it seemed as though your whole office building and everyone inside of it was on your case and trying to nit-pick at every little thing you did, whether that was in regards to you doing your job properly or just breathing, someone in your office had something to say about it and it almost made you want to scream. but, you remembered you actually liked this job and didn't want to lose it all because you lost control once at a time when you were defending yourself from everyone else's ridicule and judgement. even though you were one of only five women working this specific job, you still loved it even though it was a male-dominated job. you knew that when things like this happened, when the rain was blowing in your face and the whole world was on your case that your boyfriend, max, would offer you a warm embrace, making you feel his undying love for you.

however, he still hadn't returned from the monaco grand prix so unfortunately, your boyfriend wasn't going to be home the same time you returned home from work. so, you just sucked those tears back up and pushed on through the rest of the work day, only hoping that no one else would try to test you otherwise you would start to bawl your eyes and not have the ability to stop. cause once you start, you could find it quite difficult for yourself to stop crying.

continuing your customer service job, which truthfully you didn't need due to your boyfriend's extravagent job, you still loved it. it started to eventually come to the end of your work shift when you and the two other work colleagues that were incessant on causing you to almost have a mental breakdown, because of your gender, were called in for a meeting with the boss. and you just hoped it wasn't you getting yelled at again because you couldn't deal with that. and, you somehow managed a shaky breath of relief when you saw the body language your boss had in regards to your colleagues in comparison to you.

"---sir, i'm sorry but, what on earth are we doing in here with...her?" the older work colleague of yours jeered with attitude in his voice as your boss gave him a sharp look whilst you stayed silent, looking anywhere but at your boss and the two other colleagues

"pourquoi penses-tu, todd ?" your boss matched todd's attitude in french (since they were in monaco, dutch was not the main langauge spoken) as the man stepped down as he gulped before your boss couldn't stop himself from continuing but in english why do you think, todd?

"why do you both think it's okay to constantly bother y.n when she's just peacefully doing her job like everyone else, just like she's supposed to? don't you ever get tired of being incessant bullies? don't you ever think that i can actually hear all this bullying and abuse that you're aiming at y.n? do you ever step back and think to yourself how much stress and harm you are putting on her? do you ever step back and wonder if your words actually cause harm to your fellow work colleagues or are you just so ignorant that you no longer care anymore? because that's what i think of you todd and of you as well, richard, and i wish i had found out about this earlier so i could have let you both go before it could have escalated this far. and y.n, i am so incredibly sorry that it's taken this long for me to take action because this behaviour...this genderphobic misogynistic behaviour is never and will never be tolerated in my workplace, not today, not ever! so, todd, richard, it's with my greatest pleasure that today is your final day at this job and you will be fired because how you behave towards your other work colleagues is simply not tolerable any longer. i'd like to say i wish you both the best but, i'd honestly be lying if i said that so, let's hope the next time i have to see or hear about either of you, you guys' heads will have been removed out of arses. but in saying that, i don't have high hopes for that either...grab your things the both of you and leave, i want you guys clocked out and out of the building before the end of the day..." the boss was no longer allowing this abusive behaviour and you couldn't help but feel thankful to him, it was also quite hilarious to see how todd and richard reacted

for those who wanted a mental image of the way these two grown ass adults reacted to their firing was them basically throwing fits in the way a child would if they were told no, you cannot play on the tablet (child's name) your screen time for the day has finished. as much as you wanted to laugh, you found yourself not being able to because you were just so exhausted from this long and quite frankly traumatic day that you just wanted it to be over so you could go home and cacoon yourself in blankets on the couch as you then wait for your boyfriend max to return home from the monaco grand prix. but then you remembered that you still had a job to finish and, just as you went to leave your boss's office, he stopped you.

"...oh, y.n, before i let you go, i am terribly sorry that you had to deal with todd and richard constantly on your case today and every other day. you didn't deserve it and it was completely unwarranted every single time, no if's, no buts, no nothing. i wish i had done this firing sooner because they truly don't deserve a place in my workplace if they are being disrespectful to my fellow employees just because of their gender which is something that is of course, not easily changeable. also, if you wish to, i give you full permission to clock out earlier today since i know how exhausted you are from all of their abuses you've recieved. all i ask is that if you do leave early, that i get a text message reassuring me that you've got home safely and another one when max gets home from the grand prix since i remember you telling me that he returns back tonight because i want to know that you're being taken care of properly, okay?" tears welled in your eyes as you smiled, making eye contact with your boss as you nodded your head

"thank you sir. all of this has been well appreciated and, i'll be leaving work early since i don't think i feel like i'm in the right headspace to continue so, i'll clock out early. and, i promise, as soon as i get home and then as soon as max gets home, you'll be receiving text messages from me, don't worry. again, thank you for firing todd and richard and for sticking up for me, i know everyone else has but, having you also stick up for me just makes it a little bit better..." you trailed off as your boss nodded his head and watched as you left his office, a little less of the world weighing you down as you walked out then what you had when you walked in

let's just say you were happily surprised and relieved when you came home to see your boyfriend already home with his arms open ready to comfort you whilst you just unloaded on him after sending a message letting your boss know you had got home safely and that max too was there with his arms open waiting.

lando norris:

i know you haven't made your mind up yet but i would never do you wrong. i've known it from the moment that we met, no doubt in mind where you belong.

you hated being in this position. your childhood best friend, lando norris (yes the lando norris from formula 1 was your childhood best friend) had just professed his undying and neverending love for you just hours before he was to leave for the japanese grand prix yet, you couldn't give him a yes or no answer. so, you just stood there, in the loungeroom of your childhood best friend's house, like an utter loser as you just stared at your best friend.

"...umm, i...i'm sorry what...what did you just say lando?" you managed to finally stammer out as lando let out a shaky breath, letting you know he was about to cry and you hated it - you hated being the reason that your best friend was crying

you could tell that lando didn't want to repeat himself and was about to leave so you stepped forward and grabbed his hand, "no, don't...please don't leave lando...i just, i know what you said, i heard it but i just...can i...maybe...have some time to think about my answer?" you stammered out as you held lando's hand tighter as his tears started to trickle down his cheeks as his lip trembled

"umm...yeah, sure....that...that's fine, y.n. i...i'm sorry, i shouldn't...i shouldn't have put you on the spot like that i just...i wanted to tell you before i leave for japan and i just...truthfully, i panicked and i just--"

"--hey, lando, calm down bubs. it's fine, you didn't put me on the spot, i just wasn't expecting it but, that doesn't mean i shouldn't not have expected it at all either. but, i'm still okay to think about my answer?" you reassured lando as he nodded his head to your question of still wanting to think about your answer and if it was okay

"yeah, absolutely, you can think about your answer, take as long or as little as you want. there is no timetable whatsoever, i just wanted to tell you before i left so, yeah..." lando smiled shyly, wiping away some extra tears off his cheeks as you smiled and moved closer

"...yeah, i get it lan. you didn't want to leave anything unsaid before leaving so you said it all now, it wouldn't be the first time we've done this. because, if i remember right, we had a similar if not same exact conversation when we were sixteen and seventeen right before you left for f2 and i gave you the same exact answer except, i never gave you the answer to your question but, this time, i promise i will because i think this time i'm ready to accept the truth and not be selfish anymore..." you trailed off, giving a quick kiss to lando's head leaving him confused as he turned around

