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hereforthehitsbaby · 2 months ago

Note

prompt: hugh is your sugar daddy and he just bought you a new dress to wear at a movie premiere after party, but he cant resist wanting to take it off of you (also ur writings are fantastic 🩷)

Don’t I Look So Pretty? | Sugar Daddy!Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

Warnings: Sugar Daddy, Age Gap (Reader is in their late 20’s – Hugh is 56) Secretive Relationship, Heavy Make Out, Hugh is Touchy Feely, Mentions of Smut, Mentions of Divorce, Choking, Biting, Thigh Riding, Slight Pain Kink,

Rating: M – No Minors

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for being my first ever High request! I was on the fence about doing RPF but you know what? I cannot pass up Sugar Daddy Hugh like that! Also I 100% spaced on the fact that you said after party and just wrote the premiere. I hope that was okay!

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

How did you get so lucky? That was the age-old question in your mind. How did you go from working a 9-5 office job directly after getting your Masters, to now being a sugar baby? It still surprised you, knowing this was your life. A small studio apartment turned into a lavish penthouse. Your car that barely turned on anymore got upgraded to a brand-new Aston Martin; You’ve never driven it though – why would you if you have a private driver now? How you went from living and working independently to being a princess in less than a few months boggled your mind, but you wouldn’t trade it in for the world. You were happy, for the first time in a long time.

Meeting Hugh Jackman was luck of the draw. You never realized how close your old job was to his home in the city, nor to his favorite coffee shop downtown. That was your solace after long days and dreaded mornings; Extra strong coffee and a bagel was your go-to. Seeing him each time meant that your day was going to be okay, his tender smile and short but sweet conversations got you through your week. It first started off as your favorites being already paid for, not having to waste your own dime anymore. Then it was your parking lot fees being comped, gas being prepaid, food constantly being delivered – all the way up to your rent being paid in full for four months. That is when things took a turn, Hugh didn’t just chat you up to keep your company in the mornings, this time around he was setting terms. Falling into the roll of his sugar baby came so naturally, it was hard to know anything else. You felt bliss, complete happiness knowing you didn’t have to go back to your boring office job. You didn’t have to appease people who truly wanted to use you as a stepping stool for their own success, you could be free from the bullshit of it all. You never looked back, and you never would. Everything you needed was in front of you, and you wanted to keep it that way.

A year of being Hugh’s sugar baby was everything you wanted, and everything he needed. Though this was the first time he had ever asked you to come to a movie premiere with him. It was hush-hush, especially after the divorce he went through. Hugh didn’t take you on as his sugar baby for sexual reasons, but more for companionship. You both were lonely, seeking a connection and why not do it with someone who made you two feel comfortable. As time went on though, those fleeting touches and longing stares burned right through you. Ryan always said it was a match made; He could see through the charade. So here you sit in your closet, at your vanity getting your makeup done. Staring into the mirror while your personal glam team dolls you up, you reminisced about how things have been for the last year, how much happier you are, how deeply you fell in love with Hugh. Not that you’d ever admit it to him, what you had now was good. You didn’t want to ruin that.

“Alright gorgeous, you are set.” Your makeup artist smiled as your hair stylist finished up with the hairspray. Looking up into the mirror, you were taken aback by the image in front of you. You knew you were pretty, beautiful even but right now? You look ethereal. There was a glow on your face not even the makeup could cover up, the way your eyes shined like you were blissfully happy with life. You looked like a painting, nothing seemed real but a perfect portrait of a girl in love. Tears welled in the corner of your eyes as you took yourself in, gasping lowly as your makeup artist set his chin on your shoulder, smiling with you. “Those heart eyes are all you, babe. He’s going to drop to his knees when he sees you.” You couldn’t help but feel the heat creeping up your neck to fan over your cheeks, your body shivering at his words. “I hope, I really hope.” You smiled small into the mirror, heart hammering as you thought of Hugh.

Before you could even begin to silently ponder the reaction he would have to you, a line of giggles fluttered in from the open closet door, humming ensuing as the blonde bun came back in sight. “Special delivery for a special girl,” your hair stylist laughed as she held the box in her hands. You cocked a brow as you spun around in your chair, flicking a silent what in her direction before looking at her hands. An ivory box with a gentle purple ribbon tied in a bow sat in her palms, causing your heart to swell. Biting your glossed lip, you took the box slowly from her hands, seeing a little envelope with your name written out tucked beneath. As you placed the box on your lap, you reached out to run your fingers across the ink, feeling how your fingers shook with anticipation. Gently you grasped the corner of the envelope, opening the back with a quick flick of your finger before pulling the card out.

I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I saw this. I knew I needed to see you in it. Can’t wait to see my pretty girl tonight. Having you by my side is going to feel so right.

Yours, Hugh xx

If you had any doubts before, you knew now that no matter what, Hugh was going to be obsessed with you. It never crossed your mind that he was going to buy you a dress for tonight, much less get it wrapped and ready to go. Especially on such short notice, it was the little actions he did that made you love him even more. Holding the sweet note to your chest, you swooned softly as you let your free hand work the box open, seeing the pearlescent tissue paper covering your dress. Your hair stylist didn’t waste a moment to help you out, lifting the paper back so you could see what Hugh had picked. A deep sapphire blue dress, with little beads twisting to mimic vines across the bodice of the dress, all the way down well passed the hips. The sweetheart neckline perfectly complimented the sheer long sleeves that came down to your wrist.

As your makeup artist and hair stylist grabbed the dress out for you, holding it up, you noticed the deep slit up to the middle of your thigh, causing your breathing to become labored. It was stunning, truly a beauty you have never seen before. Hugh has bought you so many lavish pieces of jewelry, purses, dresses, but nothing ever so you. This didn’t feel like something perfectly curated to fit what you wanted, but something that you would’ve made yourself. Something you would’ve dreamed of wearing. The small notion that he saw this and thought of you made you want to cry – it was too sweet for you to begin. Quickly your makeup artist came over to fan your face, making sure no tears fell over his hard work. That simple action had you laughing away the emotion welling up within you, making it hard to overthink.

A couple face fanning and strategically helping you into the dress so your hair nor makeup go ruined, finally you were in your dress. It felt right against you, like truly it belonged to you, was curated for you, was meant to be for you only. Now as you stand in front of the full length mirror staring at yourself, you felt like you. The way the color complimented not just your figure, but your skin color was the best. You felt like a goddess, you felt like an angel on Earth. You felt powerful, enough to take down an entire empire. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took a deep breath as you smiled, ready to show Hugh what he had really bought for you. Your glamour team rubbed your arm and back as you began to walk out of the closet, giving you that extra boost you may need.

Thankfully living with Hugh made it so much easier to surprise him, not having to walk down a grand staircase or even stand outside of the door. Simply you could walk out of the closet, into your bedroom, and right into the living room where he was standing. His back was facing you as his front faced the fireplace, a hand pressed against the mantle as his other nursed a glass of water. In this moment you didn’t have to say anything or move an inch. Hugh could feel that you were behind him, he could smell your perfume and instantly felt his body run hot. He longed for you, each and every day. Though you two weren’t intimate, it didn’t stop the deep connection you developed with each other. Having that emotional connection was perfect, even if a physical one didn’t happen. Being a sugar daddy was new to him too; Ryan told him not to fall in love but, with you he couldn’t help it.

Slowly Hugh turned around from his position, his eyes unfocused behind his glasses. From his fuzzy vision he could make out the color of your dress, and knew he wasn’t going to be able to handle this. As his vision came back into focus, Hugh sucked a breath in, eyes dilating at what he was seeing. Starting at your face, he let his eyes wander over your features, taking in your beauty from a few steps away. He was wondering how the hell he got so lucky, how he had the fortune of existing at the same time as you, you were everything to him. Slowly his eyes careened down to your neck, ghosting over your chest and down your front. Each flick of his gaze caused your body to grow warm, the slick between your thighs growing more and more. Once his eyes fell upon the generous slit in your dress, once emerald eyes turned obsidian. His facial features never moved, they stayed in their frozen state as his eyes flicked back to you, his mouth agape.

“Woah,” Hugh breathed out, his heart pounding in his chest. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, biting your lip as you slowly made your way to him. The strawberry vanilla lotion you had used wafted through his nostrils, mixed with your perfume made him feral. It was then you noticed how his tie matched the color of your dress, causing you to feel warm and fuzzy. The little details like that made it special for you, made this relationship feel not monetary – but real. “That bad, huh?” You snorted out, running your fingers down the collar of his blazer as your eyes remained on his. You could see there was something more brewing beneath his gaze, but he wasn’t showing – he was shutting it out for his own sake. Hugh laid his hands on your lips as he looked deep into your eyes, smiling like a man obsessed. “You look perfect. I knew this dress was made for you.”

Hearing him say that made your smile turn wide, leaning forth to give him a small kiss on the cheek as you let your breath waft over his ear. “Thank you for this, Hugh. That was too kind. You’re too sweet.” They were the best set of words you could string together; Under his stare this time around, you couldn’t think coherently. The energy between the two of you had shifted – once full of pink and purple lights now swam in dark reds and emerald. It was thick, not suffocating but held you both in. You felt your body pushing against his without even thinking about it, Hugh could feel it too. Bringing his hand up to caress your jaw, his eyes fell to your lips, enraptured by the color chosen to compliment the dress. “Anything for my baby. You ready?” He smiled, his eyes never leaving your mouth. Nodding against his hand, you moved your head slightly to the side as you kissed his palm, holding your other hand against his chest. “As I’ll ever be.”

That was all Hugh needed to hear to grab your hand, bringing the back up to his lips as he let his kiss linger. Taking your hand into his, you both made your way out to the town car with his driver, making your way to the premiere.

-----

Everything that you could’ve possibly thought a red carpet for a premiere could be, you got to experience. It was a blur of lights and yelling but it was magical. Seeing how the cast latched onto Hugh and his excellence made your heart grow fond. Seeing how many of his friends came out to support him warmed your insides. Tonight was about him and his amazing performance, to be tagging along with him to experience this was a dream come true. Though you didn’t want the full red-carpet experience; Seeing the plethora of lights and cameras shuttering made you feel lightheaded. Instead, you made your way over his Hugh’s assistant, falling right behind him in step as he made his way around to interviews with Hugh. This was your choice at the end of the day, Hugh was okay with what made you feel safe, but a part of him wishes he could’ve had you on the carpet with him, showing off his girl.

Everything flew by in the snap of your fingers, interviews and pictures were completely done with now as you two made it into the packed theater. The complimentary concessions stand was buzzing to life with all the celebrities wanting a snack, the chatter gradually got quieter as people started to make their way to their seats. You could feel your nerves on edge as you looked around. Hugh leaned closer to you as he laced his arm your waist, holding you to him as he ran his thumb over the dress. Turning your face up to look at him, you could see that his brows were pulled together. He looked upset, worried even as his eyes panned around the room. It was something you have never see Hugh do before, and you wondered what was the matter. “You okay, Hugh?” You asked as you held him close, placing your lips near his shoulder

Your words seemed to have broken him out of his internal thoughts, causing him to come back into reality. “Hm? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He chimed, leaning down to lay a kiss on your temple. It felt staged, artificial. Was he nervous about all the people? About bringing you along? Was he not wanting to see someone? Too many questions placated your mind as you tried to read Hugh’s expression. You could see a small glimmer of pain in his eyes as he searched the room, his breathing become harsh. Rubbing your hand along his lower back, you placed your hip against his, leaning as close as you possibly could so only he could hear you. “You sure? You look distracted.” You knew he was, and you were silently hoping he would tell you why, but alas he looked down at you with a blank stare, trying to mask how he was feeling. “I’m okay, my darling.”