"...selfish? you're never selfish, y.n..." lando whispered but you still heard it and you smiled as you opened the front door

"...i never intended to but, yes, i was this time lan. have fun during the race and i'll be there at the airport waiting for you and the grid to come home!" you smiled and left without another word as lando was still confused but didn't try to pursue anything more since he was needed at the airport within minutes

°•. ✿ .•°

lando had been having the best time in japan for the japanese grand prix. by the end of the race, whilst he didn't podium, he still got p5 and got a few points for mclaren with oscar piastri, the second mclaren driver getting p8 and also getting points for the team. but, even all that fun couldn't stop the fear of what your answer to his question was going to be when he reunites with you later tonight in london heathrow airport. he loved you dearly, you both knew this since like mentioned earlier, it wasn't the first time lando had professed his more than platonic love for you and you had rejected his advances and honestly, looking back on your sixteen-year-old self now as a twenty-three-year-old, you thought it was quite selfish as you remembered the same tearful, devastated face that little seventeen-year-old lando shared with the same but older, twenty-four-year-old lando the second time you "rejected" him. you couldn't keep on pretending that you too hadn't fallen head over heels in love with lando like he had with you because, you really had fallen in love with him. and probably first fell in love with him when you truthfully first met him when you guys were in primary school, never realising it until you were sixteen, when lando first tried to ask you out after expressing his love for you. you knew he would never do you wrong and would treat you like an absolute queen, seriously, he had seen you be mistreated since you were sixteen, after he left for europe and formula 1 and it bothered him so bad that he couldn't do anything to stop it. even after he pleaded with his dad, adam, to keep an extra close eye on you to make sure there were no physical injuries, you still refused to believe that your ex-boyfriends were abusive and bad because you didn't want to believe you were in love with your childhood best friend who you'd known since first grade in primary school.

except, now that you had the conversation a second time with lando at an older and slightly more mature age and just before you two would be apart for the best of a few months, you finally realised you couldn't be selfish anymore and you could no longer hide your true affection for lando anymore. so you didn't want to hide it anymore. as you impatiently waited at london heathrow airport with lily,  oscar piastri's girlfriend, you went back and forth in your mind of how you were going to tell lando that in fact, you too were in love with him and you wanted to be with him for as long as forever. but, just as you could think up of what you wanted to say to lando, you heard lily let out the loudest scream in the world, lily yanking on your hand as you looked up.

and all of a sudden, you couldn't stop your hand from sliding out of lily's or your legs from moving forward. bursting out into tears, you ran as fast as you could as you barely noticed the way lando's face lit up in excitement and slight anxiousness as you ran closer to him. since you were a loud crier, you basically had the entire arrivals terminal staring at you. and it wasn't just because there was a whole ass stampede of formula one teams returning home. via a normal commerical airplane and walking through a regular airport terminal in replacement of a private one right at the back of the airport. where no one else of the public would see them return home and potentially infiltrate them.

you finally got closer to lando who quickly dropped his duffle bag and opened his arms knowing you were going to jump into them. since it was something you always did from when you were younger. however, this time, it was different and he couldn't understand why until...

...you grabbed his face and kissed him in the most passionate way you had ever kissed anyone before in your entire life. lando, at first, of course was shell-shocked and understandably, mortified. but, as soon as he tasted the saltiness of the tears streaming down your cheeks on his lips, he didn't hesitate a second longer and started kissing you back. as cheers, applauses and wolf-whistles galore filled the arrival terminal at london heathrow airport as lando's team of mclaren, oscar piastri and their team principal watched on. lily holding tightly onto her own boyfriend with the biggest smile on her face. all of them happy that lando would no longer have to be devastated or fearful of his best friend not reciprocating her obvious love for him anymore.

"...i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you lando! i love you so fucking much and i am so sorry for being so selfish not telling you. i didn't really need time to think ahout my answer, i just said those things because i didn't want to allow myself to believe that i was in love with my best friend and it was so selfish of me and i cannot believe i made you cry like that and i just wish i could---"

kissing you again, lando pulled apart this time after initiating the second kiss, "---shut up will you, y.n, you really must love the sound of your voice if you're still too thick in the head to think i don't forgive you because i do forgive you. believe me, it took me way too long to pull my own head out of my arse because i also refused to believe that i was in love with my best friend as well. but, i put on my big boy pants and i told you two times, once when i was seventeen and about to leave for europe and the second time when i was twenty-four and leaving for the japanese grand prix because i didn't want to leave you without thinking i had forgotten anything. and i didn't because i told you that i was head over heels in love with you and unlike anyone else i'd ever loved before. and it broke my heart hearing you say you needed more time to think about it even though you had given me the same answer the first time and actually never gave me a response because you just couldn't face it at the time. and that's okay because this time you did and i couldn't have loved you anymore y.n. i mean...i...i've known it from the moment we met and there was no doubt in my mind where you belong and that's with me and no one else..." lando trailed off, tears welling in his eyes as you smiled as you initiated a third and one last kiss as the both of you couldn't stop laughing and crying and hugging each other

although it had taken years upon years of selfishly pretending you weren't in love with your best friend, you were glad it had taken until the japanese grand prix to kick your arse and head into gear as well as your head being removed from your arse and realise that you couldn't be selfish anymore. and you had to acknowledge that you couldn't fall in love with someone else because it was always going to be lando. and now, as you held tightly onto one another as you walked through london heathrow airport with the rest of the mclaren team and lily, you couldn't be any happier with your life now that you had lando with you forever and he was more than just your "childhood best friend".

oscar piastri:

i'd go hungry, i'd go black and blue, i'd go crawling down the avenue. no, there's nothin' that i wouldn't do, to make you feel my love

you struggled to believe it. oscar utterly refused to believe it. and he wished there was something he could have done to prevent it from happening...

"...mr piastri...did you hear what i just said?" oscar lifted his head up from staring at the carpeted floor in your, his wife's oncologist's office, with eyes that couldn't lie - your husband hadn't been listening at all to anything your oncologist had just said during the entire duration of them being in there

"ah, no i...i didn't, sorry, what were we talking about doctor marshall?" oscar gulped as he squeezed your hand tighter as you smiled with a soft and tenderness at him as doctor marshall smiled too

"don't apologise mr piastri, things like this can happen, especially because of how difficult it can be to comprehend your spouse having what can turn into a terminal illness, a lot of spouses will often pretend they didn't hear the diagnosis because they don't want to believe that their other half could be so sick..."

oh, that's why they were visiting doctor marshall. he was giving a diagnosis to you, oscar's wife, in regards to all the blood tests and other scans that you had been doing after you had been dealthly sick. and no one, not even your local gp in london, could provide you with an answer so they referred you over to doctor marshall in bristol. oscar had completely forgotten about that since he had been worrying about everything else that he couldn't even remember why he was in bristol with his wife and almost bursting out into tears in doctor marshall's office.

"...oh, umm, doctor marshall, will...is y.n able to undergo rounds of chemotherapy or any other form of can...treatment for her illness?" oscar stammered out as tears started to get him choked up as you stayed stoic and comforted your husband - you had a feeling that this doctor's appointment wouldn't be a happy and easy one to get through

"now, mr piastri, of course she is able to. we always suggest that the smartest and most logical idea, especially when we detect and diagnose the cancer early that going through treatment will give us and your wife the highest rate of surviving her cancer which is what we want. but, of course, we can't just force y.n to undergo treatment just for our own selfish needs. it has to be of her own wishes and accord because we don't know if the person suffering with the illness really wants to go through the process of the treatment and its side effects that it comes with as well as the long and constant hospital stays as an inpatient. so, if the both of you need some time to hash it out, i am absolutely fine with giving you guys a chance to chat and decide whether or not you, y.n, would like to go through with treatment or if you don't and after that, we can go from there, alright?" doctor marshall explained as you and oscar nodded your heads as you held each others hands tighter

"thanks, doctor marshall, we shouldn't take long..." you trailed off for the first time since the beginning of the appointment as you could hear your husband attempt to quieten his sobs as his body shook, his free hand covering his mouth as his eyes clamped shut tight

you knew this was breaking your husbands heart, you guys had lost your mum to cancer not too long ago just before formula 1 returned after their summer break and now, he had to go through that all over again with his wife? how on earth was that fair to oscar? it wasn't, it wasn't fair at all. however, you were determined to survive and beat your cancer for your mum who wasn't able to. you were determined to get to the end of your chemotherapy and ring that goddamn bell at the end of it all for those who never got to.

reaching over doctor marshall's desk to the tissue box, you grabbed a few and handed them to your husband as he wetly giggled, grabbing one of them and wiping his tears after pocketing the others, "...thanks babe..." he muttered as you kissed his temple softly as you continued to squeeze his hand comfortingly

"...so, doctor marshall wants us to discuss the idea of me going through treatment, so, how do you feel about me doing that?" you questioned, your head tilting to the side as oscar looked at you as though you were insane - which, in fairness, you were a little bit but, that's why oscar fell in love with you in the first place

"why are you asking me this, y.n? how do you the one who's actually going to through it, feel about it? this has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you, just like doctor marshall said. just because i may want and heavily suggest you do it, if you don't want to do it, i respect your decision and will do everything i can do to make this journey easier for you! this is not my decision to ultimately make, babe!" oscar's tears were still heard in his voice although his sobs had calmed down as you sighed and nodded your head, smiling softly

"okay. well, it wasn't a hard decision, osc. i want to go through with the chemotherapy, especially because doctor marshall said that we caught it early that i have a higher chance of surviving. i...i want to ring that bell at the end of chemo because mummy never got to ring that bell and i want to do that. i can't bare the thought of you losing another person you love with your entire beating heart to cancer because that's just unfair. especially when you had no idea that she was living with it until her death. so, it's best i start now when it's still early in the cancer to do so..." you trailed off, your heart breaking as your husband's sobs returned at the mention of your mum, his mother-in-law's death to cancer alongside the possibility of his own wife losing her cancer battle as well

"...i can't either, y.n. i can't lose you either! i barely survived losing your mum, i can't lose you too! i don't want to!" oscar sobbed as he folded in on himself, his pain immeasurable as you reached over the chair's arm and hugged your husband as tightly as you possibly could as he wept

"you won't lose me baby! i'm going to get through this cancer, i'm gonna ring that bloody bell and then we're going to rest and then after that, we're gonna have as many kids as we possibly can and we're gonna live happily ever after, i promise..."

°•. ✿ .•°

...psh, yeah, happily ever after my arse! once again, almost like a coda to the day you were diagnosed with cancer, you were stoic and unemotional whilst oscar, your husband was almost weepy at doctor marshall's check-up with you at the cancer hospital in downtown bristol. for some context, not too long after that doctor's appointment where you were first officially diagnosed, within a month, you were admitted to bristol's cancer hospital as an in-patient so you could start your cancer treatment basically straight away to give you the best chance of survival and eliminating the cancer all together. whilst oscar had to sadly return back to formula 1 and the grand prixs, making sure that he'd return straight back to bristol when given permission to do so by his team principal at mclaren. 

however, this is where the "pssh, yeah, happily ever after my arse!" comes from because, just this last couple weeks, you'd been blindsided with a dangerous infection in your bloodstream which nearly rendered you into a coma if the nurses hadn't noticed in time. and, even though, like your cancer, the nurses caught the infection early, it still didn't stop you from being in dangerous waters. so, you had to constantly fight every single day by forcing yourself to keep your eyes open, to eat, to drink and to walk around the upper cancer unit for ten minutes a day before returning back to your hospital room so you could then spend a couple of hours with oscar and someone else that he'd invite to come with him. the "someone else" was usually his mclaren teammate lando norris or your childhood friend's charles leclerc from ferrari and red bull's max verstappen. but today, it was all three of them because your oncology team had a terrible gut feeling and whilst they wished it to be a false alarm, they wanted to make sure oscar had enough people around him to comfort him if their gut feeling was to follow through and come true. thank god there was a three week break between the grand prix that just occured and the next one coming up because there was no way that all four f1 drivers would get away with missing a grand prix as unfortunate as it sounds. 

oscar was currently sitting uncomfortably, with his legs crossed like when you were kids at primary school sitting on the floor, his right elbow resting on the arm of the chair and his left arm stretching over to hold yours as you rested, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, your chest ever so slightly rising and falling tucked away under the sheets of your hospital bed. tears were constantly threatening to dribble down his cheeks as he constantly willed them away as he breathed shakily in and out, his hand occasionally coming up from the chair arm and covering his mouth for the times he couldn't help a sob and it's escape. and standing all around the rest of the room were his three teammates, lando, charles and max and they were helpless in knowing how to console their castmate. none of them had gone through the loss of someone they love due to cancer and now the possibility of the same thing was happening to his wife. although you were currently unconscious but breathing, you just knew that oscar wished it was him in the hospital bed with cancer and this mysterious yet dangerous blood infection. it was completely obvious because oscar had been that way ever since you two started dating and even before that when you two were just best friends.

i mean, this man, this lunatic of a man who was crazy in love with you would go hungry for you. he'd go black and blue for you. he'd go crawling down the avenue for you. there was absolutely nothing this looney toon wouldn't do for you because if it showed you how much he loved you, he'd do it. he'd even switch places with you, have himself go through this cancer, the treatment and this awful, stressful, heartbreaking, scary blood infection if it meant that you were okay and not worried every single day about whether or not you were actually going to end up ringing that bell at the end of your chemotherapy.

and, suddenly, out of pure fight that you still had left in you, you opened your eyes more determined then ever whilst oscar cried the same way he did when his best friend took his last breath with lando providing him with some comfort as he kind of rested on top of him, his arms around oscar's waist which moved each sob which made lando move slightly. charles and max not too far behind when charles' eyes widened, his teary eyes, since oscar wasn't the only one in a grief-like state, spoke up in a whisper.