Nodding up at Hugh, you gave him a small smile as you looked back at the crowd. It was then that you heard a small gasp of success from Hugh’s lips, not giving you time to ask what was going on. Hugh was a man on a mission, and wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted. His hand wrapped to yours tightly, tugging you through the theater. As you pushed your way through the line Hugh had made for you, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his eagerness. Hugh wasn’t upset but he was excited for something, of which you could not tell. But the way he looked back at you made your skin alight in adoration, his eyes sparkling with something more than like. You felt your body run hot as he stared at you, pulling you closer. Rounding the corner near the theater entrances, Hugh noted the light blue door at the end of the hall, humming out as he started to sprint with you.

Gathering the skirt of your dress in your free hand, you made good pace with Hugh as he led you to the door. Pushing it open with ease, you were met with the brightly lit interior of the bathroom, causing you to squint slightly. The bright light threw you off your balance as Hugh fully pulled you into the bathroom, maneuvering your body while you tried to adjust to the light. As your eyes finally focused, you felt your back being pressed up against the bathroom door, locking it with a harsh click. Hugh had both of your wrists clasped into his hands, holding them strictly above your head. Your eyes went wide at the action, staring into his blackened ones, your breathing labored in comparison to his easy one. “Hugh! What-“ You yelped out, but were cut short by Hugh shaking his head. His salt and peppered beard ran over your cheek as he tucked his head down, his breath sliding across your neck. “Sshh, don’t talk. Don’t talk.”

You obeyed his command as you whimpered, letting your eyes fall closed naturally at the feeling of him pressed against you. Hugh pulled his head back from your neck as he stared down at you, bringing his left hand down to grab at your chin, pointing your face up towards him. You could see the feral nature wanting to slip out and play with you, wanting to add physical contact to your relationship. You could see how Hugh was fighting it back with each breath, the small line teetering the deeper you gazed. You didn’t want just an emotional connection anymore, you wanted to make good on your job of sugar baby, giving Hugh exactly what he needs. He could see that in your eyes as well, the conflict of whether it would be a good idea. Tonight was a night of firsts, why not add that to the menu? A slight whimper left Hugh’s mouth as you pressed your breasts to him, leaning forth to nip at his bottom lip. “Earlier you asked me if I was okay. I lied, I’m not okay.” He sounded as if he was in pain, causing a wave of arousal to slip through your lower lips.

You felt your mind going hazy at the lack of space you two had, adding to the tension you wanted to slice with a knife. “W-What’s up?” It came out more as a moan than a sincere question, and you felt Hugh’s reserve slipping away. A chuckle of arousal slipped from his parted lips as he slid his left hand from your chin, to your neck. The action itself made your body sing, your eyes rolling back as he pushed. He was holding you hard enough so you couldn’t move, but not hard enough to where you couldn’t breathe. Instead, his thumb and first finger found your pulse point, pushing down to restrict the blood flow to your head, making your sight go fuzzy. “Fuck it,” Hugh let out with a growl. There was not enough time to respond before he pressed his mouth to yours, invading your senses.

Time stopped in that moment, slowing down enough to fully take in this moment. The first kiss of your relationship with Hugh, something you two have been wanting so bad over the last year. The floodgates had broken in this moment, letting you two embark on this voyage of discovery. His lips slotting against yours like he was made for you, how your mouth formed perfectly to his. The simple flicks of your tongue against his ignited the fire from within, causing you to burn to ash and be born anew. You struggled against Hugh’s grasp, wanting nothing more than to hold him close to you, feel every ridge of his body under your palms, to feel his burning passion. As if he had read your mind, Hugh had let your hands go, deepening the kiss. A sultry moan slipped past your parted lips as he licked into your mouth, letting him swallow it down.

Your hands slid down as he released his grasp, finding purchase on his hips. Letting your left-hand maneuver upwards, you tangled your fingers into Hugh hair at the base of his neck, giving the roots a soft tug. A growl escapes his lips and pours into your mouth; His right hand working its way under the slit of your dress to hold your plush thigh. The tantalizing touch of his calloused fingers against your baren skin made you want to scream in pleasure, to let this man ravish you all across the world. Hugh pulled back, panting like an animal as he gripped at your neck tighter, his touch shaking. “I can’t stop thinking about stripping you out of this dress.” Hugh sounded like he was in pain, a primal sound you have never heard him make. He sounded like a man possessed, the only cure was to make you scream his name.

A moan slipped out of his mouth as his hand slipped between your legs, feeling how sopping your cunt was at making out with him. Feeling his fingers slide against your panties made your knees buckle. Hugh stuck his knee between your thighs to hold you up, burying his face into your neck. “God, I fucking need you baby. I can’t do this any longer.” Hearing his desperate he was for you made you feel powerful, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he ravishes your neck. Hugh’s lips latched on roughly to the skin of your throat, suckling against the sweet scent of you. His knee on the other hand, slid back and forth against you, letting your erect clit nudge the soft fabric. Everything was too much, every feeling was too much, yet you didn’t want any of it to stop.

Grinding yourself down against his thigh, Hugh took that as an opportunity to bite into your neck, not hard enough to break skin but enough to mark what’s his. That was enough to send you over the edge, digging your nails into the back of his neck as you tossed your head back against the door. Against your core thigh you could feel Hugh growing harder, silently begging to make him cum. The mere size of him shocked you, knowing he would give you a good stretch if you tried. Just the thought was enough to put you on edge, his words aiding in your arousal. “If I’m not inside of you in the next two seconds, I might pass out.” You couldn’t take it anymore, you were sweating like a bitch in heat. You needed Hugh, and needed him now. You needed to feel him inside of you, to mark you, show everyone that you are his. “Would you-“ You began, not able to finish as Hugh pulls his face back from your neck.

“Yes.” How quickly he responded made you laugh, which in turn caused Hugh to roughly press his knee against your clothed clit, sending a wave of arousal through your body. Never tearing your eyes away from his, you licked your glossed lips sensually, putting on your best innocent eyes you could muster as you spoke. “You didn’t let me-“ Hugh had heard enough to know what you meant, because he needed the exact same from you. Hugh brought his face up inches from yours, pecking your lips slightly as he groaned out, your hand gripping his erect cock through his slacks. “Would you like to go home and let me worship you? Yes, I would baby.”

-----

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#hugh jackman #hugh jackman fic #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x f!reader #hugh jackman rpf #rpf

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cigsaftersuh · 7 days ago

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ㅡ bound by birth.

🐯 a lee minhyung fic <3

୨ his favorite person, numbers, & date ୧

the rooftop was quiet, the city lights stretching endlessly in every direction. mark had rented out the entire space for the evening, wanting privacy. "no distractions," he’d said earlier with a casual shrug, as if it was the simplest thing in the world to turn a luxury venue into his own private sanctuary.

you sat beside him on the plush outdoor sofa, the scent of his cologne — a clean, woodsy warmth — lingering in the cool evening air. a soft cashmere throw was draped over your legs, and mark’s hand rested comfortably on your thigh, his fingers warm and steady against you.

“do you ever think about how much a person’s life can change?” his voice broke the quiet, low and contemplative.

you turned to look at him, catching the sharp lines of his jaw under the soft glow of the ambient lighting. “what do you mean?” you asked with curiosity.

he didn’t answer immediately, his gaze focused on the city skyline. when he spoke again, his tone was softer.

“mine changed the day i met you.”

you blinked at his words, your heart skipping a beat.

“be serious,” you say playfully nudging his shoulder.

he glanced at you, the faintest smile tugging his lips at your reaction. “i’m serious. you don’t even realize how much you’ve done for me.”

you shifted under his gaze, suddenly feeling the weight of his words. “i didn’t do anything,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“you didn’t have to,” he replied. “you just... being you is enough.”

his hand on your thigh tightened slightly, grounding you. “before you, i was just going through the motions. work, money, investments — it all felt empty. but then you came along, and suddenly, it all made sense. everything i have, everything i’ve worked for; it’s yours.”

your breath caught, the sincerity in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. “mark, you don’t have to��”

“i know i don’t,” he interrupted gently, his eyes meeting yours. “but i want to. you’re everything to me, y/n. i need you to know that.”

the intensity in his gaze made your heart race, and you struggled to find the right words. “mark…”

“i’ve already made it clear in other ways,” he continued, cutting you off with a faint smirk. “you know my bank pin?”

you frowned at the sudden change in topic. “why would i know that?”

“you should, it’s your birthday,” he said, his tone casual as if he were stating a fact as simple as the weather.

you blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right. “wait... what?”

“my bank pin,” he repeated, his smirk growing. “it’s your birthday.”

“mark,” you said, your voice half-laugh, half-disbelief. “why would you do that?”

“because it’s the most important date in my life,” he said simply. “it’s the day everything changed.”

your chest tightened, his words sinking in. “you’re crazy.”

“i’m practical,” he corrected you, his smirk softening into a smile.

“it’s not just my pin, by the way. it’s the access code for the penthouse, my apartment, my car, my office vault...”

you could tell he was only naming what came to his mind in the moment, and that it wasn’t even half of half of whatever else he uses your date of birth for.

your eyes widened. “but that’s so reckless!”

“it’s not,” he replied smoothly, his thumb beginning slow circles against your thigh. “it’s intentional.”

“intentional?”

“every time i use those digits, it reminds me of what matters most.” his voice dropped slightly, his tone laced with quiet conviction. “you.”

your heart felt impossibly full, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. “mark, i don’t even know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, leaning closer. his hand slid from your thigh to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin gently. “just let me take care of you.”

you sighed, leaning into his touch. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and yours,” he countered, his lips curving into a small smile.

the soft breeze of the city below filled the silence that followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was warm and intimate, unspoken promises hanging in the air.

mark’s hand found yours, his fingers lacing with yours as he held you close.

in his world of endless luxury and power, mark had chosen to make you the center of it all — not because he had to, but because he couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“your birthday,” he repeated. “it’s my favorite day. because that’s the day you came into the world. the day everything started.”

you blinked, his words settling over you like a soft whisper. “mark…”

“every time i think about it,” he continued, his voice low and gentle, “i can’t help but feel this overwhelming sense of gratitude. like, how lucky i am that you’re here.”

you were lost in his words, your chest tight with emotion. “wait no, you don’t need to—”

“i do,” he said, cutting you off.

“it’s true. your birthday isn’t just a number to me. it’s a reminder of who you are, and how you’ve changed everything.”

he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “and that’s why it matters more to me than anything else.”

you didn’t have to say anything in return. his words, his actions, spoke louder than anything you could have.

mark had made sure you knew, without any doubt, that in his world, you were the one that made it all worthwhile.

with love,

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Office Space 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you're an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Another thick folder falls on your desk. You look up as Mr. Fowler strides without a word into his office. No explanation, no directive, as ever he's elusive but demanding.

You sigh and push your mouse aside, bringing the folder in front of you. You open it up and find stacks of hand-written notes, receipts, and reports. You get the happy task of digitizing each one and sorting it into the electronic archive for investigation.

Your boss closes himself into his office as you sit in the vacant silence of the small lobby. It's no walk-in location. PI work doesn't exactly operate that way. Corporate investigations are even less advertised. Fowler does more than find the corruption, he scrubs it when necessary.

You expect the discretion of the work is why he hired you. You don't talk much. You do you work without question and clock out. Still, it doesn't keep you from after hours or early arrivals. He texts and you're where you need to be.

You sort through the thick folder. Chronological or by type? Some don't have dates and what would you categorize a cocktail napkin as? You get up and haul it all into the copier room. It's the smallest room in the rented space, made tighter by the filing cabinets and the industrial printer.

You unhook your laptop and bring it into the copier room. You put it on the narrow table and go to task. It's mindless work. You fall into the pattern of scanning, numbering, and cataloguing. The copier hums in the empty static.

No music, no noise. Your request for white noise was declined without consideration. You accept without argument. Fowler isn't the type to entertain pushback. He's the boss.