"...osc...y.n's woken up..." charles whispered and as oscar and lando both heard that sentence, their heads shot up and more tears poured down oscar's face as he touched your face, lando's arms letting go of his hold on oscar

"...oh, baby! are you okay? are you hurt? what hurts? do i need to get the nurse what's--"

"--calm down babe, breathe. yes, i'm okay darling. i'm not hurt, i'm just a little numb and stiff due to the way i've been lying down. and yes, getting the nurse would be a great idea, and i think you should do it because you've been holed up in this room longer than anyone else has. lando, charles and max will take immense care of me for the five or so minutes you step out of this room to grab the nurse so don't have a freak out, alright love? i'm still here, i haven't left and i won't leave...now go, get the nurse and doctor marshall," you may have just woken up but that didn't mean you were tired or exhausted because you weren't, truthfully, you felt more alive than you'd ever felt before

agreeing and too tired to think about arguing, oscar nodded his head and unlatched his grip from yours and left the hospital room to fetch the nurse and doctor marshall, "okay, i'll be back love. have some water, you must be thirsty, lando'll help you if you need it," oscar smiled softly with a tender kiss to your temple as you smiled as you watched him walk out, wiping away his wet cheeks and to the left to the reception desk so they could page for the nurse and doctor marshall

let's just say, from how calm and smiley both the nurse and doctor marshall were, it seemed as though their gut feeling was wrong and the blood infection had been caught early and it looked as though you were going to make an amazing recovery. from not just the infection but also from the cancer and that was why the rest of bristol's cancer hospital could hear cheers, screams and just outright excitement coming out of room 4580.

charles leclerc:

when the evening shadows and the stars appear, and there is no one there to dry your tears, i could hold you for a million years, to make you feel my love.

you couldn't stay strong anymore so you didn't. you had returned home from the sinagpore grand prix to monte-carlo, monaco early to hold a vigil back in your childhood home for your father who was dying due to respiratory distress and it had just been confirmed that your father had died. you didn't want to believe it, i mean, what twenty-four-year-old wanted to believe that their father has just died after months and months of being bedridden after being diagnosed with respiratory distress? the doctors promised you, promised your whole family that with some sort of miracle drug that was very new but already so revoulationary and able to cure the disease that you were beside yourself that their promise fell on deaf hands and deaf ears. how dare they lie to you and your family? how dare they provide you with such comfort and solace that your dad was going to survive only for him to die months later in his bed in the very home you had every single childhood memory up until age twelve when you moved to montmatre, france to monte-carlo, monaco after your parents civily split up. and right now, you just cried. your body fell forward as a loud and guttural sob that sounded as though it was from an animal that was dying fell from your mouth as your knees hit the ground, your arms falling onto your father's bed on which he laid on in his final moments.

it was in that moment that the rest of your siblings, mum and doctor left the master bedroom as you continued to weep, wishing only for the dark to become light again, wishing for your father to open his eyes and just say he was joking even though he knew that would be a too crude joke to play on his ever-loving family who had never done a thing wrong to deserve that type of tasteless joke. your mum, whilst devastated over the loss of her ex-husband, knew you'd be the most devastated about this and was thankful, praising god that she remembered that charles leclerc, your boyfriend and f1 driver had been granted early leave from the singapore grand prix. it was well known within ferrari that your dad's health had been declining so, lovingly, they allowed the smart decision for charles to have permission to leave any time he got the phone call from your mum or anyone in the family about the death of your dad. the only one who could provide comfort for her was charles. 

due to your wailing and complete ignorance to the world around you, you hadn't noticed the gentle touch of your gorgeously talented but ever so empathetic and sweetheart of a boyfriend, charles. however, because you could feel the slight change in the air, you could tell without lifting your head up off of your father's bed and current resting place that someone was next to you. it wasn't until you heard his soft voice that you knew instantly by the way of his accent, the french effortlessly slipping from his mouth and how it was obvious he too had spent time crying himself, that it was your boyfriend next to you and not a family member who just carelessly decided to check in on you just for the sake of it.

"...y.n, bébé, tu peux te reposer maintenant..." charles' soft voice, that sounded like he too had been crying after recieving the phone call from your mother sounded from beside you as you finally lifted your head up from the warm blankets and sheets of your father's bed y.n, baby, you can rest now

"...charles... qu'est-ce que... qu'est-ce que tu fais ici ? tu es censé être toujours à singapour pour le grand prix..." you trailed off, your voice croaky and hoarse from all the wailing you had been doing for what felt like eternity at this stage charles...what...what are you doing here? you're supposed to still be in singapore for the grand prix

"...tu es plus important, y.n. ta mère m'a appelé, elle m'a raconté ce qui s'était passé..." charles' voice stopped as he got all choked up as tears welled in his eyes as you struggled to hold yourself together again you are more important, y.n. your mum called me, she told me what had happened

"...il...mon père est mort charles...il...il ne reviendra pas...il...il ne se réveillera plus jamais..." you sobbed as you fell, instead of collapsing forward onto the bed, you fell sideward onto charles who caught you and held you as more sobs jolted your tired body he...my dad's dead charles...he...he isn't coming back...he...he's never going to wake up again

"...je sais chérie et je suis vraiment désolée. j'aimerais pouvoir dire n'importe quoi qui pourrait soulager cette douleur mais je sais que rien ne peut faire ça!" charles whispered as he held you, rocking the both of you back and forth as tears streamed down the both of your faces whilst your dad's lifeless body laid in rest on the top of the bed that you were still hunched over i know darling and i am so sorry. i wish i could say anything that could ease this hurt but i know nothing can do that!

the evening started to shadow the master bedroom of your childhood home and you could see the light of the stars started to appear, there was an obvious brighter star that shone the brightest out of all of them. it was clear that that star was none other than your dad reassuring you and the rest of the family alongside charles' own dad and godfather jules that he was safe and that he'd always be there to shine bright every single night. last time your family went through a bereavement, you and charles were only best friends and he was in italy and you were in monte-carlo which meant that he wasn't just a quick drive away to wipe away all your tears over the loss of your grandpapa when you were a mere twelve-year-old returning back to monte-carlo in the same way twenty-four-year-old you had returned to monte-carlo to stand vigil at your now-dead father's bedside. it was a weird sense of deja vu or like a coda in a movie or song but, this time you were just grateful that you had charles here with you to comfort you and to dry your tears, to hold you for a million years.

"...charles...je t'aime tellement..." you whispered, your eyes only just staying open since it was now midnight and you and charles were still sitting vigil in your father's bedroom hours after his death date had been called charles...i love you so much

"...je t'aime aussi bébé... je pense qu'il est temps de se reposer et d'aller dormir ? qu'en penses-tu?" charles whispered as you couldn't help but agree, although you wanted to stay in this room with your father for the rest of eternity, you knew you couldn't do that i love you too baby...i think it's time we get some rest and go to sleep? what do you think?

"ouais, je ne pense pas que papa voudrait qu'on pleure à son chevet pour le reste de notre vie. je pense que s'il avait la capacité de devenir un fantôme, il nous reprocherait certainement de pleurer sur lui *tearful giggles*. en plus, je suis épuisé et il est presque minuit trente minutes et je suis sûr que tu es incroyablement fatigué par le long vol alors il est temps d'aller au lit..." you trailed off with a broken smile, standing up off the floor from your kneeling grief position and held out your hand for charles to grab it yeah, i don't think dad would want us crying at his bedside for the rest of our lives. i think if he had the ability to become a ghost, he'd definitely tell us off for crying over him. besides, i'm exhausted and it's nearly thirty minutes after midnight and i'm sure you are incredibly tired from the long flight so, it's time for bed

and he did, with an identical broken smile, he grabbed your hand and stood up as well as you guys walked out of your father's bedroom, not forgetting to quietly close it behind you cause, even in death, it would be rude to loudly close your father's door when he's trying to sleep.

fin

why do i make only a couple of them so sad? i don't know but anyway, i enjoyed rewriting this into a new version and i hope you guys enjoy reading it. also, funny that the only real translating i used was for charles' one-shot since there was no way i was going to translate the entirety of max's one-shot lol. anyway, i hope you guys enjoyed this. 

©⠀amberjazmyn's original work. do not translate or steal any of my fics. 2024

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Between the Lines 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, Lee is rude, customer service triggers. and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

‘So no one told you life was gonna be this way…’

You nearly clap to the theme song stuck in your head. You resist and continue your patrol of the aisle. The lyrics are oddly poignant as you traverse the bookstore. Two degrees and this is what you’re left with. This is far from what you expected.

You don’t hate the job, only the customers. Sometimes. You love books and when you got the call, you were all too happy to trade in your Starbucks apron for collared shirts and dark slacks. As much as you miss the free drinks, you’re more confident around literature.

You come down the main aisle of the store, around the tables in the middle with stacks of best-sellers and promotions, as a woman enters. She’s striking in her pencil skirt and sleek cinched trench coat. Her hair is immaculately highlighted blonde and gold and highlights her beauty. She doesn’t see you in her hurry, surpassing you for the Biography section.

Another customer follows her in the door. He looks after her as he stops just inside. Your curiosity stitches in your forehead. He’s rather intent on trailing her. His jacket has a star pinned on its chest; a cop.

Oh, shoot. Not another thief. You go to greet the officer, “hello, sir, can I help you?”

“Nah, thanks,” he waves you off, his knuckles nearly hit you in the cheek.

You back up and let him pass. You could be wrong but you can’t risk shrink on your shift. Not again. You casually head in the same direction, pretending to fix some book spines as you peer down the aisle where the woman looks back and forth elusively. Hmmm.

You stride towards her and put on your best smile, “hello, miss, is there something I can help you with?”

She looks at you, almost breathless, “um, do you have a bathroom?”

She cranes to peek over her shoulder again. She shudders as if disgusted. You hear the cop down the next row, slowly pacing. You point her towards the back. You don’t see how she could be hiding anything, her jacket is open and her purse isn’t that big.

She hurries off, heels tapping, as she escapes towards the bathrooms. You shrug and continue on, rounding the end and continuing towards the officer. He sees you and frowns, turning his interest to the graphic novels. Your favourite.

“Anything I can help you find?” You ask in your most chipper tone.

“No,” he grumbles, glancing over the shelves towards the fading click of the woman’s heels.

“Um, is something wrong?” You wonder.

“Can you mind your business?” He asks as he turns on you, “I’m a man of the law, I don’t needa explain myself to you.”

“Of course, sir,” you swallow, taken aback by his tone, “I didn’t mean too. I just thought… if you need help. I’m sorry. I’ll be around if you change your mind.”

You show your palms, meekly excusing yourself as you back away. You turn and take a step, skin blazing in embarrassment. You feel as if you’ve been slapped across the face.

“Now, wait a minute, sweetheart,” the officer calls after you, “I should be sayin’ sorry. I wasn’t meanin’ to be so rude. I’m just… long day, ya know?”

You stop and slowly face him. You do your best to shake away the tension. It’s work and it’s not often you get an apology from a customer.

“Yeah, I know,” you give a rocky half-chuckle, “um, so… what did you come in for?”

“Ah, you know, lookin’ around, uh, these comic books,” he points beside him, “they got lots of pictures?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer as you face the shelf, “do you have a specific genre in mind? Superheroes? Apocalyptic? Mystery? Anime?”

“Well, I got this nephew, he’s real into this stuff. Nerd type things,” he scoffs, “that Batman guy and his car.”

“Oh, looking for a gift? Birthday?” You prompt.

“I ain’t seen my sister in some years and she asked me over. Long story, don’t matter, but I don’t wanna show up empty handed.”

“That’s sweet. A family reunion,” you turn and peruse the shelf, “well, you could get a couple of issues, we’re having buy two get the third free, but an anthology would go a lot further. A bit pricier though.”

“Hmm,” he peruses thoughtfully as he leans in, “you probably don’t know too much either, being a lady and all. But you could help me with my sister. I heard about some writer, Hooter or something?”

“Colleen Hoover? Uh, sure, most people like those and they’re an easy read,” you explain, “but if you’re looking for comics about Batman, I have many suggestions. The Dark Knight is a good read, way better than the movie–”

“I got it figured,” he reaches to slide out Batman: Year One. Not a bad choice, actually. “Now you show me this Hoover whatever. Sounds like a dang vacuum.”

He’s demanding but you’ve dealt with worse. Besides, it’s easier at least when they know what they want. You take him around to the table of popular authors.

“A lot of people like It Ends With Us,” you point to the pink cover, “Maybe Someday also tends to be a hit.”

“You talk a lot, don’t ya?” He grumbles as he puts his hand on his hip, his stomach straining inside his jacket.

“Oh, I’m s-sorry, sir,” you take a breath, neck prickling as you feel your nerves spike, “I’m only doing my job. If you don’t need my help–”

“Did I say that? You ever let a man sit in silence?”

You blink at him and your smile evaporates. What a jackass. You could blame it on the badge but you suspect he’s just a completely intolerable person. No wonder his sister didn’t talk to him for so long.

“Sir, you can pay at the front counter. You can also ask any questions you have up there.” You lean back on your heel, “I have stocking to do.”

“Now, don’t you give me that look. Customer’s always right, ain’t they?” You press your lips in a firm line. You glare at him as he snickers, “you got no respect. Ladies these days seem to forget what that means.” He grabs a book from the table without checking the cover, “I’ll be certain to tell the manager how helpful you were, sweetheart.”

He nears and you stand your ground, taking measured breaths as your wits threaten to crack. He looks you up and down and snorts. He winks as he cradles the books in one arm, reaching to boop your nose with his index. You pull away as your chagrin ripples across your face.

“Some ladies just needa learn their place,” he drops his hand and continues on, swaggering in his victory. Pathetic, it’s not that hard to demean someone who can’t talk back.

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

Receptionist Danny working in the main Wayne lobby

First few days at the job site and Danny was already regretting getting this job.

Why?

Because this exact scenario had been repeated five times already just today. Not as persistent as THIS one though. God he is so tired of this bull. It got tiring after the third time now he's just tired and annoyed.

A bad combo considering Danny the "Town Menace Phantom" Fenton was beginning to lose the little patients he had left.

' just count down from ten like Jazz had taught me years ago'. Danny gave a sigh and kept repeating the mantra in his mind.

He has to stay strong he fought ghost for years! What is a few minutes worth of questions from a few eager journalist? He could handle Wes how could they be any worse?

Oh who was he kidding certainly not himself! Not after having suffered a day full of questions about shit he didn't know squat about.

This situation with this gender bent Wes was WORSE considering Danny couldn't just tell her to piss off. The others had just asked a few questions or had gotten turned down regarding questions. Not TO bad. He could handle it. He still kinda liked this job. Well, he likes the work benefits. It was the main reason he applied after all.