Whatever, you wouldn't trade the silence for the top ten on repeat at your previous retail gig. The people are enough to make you tolerate the isolation. Besides, it's a job, it's not meant to be fun.

You get your kicks after work; a drink with your fellow corporate drones down at Retro's. Thinking of, it's been some time since you had a spicy margarita. You pause your work and go to retrieve your phone from your purse. As you find it hiding in the middle pocket, Fowler's door opens and he promptly marches over to stamp his mug down on your desk. Shoot.

"Emergency?" He wonders as his blue eyes narrow at your grip on the phone.

"No, sir, checking the time," you lie and drop the cell back in your purse and hide it in your drawer. "Coffee?"

He doesn't answer, merely taps the brim and walks away. He leaves his office door open as he retreats. You give a tight smile to the empty office and snatch up the dark blue cup.

You take it into the little room meant to be some sort of break space. You don't take breaks and neither does he. You approach the expensive nespresso machine and go through the motions. Cappucino. You've become a pseudo-barista since you started the job.

The smell of coffee tempts you. You're permitted to have one of your own but you have to supply your own coffee and dairy. It's easier to hit the cafe on your way or pack a cup from home.

You carry it out and tentatively approach Mr. Fowler's door. You peer inside and clear your throat. He sneers at his phone without acknowledging you. You near and place his cup on the marble coaster beside his apple mouse.

"We have an extra mug?" He asks without looking up.

"Yes, sir, I think--"

"I don't need you to think, I need yes or no."

"Yes," you swallow down his bluntness. As you least you never have to wonder what's on his mind. He'll tell you.

"I'm in expecting someone in twenty minutes."

That's it. You have the pieces, put it together. His visitor will require their own beverage. Lovely. A rare drop-in is hardly exciting, more stressful. If they're important enough to come in, they're important enough to be concerned.

You go to find a second cup. You have your own, a red travel mug without a handle. You’ll leave the silicon lid in your drawer and give it a quick rinse.

You wait behind your desk, the mug clean and sparkling beside the nespresso in anticipation. You’ll go back to your scanning once you have the visitor settled. You know Fowler wouldn’t want them walking into an empty desk. In the meantime, you sift through another case file on your screen.

When the door opens, you pop up, overly alert. That’s not your usual state. This place makes you sleepy. You stand up to greet the man as he steps through.

He’s tall, taller than Fowler, but slender. While his shoulders are broad, the rest of him is trim. His blonde hair is kept neatly and his blue eyes are crystalline where your boss’ are dark and stormy. This man is like sunshine compared to the usual grim cloud over this place.

“Hello, uh, sir,” you smile, “you must be here to see Mr. Fowler.”

“Yes, that’s me,” he says breezily, “Jonathan Pine.”

“Okay, erm, I’ll let him know you’re here,” you round the desk, hitting your hip on the corner but hiding the pang it sends down your thigh, “uh, would you like a coffee?”

“How kind to offer, but no, I’m more of a tea drinker,” he replies, “pardon, but I didn’t get your name.”

“Elfie,” you utter instinctively, “er, excuse me, I’ll just go let Mr. Fowler--”

You scurry to the office door and it opens before you can reach it. Mr. Fowler steps out and sends you a sardonic look. You wince and step back out of his way. He struts by and approaches Jonathan, Mr. Pine properly, with his hand out in offering.

“Pine.”

“Nick,” the man answers familiarly, “long time.”

“Not long enough,” Fowler counters as they shake hands firmly. He’s a few inches shorter than Pine though hardly falters at the fact. “Elfie, coffee.”

“She did offer,” Pine intones, “I politely declined. You know it isn’t my style.”

“Mm, yes, I know your style too well,” Fowler rebuffs and lets him go, gesturing him through his office door. As he follows, he glances back at you and arches a brow. What did you do wrong this time?

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #nick fowler x reader #jonathan pine x reader #series #drabble #office space #the 355 #the night manager #au #bad bosses

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riverofjazzsims · 12 days ago

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Warwick Emerson for AlbaXmas BC hosted by @blvckentropy

Warwick Emerson,46 Adult Occupation: Real Estate Broker Aspiration: Mansion Baron Traits: ambitious, materialistic, nosy, erratic, outgoing

Born and raised in the spice district, Warwick Emerson has some stories he could tell about his youth. His parents owned a small co-op of brownstones that they rented out exclusively to low income single parents or small families with Children. Both Warwick's parents were a byproduct of the foster care system and know what it was like to be bounced around from home to home and had parents that didn't have a stable place to live and raise them.

It was their life's work to make sure children and their parents had a roof over their heads. He loves his parents for their passion, values, and the fantastic if not modest upbringing he and his sister had. Warwick always wanted more, see, though his mom loved her brownstones and the families, he saw his mother plenty of times looking longingly at fancy properties. He even found her dream board of high end homes, decor etc. that she kept on simtrest when he was a young teen. He wanted her to have that and more.

As he got older Warwick realized he love old buildings and architecture, and saw the beauty in those rustic spaces, he also loved those big sprawling homes and secretly watched HGTV.

After high-school Warwick attended classes to obtain his real-estate license and and while he learned the ropes and started working the listings, in an attempt to make a name for himself. He went back to the community college and took several business classes and he slowly built his brand. Fast forward 2 decades later Warwick homes is one of the top tier real-estate firms for high end homes. Running offices out of both Oasis spring and Del Sol Valley

Warwick lives a very comfortable life these days and though money was intentionally tight , his parents were all about savings, as a kid he didn't want for anything and now neither does his parents. Five years ago he was able to retire them and moved them to Tomarang, the place they had always dreamed of living. His co. now manages his parents original brownstones and a few others he purchased through the years. Those properties run under the name Penny P's. Place, after his mom.

Warwick has never been married and though he has enjoyed the company of women throughout his adulthood, no one has really stood out. As his favorite time of year approaches and his family's taking a trip to Mt K. this will be the first Christmas he will be with out his family in years and and its got him feeling retrospective. Maybe its time to build a new brand for himself, one that includes a woman at his side that's willing to be his partner in life , love and family.

Fun Fact: Warwick Tattoo took 3 years to complete as its ink uses real gold and had to be done in small increments to keep it from delivering toxic levels of the mineral into his bloodstream

PRIVATE DOWNLOAD.

#AlbaXmas #AlbaXmas bc #my bc entry #sims 4 bachelorette challenge #bachelorette #black simblr #black simmer #the sims 4 #showusyoursims #bc challenge #sim: Warwick Emerson

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a-forbidden-detective · 11 months ago

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Karaoke love

This is written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt #FFF238 Take my hand and for @fluffbruary February 2 prompt : engagement | scent | jam

—

Beware of manga spoilers for the latest chapter. This is exactly 1000 words. I was totally into it at the end. I hope the ending makes sense. Heh!

Toto takes a shot from his whiskey glass, easing himself up. It’s his turn to sing. The screen monitor shows the song that he’s chosen awhile back. The truth is his singing is only confined to the four corners of the flat and his shower cabin in Asakusa.

Ron mentioned once that his love for singing in the shower is one of the rare times when Toto lets himself go apart from his innate resoluteness. But come to think of it, Ron didn’t say much about the quality of his singing voice, Toto has only been just self-conscious ever since that incident that he never sings anymore whenever he stays at Ron’s apartment.

Who suggested going to the karaoke bar anyway? Ah, it was Kawasemi-san. Today is the last day that he’s going to be in town and coincidentally his birthday that for all intents and purposes, Dr. Mofu asked him what else he wanted to do in Tokyo before going back to Aichi.

They rent a private room at the Karaoke Kan in Shibuya. The shop became famous when it was featured in a Western film in the early 2000s about two Americans, who found each other amidst the backdrop very alien to them: from food to cultural references. The premises have become a Mecca for tourists.

The whole gang is here. Amamiya, who tags along these days, and Dr. Mofu didn’t have the time when they went to Kamakura for sightseeing two days ago. So, they made sure that they were present this time around before sending Kawasemi-kun back to Nagoya. The only one who’s missing is Spitz, who cannot leave London at the moment and is disgruntled with a dash of envy in his body when he finds out their plans.

“Ack, Tototo! I am going to miss your performance. Ron-kun says that he has a rock ‘n’ roll singer living in his house.” Toto laughed when he heard this.

Should Toto stand up?

An arm gathers around him, as if grounding him. While the hand holds his shoulder, firm and yet tender. Toto turns to his left; Ron’s blue eyes confront him. Relax.

“Y-yeah…” Toto has calmed down a bit.

The first notes of a raunchy electric guitar surge, he poses to belt out the text that flashes on the screen.

“I'm an alligator/ I'm a mama-papa comin' for you / I'm the space invader / I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you / Keep your mouth shut … Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe … Press your space face close to mine, love / Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!”

His friends are fired up, hooting at the way Toto playfully sings a David Bowie song. Chikori-kun’s admiration skyrockets to 200 per cent. Her eyes scream of glowing stars. Kawasemi kun sings along. He knows it by heart and has been a Bowie fan. He’s so glad that Toto made a little research about him. Dr. Mofu’s face breaks into a giggle as she stops conversing with Amamiya, who cannot stop smiling. Toto, gyrating before her very eyes, has transformed into another person. And Ron? He’s looking at Toto with his hungry eyes, his hands won’t stop rubbing his thighs clothed in loose jeans. He then places his right hand into his pocket and reaches for a small box inside, feeling glad that he hasn’t lost the engagement ring.

You deserve all the good things in the world, Toto!

As the Tokyo police officer hits the end notes, Toto bows to the delight of his friends clapping and whistling on his way.

“Thank you so much!”

Ron hands him a glass of water and half-hugs him when he’s already seated.

“You did well, Toto!”

Toto mouths his thanks as he downs another glass when the next song starts to play. Chikori kun can’t stop herself from gushing when he notices that Ron stands up.

Oh, he’s next. Toto is darn curious now. He knows that Ron can sing really well as expected of him.

“Wise men say / Only fools rush in / But I can't help falling in love with you / Shall I stay? / Would it be a sin / If I can't help falling in love with you?”

All of a sudden, the whole room turns quiet. No one claps, nor whistles. As if a magician does his trick enchanting the audience. Everyone is glued watching Ron does his interpretation of a popular Elvis Presley song.

Toto is fastened on his seat, mouth agape. Ron is looking at him, his intentions are clear. His heart beats faster, aware of his surroundings and the four sets of eyes that are focused on them.

“Take my hand / Take my whole life, too / For I can't help falling in love with you…”

Ron sits next to Toto and seizes his hand. He begins to speak.

“I am glad that our friends are here to give me support and witness the promise I will say here today. Too bad that Spitz isn’t around but he already knows my plans.”

Toto’s face is red now not because of the alcohol but specifically because of Ron, who is in front of him, who is now removing an object from his pocket.

“Toto, I know that it is all so sudden. But, after all the things that happened between us, I believe that there is an understanding that we can’t live without each other and instead prepare to die together if we are faced with a choice, are you willing to be my partner for life? Will you marry me?”

Toto’s mouth quiver, why hasn’t he never thought that this day will come? Ah, that’s why he can never be as good as Ron when it comes to sleuthing.

He then grabs Ron’s face and in front of everyone kisses Ron, his fiancé. Without remorse nor embarrassment while their friends say their congratulations.

“Yes!”

~ fin ~

#kamonohashi ron no kindan suiri #ron kamonohashi #totomaru isshiki #ron et toto #rontoto #rkdd fanfics #rkdd fanfic idea #my fanfic stuff #flashfictionfriday #flash fiction #flash fiction friday #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2024 #fff238 #take my hand and take my whole life too!#take my hand #engagement #the whole gang #is here but spitz

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storiesofsvu · 2 years ago

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Love Comes Quietly Ch 4

Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, mention of sex related things, alcohol, some teasing.