So give him some credit this was the sixth harpy "journalist" to come sniffing around after having gotten wind of a new employee in the main office. Though their sources must be bad. He was just a receptionist! Not the new head of the financing department or Bruce Wayne's new secretary, leave him alone!

He doesn't know what the company boss does??? Why ask him? How would lil' old receptionist Danny Fenton know!

Has he not suffered enough?? His suffering with this specific harpy had been going on for the past twenty five minutes.

"So, where does Bruce Wayne leave for during his meetings? A new woman? Man? Trouble in the family?"

Vicky Vale as she had introduced herself before had officially made Danny hear his last strained thread of patients fraying. He could only take so much before the menace in him gott done with this nonsense. Time for Ms Vale to go away, fuck off and not come back. Danny menace mode ON now.

Smiling the most customer service™ smile he could manage Danny responded in the flattest tone he was capable of.

"Well to fuck your mom of course, Ms Vale."

And of course at just the moment the older receptionist Ms Linda Smith that had been in charge of showing Danny the territory before retirement finally came back. With two coffee cups in her hands. She had taken off on her break the moment she spotted Ms Vale walking towards the front desk. She promised to grab him a coffee on her way back. Truly abandoning him to the wolves. Or wolf. She had bribed him and Danny hadn't even known what kind of suffering awaited him. Ms Linda had started speaking.

"Okay Danny no we don't---

Danny didn't know exactly what was up with the big boss and his family. Something was definitely up but he didn't think it was bad.

"And your dad, because we here at Wayne enterprises support the LBGTQIA community. Thank you and leave.

((((((((((((End )))))))))))) :)

Thank you for reading! I might do some more for this idea again. This is basically just the idea by @some-rotten-nest link below. I've had a similar idea about Danny being an evil assistant before. Not a receptionist though. It was fun writing this I keep thinking about all the interesting scenarios that could play out in this (Au?) Idea. Also I just wanted to test the waters. I've never written anything and actually posted it before. I hope this was okay. Um bye and have a good day oh am I kidding have a good night!

This idea is based on this https://www.tumblr.com/some-rotten-nest/725017913035276288/danny-fenton-a-new-receptionist-at-wayne by the amazing @some-rotten-nest ! I was just so inspired by it, all of my creative instincts were just itching to make something for this<3

>:D

[slash-me-please]

I am sure your tired of writing for Amanda by now but your the only person I could find that’s willing to write for her and is actually good at it 😭 spare me i’m desperate and don’t know how too request but could you do a imagine with Dom!Amanda and shes really protective over reader to the point where it’s kind of toxic, she finds out who readers shitty ex girlfriend is and does anything and everything to show the said ex that reader is hers now like: showing up at her place of work with reader, making out in front of her, really touchy, whispering dirty stuff so the ex can hear, etc. Just some examples. You can pick whether reader is fem or gender neutral it doesn’t matter to me :)

On another note: Thank you for your service🫡 I love your writing so much.

you said dom!Amanda therefore you are getting smut i am so sorry to force this on you. :) not really love u.

A/N: Sorry about the wait!! I got caught up on bills today and have been working full time and also doing schoolwork. Luckily I paid my rent + electric so i have some free time!!!

Warnings: Revenge sex trope, voyeurism/exhibitionism, bondage/shibari, fighting, jealousy, dub!con, reader being an absolute asshole, murder, use of vibrator.

Pressing your fingers against the loose fabric of a dress, your lips held in a thin line. The needle pressed through the fabric, and back again. You were focused on your work, a nice sheer fabric for a nightdress you had been working on for a while. You were a tailor for a small business which made custom handmade dresses, one of the best tailors of the six of you.

The office you worked at was small, just like the business. The six of you crowded into a medium sized room. Your boss had created you a small section to yourself, as she insisted on making you employee of the month. So you pressed your hands against the fabric, the slow push and pull of your hands against the machine kept you in a trance. You had loved your job once, and while you enjoyed what you did- there was one downside.

Her. The problem. The reason you got into fights with your girlfriend every night this week.

As you pieced together your nightdress, across from you your ex watched- eyes wide and focused on your hands. You wanted to say something, you wanted to complain. Anything. But you never did, instead opting to do your job.

"L/N!" You flinched, hand jerking forward and pinching your finger in the machine. You yelped, pulling backwards and cradling your finger against your chest. "Look what you did!" The familiar voice of your lover rang through your ears, and you felt yourself turning to look. She was barreling towards you, eyes focused on your boss, who had yelled your last name. She seemed angry, reaching foward to hold you against her stomach.

Amanda placed a brown paper bag on your table, freeing her hands to examine your finger under her "Professional" gaze. She seemed almost content for a moment, eyes narrowed in on yours. "It's just a nick, but i'll fucking murder that ratty-bastard if you want." Your head shook back and forth, eyes widened with shock. "I'm not sure that's necessary!" You whispered, turning away from her to move back to your dress. "What are you doing here Amanda?" She sighed, the back of her hand hitting the paper bag. "I brought you lunch,"

"I might be too busy eating out Jenny to get to that, sorry." You snapped, turning your head away from her. "Fucking look at her, she's fucking you with her eyes. I don't know why you're acting like you can't see that." Amanda snapped back, her arms crossing against her chest. "It doesn't matter what she thinks about me. I told you I only want you! Why does it matter if she's looking at me?" Amanda released a sigh again. "It's about respect, I don't understand why you allow her to do that." You felt your face begin to heat up, beyond aggravated with the entire situation. "She's just not even worth the fucking air! I'm sorry you're too insecure to let it go!"

You only began to feel bad when her face fell and she turned on her heel and out towards the parking lot, but you didn't dare follow her.

You can end here, or read this fucked up smut.

Vision static and dizzy, you wobbled in the chair you were tied to. The last thing you remember was getting home and your lover reaching her hand around your mouth and nose to suffocate you with a damp rag. Your throat felt dry and sore, as if you'd been yelling but you knew that you hadn't. Amanda got like this sometimes, but you knew this time was your fault.

It looked like you were in an abandoned garage, the lights were cool and flickering. You were propped on a chair, both legs tied with a spiral futomomo tie and kept apart with a spreader. You were entirely naked, and bare to the garage.

And your ex.

There sat Jenny, her eyes wide as she stared at your bare form with an underlying lust beneath that fear. Her mouth was ducktaped shut and she was chained to the chair by her ankles and wrists. You squirmed beneath her gaze, whining out for Amanda. A few moments later she made her entrance, yanking off the worn pigs mask. She glared at you with an anger you'd only seen a few times. Goosebumps erupted onto your skin.

"I'm sorry, can you let me out?" You plead, and she frowns. "Don't act like you don't deserve what you're going to get."

She made her way behind you, and you heard her shuffling a few items around. You thought for a moment that maybe she had a table back behind you, but she left you no time to dwell when you felt a cold hand grasp your shoulder.

"Tell me, Love." Amanda took a deep, shuddering breath. "Do you like her eyes on you?" You whined, head craning back to look at her and deny the accusation. "I only want you baby, I promised!" Your pleading did not phase her, she only reached into your hair and yanked your head forward. Your eyes made contact with Jenny's and she watched as Amanda's hand flicked on a vibrator and licked it.

"I want you to watch, let me show you what's fucking mine."