Alex was thoroughly enjoying her weekend, a week of not having to leave the DC area meant the house was clean, her laundry was already dealt with and the fridge was full of fresh food. The weather was gorgeous, her back patio doors slid open along with a couple of windows to let the warm breeze into the house. She’d left a playlist going from when she’d been cleaning the kitchen, now perched on the couch attempting to finish one of her fiction books before they picked up another case when the work week started the next day.

She had just finished a chapter, debating whether she was going to keep going or move onto something else when the doorbell rang. At first her brow furrowed, glancing toward the door before checking her watch and she remembered, sliding a bookmark into the book and placing it down on the coffee table. She padded over to the door, pulling it open with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey!” She greeted and you returned the grin.

“Hey! I’m so sorry I’m later than I said I would be, the storage unit took longer than I thought and then I got all turned around.”

“You find the place okay?” She asked, stepping back to let you into the house, scooping up one of the bags you’d placed down on the front step.

“Oh yeah, your directions were great, I just fucked up left and right.”

“Well… welcome.” She gestured to the house before picking up a key ring off the table in the entry way, “this is yours.”

You took it from her with a soft thanks, following her around the corner into the front sitting room, a couple of cozy sofas and chairs, a shelf lined with books and a bar cart in the corner. Down a small hallway she lead you to the room you’d be using for the time being, complete with a very comfortable looking queen bed and a full sized closet ready and waiting to be unpacked into.

“I’m sure you’re exhausted if you want a rest now I wouldn’t be surprised, that drive would take it out of me.”

“Oh it wasn’t that bad!” You assured her, though you did drop down onto the bed, pulling out a phone charger to immediately plug in, “I split it between two days, stopped in New York for that wedding last night.”

“And yet there seems to be a lack of a hangover?” She teased with a grin and you laughed.

“A pleasant lack of male strippers would be to thank for that. I doubt the bride’s parents would be alright with that kind of entertainment.”

“True.” She chuckled, softly squeezing at your shoulder, “c’mon, I’ll show you around.”

You followed her out of the bedroom, she pointed out the bathroom across the hall, noting that it would basically be your private one as the master bedroom has an ensuite. Around the curve of the hall opened up into the open living room and kitchen, patio doors leading to the backyard. The space was large, bright with sunlight, kitchen island in the middle of the room, the flooring shifting to hardwood as you shifted into the living room, two large comfy couches and an arm chair. A couple of books and a case file lay on the coffee table alongside Alex’s leftover coffee mug from that morning, the walls lined with shelves, books, nick knacks and photos littering the space, a large tv mounted on the wall across from the main couch. Alex led you down the short hallway on the other side of the room to show you the spare room you could convert into an office or whatever you wanted, her home office and a brief glance into her room before you’d circled back.

“I completely forgot to ask about rent.” You suddenly turned back to face her, leaning back against the kitchen island.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” She immediately waved you off.

“Alex…” You near warned and she chuckled.

“The mortgage has been paid off for years.” She shrugged, laughing again at the way you narrowed your eyes at her, “if the utilities jump, you can help with those.”

“Fine.” You admitted defeat with a warm smile, “thank you.”

“I’m the one here to lend a helping hand while you get settled, that’s what we agreed on.” She moved through the kitchen, pulling open the fridge, “I was going to do chorizo pasta for dinner later if you’re interested?”

“Sounds amazing.”

“Did you want to eat now?”

“Later’s fine.” You waved her off, “I was thinking about running to the store anyways, make sure I have a few things for the week. You need anything?”

“Hmm.” She thought for a moment, “coffee creamer.”

“Brand? Flavour? Type of milk?”

“I trust you,” she shrugged, “surprise me.”

“Alright.” You chuckled, “where’s the nearest store? Or best close by I guess.”

“There’s a Safeway just down Georgia.”

“Awesome.” You pushed off the counter, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Alex knew that adjusting to having someone in her space again might be weird, or throw her off a little bit, make her change things in her daily routine that maybe she didn’t really want to change. However she found herself somewhat surprised at how much she enjoyed having you around right away. The level of comfort you found yourself in her space certainly helped, you’d made yourself right at home but not in an invasive way whatsoever, you simply weren’t tip toeing around like house guests did sometimes.

The first night she’d made dinner, you’d wordlessly started doing the dishes while continuing the conversation from the dinner table, packing up leftovers while you sipped on your wine. The two of you stayed up chatting on the couch with the television on in the background until she caught herself yawning yet again and made the call to head to bed.

Sharing your home space was something that you weren’t used to either, having been on your own for years out in Boston. You were incredibly thankful for the opportunity Alex had given you, and wanted to make sure she knew just how much you appreciated it. It took little to no effort to help with dishes, unload the clean ones (though sometimes that did end with Alex being unable to find something as it wasn’t in the spot she was used to, but it was an adjustment period after all), to make sure the coffee pot was always on in the mornings. You very much enjoyed her company, but you also knew what it was like to constantly have someone else around, so you stuck to your side of the house on quiet days.

Mornings were quiet, not too much chatter as the two of you woke up, silently moving around each other in the kitchen as breakfasts were made and lunches were packed. It was normally by the time you got into the car that the conversation would actually start. Some evenings were spent together, one of you cooking while the other perched at the kitchen island, others you’d retreat into your own space. Alex would peek into the sitting room when she was done cooking to find you curled up on one of the couches with a case file, or hear the low rumble of the television from your room, the door open only a crack to try and keep it quiet but also in a way that said she was more than welcome to come in.

It only took a matter of days for both of you to fall into the habit of cooking twice the amount of food you regularly would, even if the other person wasn’t around. It meant that mornings you went out for a run, breakfast was ready and waiting by the time you got out of the shower. That days when Alex was teaching and thus home later, there was a plate in the oven still warm for her even if you’d gone out. If she left the wine glasses out on the coffee table on a Friday night, by the time she got up the next morning they’d be washed and drying in the dish rack and if you left laundry in the dryer, you’d find it neatly folded by the time you got home. The two of you slipped into a very easy routine without even having to think about it, it just worked.

While your first month at the BAU certainly had been a lot, it went by surprisingly smoothly and quickly, you were passed your probation period before you even knew it. The team had all welcomed you with open arms and you fit in perfectly, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that you had been the right pick. Emily was already fond of you from the interview process, but getting to see you really in action in the field and how quick you were to put pieces together working cases really reassured her that you were meant to be on her team. It also didn’t hurt that outside of work hours, the two of you got along as well as you did with Alex. Emily was quick to ask if you wanted to grab a drink, introducing you to a few of her favourite places around town. If it was a weekend adventure with Emily you always knew you were in for a good, yet slightly chaotic time.

“You’re eating early.” Alex greeted as she returned back into the kitchen from the back yard, “what is this? Senior citizen dinner day?” You shot her a playful glare as she chuckled.

“I’m going out with Em later.”

“Doesn’t that usually entail food?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled over a bite of chicken, “but she specifically told me to Uber, so I’m sure there’s going to be more alcohol than food involved.”

Alex laughed at that, stealing a green bean off your plate, “mmm! That seasoning is delicious!”

“There’s extra in the fridge for you.”

“You’re a goddess.” She smiled, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of water, “you know, you and Emily have been hanging out a lot…”

“Yeah.” You shrugged, glancing up at her with a furrowed brow, “she’s fun to hang out with, knows a lot of cool places around the city.”

“Didn’t you bunk with her in Atlanta a couple of weeks ago?”

“I had to bunk with someone and they gave her an executive suite, it was an obvious choice.”

“Hmm.” She grinned softly at you and you raised a brow, still confused, “so all these nights out aren’t dates then?”

“Ew! Alex! No! Besides, if they were I would’ve told you. I do my best to not sleep with my bosses, figure it would make the work place a little too dramatic.”

“Did you really just ‘ew’ at Emily Prentiss?” She asked with a laugh and you shook your head at her holding back an eye roll, “you’re saying you don’t think she’s attractive?”

“Alex…” you shot her a warning glare, “she’s become my best friend. Is she my prettiest friend? Absolutely. Can I look at her and appreciate that she’s stunning? Yes. But I would never, and she’s not my type.”

“How so?” She raised a brow, taking the opportunity to steal another bean from your plate.

“I dunno.” You shrugged, “she’s… too daddy for me.”

“So you’re saying you prefer mommy?” She asked with a smirk and you about choked on a bite of food, feeling the heat instantly creeping up your neck and she laughed. “you should come with me to my next Pilates class, I’m sure you’d find one there.”

“I’m regretting making you dinner.” You deadpanned and she chuckled, turning back to the fridge to grab a snack, nearly ignoring what you’d said.

“You know, I’d never really thought about it, but she does kinda give off those vibes.”

“What?” You asked, distracted with your phone as it pinged with a text.

“Emily.” She stated simply, turning back to you.

“Well I mean, considering her selection of straps, she’s definitely a dominant top.”

“You’ve seen her sex toy collection and you’re still trying to convince me you two haven’t ever fooled around?”

“Not in person!” You defended, “we were having an alcohol fueled conversation about sex toys and she sent me a couple of links.”

“Yeah and which of the ones she uses is your favourite?”

“You asking for recommendations? Or are you jealous, Professor Blake?” You raised a brow and she let out a scoff of a laugh right before your phone pinged again and you swiped open the message from Emily.

“What?” She asked with a chuckle as a concerned expression took over your face.

“She just sent me the address… Swingers Club Dupont Circle?”

“Well now I certainly don’t believe that you two aren’t fooling around.” She laughed, “Call me if you need an escape out of there, or honestly even just a ride. Good luck.” She shot you a wink that you rolled your eyes at before she disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone to try to figure out what the fuck Emily was playing at.

___________________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @swimmingstudentchaos891 @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @allyofcl @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik

#alex blake #alex blake x reader #criminal minds #love comes quietly #alex blake: criminal minds #alex blake fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom

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adj4mp · 3 months ago

Note

We have a housing problem what problems do you forsee and what solutions would you suggest for the upcoming projects?

Hi Anon, Thanks for the question

One of the big problems we will face with getting the number of houses built that this government has targetted is the requirement for parking spaces for those houses. We can no longer build streets of terrace houses because each house is supposed to have room for 2 cars. This is why new build blocks of flats come with carparks and new build houses usually come with front parking spaces or garages.

I'd like to use tech to solve the problem there are underground parking garages that would fit in almost any community but they come with the risk that a breakdown would cause a neighbourhood to be without access to their cars. I've seen examples of this on Tom Scott's YouTube here which can include electric car charging and are much more secure than on-street parking.

Storing cars off the street like this makes them a hassle to access, which means that you need to build the area around that limitation. While discouraging driving you have to provide all the things a community might need. Every 100 or so houses should have a shop or commercial space, every 250 houses should have a park. This makes the area walkable and enjoyable for families.

Every 1000 houses should have some form of community resource which might be a community centre, doctor's office, library, school or faith building. The community resource should be the last thing that's built, there should be space earmarked for it and when residents have started to buy up the finished properties and move in they should get an opportunity to decide what they think they would use most.

These should often be built in conjunction with one another, if there's the opportunity for 5000 houses to be built near one another. We could end up with a village that has 2 primary schools, a doctor's office, a library/community centre, and a church for the community buildings, while in the commercial spaces there could be 5 corner shops, 5 charity shops, a salon, a barber shop, a bank, a local supermarket, 5 pubs or takeaways, 5 other faith buildings, a telecom exchange, 6 electric substations, a retirees centre, several spaces for small local businesses/offices, and to fulfil the green space requirements there'd be 10 small parks/playgrounds and 1 larger park with 10x the space maybe with basket ball/tennis courts, lawn bowls, some football posts on a field and a set of toilets. This would end up being a somewhat balanced community with room for many different sorts of people to move in and become a community through their shared access to these spaces.

Social housing should be an integral part of every community, 1/10 homes being one that should be sold to a social landlord or council, these should be picked at random so it's impossible to tell which streets or which properties in a given street are social landlords vs owned by the person living in them vs private rented. They absolutely should not be the cheapest houses the building company can provide that meets the social housing specification while other houses in the same area are bigger or have more things built into their fabric.

Making a village like this walkable and limiting the parking to the parking structures means you can forgo streets and use many of the road spaces as green spaces with walking paths, trees and so on.

If I were designing this I'd have concentric circular roads connected by spokes on T junctions where the 4th road goes into a parking structure and the spoke roads may be on every 3rd or 4th 'street'. the result should be no one is more than a few minutes walk from one parking structure or another, and each structure could have storage for 50 to 100 cars, which would probably mean people would end up meeting at the structures around rush hours adding more opportunities to build the community.

I understand that this wouldn't be workable in all areas but I think that if 5-10% of the projects looked like this they'd be able to provide a higher density of housing with an improved local environment over the concrete jungle with tarmac driveways and tiny gardens model which has come to dominate in many new build locations.

Even though I think this is a good solution, I understand that it could only be done with planning directed by the government because this shift in the layout and structure of new communities is rather radical. I see that it would face huge amounts of resistance from commercial ventures thinking that it's not viable, installing the technologies is going to take skills and extra money we don't currently have easily available relatively speaking, even if I believe there would ultimately be an appetite for this sort of community and people would easily adapt to living in these sorts of villages because it's so different it might take time to be accepted.

Yet another Complicated answer for a complicated world and this isn't the only solution out there. I'd like to hear from other people what they think of this idea and if they could see themselves living in a place like this.

#politics #adj4mp #anon asks #social housing #affordable housing #housing #infrastructure #walkable cities #complex answers #nuance #I'd like to see this but I don't think it will happen

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hebuiltfive · 9 months ago

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Ring A Ring O’ Roses - Chapter Two: The Trail

As requested by @mariashades this is the second part of the Captain Ochre private detective AU! I have more ideas for the story as a whole so this probably won’t be the last either!

First part can be found here!

Following their failed lead in New York, Richard returns to the drawing board. Meanwhile, Paul seeks refuge up north in the only place he can currently trust.

———————————————

Being back at Square One was never an avenue any detective wanted to return to. After days of constant research, of calls made and opportunities struck, for it to have been pointless felt like nothing more than a waste of precious time.

The tiny, rented office space that sat on the East River, overlooking Roosevelt Island, indicated to Fraser, more so than anyone else, how much he needed to solve this case. It was more than just a case of justice and truth, it was the continuation of his business that he’d built up from the ground. For so long, Richard had convinced himself that this was all he had; no qualifications save the ones he achieved in the Academy, no experience beyond police grunt work that he could now never return to regardless of what he wanted. It was this gig, or… what?

More over, he had promised Patrick his help. If they couldn’t solve this case, all of that would have been for naught and Patrick would be sentenced to a lifetime in prison for something he was already beginning to atone for. Richard could see it in his protege’s work ethic, in the way he regarded himself since working alongside Fraser and for the good of the community at large. If Richard failed this, he would be doing a disservice to more than Metcalfe’s family, than himself. He’d be condemning a man who was trying to right his wrongs, and that seemed cruel.

He lent back on his swivel chair. The old seat creaked and bent as he stretched. Up above, dark clouds were rolling in, promising a shower of rainfall within the hour. Richard flicked his wrist to check the time. It was almost coming up to half-past four. Maybe it was time to call it a day.

“Patrick!” He called through to the backrooms where he had set up a small work area for his new employee. “You still awake back there?”

Beckoned through, Patrick appeared in the doorway. In his hands, he held two sheets of paper and, as he slowly strolled over to Richard’s desk, his eyes did not lift from whatever secrets they held.

He really is trying, thought Fraser. It was a shame this case was soon to be a bust.

“Not much more we can do today. Get on home before the rain sets in and be back here tomorrow at nine. We’ll try and pick up a lead if we can.”

Patrick did not say a word or move an inch, however.

Richard tilted his head. “Donaghue? You in there?”

“Hm?”

His eyes lifted to meet his boss’s. Fraser could see the dark circles forming under the man’s eyes. It didn’t help to quell the rising guilt he felt of failing him.

“I said you can go home and we and try and pick up more leads tomorrow morning. What’s got you so interested, anyway?”

In answer, Patrick merely handed Richard the two sheets of paper. He scanned them quickly. They were both grainy CCTV photographs; one was a from a station terminus, Richard guessed Penn Station judging by the architecture; the other was from a street camera in a neighbourhood he was less familiar with.

“What are these?”

“Our next lead.” Patrick’s tiredness dulled his excitement, but Richard could still sense it.

He laid the images across the sheets that covered his desk and pointed to the figure that featured in both captures. “Metcalfe?”

Patrick nodded. “It’s grainy, but I think that’s our guy. He changes his hooded jacket between shots but the height, the cautiously looking over his shoulder, the shoes… I think it’s him.”

“Where was this second one taken?”

“Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts.”

Richard jerked his head up from the photos to offer him a quizzical look.

Donaghue merely nodded in agreement. “Our friend’s taken quite the journey up north.”

“The question, I guess, is why.”

“Does the expenses extend to taking the train, or are we road-tripping, because if its the latter, I’m calling shotgun and control of the playlist.”

Richard suppressed a grin. “We can take the train. Perhaps if we follow in Metcalfe’s footsteps we can get a more detailed plan of what he might be up to.”

“Should we inform his parents?”

“Not yet, not until we’re sure.”

“And the other ‘worried’ party? What about them?”

Although Richard had wished he’d been able to conveniently forget about the added governmental pressure to find their former employee, he had unfortunately been unable to.

He shook his head. “Same rule applies. Besides, the family were the one who officially hired us. The other party don’t get to know anything until they do.”

Patrick pursed his lips, once again nodding his agreement.

“I’ll book us some tickets for tomorrow morning.” Richard continued. “Think you can get to Penn Station for around seven? I’ll text you the details.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Get home and get some rest.”

He didn’t need to tell Patrick a fourth time. His protege briefly disappeared back into his make-shift office to retrieve his items before returning into the main room. He approached the door to leave.

“Oh, and Donaghue? If this had been a road-trip, you do know you can’t call shotgun and request DJ permissions, right?”

Partick smirked. “It was worth a shot. Don’t stay here too late. I doubt Metcalfe will be moving on quite so quickly.”

“I won’t. I promise. See you tomorrow.”

Once the door clicked closed and Patrick was well on his way out of the building, Richard unlocked the lower drawer to his desk. From within, he retrieved a burner phone. It only had one number on it. He dialled.

“I’ve found him. Boston. Back Bay East.”

———————————————

Paul went to the one person — the only person left — that he knew he could trust.

The journey had been rough. Two trains up north and a multitude of guards and police presence to dodge. Being a wanted man, by the government no less, had that unfortunate effect, but he managed to make his way up to Boston as night began to fall.

Faking his own death back in the New York motel had been no easy feat. Paul knew the scene was nowhere near as believable as it could have been, and should the cops look too hard they’d realise that in a heartbeat. He had little time, however, and now could only hope that they wouldn’t work out the obvious until he was long gone.

He lacked sleep. Paul could feel his bones growing weary, his muscles growing tired, but he had to keep moving. If he stopped, even for a few hours, he could risk being identified and caught. That was not an option. He was safe nowhere, not until he reached Adam.

In any other circumstance, Paul would have called ahead, but he knew the Spectrum department would be able to monitor such calls, should they wish. In the recent past, it had been him on the other end of those tracking devices, seeking a man who, like himself, should have been long since dead. On the journey up to Boston, Paul wondered whether there was any way of finding Turner. Given his own predicament, and the lengths he’d been through to stay off the grid, he doubted it.

The taxi he had taken from the station pulled up outside the address Paul had given to the driver. He was relieved he hadn’t been caught out by the man and taken to the nearest police station instead. Paying with cash to avoid leaving a digital trail, he thanked the driver before hopping out of the back door and dashing across the street to Adam’s apartment building.

His knuckles rapped harshly on the door.

“Adam? Adam, it’s me. It’s Paul. Are you there? Adam, open up!”

He had never been so relieved to hear the sound of a door unlocking before. Paul burst through the moment it had opened, knocking the blonde out of the way before Adam could finish his greeting.

“Hey, Paul, what’s— Hey! Careful!”

Paul didn’t listen. “Are you alone?” He asked, directly making a beeline to the windows. Any blinds that were still up were quickly lowered.

His friend locked the front door before following him through to the living room. “Paul, what’s going on?”

Paul allowed himself to take a breather, his paranoia subsiding for the time being. “I need a place to lay low.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

It was now that he noticed his friend was dressed in blue loungewear, suggesting to Paul that he was getting ready to turn in for the evening. How his heart ached with guilt that he was going to ruin that plan.

“I made a really bad mistake, Adam. A really bad mistake. I don’t know if I can fix it.”

#captain scarlet fanfiction #captain scarlet and they mysterons #au april #captain scarlet au #fic fics #fic: ring a ring a roses #paul metcalfe #adam svenson #richard fraser #patrick donaghue #captain scarlet #captain blue #captain ochre #captain magenta

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mindscowork · 2 years ago

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Small Private Office Space for Rent | Minds Cowork

Looking for a private space to work or conduct meetings? Our small private offices for rent at Mindscowork are the perfect solution! Designed to cater to your specific needs, our offices come fully furnished and equipped with high-speed internet, printing facilities, and access to all of our amenities. Book your private space today!

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garhoudbusinesscenter · 10 months ago

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Find Your Ideal Workspace: Coworking, Shared & Office Space in Dubai

Dubai, the dazzling metropolis of the United Arab Emirates, is a hub for entrepreneurs, freelancers, and businesses of all sizes. Whether you're a one-person startup or a multinational corporation, finding the perfect workspace is crucial for success. This guide explores the diverse options available in Dubai, including coworking spaces, shared offices, and traditional office spaces, to help you find your ideal fit.

Understanding Your Needs

Before diving into specific options, consider your business needs and work style. Here are some key questions to ask yourself:

Team Size: Do you require a space for a single person, a small team, or a larger group?

Privacy Requirements: How much privacy do you need for confidential calls and meetings?

Budget: What is your monthly budget for rent and additional amenities?

Location: Where would a central location be for your team or clients?

Work Style: Do you thrive in a collaborative environment or prefer a quiet, focused space?

The Rise of Coworking in Dubai

Coworking spaces have become increasingly popular in Dubai, offering a dynamic and flexible work environment. These shared workspaces provide desks, meeting rooms, and common areas for individuals and startups. Here are some benefits of coworking spaces:

Cost-effective: Coworking eliminates the overhead costs of setting up a traditional office.

Networking Opportunities: Connect and collaborate with other professionals from various industries.

Flexibility: Scale your workspace up or down as your team grows.

Amenities: Enjoy high-speed Wi-Fi, printing facilities, and sometimes even refreshments.

Popular Coworking Spaces in Dubai

Dubai boasts an impressive selection of coworking spaces dubai catering to diverse needs. Here are a few examples:

Garhoud Business Center: A UAE provider offering a variety of workspace solutions, including private offices, dedicated desks, and hot desks.

myOffice: Renowned for its high-quality ergonomic furniture and focus on promoting creativity and productivity.

Spaces: Features sleek and stylish workspaces with a strong focus on community building.

Shared Office Spaces: A Collaborative Choice

Shared office spaces offer a middle ground between coworking and traditional offices. These spaces typically include private offices, meeting rooms, and shared amenities like a kitchen or reception area. Here are some advantages of shared office spaces:

More Privacy: Enjoy a dedicated office for your team while still benefiting from some shared amenities.