And with those words, she hunched over you and placed the vibrator over your clit. Your head threw back, and you yelped. "Goddammit!" Your legs shuddered against your restraints, pulling against them with a pain. "Please!" Amanda laughed, her eyes trained downwards as she watched your sex shudder against the silicone head of her vibrator. "Good girl..." She whispered into your cheek, placing a cruel kiss on your skin. Your voice wobbled, back arching as you pressed yourself impossibly closer to the source of your pleasure.

Across from you, Jenny watched, cheeks flushed and eyes dilated. Her legs rubbed together as she watched Amanda rub the toy against your clit. She treated you generously, her other hand snaking down to your throat to give it a squeeze as she upped the setting on her toy. You keened loudly, hands balling into fists as you chanted her name.

"You like this? All I had to do was force you to show her who you belonged to?" She sneered, pushing the vibrator lower. She let it sink into your hole, and she began to lightly thrust it inside of you. "God!" You cried, mouth hanging open as your climax ran up to you. "I'm so close!"

Amanda snickered, glancing up to watch Jenny stare between your legs.

Her mouth twisted into something angry, her other hand reaching down to rub your clit in circles. You flailed against her ministrations, mouth open in a wail which could not be contained. Finally, you came against her hands, legs quivering as you soaked her hands and the toy, the rest of your cum wetting the concrete floor beneath you. With that, she flicked the vibrator off and placed it back on the table, grabbing something sharper.

"Did you enjoy the show, Jenny?" You heard her breathe. You heard her walk back behind you, her hand yanking your head backwards. "Love you..." You gasped, picking your head up to give her a kiss. She nodded, fingers releasing your hair. That is when she walked past you, flipping a hunting knife around in her hand. "It'll be the last one you'll ever see."

Jenny began to push against her restraints, shaking her head no and yelling pleas. None of which appealed to Amanda, instead the smooth twist of her wrist pushing the blade into her abdomen and then actively gutting her appealed way more.

You watched the life leave her eyes and you sighed, making eye contact with Amanda and biting your lip.

"Are you done?"

She dropped to her knees, crawling forward to attach her lips to your cunt.

[aneurinallday]

Green Eyes

Chapter 4: Distance Between

Without the warm glow of Alec’s company to brighten his evenings, Thomas Shelby returned to his previous routine of solitude and gloom. He spent his days working himself to the bone, and his nights trying to numb his mind with alcohol and opium.

He hadn’t even realised how attached he’d become to Alec - or rather, to the idea of Alec - until he’d stopped frequenting the Arcadia. He soon found himself missing the singer’s bright smile, his errant dark curls, his summer-green eyes. Everything about Alec was addicting: the taste of him, the feel of his skin, the sound of his carefree laugh.

There were other brothels in Birmingham to keep Thomas diverted, but it just wasn’t the same. Now the sex was soulless and cold, and the empty space in his own bed, where Grace had once lain, seemed to grow bigger and bigger until it threatened to swallow him again. He couldn’t continue like this. He needed to take his mind off things.

He needed to go back.

One month after he’d last set foot in the Arcadia, Thomas decided it was time to pay it another visit. From a pragmatic standpoint, it served him to continue patronising Cobb’s clubs; and besides, why should Thomas Shelby deny himself pleasure just because he’d quarrelled with some whore? It was Alec’s job to perform a particular service, and Thomas had every right to expect the same treatment as every other client.

Arriving at the club, he heard a jazz band playing; but it was a woman singing, one of the girls who worked there. His eyes scanned the dance floor, yet saw no trace of Alec. Perhaps he was busy with another client.

“Welcome back, Mister Shelby.”

Thomas turned and recognised Bragg, one of Cobb’s Boys. The man was leaning against the wall near the golden curtains, wearing a smarmy grin.

“I’m here for Alec,” Thomas said curtly, “Is he available?”

“Who?”

“Alec. The singer. He has green eyes.”

“Oh, him. He doesn’t work here any more. Mister Cobb sent him on his way.”

“What? Why?”

“Apparently he misbehaved and cost us a loyal customer. Mister Cobb can’t abide sloppy workers, so he made an example of him and sent him on his way. We couldn’t allow him to jeopardise the good reputation of this establishment.”

“Where is he now?” Thomas demanded.

“How should I know? We can’t keep track of every whore who passes through here,” Bragg laughed. “You won’t find him at any of the other clubs. Word got around that he pissed off Mister Cobb, and now there’s not a bar or whore-house in Birmingham that’ll hire him.”

Thomas could feel the anger bubbling inside him. He pushed it down, forcing his hands to unclench and his voice to soften, but the threat in his blue eyes was unmistakeable.

“I’ll ask you again,” he said quietly, “Where is he? He told me he was renting a place, but he didn’t say where.”

“He never told us either.” Bragg shrugged. “Somewhere north - Saltley maybe? Or Aston? Wherever he is, he’s not our concern any more. We’ve got plenty of girls here, Mister Shelby. And lads too! Pretty ones. You don’t need to go home disappointed.”

Thomas didn’t bother hearing the rest of his sentence - he was already walking away, his face hidden beneath the low brim of his grey cap. As he left the club, he felt something he hadn’t expected to feel, something which knotted his belly and tightened his chest.

He felt something he hadn’t expected to feel.

Guilt.

In his carelessness, he’d ruined an innocent life. Alec, who was already struggling to make his way in the world, had had his income and livelihood snatched away from him, for no reason other than that he’d displeased the great and important Thomas Shelby. And now he was gone, possibly for good.

Sleep was difficult that night, and the morning began with opium in an attempt to soothe his restless mind. He arrived late at the offices of Shelby Company Limited to find his two younger brothers lounging at a table, playing cards.

“Johnny, Finn, you’re not doing fuck-all, so do me a favour,” he said, “There’s a whore who used to work at Cobb’s club. Good-looking lad, he’s got green eyes and curly hair. He sings and dances…”

“I remember,” John remarked. “The boy in the dress.”

“Do you remember his face?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I need you to find him for me.”

“Why? He done a runner with your cock or something?”

“I owe him three pound,” Thomas lied, “Last time I was at the Arcadia, I didn’t get round to paying him for his services. Now he’s…moved on, and I still need to settle the debt.”

“So give us the money and we’ll hand it over.”

“No. I want to pay him in person.”

“Tommy,” John laughed, “It’s only three fucking pound. Why all the fuss? Forget about it.”

“It’s only three pound to us, but it’s a hard-earned wage to him.”

“So what? What’s he gonna do, come marching in here demanding an audience with the Peaky Blinders?”

“Johnny, don’t fucking question me. Just find him, alright?”

Finn, who was young enough to want to prove his usefulness, took the matter rather more seriously than John did.

“Tom,” he interrupted, “When we find him, should we bring him back here?”

“No. No, don’t touch him. Don’t do anything to cause him distress or alarm. Just find him and then let me know where he is. I’ll do the rest. Now get the fuck out of here.”

The two younger Shelbys left, whispering to each other as they stifled their laughter.

As he always did when faced with unwelcome emotions, Thomas threw himself into his work. For the next week or so, he shut himself in his office, and stayed crunching numbers and writing letters long after everyone else had gone home. Then one night, as he was buried deep in accounts, he was interrupted by a scrap of paper being tossed onto his desk.

“Found him,” said John, standing over him, “Your long-lost lover.”