Networking Potential: Interact with other businesses in the shared space and foster potential collaborations.

Cost-Savings: Shared spaces can be more affordable than traditional office leases.

Finding the Perfect Shared Office Space

Several factors come into play when choosing a shared office space in Dubai:

Security: Look for secure access control and CCTV for peace of mind.

Meeting Facilities: Ensure access to well-equipped meeting rooms for client presentations or team brainstorming sessions.

Business Support: Inquire about any available business support services, such as administrative assistance.

Traditional Office Spaces: A Classic Choice

For companies seeking a dedicated space with complete control over the environment, traditional office spaces are a suitable option. These spaces offer private offices, meeting rooms, reception areas, and pantries.

Considerations for Traditional Office Leases

Leasing a traditional office space requires careful planning:

Lease Terms: Negotiate lease terms like rental rates, security deposits, and maintenance responsibilities.

Location: Consider factors like accessibility, proximity to clients, and parking availability.

Amenities: Evaluate if the building offers amenities like on-site cafes, gyms, or high-speed internet.

Conclusion

Dubai's workspace landscape caters to various business needs and budgets. By considering your specific requirements and exploring the available options, you can find the ideal space to fuel your productivity and propel your business forward. Remember, visiting potential workspaces and talking to the management teams is highly recommended before making a final decision.

#coworking space in dubai #shared office space #coworking space #office space in dubai

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master-john-uk · 2 years ago

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My late grandfather's stockbroking and insurance business was one of the first companies to move into the new Hay's Galleria development when it opened in 1987, relocating from the City of London. Three of my cousins continue to run the "family" business from the same office.

I, like my father, never had any interest in joining the family firm, and by 1987 I had already established myself in the Ministry of Defence. Due to my grandfather's complicated Last Will and Testament, I owned 30% of the company at that time. Something my stockbroker cousins were not happy about. Uncle Charlie was struggling to sell the City of London office building which was built for my grandfather in the early 20th Century.

Uncle Charlie and his two sons offered me a deal. I could buy the six storey building near the Bank of England for a very discounted price, in exchange for most of my shares in the business that they were running. I jumped at the chance.

It was not the wisest business decision I have ever made, (but it proved to be profitable a few years later.) I had this huge building in the City which I had no idea, or long-term plan of how I was going to use it... and I now only had a negligible income from my remaining 2% shareholding in the family business. From 1988 to 1997, with the help of my newly recruited Business Advisor I managed to rent out the office space to several other businesses, which paid for the upkeep of the property and generated a small income.

In 1997, I began formulating a plan to start my own business in defense and security research and development. At that time the MoD had begun subcontracting their R&D work to private companies, and there was talk about large-scale redundancies.

Also in '97, the City office building was in desperate need of a refit and renovation, and most of my tenant businesses moved out.

In 1998, I started my own business after securing two contracts from the UK Government. I rented workshop space at my original employment base of MoD Fort Halstead, which doubled as my office initially. (I was still officially employed by the Ministry. This put a strain on my time, but also helped fund my business in the early days.)

In late 1999 refurbishment complete, my company's head office opened in the City of London. We began a rapid expansion gaining work from other UK based businesses, and seeking international clients.

The beginning of the 21st Century was an exciting time, but financially very difficult. Competing against £billion companies such as BritishAerospace was not easy. This was when having a prestigious City of London address proved to be a big advantage. (In those days, most business contracts were negotiated face-to-face.)

In 2002 my hard work paid off, and our business boomed (in more ways than one!) The City office became a very busy place. More and more administration staff required, as well as IT experts, a small electronics workshop and London-area technician's base.

Today my company occupies the top three floors of the City building, two floors are currently rented out to other businesses, the 1st and ground floors are currently under-utilised and used by the building management team, as well as providing bicycle storage, shower and changing facilities... nobody wants to sit next to a sweaty, lycra-clad cyclist all day long! I was looking at the possibility of opening the ground floor to the public with a coffee shop and, maybe a small gymnasium... but, then COVID struck... luckily before I decided to go ahead with these plans.

In January 2020, my company's R&D team and workshop relocated to Wiltshire, from Fort Halstead on the outskirts of London. (That was a sad for me, as that is where I began my career forty years earlier.) When the pandemic hit in March of that year, my company took a big financial hit when our largest ever non-military contract was cancelled.

We survived, but since then I have been looking to relocate the office and sell the City of London building. Like Uncle Charlie in 1987, I have struggled to find a potential buyer who would make me a sensible offer. Early in 2023 a property developer made a very generous offer. I am now struggling to find a suitable alternative site. I do not want to lose any of my loyal office staff... so, it needs to be secure, close to London, have ample parking and be close to a mainline railway station. I recently found an ideal building on a new industrial estate south of Gatwick Airport, but the nearest railway station is too far away.

There is a possibility of building a new office at the site we rent near Croydon where we currently keep our London-based technician's vehicles and equipment. I can drive there in just over 30 minutes and it has (fairly) good transport links. The owner of the site is not keen on the idea, but I have submitted plans to the council. If approved, I will make an offer to the current owner to buy the site. (They need to recoup their losses from the ongoing rail strikes somehow!)

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jurousei · 2 years ago

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The Wedding Planner

↳ Fandom: VALORANT

↳ Pairing: Chamber x Viper; Chiper; Bitemark

↳ Warnings: None.

↳ Description: Vincent Fabron is the owner of Romantique, a classy boutique focused on making wedding creams come true. Despite the romantic occupation, he has the worst luck in finding romance for himself, and he’s slowly giving up hope in romance overall. That is, until Sabine Callas walks in, and Vincent wonders if this who he’s been looking for this entire time.

↳ Notes: Due to weird tumblr issues, I cannot link properly. But this can also be found on AO3, under my same username!

Friday, April 28th, 1:00 pm.

Romantique was located at the corner of a small yet busy business plaza, sandwiched between a nail salon and a records store. Founded half a decade ago, Vincent was the owner and sole employee of the business. Though a grueling start, his passion project turned into a living eventually, and now he was an established wedding planner with a heft of experience under his belt.

“Do come in, take a seat anywhere! I take you have exciting news?”

Vincent watched two women shuffled into his office, their hands remaining clasped together as they took a seat on the couch in front of Vincent’s large, mahogany desk. ‘Cute. Sweet. Almost too sweet,’ he thought at the sight of them actively working around the handholding rather than letting go.

The young couple entering was in their late twenties. The woman that sat on the left — ‘Zyanya,’ if Vincent remembered correctly — boasted tan skin and sharp features, her hair pulled into a ponytail with the ends dyed magenta; she donned a sleeveless, black turtleneck that showed off her muscled arms splattered with. An intimidating sight compared to her companion, in a baby blue dress covered in white polka dots and shiny, black hair in a high ponytail. Her eyes were aqua and bright, looking at Vincent with a friendly light in her eyes. He smiled when they settled comfortably on the dark blue couch, an arm slung over Ling’s shoulder instead now, and looked towards him.

“Welcome to Romantique, a boutique dedicated to making wedding dreams come true!” He sang the last few words like a jingle as Ling clapped politely. “Thank you, thank you. How may I be of help to you today, my friends?” His eyes twinkled, excited for the upcoming news based on the smile on Ling’s face. Normally a stoic person, it was always interesting what could get Ling to emote so much.

She stuck her hand up, palm facing her, and Vincent watched a dainty sparkle catch in the light. Zyanya followed suit, and as they stuck their hands out closer for Vincent to inspect, he crooned at the matching set of diamond engagement rings. A turn of the hand, and their initials with maiden names were carved into the band. Ling blushed. “I got engaged, Vincent. She proposed last week, and you’re the first to know besides family.”

“My congratulations, ladies! You’re looking for help with regards to a wedding then, yes?” At the nod from both women, he pulled a small, gridded notebook from a desk drawer alongside a blue ballpoint pen. A few clicks, and he scribbles their names down with a heart followed after. “This is fantastic news! How did she propose? Simple, extravagant? Public, private?”

Zyanya grinned now. “Extravagantly, of course. Nothing but the best for mi corazon.” She hugged her fiancée tighter, and Vincent laughed at Ling’s flustered expression. She batted Zyanya’s shoulder lightly, as if a warning, but Zyanya ignored it and bragged, “We took a trip to the coast and rented a small space to stay in. Took her exploring for a few days to distract her, then on a boat for a special dinner, I proposed! Her face, Vincent, if only you could’ve seen it…”

“Oh, to see stoic Ling be overcome with glee…did she cry tears of joy?”

“A bit,” Zyanya nodded. “She couldn’t speak clearly for a few minutes, she only stared at the ring.” Her chest puffed out in pride. Ling swatted at said chest, the tips of her ears burning bright red now. Zyanya continued further about the special night, until the mention of ‘bed’ was heard, and Vincent double-taked.

“Enough now, please,” Ling requested with a soft frown. She must have caught it too. “We’re getting distracted from the goal of today’s meeting.”

“I am sorry, mi corazon,” Reyna cooed. Vincent’s tooth ached at the tone.

“My apologies. I am merely excited and happy for you,” Vincent said. He tried to be as genuine as possible in his life, and now was no exception, especially to a person he had grown quite fond of. “How time flies by! I remember first meeting you in my time of great, great need, and now I’m witnessing your engagement.” He grinned and cleared his throat.

“Pardonnez-moi. Now then, when do you plan to get married? Cost? Venues? Themes?” He rattled off some more questions in a rush before finishing off with, “or just give me all of the information you have available” at the irritated and confused expression on Zyanya’s face.

Zyanya scowled, still seemingly processed some of the questions Vincent had listed, as Ling patted her shoulder with a fond smile. The Mexican woman ended up settling on, “I want to do whatever Ling wants.”

Ling stammered, a first in the time Vincent had known her, and it was endearing, this dynamic. Zyanya who was all sharp edges and a bite to her tone, and Ling who was soft but resolute like a quiet force of nature; both had a heart of gold for the other. Vincent’s heart ached with something. He wondered if his swipes resetted yet.

“Well, er, there is one thing I’d like to have if nothing else,” Ling confessed. Her free hand fiddled with a stray fiber from the couch, and she shifted her weight. Vincent’s ears perked up. “I’d like to have a tattoo parlor for a venue.”

A beat of silence. Vincent’s eyebrows furrowed. “Pardonnez-moi, did you say you wanted a tattoo parlor to be your wedding venue?”

“Yes, I have a specific location too, if that’s okay?”

Right, a tattoo parlor. That… was a new one.

As the owner and sole employee of Romantique, Vincent expected himself to uphold the utmost, highest standard of customer service. As the person responsible for one of the biggest milestones in the client’s life, he refused to voice judgment on any ideas unless it was truly terrible. He was hired to create a majestic event for his client, and by god, if Vincent wasn’t going to make it the best he could.

Sometimes, though, wedding ideas could get a little interesting — like now, for instance.

Vincent cleared his throat, accidentally coughing in actuality instead, and said, “A new adventure for me! Let us discuss the idea. We would have to get permission, of course, but we can also have alternatives in place!”

“I’ve already obtained permission from the owner. The shop is Viper’s Ink, right next to Porter’s House of Flowers.” Ling chuckled, as if a funny inside joke with herself, adding, “It’s the business that we share a lobby with after all.

The latter business’s name was familiar. That was his own friend in front of him’s flower shop she worked at, and the flower shop he signed on to be a main provider of flower arrangements for his events. After saving him during a predicament, he had signed them on after a brief trial period, and now he couldn't imagine not having a dedicated provider. It had saved him numerous times over the course of the last three years. Ling created beautiful arrangements, with Vincent having commissioned her work for personal use in the past.

He must have not hidden the confusion well enough though, regarding the tattoo shop, because Ling frowned and inquired, “Did you not notice?”

Vincent stayed silent, but he could feel the apples of his cheeks start to burn.

Truth be told, Vincent was possibly a disaster when it came to existing in everyday life. He was a smart man, a former engineer that quickly rose through the ranks at the time, but he was clueless sometimes. Free body diagrams and calculus problem sets were his favorite past times, but remembering to pay attention to places was too difficult of a task. It was just background art to him.

Ling sighed, exasperated but slightly unsurprised sounding. Almost endeared, if Vincent was reaching a little. “It’s the business we share a lobby with,” she repeated, “and it was where we first met. Alongside other important memories, it became a special place for us.” She squeezed Zyanya’s hand, and Vincent felt his own heart get squeezed when Zyanya returned the small action. “I can get you in contact with the owner, Sabine. Sabine Callas, and perhaps discuss face to face? She mentioned she wanted an involved opinion on her place as a venue.”

‘Shit.’

Vincent didn’t want to deal with another pair of eyes overseeing him, knowing well that people just got in the way under the guise of ‘overseeing’ the project. Vincent was capable of monitoring himself, and oftentimes, it felt like an insult to his capacity as a wedding planner when the client began to micromanage. Either manage it by one’s self at the start or leave it to the expensive planner hired, Vincent grumbled. That was typically how it went.

Sabine, in this case, was a vendor, and Vincent would have to play nice to get what the client wanted exactly. This request was more than reasonable too, considering the woman’s entire business was being requested as a venue, but it was still a possible extra obstacle. He would give the owner of the tattoo shop the benefit of the doubt for now, unfortunately, and pray that she wouldn't interfere with his workflow.

That was what he would do. He would hold his tongue for now and set up a meeting with Sabine, then he’d gauge the situation from there — considering the request was reasonable, maybe the owner was as well. He had no choice but to wait until he set up a meeting in person.

Vincent mustered up a smile after thinking through his next steps for this wedding. “That works for me.” He wrote a few lines of notes, slightly smeared from the drag of his left hand, in his messy cursive. “Now then, could I grab her information? Then we can discuss other details of your wedding.”

Monday, May 1st, 11:30am.

Vincent stared at the most recent notebook he started for his client. A simple, one-subject notebook with a black plastic cover, Vincent decorated the cover with holographic, purple alphabet stickers. It spelled out ‘Ling and Zyanya Wedding: June 8th, next year’ in the chicken scratch equivalent of stickering.

Inside contained everything he wrote down and everything that he would ever write down over the course of the job. A means of keeping things organized originally, it quickly became a good way of keeping track of a client’s needs as well as creating a sort of journal about the experience behind the client. It was an amalgam of many things — journal, workbook, scrapbook. Whatever anyone deemed it as, it was undoubtedly crucial to Vincent’s effectiveness and investment as a wedding planner.

Within the first few pages of the notebook was the dog-eared page of a woman named Sabine Callas. Her name was written in red Sharpie and highlighted, and it imbued the same dreadful feeling as if one was about to face a judge at court. Vincent was afraid of her judgment at the end of this face-to-face meeting, if he would be able to make his client’s dreams come true.

“Non, Vincent,” he grumbled, shaking his head. He couldn’t think like that, not when nothing was certain yet; he hadn’t even met the owner! No, this sort of thinking was terrible, and it would get him nowhere in his mission to create a meaningful wedding. He would be successful. He had to be successful for his client, and in this case, his friend as well.

Every jingle of the coffee shop’s bell over the doorway attracted Vincent’s attention, and with every person who did not fit the description given to her, his eyes returned to the clock. It was 11:57am, and they had agreed on a meeting time of noon over emails the other day. On his screen was the very email chain.

Ms. Sabine Callas typed properly. Succinct but polite, she wasted no in time sending all her information and her expectations for the process. No exclamation marks or smiley faces like Vincent included in his emails, but she wasn’t necessarily cold either. Scheduling was a breeze with her, and Vincent’s hopes were starting to look up after the interaction.

The exact email on his laptop screen was the last one exchanged between them, where she had described herself in a rather…confident manner.

From: Sabine Callas ([email protected])

Subject: Meeting for Ling and Zyanya’s Wedding Venue

Vincent,

Noon tomorrow will work. As for my appearance, I am pale and tall at 6’0”. Black hair in a short bob cut with green eyes. This will be enough to find me.

Best,

Sabine Callas

Another jingle, another look away from the screen, and—

“Madame Callas!”

Vincent raised his hand, calling out with a friendly grin and wave. The woman was right. After what seemed to the nth person coming through, a woman fitting the description sent over by the woman herself walked in, and Vincent trusted the gut feeling — no one else had come close to her description eerily.

As Vincent stood up, he took stock of the woman that walked towards him. At six feet, Sabine was the same height as Vincent and seemed to be covered in lean muscle. She wore a dark green, thin sweater with what seemed to be a small viper logo for a design on the front, and a pair of straight-legged and pressed, black slacks swaying over a pair of black combat boots. Slung diagonally across her body was a shoulder bag, an emerald green shade instead.

Sabine Callas truly was difficult to miss.

Vincent watched the woman take the seat across from him, and she began to set up on her side of the table. While he had out a notebook and his laptop, Sabine took only only a small tablet and a pencil, as well as her phone. From the small glimpse of the screen Vincent saw before she tilted the screen away, Vincent knew she was taking her own notes.

“Vincent Fabron, yes?”

“Yes, that’s me. And you are Sabine Callas, judging from your response to my call earlier,” he said. Meant to be light-hearted, a way to break the ice and test out the waters that was Sabine, Vincent was disappointed by the lack of response besides a nod. Not much to work with. “Very nice to meet you, Zyanya talked quite a bit about you.”

Sabine’s eyes flickered with pride. ‘Ah, that was a reaction,’ Vincent noted.

“It’s nice to meet you as well. As for Zyanya, we’ve simply known each other for a while,” Sabine explained with ease. She was writing something on her screen, and Vincent panicked lightly; should he have been writing something down already? What could Sabine be writing already? “Tell me about yourself, Vincent. I’d like to get to know you more.”

And damn, if that didn’t sound like a perfect distraction as well as an invitation for Vincent’s favorite hobby: talking about himself.

“I am the owner of Romantique, where wedding dreams come true,” he repeated the slogan to the tune of a jingle with a smile, only to be disappointed when Sabine hummed in acknowledgement and continued writing down notes. If he was a little less professional, he would pout lightly right now. “I was hired to help plan a wedding by some of your friends, and I was roped into discussing your tattoo shop as a possible venue? Ling said she received permission already.”

At that, Sabine raised her head from the tablet to meet Vincent’s eyes. Her lips were pursed into a confused frown. “What sort of permission?”

Sahine was already a sight to behold upon initial entry. Now that Vincent was closer up, he could see the tinier details about the woman. She really was pale, but it created a strong contrast against her jet-black hair, sleek and smooth in a short haircut. Side strands framed her face, and Vincent noticed the spattering of freckles across her nose.

Then frankly, while green eyes were an accurate description, it was one hell of a simplification. Sabine had magnificently glimmering eyes that were the exact shade of emerald, just like the very bag she brought to the meeting. Vincent idly wondered how much gemstones of that caliber would cost.

“Vincent?”

Vincent startled; he hadn’t realized he was staring into her eyes nor that she was asking for a response. With a chuckle, he scratched at the back of his head. “My apologies. I was lost admiring your eyes,” he joked, hoping she wouldn’t realize the real joke was Vincent’s excuse itself. He winced when his joke elicited a frown from Sabine. “Apologies,” he repeated with less humor.

Whatever upset her, it was small enough that the more genuine apology quelled the start of discontent that appeared. Sabine kept her gaze locked on Vincent’s as he wondered why a dry lump was suddenly in his throat before he tried to swallow it down. “What kind of permission?”

“Permission to use your shop as a…” Vincent trailed off, flipping the pages of her notebook. ‘One of the first things we discussed, and…ahah,’ he thought. “She said to use it as a wedding venue.”

Unlike before where it was a mild annoyance that flitted across Sabine’s face, the frown currently marring her face gave Vincent more pause. Not necessarily a death sentence of judgment, but he was prepping for the worst to leave Sabine’s mouth.

“I did not say that. It would be too cramped, and I’d be endangering my and employees’ workspace.” Sabine shook her head, serious and solemn. “Absolutely not for a wedding venue.”

‘And that’s what I was waiting to hear. Fuck.’

It was too good to be true to already have received the full permission needed for proceeding with a venue. Nonetheless, this was not the first time Vincent was in this sort of situation, and he was sure he’d find a way to succeed in fulfilling the client’s wishes. He had to.

“Ling mentioned there was a discussion at some point though, at least?” He fished for more information. He just needed more to work with, and then he’d be able to start negotiating if needed. “I’d hope she didn’t lie about that.”

Much to his surprise, Sabine chuckled. It sounded low and velvety, and it warmed his cheeks at how lovely of a noise it was to his ears. He wouldn’t mind hearing more.

She peered at Vincent with a faint trace of mirth in her eyes, a small smirk played on her lips. “She isn’t the type to lie. Most likely misconstrued what I said,” Sabine clarified. Her lips twitched into a softer, fonder smile. “She can have her reception celebration in the lobby, with some people in the shop. I offered to do tattoo work at their reception, as a way to make it more…interesting, I suppose.” She huffed out a laugh.

This was becoming an odder idea and a very feasible plan at the same time. Not at all what he was normally used to in terms of planning, but he was starting to change his tune; it was a novel idea that Vincent could experiment with designing, and Vincent loved to design. He furiously scribbled new notes in, highlighting certain ideas and keywords that popped into his head. “That certainly is interesting. I’ve not been to a wedding reception like that yet.”

Sabine’s eyebrow quirked. Sleek and groomed, Vincent recognized the threading done as well as the small acrylic nails that tapped away on her tablet screen occasionally; she was a woman who took care of herself.

“How many weddings have you been to?” She finally stopped interacting with her tablet, instead waiting for an answer. Whether it was ten minutes ago or ten seconds instead, he didn’t know that much. All he knew was Sabine’s eyes seemed to pin him into place with their gaze, and he had to keep swallowing the dry dry lump in his throat.

“Er, personal is three. As for client weddings, I’ve easily attended double digits,” he answered with a small cough at the start and wiped his hands on his pants. Nervous habits, he said as a curse to himself. “I aim to ‘finish’ one wedding a week. After five years of doing this, I’ve established enough credibility to have a consistently filled schedulebook. I was lucky that you had availability on a Monday, my friend!”

Sabine made a hmph noise at the epithet. Not negative but not positive. “I give Mondays off at my shop. We don’t get much activity anyway since it’s the start of a work week, and my employees voted for working longer hours instead anyway.” She propped her chin up with her hand, and her gaze seemed to be more scrutinizing than before. “Your work hours must be awful, I just realized.”

Vincent winced. They could be…awful, yes, depending on how terrible the client was. “Not typically, though it can get overwhelming. I choose my own schedule, and that’s something it’ll never take away from me,” he answered. “I could never return to a normal job after being able to choose my own, like I used to be an engineer.”

Whatever else was brewing behind such an intense look dissipated, instead replaced with an appreciative gleam. “Respectable. Where did you work? What field?”

The interest in such a tidbit about Vincent caught him by surprise, and he fumbled with his words for a split second. “I graduated as a mechanical engineer. At Kingdom Corporation, I was Head of Design within the defense department, but…” He grimaced, shaking his head. “Burnt out. Flew too close to the sun and all that. Unfortunate, but so be it. I found my new calling anyway!”

Viper’s eyes lit up, brighter than it had before. It seemed to rival Ling’s own brightness in her eyes from their meeting on Friday. “I was a fellow at Kingdom Corporation,” she said with a smug glee, considering the look of amazement that must have crossed Vincent’s face. “Head of research and development. Majored in chemistry across all three degrees.”