Thomas picked up the scrap and peered at it through his circular glasses. It appeared to be an innocuous advertisement for therapeutic services, signed by someone named Alice.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Read between the lines. He takes private visitors now, if you catch my drift.”

“The address is a flat in Saltley,” Finn chimed in.

“Saltley,” Thomas muttered. It was deep within Peaky Blinders territory. Alec had been living under Thomas’s nose this whole time, possibly for years, both of them unaware of each other’s proximity.

“Well?” Finn was looking at him expectantly. “I’m the one who found the advertisement.”

“Yes, thank you, Finn. I’m sure you helped.” Thomas glanced pointedly at the door, indicating that he wanted solitude. “I’ll take it from here.”

John and Finn looked at each other and departed, leaving Thomas puffing at his cigarette with increased urgency. He continued staring at the advertisement, already calculating how much money Alec would’ve had to spend on posting it, and how much money he could reasonably charge without the luxurious setting of Cobb’s club and all the benefits that came with it. The conclusion was that Alec was probably making a fraction of the already meagre pay he’d earned at the Arcadia.

Now that the search was over, he felt strangely reluctant to face the very thing he’d been seeking.

Thomas Shelby was known and feared wherever he went. His money and power demanded admiration, regardless of what means he’d come to acquire them by. It was beneath him to apologise, especially to some lowly whore. So where did this guilt come from? He owed Alec nothing, and had done too much for him already.

Thomas sighed as his sense of duty took over. He was supposed to be a gentleman now, after all, and gentlemen didn’t shirk responsibility. Even if it was beneath his pride to admit blame, the only honourable way forward was an apology and an offer of financial compensation.

It was time to pay the whore a visit.

Thomas followed the advertisement to a rundown area of Saltley, just north of Small Heath. He was greeted by a dingy row of canalside flats, where weeds were overtaking the brickwork and where the nearby factories were a constant background noise. Dogs were barking, raised voices were arguing, and somewhere a baby cried.

He stood staring up at the grim bricks, the cracked window-panes, and the holes in the roof - a million miles from the gilded glamour of the Arcadia - and struggled to reconcile them with the beguiling figure of Alec. Surely beauty had no place here.

Entering through a piss-smelling porch and ascending three flights of dirty stairs, Thomas reached the flat number indicated on the advertisement. Someone was home - light was peeping from the gap beneath the door, and he could hear sounds from within: the creak of the floorboards, the scrape and thump of a cupboard door, and Alec murmuring softly.

It was the first time in a long time that he’d heard Alec’s voice. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it. For a moment, he simply stood on the landing and listened, trying and failing to discern the muffled words. Then he rapped sharply on the door.

The silence that followed was long enough to make him doubt if he’d heard anything at all. Then Alec called out from within, his voice full of caution.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me.”

“...Mister Shelby?” A furtive shadow blocked out the light, but the door didn’t open. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“Why? You got me fired from the Arcadia. I lost my job because of you.”

“I know. That’s why I came.”

The key scraped in the lock, and the door opened ajar. Alec’s face peered out at him, bare and pale and exhausted. There were large grey circles under his eyes. Thomas wondered if they’d always been there, hidden beneath makeup and rosy lamplight.

“What do you want?” Alec asked.

“To do right by you. Is this a bad time?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Have you got company?”

“No.”

“I heard you talking to someone.”

“I talk to myself. It helps me get my thoughts in order.” Alec shifted his weight so that he was fully blocking the gap in the door - it was impossible to peer past him.

“Can I come in?” Thomas asked.

“I’m not sure.” Alec glanced up and down the landing. “I - I have a client coming soon. If you’re still here when he arrives, it could be awkward.”

“Still got your regulars from the club?”

“No - Mister Cobb warned them off me. I have to find new ones now. All thanks to you.”

“When they threw you out, did they hurt you?”

“If they did, would you care?”

“I never wanted you to be harmed.”

“Well, I was.” Alec lowered his volume so the neighbours wouldn’t hear, but his voice trembled with suppressed emotion. “Mister Cobb beat me, you know. You’re his favourite customer, and when you stopped coming, he knew it was my fault. He was so angry when he found out I’d disappointed you. He beat me in front of everyone.”

Thomas said nothing - not because he had nothing to say, but because he sensed that an interruption would be unwelcome.

“I was scared.” Small cracks appeared in Alec’s voice. “I thought I was going to die. I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. He beat me so much I could barely walk. Then he threw me out on the street. It took me hours to get home because no taxi would take me.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said quietly.

“I had bruises everywhere. I couldn’t work for a week because my face was swollen. Do you know what that means, Mister Shelby? To go a whole week without earning a wage? I don’t expect you do. You don’t need to make money - you just take everyone else’s.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas repeated firmly, reminding Alec not to push his goodwill too far. There was only so much accountability Thomas was willing to take.

“And now I can’t even find another job, because none of the other clubs want to hire me. They’re too scared of Cobb’s Boys.”

“Then you should be blaming Cobb, not me.”

“Cobb, Shelby, you’re all the same. All you care about is yourselves. You don’t give a shit how many people you have to tread on, as long as you get what you want.”

“Lower your voice.”

“Why should I? You’re the one who should be ashamed, not me.”

“Let me in,” Thomas sighed, “Then we can talk properly.”

“No. Now please leave.”

“I’m not asking to fuck you. Just to talk to you.”

“No.” Alec’s voice was tremulous. He knew who he was speaking to - the king of the Peaky Blinders. A man as infamous for his acts of violence as for his wealth and influence. But beneath the fear was determination. “This is my home, and I don’t want you in it. Please leave, Mister Shelby.”

Thomas felt a glimmer of respect. The young man was frightened, yet still he stood his ground.

“Alright,” he said, and left, fully prepared to never see Alec again.

The young man watched him walk away. Perhaps Thomas had occupied Alec’s thoughts as much as Alec had occupied Thomas’s, or perhaps he simply felt guilty for turning away a visitor. Either way, he blurted out:

“Wait! Wait, I…I know I’m being unkind. It’s just…it’s just, you were unkind to me too. I begged you not to leave, and you left anyway. You knew I would get into trouble, and you didn’t care. I wish you’d cared more.”

Alec was stammering. All the poise he’d shown at the Arcadia was gone. He gave up and, for a moment, just stared at the floor as if trying to gather his thoughts. Thomas waited patiently for him to get his words in order.

“I know you didn’t mean for it to happen. How could you? You don’t know Mister Cobb like I do. You don’t know his temper. I shouldn’t blame you for everything.”

“I’d like to help you, if you’d let me.”

“I don’t want your charity, Mister Shelby. Not when it comes from a place of pity.”

“What if it’s not pity?” said Thomas quietly. “What if I want you to be alright?”

Alec scanned his face for deception, but found none. He softened.

“I really did like you, Mister Shelby. You never made me do anything I didn’t want to. I wish…I wish more of my clients were like you.” He smiled tentatively. “It was nice while it lasted, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Thomas agreed.

Suddenly Alec glanced in the direction of the stairs.

“Mister Shelby, I…I think you should leave now. My client will be here soon,” he said, “I’m free tomorrow night, so you can come back and see me. Only if you want to, that is,” he added hurriedly.

Thomas nodded and walked away. He was on the stairs by the time he heard the door closing - Alec had stood and watched him leave.