Vincent’s composure was already abysmal throughout the entire meeting, and he was only glad that Sabine seemed to be much more relaxed than expected but also much prettier. He blamed his issues on that. Then to hear how accomplished the woman was, on top of it? All he could do was whistle and beam at the impressive resume.

“A fellow…you must’ve done fantastic, revolutionary work! Congratulations on that achievement, even if you do not hold it anymore,” he smiled, clapping. “I could only dream of being in such a position, Dr. Callas.”

Sabine scoffed, turning away. “You were the head of design for defense. You did plenty of work, and you must have generated plenty of patents as well. You would’ve been a fellow eventually,” she said with no hesitation, and Vincent felt a warmth spread through his chest. “I’d love to know further about your work, but I fear we should return to the topic at hand.”

“Oh—! Of course, Sabine,” he breathed out. His heart picked up; he couldn’t remember the last person who was genuinely curious about his design work. While he did get burnt out at his job, he loved what he did; he loved receiving a problem and formulating a solution, figuring out what was wrong and how to fix it. Every problem felt like a puzzle, and everything was a chance to improve.

He did his best to focus, closing his eyes and recentering with a deep breath. With a smile, much cheerier than before, he asked, “Now where were we?”

For the next hour, Sabine inquired next about the expected process and planning, and this was something Vincent could do — this was what he did for a living, this was his craft he became an expert in. The next hour passes by in a steady blur of exchanging questions and answers.

Sabine was an unsurprisingly thorough person, answering questions that very few clients ever thought to ask but probably should start. Vincent noticed how well-suited her demeanor was for her occupation; dedicated, focused, and detail-oriented. All admirable and desirable traits for such a job.

Along the way, Vincent managed to squeeze in quips and personal questions. Maybe none of the jokes landed far enough out of the ballpark to score, but a few one-liners pulled an amused exhale out of her nose, so Vincent figured that counted for something.

It was at the end of a particularly funny punchline, at least in Vincent’s eyes, that Sabine suddenly frowned when she glanced at her watch. “Ah, shit. I have an appointment in an hour, and it’ll be a decent drive,” she explained as she started to put away her tablet and pencil. “I’m afraid this is the end of our appointment, but I feel we made good progress on this transaction.”

Vincent ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach at the announcement. He had been enjoying the woman’s company after the initial roughness that came with meeting anyone new. While not rude or off-putting, Sabine wasn’t the warmest of women, but she eased up more as the conversations continued. Vincent found himself already feeling missing the conversation.

He coughed behind his fist. “That we did. Before you leave though, let me buy you a coffee.” He hoped he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt, asking a woman he met for business to stay and indulge in conversation for a few minutes longer. He hoped she didn’t see how his cheeks burned. “My thanks for the meeting being quickly scheduled, and for the interesting conversation. Or call it an incentive to pay me back, to ask me about my job,” he rambled. “Or perhaps this is a poor attempt at being a gentleman.”

It was the last offer that cracks the stoicism, however small, that seemed to permeate Sabine’s face for the most part. She seemed amused at the self-deprecating rip of himself. “I do love a man who owes me,” she responded much to the flustering of Vincent. “Kidding.”

All he could do was hastily pack his own stuff up, and he followed Sabine to the short line at the register. As they conversed, all Vincent could think was how much he’d miss the conversation and how frustrated he’d be, trying to find someone this interesting in tonight’s swipes.

Friday, May 5th, 8:30pm.

“Good evening, Primavera! How lovely it is to meet you tonight,” Vincent greeted his date for the night, all sultry eyes and devilish grins, or at least he tried to. Whatever it looked like, his date giggled as she batted long eyelashes towards his direction. “How are you doing? I’ve been nervous personally.”

A half-truth, half-lie sort of statement. Not exactly black, not exactly white; just some ratio that turned into some shade of gray.

After the meeting with Sabine on Monday, he had spent all day furiously swiping across all of his dating apps. He received enough matches just fine and could schedule first dates with almost as much ease as Sabine did, but it was always the second date that eluded him. No matter what he did, he was always ghosted after the first date.

Primavera Guzman was a woman of a short and curvy stature according to her shared photo for her dating biography. Beautiful locks of brown hair drowned her face as it cascaded over her shoulders, and long lashes framed pretty, green eyes. ‘Not as sparkly as Sabine’s though,’ he added.

They sat at the counter of a packed bar, reruns of shows from earlier in the day playing on the tvs scattered through the bar. The lighting was dim but warm, casting the two of them in a soft, warm light; Primavera decidedly looked pretty against the golden hues.

Vincent donned a crisp, white button-up underneath an ironed, navy-blue vest. It hugged his figure tightly, and he preened at the appreciative gaze of Primavera that roamed all over his upper body. It calmed his jitters some.

“Aw, why were you so nervous? You’re a pretty li’l thing, and if I could, I’d eat you up right now!” She giggled again, and Vincent’s lips twitched. Her giggles weren’t bad sounding, but if her every response was decorated in giggles before and after… “Tell me about yourself!”

Vincent inhaled and exhaled. He just had to relax, and this date would go just fine. Besides, this was going better than some previous dates already; other dates didn’t even bother to get to know him. Maybe he’d get lucky enough to at least take her home, or maybe he’d finally get the elusive second date.

Right when he was about to speak, the waitress appeared. She gave a brief introduction of herself, Claire, and the special menu, to which Vincent thanked her and offered a smile, making polite conversation over what she would recommend.

“Excuse me!”

Vincent paused, mildly startled at how loud of an interjection Primavera voiced. Rubbing at his ear, he asked, “Yes, what is it? Is something the matter?”

Primavera shook her head no, but the frown and creases didn’t lessen any. She narrowed her eyes at the waitress, bristling, and Vincent felt sorry with the way she wilted under the glare. Vincent coughed to get his date’s attention away from the poor waitress. “Let’s get an appetizer or such? Let us order while she’s here, after all!”

The frown did not go away, but Primavera did avert her gaze to instead peruse the menu. Instead of appetizers though, she eyed cocktails, and Vincent listened with eyes bulging at the three different drinks she ordered. She had even asked to keep the drink menu just in case, after which Vincent ordered two appetizers and a glass of red wine.

“Are you okay, Primavera?” Vincent kept his tone low, trying to be reassuring. He didn’t know what set her off when the waitress appeared. “You ordered quite a bit of drinks.”

“Is that a problem?” She snapped, and fuck, was Vincent not willing to deal with this today. This was slowly becoming more and more of a strain than a fun night out on him.

He could at least sit through dinner for the food though, if the company was lacking. Maybe he’d still somehow get a second date out of this; he didn’t have to accept it after all, just the thought of being asked to return again was a nice concept in his mind.

Friday, May 5th, 10:30 pm.

Vincent tried to rid away terrible feelings from the failed date, from drinking himself messy when he got home to texting Ryo about his lack of luck in dating. Not the most clean ordering of plans as texting quickly became difficult, but Ryo would understand. Besides, he always had a high tolerance.

Ryo (10:31 pm)

she got drunk and tried to fight the waitress?

Vincent (10:33 pm)

Jabbed the waitress’s chest. Said she “didn’t enjoy how the waitress looked at me.”

Vincent (10:34 pm)

I believe this is what you call, ‘dodging a bullet.’

Ryo (10:38 pm)

one way to fucking say it. sucks that your date sucked.

Ryo (10:40 pm)

what about the nathaniel guy? two weeks ago?

Vincent groaned. Nathaniel Ludwig was a recent find on a gay dating app, and it quickly revealed itself to be a mistake during the first date. From the almost impressive lack of hygiene to cluelessness, Vincent struggled to find anything positive to mention about him besides the pretty face; it was the only reason Vincent swiped right. Even the conversation over text to plan the outing was mediocre at best, and in-person conversations felt dull.

A long time ago he thought he’d be able to survive a spouse as long as they were pretty enough, but he changed his tune quickly. He needed someone interesting more than someone beautiful in his life, but he was the type to go for both whenever possible.

Vincent (10:45 pm)

Don’t mention his name. Awful. Ghosted that one on my own accord.

Ryo (10:48 pm)

wow. must’ve been really bad. sucks.

Ryo (10:48 pm)

what’s the plan now

Vincent (11:03 pm)

Drinking. Though not to my last date’s extent.

Vincent (11:05 pm)

She ran me 60 dollars in terms of drinks only. It wasn’t even good alcohol, which is the worst part.

The date had gone well for approximately five minutes, until the waitress appeared. A nice enough woman who introduced herself as Claire, she was a red-haired woman with lipstick and eyeshadow to match. She was beautiful, which Vincent did not voice, but maybe he stared for too long anyway. Primavera didn’t seem to think highly of Claire based on her initial glare. Whatever she thought, it had her sneering at Claire and ordering drinks in a haughty tone and without discussing payment first.

Vincent figured the date was irrecoverable when Primavera started berating the waitress for no reason, ignoring his interference, and even standing up to jab a finger to her chest. A move that had the waitress calling for security, Vincent stepping aside to let the date get forced out as she shrieked, and leaving behind a 50% tip for the mortification exhibited. Hard to believe Primavera was four drinks in by then.

He was still getting texts from the woman, and the few texts he read were absolute ravings from a woman furious at his lack of chivalry and gentlemanliness. He didn’t have the energy to open the app to deal with that at the moment.

Exchanging texts for a while to lament his misery with dating, it was around 1 a.m. and half an hour since Yoru’s last response when Vincent decided to call the conversation over. Yoru was never the type to sign off or say goodbye; the conversation simply ended.

Vincent’s last thought, as he slunk off to bed sobered down to tipsy, was that his date was nowhere near as interesting or civilized compared to Sabine. Sabine wasn’t as enthusiastic or as giggly as his date had been, but she had been polite and fascinating, understanding enough of Vincent's presence. It was obvious she cared about people overall as humans from the general respect shown to him. Basically, the work meeting ended up being better than the date.

How miserable was his life at the moment that such a thing was possible? Vincent groaned as he tucked himself into bed, laying down on his side like how his old college roommate used to tell him. He felt shitty already, even before the hangover tomorrow.

Thinking back on it, he supposed it didn’t hurt either that Sabine was attractive in an intimidating ways. Her proportions were model-like with smooth skin and a sleek haircut that framed her face so sharply. For a tattooist, it was curious that Vincent found no visible tattoos, but it was still quite chilly in the mornings. The long sleeves and pants made sense.

Vincent wondered if he’d be able to inquire about the tattoos next. They had ended up making plans to meet at the shop itself, so Sabine could give him a tour; he was confident Ling and Zyanya would be amenable to hosting the wedding elsewhere and then hosting the reception instead at the tattoo parlor. He moved ahead with the tour.

Now, in approximately a week and a half, he’ll be face to face with Sabine, and maybe he’ll be able to talk about his projects again. Another intelligent person — a technical fellow, at that! — who was polite and amusing and—Stop. Vincent had to stop that train of thought immediately.

Vincent shook his head. ‘Sabine is technically a vendor right now. Think professionally.’ He could do it, after all, he had done so with every person during his business career. This was like any other vendor, and he would act professionally, of course; this would be a simple, everyday thing. Great, glad the situation was sorted!

(It was not sorted.)

He shut his eyes at a particularly painful rumble of his stomach, uncaring if it came from thinking too hard about Sabine, his unlucky streak with dating, or the impulsive drinking as a coping mechanism; his throat felt like it was on fire, like he was inhaling heat directly from a blaze, and he wished for a bottle of water to appear. Nothing happened.

“Mon dieu,” he grumbled with a pout.

Everything felt terrible, and he just hoped he could go to bed soon.

Saturday, May 6th, 4:55 am.

He was officially hungover.

#valorant #valorant chamber #valorant viper #bitemark #chiper #chamber #viper #valorant fanfiction #vincent fabron #sabine callas #TWP #sei.doc #my writing

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